(Mid 2000s) I had read that in San Francisco it was legal, or at least not illegal, for a girl to go topless in public. Although I had been naked at public events like Fantasy Fest in Key West and even in San Francisco for the Bay to Breakers run, these were planned public events at which there were plenty of others doing the same. But the thought of going out around the city as the only one topless, on just some normal day, fascinated me. I became obsessed with the ideas for such fantastically bold and liberating expression. The bare exposure to the sun, air, and eyes of a city, mingled with the sexual gratification of being seen and admired for hours, by possibly thousands of people, became something I just had to make happen.

We had been to San Francisco many times for Brandon’s work, and twice for Bay to Breakers, but we had never taken the time to really experience the city. So, in the summer of 2006, after I read that article on public nudity, I insisted on a true San Francisco vacation.

The City by the Bay is a place where one can find all kinds of adventures – and we certainly did. It would be far too much for me to include all now, but in this telling I will cover a few of the highlights.

I decided to go all out. I packed my sexiest outfits and planned to indulge myself in the famously progressive city. I did all to make every part of the trip sexy and exciting. I chose a hotel with a private room, but with a shared bathroom down the hall. Even just having a shower at the hotel became a thrilling public adventure. I wanted the kind of experiences I had when I was younger. For the work trips, I had to be at least somewhat careful around the hotel. I could leave the curtains open, and have a little fun, but naked trips to the ice machine, or fooling around on the balcony, was risky. Those hotels were covered by Brandon’s work, and had lots of co-workers around. But this trip to San Francisco was just for us.

Believing it was legal to be topless in public directed much of my planning for our days. I was determined to make the very most of this. However, as we all know, an idea in the mind may seem easy compared to when one is confronted with the reality of a thing about to happen. The night we arrived, I wore a sheer top out to have a walk around the mall across the street from our hotel. I got a lot of attention, which was exciting for me, but I was more nervous than expected. This was just a warmup for what I was planning for the morning.

I had hoped to have the courage to walk right out of the hotel, nude from the waist up, and explore the city as a tourist all day, but I was scared. I also knew that even if it was legal for me to be out in the city, the shops, restaurants, and tourist establishments would have their own rules. So, I planned to wear my little backpack. It was just big enough for my money, ID, camera, lipstick, and a shirt – just in case.

The first morning I dressed in a hat, sunglasses, backpack, my white pleated skirt, white socks, and my hiking boots. With my shirt in my backpack, and about to leave the room with my boobs out, I struggled to work up enough daring. After a few minutes of bouncing around and literally shaking off my nerves in our hotel room doorway, I boldly walked out and headed for the stairs to the lobby. But, as we reached the point of the stairs that I could see people in the lobby, I immediately went for my shirt. I explained to Brandon that I would need a bit more warmup to really go for it.

My shirt was a white, short sleeve, button up blouse. It was thin such to be revealingly sheer in certain light, but was more than enough to settle my nerves to start this first outing. We did not know exactly where we were going, but now that we knew I didn’t have the courage to leave the hotel with my boobs out, Brandon had an idea.

We had heard that Baker Beach was a nude beach from where you could see the Golden Gate Bridge. We rented bikes and ended up on a great self-guided tour of the city on our way to the beach. Riding through the streets on the bikes began to build my courage. Moving quickly, I felt I could escape if I ran into any trouble. And my little show would be fleeting for anyone who noticed. So, after a while, I unbuttoned my blouse and let the wind expose my breasts through some of the less crowded streets as we continued toward the beach. But there were still times my nerves got the better of me and I would pull my shirt closed around me again.

We finally arrived at the beach in mid-afternoon and left our bikes against a chain-link fence where other bikes were parked. We walked through the non-nude part to where we thought the nude beach would be. There were hundreds of people around, but we never saw anyone naked. I was disappointed at first. Quite aroused from my somewhat topless riding through the city, I was really looking forward to making the most of the nude beach. And I had been planning a picture with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

Through all of the traveling we did for Brandon’s work, I contributed to a tourism site, and I wanted to submit this picture with my write up of our San Francisco trip. I intended to copy a picture I had seen when reading about the beach. I would be nude, have my back to the camera, facing the bridge, with my arms poised over my head. I expressed my disappointment to Brandon, reminding him about the picture. He then offered a solution.

“You should just get naked and we’ll take the picture.”

