Halloween flasher exposes more than his cock by saying the magic words, "Treat or Trick."
No doubt about it. No ands, ifs, or maybes, Dwayne was a pervert, always was and always will be. If there was one thing that defined Dwayne, more than the fact that he was married with children, held down a good job, was a good friend, a loving son, brother, uncle, and son-in-law, was active in his community, and did his civic duty by paying his taxes and voting, he was a flasher.
He's been a flasher, as long as he could remember. He even remembered the first time he flashed his cock was to his cousin and his aunt, then later to whichever relative and friend came to his parents house. Not long after, he took his show on the road, flashing his cock outside to women he didn't even know.
The guilt that seeped through and that eventually overwhelmed his excitement of exposing himself, indelibly stamped flasher on his forehead in the way that Nathaniel Hawthorne indelibly stamped the scarlet letter on Hester Prynne for bearing an illegitimate child. The same shame, despair, and solitude of his crime of flashing is something that he alone bore and that always was there in the background, as if watching a pouring rain on a grey, foggy day from inside his house. Flashing, a bittersweet moment, the lewd and lascivious sexual assault that made him feel bad about what he did later to unsuspecting women, superseded whatever pleasure he received from flashing. Yet, as his way to remove the guilt, the shame, and the despair, he continued flashing.
On the surface, just another harmless exhibitionist, he was more a nuisance than anything else. In a world of passions with some men who love to drink, other men who love sports, and with most men who love drinking, while enjoying their passion for sports, there are those who love their hogs, their cars, and their hobbies, whatever, Dwayne loved exposing himself to women. Yet, not giving Dwayne his just do, he was more than just an impulsive and random flasher. In the way that he planned when and where he'd flash, so as not to be caught and without ever being caught, with the guile and plotting of a bank robber casing out the location of his crime, Dwayne put the same level of serious effort in his flashing.
More hands off, but in the same vein as those Japanese men who shark women by lifting their skirts to expose their panties, pulling down their panties to expose their asses and pussies, and/or pulling down their tube tops to expose their tits, what excited him was to catch women by surprise and flash them his cock. Even though he was aghast by those Japanese men who played their raping game of Chikan on subway trains, buses, and hotel swimming pools, Dwayne never even consider touching, groping, and/or exposing his flashing victim. He derived his excitement from only exposing himself. Having women see his exposed prick was all he ever needed and wanted.
His way of recapturing his most exciting days in his life, over and again, he felt that same level of excitement, as if it was the first time, as if it was the first kiss, every time he flashed his cock to a woman. Reigniting the excitement he had the first time he got laid, the first night of his Honeymoon, his first job, the birth of his first child, his first new car, whatever it was that made him crazy with excitement, flashing created that same level of excitement over and again in him. Every time women saw his prick was as if he received a shot of renewed adrenaline that made him want to flash again. Whether depressed, worried, and, even sick, just by the mere flash of his cock, he'd forget his personal problems, if only for the time before, during, and after his flashing adventure.
Indeed, flashing his cock was his miracle drug. An elixir that he could not buy over the counter or even with a doctor's prescription. Even though psychologists and psychiatrists have all used their full education and experience in hoping to improve the mental health of Dwayne by stopping him from flashing, he was never as happy as he was when flashing his cock to unsuspecting women.
In readiness to flash, as his flashing victim neared, he was so excited that he'd quiver. Young or old, tall or short, fat or thin, no matter, he was so excited that he shake and quake, while exposing himself to whomever she was. Deliriously not with the joy of cooking, sewing, or baking that any of his victims may have enjoyed doing, his joy was more base and vile. The role of the women, other than being forced to be victim to see Dwayne's exposed cock, were just a casualty of his crime. As if a junkie needing his fix, needing that constant excitement to make him feel alive, Dwayne was delirious with sexual excitement before, during, and after flashing.
It wasn't only flashing his cock that got him excited but also in watching their reaction to their seeing his cock; that's what did it for him and really made his day. Whatever their reaction, was what he needed to take away with him to replay through his mind, while masturbating over the incident later. Reliving the flashing events later by masturbating over what they all saw of him, their reaction to having seen his cock was what excited him. The more violated they felt, the more horror at the sight of his cock that they showed on their faces, and the more they showed him their revulsion to him flashing his cock to them, the more their reactions made him want to flash more women. He masturbated over what they all saw and how they reacted when they saw his exposed prick. Flashing his cock was a viscous cycle of perversion; the more he flashed, the more he wanted to flash.
Just as there were ones who looked once, there were others who looked, looked away, and looked again. Some stared but, as if they all feared that he was going to chase them, attack them, and rape them, they all hurried away. Most women looked at him, as if he had a disease or as if there was something really wrong with him, which, of course, there was. The first to admit it, he always felt that there was something seriously wrong with him for him to not only flash women but also for him to enjoy flashing women.
Yet, just as he couldn't help himself from enjoying flashing women nor could he stop from flashing woman. All it took for him to want to flash a woman was to see a woman in a place where he knew he could flash her and get away. The excited enjoyment he felt from flashing far outweighed any shame he imagined that he'd have had for exposing himself to women later. Besides, the shame and self-loathing didn't come until much later and he could always reverse his mood and turn his bad days to good days by flashing again. Even though he sometimes felt guilty about exposing himself to women, even though he was made to feel bad by some of the looks of horror he received from flashing his cock, it didn't matter, he still flashed them.
An intelligent man, he justified his flashing by seeing the other side of the coin. As the flasher that he was, he couldn't help but think about all the women who flash men in a bar, on a beach, on a subway, at sporting events, on a dare, at Mardi Gras, and at Spring Break? What about them? Why is their flashing acceptable, even encouraged, behavior? Why is their flashing any different from his flashing? Why aren't those women arrested for exposing themselves? Why aren't those women made to feel like the sexual deviates and perverted predators that they are in the way they purposely tease men by purposely flashing them their naked and semi-naked bodies?
For the sake of unmercifully teasing men, those women who flash their bodies to men, while making it appear accidental and making the men feel like the perverts that they aren't, are the perverted ones by showing so much of their skin to men. Why aren't the names of those women listed on a sex registry list? Why aren't those women hunted down and chastised, instead of being cheered and revered, in the way that he's been so treated?
It didn't make any sense to him. The same laws of public nudity should apply to all, regardless of sex. Admittedly, if a woman flashed herself in front of a police officer, especially if that woman was obese and/or unattractive, chances are, she'd be arrested. Yet, if a woman who looked like a Sports Illustrated bikini babe or a Victoria's Secret underwear model, even without wings, she'd be asked out for a drink, dinner, and more.
