After years of flashing her shapely body to any and every man looking her way, after years of struggling to control the urge to flash and wrestling with guilt, when she couldn't, after years of private psychotherapy and group therapy, Susan thought she was cured of her sexual disorder of flashing. Nearly raped the last time she showed herself late at night on an empty subway train was the catalyst for her to get help. She swore that exposing herself would never happen again.
Driven by the urge to flash, always planning an appropriate time and plotting the perfect place to show her shapely body, she was consumed by an inherent horniness that was only satisfied by exposing herself and masturbating over the experience of flashing later. Not understanding why she needed and wanted to show herself, wishing she didn't feel so compelled to show her body to men, she spent years of her life flashing her panties and her bra, and showing her ass, her pussy, and/or her breasts to relatives, friends, co-workers, and random men on the street. Every man she's ever known has seen some part or all of her naked body. Too many men she didn't even know have seen too much of her body. Thanks to therapy, glad that she was finally saved from herself, her need to expose herself was behind her or was it?
A somewhat rare condition for women, typically men are the ones with this particular sexual disorder of exposing themselves. A psychological condition that manifests itself in them flashing their cocks to unsuspecting women for a sexual thrill and to masturbate over later, Susan loved flashing her body to unsuspecting men to masturbate over their shocked look of surprise later. Only, when men flash their cocks to women, they are hunted, until arrested. Conversely, when women flash their bodies to men, they are wanted and dated.
After not having the urge to flash herself for several years, her need to flash herself started again, when she went outside to take out the trash. An innocent and innocuous chore, something she's done many times before, had she known that something as simple as taking out the trash would cause her to lapse and flash again, she never would have walked outside to empty her trash bag in the barrel. If only she had stayed inside her townhouse, if only she had been wearing her jeans and sweatshirt, none of this would have happened. Yet, perhaps, fate had intervened and what happened to poor Susan was kismet, as her flashing abstinence ended that day.
A prelude to summer, it was a late spring day with temperatures nearly high enough to be summer. Just coming out of the shower, hoping to beat the trash pickup, she heard the trash truck in the distance making its way down her street. Grabbing her robe and slippers, she grabbed her bag of trash and headed for the trash barrel that she had put out last night. A household chore that should have taken only a minute turned into a flashing nightmare, after the neighbor's dog toppled her trash barrel again.
"Get out of there, Buster. Beat it," she chased away the neighbor's dog that had knocked the trash barrel over and littered garbage everywhere.
As she squatted down to pick up everything, with her knees unmindfully parted, she felt a cool breeze blow beneath her robe, one that elicited a familiar feeling, when she was flashing. Suddenly, she felt so open. She felt to naked. She felt so exposed. She felt so horny.
Even though the sudden breeze felt freeing and good, the urge to flash felt controlling and bad. The sensation of the gentle wind fanning across her pussy lips tickled her pubic hair, as if the gentle breeze was nature's natural lover. It was then that she realized her furry flower was exposed to anyone passing. Yet, with most people already having left for work, few passersby were out at this hour of the morning, unless they were walking their dogs.
Then, when one part of her robe slipped from her thigh, even though she was still fully covered, she had the urge to flash. Remembering how she had flashed the pizza delivery guy, the mail man, the UPS man, the Fedex man, the Jehovah Witnesses, political campaigners running for office, petitioners wanting her to sign their petitions, traveling salesmen, and anyone and everyone who came knocking at her door in this very robe, she suddenly had the need to flash herself again. Not having had that urge, since she finished her therapy several years ago, her need to flash returned full force and with a vengeance. She'd call her psychiatrist, Dr. Jones, as soon as she went in the house. Maybe all she needed to control her abnormal urge to expose herself again was just another session of group therapy.
Nonetheless, now more mindful of the inherent flashing opportunity of her robe, especially in the way she squatted down and was so exposed with her knees apart, flashing her pussy to anyone she saw looking would be so easy. With the excitement of flashing creeping in her conscious mind, all she had to do was to turn more one way or twist the other, while opening her knees wider, on the pretense of picking up trash. In the way she squatted down now, she'd make her flash appear accidental to anyone looking and when it came to seeing any part of her, because she was beautiful, there was always someone looking.
Yet, beauty aside, whenever any women is showing anything, there is always someone looking. Even though she was supposedly cured from showing her naked body to men, she wasn't free from the thoughts of showing her naked body to men. Yet, so long as she could control the urge to flash, she was okay.
Still being cured from flashing didn't stop her from thinking about flashing. If she had the urge and the need to show more of her body, which suddenly she did, all she had to do was to loosen the tie around her waist. Then, when she stood, her bathrobe tie would fall and with just a quick twist and a fast turn, her robe would open.
With her robe open, her C cup breasts would spill out, first one and then the other, before she realized that she was so exposed, closed her robe, and retied her bathrobe tie. Only, too late, she imagined thinking. With someone always watching her, someone would have already seen her tits and, perhaps, even her pussy. The familiar excitement of being so exposed made her want to masturbate.
The perfect opportunity to accidentally on purpose flash herself, she'd love to show her naked body to someone, anyone who was looking. Only, even though she thought about doing just that, loosening her tie, before standing, turning, and twisting to allow her robe to fall open, the thought to flash herself was nothing more than an urge, an urge that she now was able to control, thanks to her psychological therapy. Erasing the thoughts of flashing from her mind, now that she was successfully able to control her lewd behavior and lascivious impulses, she stood and moved to pick up the trash and garbage that the wind had neatly deposited in small piles along the bottom of the garage door.
A life altering blessing, she was glad she had therapy that allowed her to control her flashing urges. She was glad that her sexual disorder of flashing no longer controlled her life in the way it had for so many years. She was glad that she hadn't flashed anyone any part of her in a long time.
Just coming home from the senior center, the headlights from her elderly mother's car lit her up and Susan stood, just as her mother pressed the garage door button. As if playing an eerie song from the Devil's violin, the garage door slowly creaked and squeaked open. When Susan stood in concert with the door raising, as if the Devil's hand commanded her to flash, the hem of her robe tangled in the garage door flashing trim. Unable to free herself, her robe lifted in concert with the garage door opening.