I looked around at the hundreds of people on the beach. They were not only clothed, but it was chilly there in the wind and many were even in long pants and jackets. But, I so much wanted to do it. Getting naked at the beach is so much easier than do so in the city, even if I was the only one.

“You think I should?” I asked as I began to undress, both of us knowing he didn't need to answer.

This was kind of our ritual. He was always asking me to get naked in public places, and I would always ask if he really thought I should. But I never waited for his answer, which wasn’t coming anyway. This was just something we did. My way of following through, but showing that I knew it was naughty.

I stripped down completely naked in front of this crowd who turned their attention from the bridge and scenery to watch me pose at the water’s edge. Brandon took the picture I requested, and a few others before we decided what to do next. Being the only one naked around so many people was absolutely thrilling, and wonderfully empowering. I had the attention of quite a few people, and nobody seemed to be bothered by me. I didn’t want to get dressed, so I suggested we hang out until somebody tells me I can’t be naked here.

I played around on the beach and in the water for a while, then I laid out in the sun and did some people watching of my own. Nobody ever said anything negative to me. Being naked in the crowd for so long made me feel that I was bold, sexy, and admired by all. The experience was very enlivening and erotic for me. Lying there, soaking it all in, I wished every beach was like this. And my determination to tour the city topless was revitalized.

When we got up to leave the beach, I put on my skirt, but playfully gave my shirt to Brandon to carry. This was fun for most of the walk back, but as we continued along the crowded beach, closely passing hundreds of people, none of whom were naked, my nerves eventually overcame me.

I had been naked and then walking topless among a certain kind of beach crowd. They seemed accepting. But now we were moving into an area where I began receiving different looks. I could tell these people were not at all expecting to see my bare boobs bouncing by.

I expressed this to Brandon, and although he said nothing, he moved my shirt to his opposite side, and I knew he wasn’t going to give it back. After quietly walking a bit farther to try to catch him off guard, I went for my shirt. But I soon gave up, realizing the scene I was making with my futile efforts to wrestle my shirt from him. I thought better to be proud and sexy walking topless through the crowd than to look ridiculous with my boobs flopping around as I jumped to reach my shirt he held above my head. But as we came closer to our bikes, and the notion of my riding back into the city topless, I began to negotiate. We compromised that if he let me wear my shirt, I would leave it unbuttoned the rest of day.

He gave me my blouse, and just as expected, the wind kept my boobs exposed, and Brandon happy, for the rest of our walk to the bikes. But I was more comfortable now being able to cover for moments when passing families and such.

When we got near the fence where we left the bikes, I saw a group of young men parking their bikes in the same place. There were not as many people around now. My nerves had settled, and I was back to enjoying the sun and eyes on my breasts. But, I didn’t want to walk right up to the boys who were standing next to my bike. They had already seen me, so I thought it would be just as awkward to cover up now as it would be to walk right up to them with my boobs out.

So, I asked Brandon to get some more pictures of me with the bridge in the background. It was not a good angle of the bridge, but I didn’t care. I just felt better with an excuse to be showing my boobs, and I also thought this stalling would give the boys time to move on. But they didn’t. They just stood at my bike watching. Soon they began to cheer me, and although this was a little embarrassing, it made me feel good and gave me the confidence to walk around the fence toward my bike.

At first, I think they thought I was approaching them, and they stood their ground continuing with what I would describe as catcalls. I could only make out some of what was said as they were all talking at once and my level of nervous excitement and arousal had reached the point of numbing my awareness. When this intense, my peripherals become blurred and muffled.

“Excuse me.” I said sheepishly to the young man blocking my bike, but he didn’t realize my bike was behind him. I squeezed past him, brushing his arm with my boob. Although it was completely unintentional, I must admit this sent wonderful sensations through me.

When the boys realized we were trying to reach our bikes, they moved to let us pass while questioning where I was going. We didn’t answer. I thought to button up before riding away, but knew if I broke the deal with Brandon, I would have to make it up to him – and that could be even more challenging. I caught a few of the comments from the boys, and although a little crass, they were very complimentary of my boobs and the fact that I was showing them off. So, I smiled at them and rode off without covering up.

As we rode, Brandon and I could not stop laughing, or giggling rather. This was mostly due to our encounter at the beach, and with those boys, but also because neither of us could believe that I was really doing this, and that it was legal. I was riding through the streets of San Francisco with my shirt futtering behind me in the breeze and my breasts swaying in the sunshine.

