Perhaps it's because my first real sexual experience was committed outside, or perhaps it's because at times I want, I need, to be the center of attention. Maybe it's because I'm just free spirit at heart, at home with herself and with her sexuality... then again perhaps it's just because I'm a kinky little bitch... but I often fantasize about sex in public or public exposure.
I'm not just talking about sex in an empty cornfield in the middle of nowhere, or a romantic evening on a deserted beach. No, my public fantasies always take place in busy, even crowded places. Buses, trains, parks, even shopping centers or on the street itself.
A Quick Note on Dogging
Dogging doesn't really count to me as exhibitionism or outdoors sex, more a swingers party for people too lazy to tidy up their houses first so they do it outside...
Sadly I've yet to live out anything which comes close to approaching these deliciously dark dreams. Partly due to my own reserve, partly due to the... shall we say, unadventurous nature of my partners so far when it comes to this particular area. The thought of what I'd be capable of given the right encouragement and situation does make me wonder what might happen in the future.
In the meantime tho, for now, I'll have to live with the fantasy of public sex, and this has been one of my favourite ones over the last couple of years. I ran through it in my head this morning after I woke up and I found that it certainly still has the power to excite me...
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It's set inside a pub or a bar, somewhere busy-ish, fairly open planned but with some cover in way of posts and pillars, a few nooks and crannies. It's early evening or night and the room is getting a little darker and busier when I enter alone.
In this fantasy I'm usually dressed fairly conservatively but smartly, maybe bare legs or stockings with cute but not to OTT shoes, always a skirt, the length of which depends on my wickedness of thought whilst I'm imagining this. Over that my hair is usually up, or back and I have on either a blouse with a bra or a tightish tank top with a open top over it. For the following I'll go with the stockings over the bare legs and the blouse.
I order a soft drink (I don't drink ever I'm afraid) and look for a table to sit at. I'm due to meet either friends or a boyfriend here, but they're still to arrive as I spot someone, a guy, who I know vaguely. Usually it's a friend of a friend, a passing acquaintance or an old class mate I've not seen for a few years. Either way he's sat alone and I join him at his beckoning to me, I sit back to the room opposite him and listen as he tells me that he's sat alone waiting for friends too.
We talk and catch up and I notice his eye dropping to my chest or to my lips subtly every so open and it makes my nipples harden and my thighs tingle under the knee length skirt I'm wearing. Whilst he fetches me a new drink I undo a button more on my blouse revealing the beginning rise of my breasts with a hint of cleavage and his slight double take when he returns makes it very worthwhile.
We talk some more, his eyes straying to blouse more often that before, I'm enjoying teasing him so much, wondering if he's hard under the table at just this merest hint of flesh on display from me. I'm so tempted to just reach out and discover how far his arousal has gotten but I restrain myself. For the time being anyway.
He gets a text on his phone and on checking it, tells me that his friend's going to be late and might not show up at all. Whilst he gets himself a new drink again I text whoever I'm supposed to be meeting that I can't make it and then undo the next button on my blouse and let it hang open just a little, more of my cleavage and a lil of my bra on display now.
I look around the room, turning back to see it all, and although far from crowded, there's a dozen or two people in, we're sat at a false corner, one side a wooden divide, to the other an empty table.
The guy sits back down and openly smiles at the extra flesh I'm showing almost studying it as he takes a sip of his drink before he tells me that he always thought I had good breasts. He's clearly heading towards drunk and his openness and his eyes on me make me eager to see exactly where this will go, so I tease him some more, leaning forward, letting the opening gap widen, showing him a little extra pale creamy skin.
I ask quietly, seductively if he'd like to see my breasts, I mean it hypothetically, but he misunderstands and simply nods, adding a moment later that I wouldn't dare show them to him right there.
In my fantasy I blush at the thought of such an action, exposing myself, displaying myself here with so many people so close, all around me. He pushes a little, asking if I dare to do it. Without thinking, half of me not even wanting to think any more, I ask if he's daring me to flash him. He drains his drink and as he stands to get yet another he nods again, his grin plastering his face with an almost incorrigible attraction.
He leaves me to stew for a few moments and returns to the table with fresh drinks for us both, my smells strongly of vodka and he knows I don't drink. He points at it and that grin returns, mirrored in his eyes with a sparkle which defies any turning back. Dutch Courage he says, lifting his own glass as I try to resist this game I've suddenly found myself in.
After trying to wait my hesitation out a moment or two he pushes again, I dare you to flash for a whole minute no matter what happens. The playful, almost taunting desire in his tone finally hooks me. I push the drink away untouched as I take a deep breath before undoing the penultimate button, pushing the blouse open more and scooping my breasts free from their cups, all within a few seconds.
I dart my eyes around to check no one else can see as his eyes are fixed firmly on my bare breasts, the nipples taut and raised. He brings his phone up and at first I think he's using it to time the minute before I realize he's actually taking pictures of me showing myself to him in such a public place so wantonly. I start to pull my blouse to as he does this and he shakes his head. No matter what, remember?
I'm trapped and I love it.
He puts the phone down and reaches forward and strokes my right nipple with his finger tips making me bite my lip and close my eyes for a second until he tells me the time is up and I almost reluctantly recup myself and pull my blouse too, leaving only that last button in place still.
I grab my glass and down it in one, the unfamiliar taste of the vodka coursing through me as I feel its affects hitting me in an instant. Easy I say, somewhat foolishly and all this does is give him the opportunity to ask if I'd like something a little more difficult as my next dare.
I feel my head swimming slightly from the drink I just finished in one gulp as he looks into my eyes and tells me that he wants my underwear. I return his look with interest, with alot of interest as my hardening nipples encourage me to do exactly as he wants. I stand, turning my head to look for the ladies room where I can safely remove my bra and panties. He shakes his head and tells me that I should sit back down and I cannot leave the table until my undies are in his hands.
I smile, despite the small knot of fear in my gut, enjoying the blatant nature of this contest now. A battle between us, but a battle for what? Why to find my limits of course. What he doesn't know that how I'm feeling now means that my limits might be quite a way off yet.
I sit back and look him in the eye, not even caring to look around the room as I reach back to unclip my bra through my thin blouse. I shrug the shoulder straps down and pull one past my hand, then pull on the other to slide it out the short sleeve of my top.
I hand it to him and all he says is now its time for my panties. Just him saying that, in a voice loud enough that anyone passing can overhear, just that makes my panties just a lil bit damper and I can hardly wait til he gets to feel how wet they have gotten in so brief a time. Or maybe even smell... Oh my...
My eyes have still not left his face as I lean forwards slightly, my now braless breasts pushing to the table top, the nipples rubbing against the firm wood. Rubbing more than is strictly necessary I might add. My hands dip under my skirt as I slip the french knickers I have on down my thighs, the gusset held to my crotch a moment with its dampness. Then they're down over my knees as I slip out of my shoes and tug them free before handing them over the empty glasses on the table and into his waiting hand.