Riding a bike topless, or even completely naked, was not new to me. But this was the first time I took it this far. This was not a quick dare around my neighborhood at night, or down a mostly secluded bike path. This was on major city streets in the daylight, passing cars, pedestrians, houses, and business. Occasionally, I suffered intense moments of fear. But for the most part, I was surprisingly confident and comfortable. I felt fantastically free, and was having the time of my life.

When it came time to return the bikes, I didn’t want to go through that process with my boobs exposed. So, I stopped up the block and had Brandon take my bike back with his. I did make sure he see my boobs whenever he looked back at me, but otherwise I kept my shirt closed around me as I stood waiting among the passers-by.

We had a long walk back to the hotel, which was much different than speeding by people on my bike. Brandon let me get away with holding my shirt closed for much of the walk, but I would let it fall open occasionally, in part to feel I wasn’t breaking our deal, and in part for the continued thrills, which only seemed to be increasing.

I had long ago realized that my exhibitionist urges are closely tied to sexual desire. Showing off in this way around the city that day was intoxicating, and brought me to an extreme state of sexual arousal. We spent the rest of that day, and into the evening, making love in our tiny hotel room under the giant window exposed to the office building across the narrow alley. The windows of the office building were mirrored. I couldn’t tell if anyone was watching. But even just that possibility allowed me to imagine the whole city watching me through my adventure of the day and now here in my most exposed and vulnerable state of orgasmic pleasure. I couldn’t have been more satisfied, and knew tomorrow would be even more amazing.

The fun started early the next day as I was caught walking naked to and from the shared shower down the hall. But soon we were off from the hotel for more adventure. It began like the day before. However, I was feeling much braver. We rented bikes again, but this time we rode from Fisherman’s Wharf to the Golden Gate Bridge and around the bay. I wore my tight khaki shorts, that little backpack, and a cami top - which I kept in my backpack as much as I could.

There were times I felt I just had to keep my top on. Some areas were too crowded with families or others that I didn’t want to offend. Even though I understood it was legal, I still got nervous around the police or other authorities. Although I was going around with my boobs exposed in public most of the day, we still tried to keep to ourselves, move quickly, sometimes sneak, through many situations.

We stopped to walk around the bay, various parks, Lombard Street, and other places that we wanted to explore. This was the best vacation. I had never before been able to combine visiting so many places I wanted to see while simultaneously experiencing an unprecedented exhibitionist adventure.

I put my top on whenever we went indoors, except once. To see the look on Brandon’s face, and to learn if I could get away with it, I left my top in my backpack when I walked into the gift shop at the Golden Gate Bridge. We were only in there about a minute before they asked me to leave. Brandon bought a bumper sticker that read, “I heart SF” and I posed for a picture with it outside the gift shop window with the bridge in the background. There were other brave moments, but this was probably the boldest I was while so closely around a lot of people that day. Although, this time I did return my bike while topless, and walked most of the way back to the hotel before putting on my top.

It was during several close encounters, like with the employees outside the bike shop, and with some people who stopped us along our day, that I learned a lot from people on that trip. Besides questioning why I was baring my breasts in public, and giving me their thoughts about it (which were mostly positive), people offered me information. This was great as it is rare to have such feedback during most of my exhibitionist adventures. I am usually left to wonder. A major point was that most understood it was not legal for me to be topless, it was just tolerated and rarely enforced. But that was enough for me, and I was emboldened by my interactions with these people.

Through the latter part of this day, I stopped trying to keep my distance from people and I looked forward to the questions and comments. I answered honestly and began telling people how much I loved to be naked, and how thrilling I found this whole experience. Some people didn’t know what to think, but most seemed to appreciate my attitude and were happy for me. It made me feel proud, sexy, and brave. I almost began to think I could just go naked everywhere. Although deep down I knew most days, and most places, I would not experience such a wonderful reception. But this was a very special day.

That night, continuing with the theme of our vacation, we visited a famous adult theater. We had seen a documentary about the Mitchell Brothers and the O’Farrell theater. I found it fascinating. Over the years, we had been to plenty of adult bookstores, sex shops, and strip clubs, but we had never really been to an establishment quite like this.

I dressed in all black, with heels, thigh high stockings, a petticoat, panties, and a leather jacket that came up just short of covering my panties. My petticoat was made of tulle, so it was completely transparent. It was designed to be worn under a skirt to poof it out, but I went without the skirt. The jacket had a wide V front with only one button just above my waistline. Except from certain angles, my nipples were covered, but there was no hiding that I wore nothing under my jacket.

We walked 20 or so blocks to the theater, along which I received a lot of attention. San Francisco has a remarkable amount of foot traffic. This includes quite a variety of people - many of whom were not afraid to comment, and several decided to follow along with me and Brandon. One of them kept offering to buy my jacket. Although I loved the fact that I could get away with going around bare from the waist up, I was not about to sell him my favorite jacket.

The guys following us kept on with their advances, all but ignoring Brandon, who was getting nervous. This was different than our daytime experience. I could feel it. My being topless in shorts on a bike around the city’s tourist attractions doesn’t suggest the same thing as wearing my black leather, lacy, and revealing outfit for a walk through the heart of the city at night. I wasn’t quite as exposed as earlier that day, but I knew my outfit was inviting a different kind of attention.

I told the followers that I was headed to the theater, which was a mistake, as it clearly gave them increasingly erotic ideas. This was titillating for me, but exciting to the point of being scary. It was my intention to get such attention, but this was a bit more intimidating than I expected. I was relieved when we got to the theater and away from the guys who were following me. The theater had a cover charge, and that kept those guys out on the sidewalk.

At the theater, Brandon and I worked our way to the main room in the back where there was a round rotating stage, which was really more like a large bed. We sat up front and watched 3 very pretty girls put on the strip show. As the bed turned, it would come around to where the girls could reach me. They would touch my legs and arms and try to gently pull me to the stage, but I stayed in my seat.

After a few minutes, the girls left the stage and spread out through the audience of about 20 or so people. One of the girls came right over to me and pulled me to my feet, keeping my back to the rest of the room. With a cheeky smile, she looked me hard in the eyes before examining my outfit. Then, seemingly with no apprehension at all, she boldly unbuttoned my jacket and held it open wide, revealing my bare breasts, which she inspected with glee. Her expression turned mischievous just before she spun me around to face the room. From behind, she wrapped herself around me in something like a hug that also held my jacket open, exposing my breasts to the audience. From over my shoulder, she placed her cheek against mine and addressed the crowd.

“Someone came here to play!”

To say I was blushing would be a dramatic understatement. I am sure I turned beet red as what felt like all my blood rushed to my head. I was beaming and could not control my wide nervous smile, which was so intense it hurt. The crowd was cheering and whooping, but it was all a blur to me. She continued holding me from behind as she breathed in my ear and slid her hand across my breasts. Caressing and massaging, she played with my nipples while everyone in the room grew more excited. I was tingling all over, so nervous, but loving it.

The other two girls gathered around me as well, pulling at my clothes, lifting my jacket and skirt to inspect me as the first girl continued caressing me all over. I thought they were putting on a show to please the crowd, but soon the girls were trying to convince me to go to a back room with them.

I looked to Brandon. He and I had discussed such possibilities before. He knew I wanted to do it, and I knew he would enjoy it, although neither of us really knew what it would be. All we knew for sure was that they just wanted to get us in the back to get more money out of us, it would be expensive, and I would love it. As the girls continued to molest me, I was convinced it would be worth the money.

I kept looking at Brandon to see if he agreed we should go with them. But in the end, he declined. Mostly because we had spent too much money on the trip already, and we did not have a lot back then. But I wished we could have done it. I was having such a fantastic time, and it could have been so much more.

However, our night was not over. We left the main room and moved toward the theater. On our way there, a guy stopped us and asked if we wanted to leave and go party with him. I looked to Brandon who seemed to be considering it, but then he said that we couldn't.

We entered the theater to see several people, all guys, watching a porno movie. We entered from up front, beside the screen. So, the movie was illuminating the faces of the audience, which were now turning to me, directly in their view. Without a word, Brandon took my jacket, sliding it off from behind, leaving me now naked but for my sheer skirt, panties, thigh high stockings, and heels. I felt that thrilling rush of titillation being presented to this audience in such a way. But my nerves forced me to hurry to a seat in the front row, which was empty.

We sat to watch the movie, but within seconds two guys moved from where they had been and sat on each side of us. They both were fully dressed but had theirs out, stroking themselves. I thought they were waiting to see if I would help them, and I pictured how fun it would be to reach over. This was absolutely wild! What would Brandon think?

After a few minutes of watching the guys stroke themselves from my peripheral vision, and playing out the various scenarios for what is likely to happen next, my nerves got the better of me. I leaned over to Brandon and whispered.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Whatever you want,” he answered.

I knew what this meant. If he wanted to get out of there, he would have said so. I sat back and considered what I really wanted to happen. I wanted to go completely wild. This was our vacation that we had planned entirely around doing just that. To go into the back with the girls would have been expensive, and they were only in it for the money. But these guys in the theater were excited by me. I knew that my outfit was giving them certain ideas about my intentions, and I didn’t want to let them down. It was exciting for me to watch them pleasure themselves knowing their attention had turned from the movie to me. But I had significant concerns.

For nearly a year, I had been trying to get pregnant. This was a major reason we came on this trip in the first place. We had been trying many things to be successful. We went through periods of having sex as much as possible, as well as abstaining, to see if saving up was a good idea. I was doing everything I could to excite Brandon, thinking this would help. I practically stopped wearing clothes at all when at home, and went naked everywhere else I could – including many places I shouldn’t. I did my best to stop caring what others thought, and worked to find excuses and opportunities to be naked around almost everyone in our world, as I knew that excited Brandon. My more daring approach was indescribably liberating, and changed my life in a way I had not thought possible. This trip to San Francisco was just an extension of our efforts to completely indulge ourselves in exhibitionist and sexual pleasures.

But, of course, our efforts to get pregnant also included my going off the pill – for the first time since I was a teenager. I wanted there to be no doubt that this would be Brandon’s baby. So, for about a year, I had not been having sex with anyone but Brandon. Imagining where this night in this theater might lead, even with condoms, I wasn’t sure just how far I should let things go.

But I also knew how excited Brandon was to see how far I would go. I really wanted to thrill him… and myself. I looked over at the guy to my right, who didn’t acknowledge me. He just kept staring at the movie and stroking himself. But he had earlier moved over to sit next to me. I knew what he wanted. I put my hand on his leg as an introduction. He looked at my hand, but still not in my eyes. I went for it. Taking him in my hand, he moved his away and gripped the armrest between us. I looked at Brandon for his reaction, but he was getting up. I panicked a bit, thinking I had made the wrong move, then realized he was moving so the guy next to him could sit closer to me. I smiled and looked Brandon in the eyes as he stood watching me stroke my new friend while the other settled in next to me, no doubt expecting the same.

I found it extremely arousing to be so slutty as to give a hand job to a stranger in an adult theater, but I started to feel overwhelmed by this suggestion that I simultaneously do the same for another. I am not that coordinated. So, with my free hand, I reached over and grabbed the wrist of the guy on my right and brought his hand to my breast. He took the invitation and began squeezing my breasts and was soon testing my reaction for when he moved his hand lower.

This is when the giggling started. I enjoyed this whole situation immensely, but my disbelieve for what I was doing came out as laughter. Watching Brandon watch me please these strangers was intensely erotic. At the same time, I felt very self-conscious, but I just couldn’t stop.

I leaned toward my friend on my left and switched, now taking him in my right hand, with which I am better. He then began caressing my breast. I looked down as I stroked him and wondered what everyone would think, or do, if I took him in my mouth. This thought brought more giggling, which I believe convinced my other friend that I was okay with his exploring further. He slid his hand under my skirt, but over my panties, and tried to part my legs. This brought my giggling to an end, as I knew it was time to decide what I was really going to do.

I kept my legs together and turned my focus back to Brandon, looking him in the eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but this was not the first time we had been in such a situation. I knew what he liked. But things were different now that I was trying to get pregnant. I began to moan in a way to let him know I was about to surrender unless he stepped in. He didn’t react, so I spread my legs a little, and my new friend then slid his hand into my panties.

Brandon’s expression changed slightly, but before I could truly read his reaction, I felt someone behind me and looked back to see another as he put his on my shoulder. He took my turning toward him as an invitation and brushed himself against my cheek.

I felt overwhelmed. But in the best way. I wanted to completely indulge my sluttiest self and considered taking him in my mouth. There was no giggling this time. I let go of my friend on my left as my new friend behind me started lightly slapping my face with his. For me, this was shockingly brazen, but feed my sluttiest desires to let these men have their way with me. To stop the slapping but not turn the mood, I grabbed it, pressing him hard against my cheek while looking up at Brandon. I still wasn’t sure what he was thinking. So, I began licking my lips with it very close to my mouth to let Brandon know what I was asking.

I knew what I wanted to do, but not what I should, or what Brandon wanted. Then he gave me his answer. He knelt down, reached up my skirt, and took hold of my panties. I felt a flood of nearly orgasmic sensations and lifted up such to help him easily remove them. I was so excited and afraid. I knew I was about to fully commit, overcome by the idea of being ravaged by this room full of strangers.

I looked down to see myself nude but for my lacy sheer skirt bunched up around my waist, with the hands and eyes of several men exploring my body. This was a dream-like experience, but no matter how incredibly erotic all of this was for me, I kept coming back to my thoughts of the pill and condoms. I still had too many doubts and fears. I didn’t know what to do. And now without my panties I recognized how much I didn’t want to sit naked in this seat.

I sensed more people gathering just behind me and another came around and stepped very close in front of me, working himself aggressively. He clearly had the intention of finishing on me.

I was thinking of how this all just seemed too dirty as the guy with his hand between my legs began sucking my nipple. I was convinced that the one above us was about to finish on us both. I grabbed the wrist of my friend whose fingers began exploring more deeply between my legs. I thought I wanted to push him away, but I couldn’t.

Then the door next to the screen flew open and a group of loud young men came pouring in. My new friends pulled away while the young men took in our perverse scene with surprise. This was all too much for me, and the interruption helped me know what I should do. I took the distraction as my chance to escape, and jumped up grabbing my jacket from Brandon before pushing my way past the young men and out into the lobby. Brandon followed.

There were only a few people in the lobby, but they all took notice of me as I emerged practically naked and fumbling to put on my jacket. They must have thought I worked there, or knew I had come to play, as the girls earlier announced. But I wasn’t embarrassed. I liked the ideas of what they might be thinking, and turned to Brandon with a question I chose not to whisper.

“Where are my panties?”

Brandon said he didn’t know, so I insisted he go back into the theater to get them. My jacket wasn’t long enough to cover me completely. I was still very aroused from the experience in the theater, and standing now mostly still exposed in front of this new lobby audience only elevated my excitement. But I knew I couldn’t walk the 20 blocks to the hotel in my see-through skirt with no panties – particularly after the kind of attention we gathered during the walk to the theater.

I stood there, with my hands folded in front of me, awkwardly smiling at the handful of people staring at me in the lobby while I waited for Brandon to find my panties. Several of the men came out from the theater, and one I didn’t recognize suggested I come back to his place, adding I could bring my boyfriend. I humored him a bit by playing coy and put my hand on his chest as he stood very close to me. This encouraged him. He reached into my jacket and squeezed my boob. I didn’t stop him because I knew my outfit, and the way I acted in the theater, was an invitation for such advances. But I knew I wasn't going to go with him to his house.

When Brandon came back, I took him by the hand and rushed out the door onto the surprisingly crowded street. I then stood up against the wall and pulled Brandon to me, trying to cover the fact I was bottomless but for my see-through skirt. I asked for my panties. He told me he couldn’t find them. He wanted me to walk back to the hotel like this, which I admitted would be fun, but convinced him that we were headed for trouble in this crowd. Brandon agreed and went to the curb to hail a taxi while I stayed against the wall. I kept my hands folded in front of me to cover from the onlookers, who I knew were on to me.

In the cab, I sat with my leg folded under me excitedly talking about all that had just happened. I wanted Brandon’s thoughts about it and found it fun to have such a conversation in the presence of the driver. But Brandon seemed a little disappointed. To cheer him up, I told him we could get out of the cab a few blocks before the hotel. When we got closer, I would feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way without my panties. Brandon then pulled my panties from his pocket and gave me a cheeky smile. I tucked them back in his pocket and told the driver to let us out. We could walk from here.

Considering everything we got into on this vacation, I find it ironic that it was one of the innocent touristy things that turned out to be the best exhibitionist experience on the trip – at least for me.

I expected that the ferry out to Alcatraz would offer some good fun for us, but I knew I needed to wear a top. So, after how excited Brandon got watching me walk around bottomless the night before, I decided to wear a short breezy skirt - with no panties. As expected, it was very windy on the boat, and the ride had a few exciting moments, but nothing compared to what was to come.

On the island, I pretended to be oblivious to the wind lifting my skirt. An easy act as I could feel the wonderfully cool air swirling between my legs, but I wasn’t sure what was revealed to others. I noticed I had the attention of several people, but after having spent the last few days and nights parading around the city half naked, I didn’t now know if I was recognized from that, or from my live show now.

As we moved indoors to take an audio tour through the prison, I thought the fun would be put on hold. We were each given a tape player with headphones, and directed to move through the prison without a tour guide. We were grouped with other people and although everyone was moving at their own pace, we stayed with the larger group for the most part. Brandon and I both were fascinated with the prison and the unusual nature of the tour.

There were a few moments of excitement as I moved along walkways a level above other tourists and Brandon pointed out that some below were looking up my skirt. But otherwise, the indoor tour, although very interesting, was uneventful. 

When we stepped outside to the exercise yard, we were tightly mixed with the crowd through a bottleneck because one group was moving into the yard and another group was heading back inside. This protected me from the wind. But as our group spread out, and I walked toward the workshop across the yard, I was hit with such a powerful wind that I struggled to keep my balance. This was a violent and relentless blast, whipping my hair into my face such that it was hard to see. I was feeling around for something to grab hold of to keep from falling before realizing that my skirt was now up in my face with the waistband caught around my breasts. I had found the windiest place on Earth. With my arms and hair flailing above, if my breasts were any smaller, I am certain my skirt would be in the bay.

I stumbled among a couple of dozen people who saw that I was now naked from my breasts down. My skirt was around my head, frantically reaching for the sky, as if it were that cone put around the neck of a dog to keep it from licking itself.

I was a complete mess, tangled in my own hair, which was whipping me in the face as I struggled to stay on my feet. I thought my top was already gone, until I caught a glimpse of it bunched up around my chin. I attempted to grab my skirt to pull it down but could hardly tell what was happening. The wind didn’t let up, but after the initial shock of the attack, I gained my balance enough and realized I had not dropped the tape player, as I had feared. I was so discombobulated but also exhilarated by having Mother Nature practically rip my clothes off in public.

I had been almost continuously exposed in recent days, but this was an entirely different experience. I was not now a bold girl going about topless on a bicycle, or an adventurous wife out for an exciting time at a sex club. Here I was a helpless girl completely but innocently and accidentally exposed in public. It was so thrillingly unexpected. I started to shake and bounce while crying with laughter and joy.

Several people, although struggling with the wind themselves, came to my rescue. Their efforts to pull my skirt down or otherwise cover me resulted in an awkward dance in the wind. I couldn’t see well, but I could feel what seemed like a dozen hands on my body as everyone struggled with my clothes and the overall effort to keep me covered. It was quite stimulating for me to be handled by these well-meaning people while we wrestled against the relentless wind, which was determined to keep me naked.

As I was shuffled back toward the door of the prison, I could feel that I was still exposed while climbing the steep stairs into the building. Just after we made it inside, confirming my clothes were mostly restored, I reached down expecting to feel my skirt back in place but my hands smacked against my bare bottom, explaining why I just heard from behind me a loud and excited guy call out.

“Woohoo!”

Back inside, I could not stop laughing. Which I later thought really helped everybody enjoy the encounter instead of us all having to take an uncomfortable ferry ride back across the bay. We were able to joke about it instead. I was delighted and told my new friends that I found the wind quite refreshing. Except for the nightmare that was my hair (now tangled with the headphone wires), the whole windy experience was magnificently enlivening.

Although I relished the unexpected event, I knew that Brandon didn’t help me at all. I later asked him about this. He said that he didn’t think I would have really wanted his help. I knew I couldn’t be mad… he was right.

We got into so many things on this trip that I could not include everything in this telling. But considering all of that, and being the only one naked at the beach, riding a bike around the city topless, and our wickedly naughty adventure at the O’Farrell Theater, I think the tour of Alcatraz may have been the most exhilarating part for me. The entire trip was full of wonderfully sexy fun, but it is always the more innocent and unexpected experiences that thrill me most.

Epilogue:

A few weeks after our sexy adventures in the City by the Bay, I learned I was pregnant. I believe this (which I had come to fear may not be possible) finally happened in San Francisco.