All characters in this story are eighteen years of age and older. This story is also protected under copyright and only Literotica have my permission to print this story.
Not all women are put off by the wandering, lurking gaze of lusty men. I loved it during the ages of "Ah-hum", clears throat not to get into trouble, 18-22. I still enjoy it to a degree, but now I'm older with far more control and understanding about my mind and body.
However, there was a time when being objectified by the opposite sex unbelievably turned me on. There are levels of course. I'm not talking about sexual harassment. I'm talking about the men who knowingly looked, stared, watched, studied and appreciated my behaviour during those years.
Those men made me feel powerful, and in fairness to them, they weren't really objectifying. I was doing it to myself. I wanted them to look at me. I needed their approval. I wasn't aware of being self-conscious or a cock-tease at the time. It was all about satisfying an unexplainable deep-rooted need to show off.
I have so many examples I could share with you, so I'll give you a snippet into my behaviour before you hopefully hang around to read one erotic tale in particular.
I don't know where my behaviour came from, what created it, or why I couldn't stop it. What I do know, however, is that I loved it. I loved getting lost and found in the male gaze. If he was sexually attractive then it was a bonus, and if he wasn't, there was no harm done. All I cared about was him looking at me with those hungry eyes.
I'm busty and curvy, five-six, with brown hair and blue eyes. I'm not drop dead gorgeous, but I've never had a problem attracting the guys I fancy either. I would regularly wear bikini tops with short skirts or tight shorts on sunny days, just to show off as much skin as possible.
I went to the local beach on my own just so I could lay in the sun in a skimpy bikini, being leched over for a few hours. I'd then go hide amongst the rocks, pull my bikini bottoms aside and masturbate.
I'd go for walks in the woods during quiet times, walking topless for as long as possible. I never wore any knickers on those walks either. I would slip off the beaten track to find a hiding place and bring myself off.
One time my parents were having an extension built to expand the kitchen. During the days when I was home alone, I always ignored my mothers instruction to get dressed before going downstairs. As soon as my parents left for work I was straight in the kitchen.
In just a dressing gown I'd ask the builders if they wanted any tea or coffee. The most exciting time was when I came down in my pyjama shorts and t-shirt. My nipples and camel toe were protruding, giving them a right eyeful. The best part was them knowing I knew they knew what I was doing. My promiscuity was too damn obvious, but I loved every second of it, as did they, before I eventually returned to my bedroom to masturbate with them working downstairs.
When I got my drivers licence, whilst at University, I regularly drove back late on a Sunday night and flashed my tits at the truck drivers. It worked best on the continental drivers because they drove left-hand rigs. I would deliberately travel along the inside lane at 50mph. The trucker behind would get frustrated, eventually driving up my backside before overtaking in the middle lane.
As he passed I'd flash him my big round boobs with their stiff, excited nipples, to calm his anger whilst keeping his pulse racing. I never wore a bra on those road trips back to University. I never made it all the way without pulling into a service station to masturbate in the car either.
At the mall I wore tops that didn't need a bra. Having pokies was a guaranteed way to get men of all ages to stare at me. Most of my friends would get embarrassed when it happened to them. But given the choice between the firm outline of a bra showing through a top, or my erect nipples, I chose my nipples every time.
The gym was a funny one. I found it a bit hit and miss. I always felt sexy in a pair of leggings and a bulging sports bra, but most of the guys didn't flick my switch. A sweaty old man hanging out of his arse on a treadmill, or a young meathead on steroids wasn't my cup of tea. They'd stare but I wasn't showing off for them.
However, for right guy I'd happily stretch in front of him, or sit back on the machine to let him get a good look. That naturally had me masturbating in the shower. Even better if there was a guy using the cubicle next to me. Whoever thought unisex changing rooms was a good idea I saluted them back then. Not so much when I became a mother, though, and I started taking my daughter swimming. Ha-Ha.
So that was me in a nutshell during the early years of my adult life. Each situation had me aroused and flicking my bean. It was an addiction I couldn't escape from. I never wanted to get cornered or caught masturbating, and I certainly didn't want anyone recognising me. It was simply about the moment. The moment I'm getting lost in the hungry gaze of horny men. Old or young, it didn't really matter.
The experience I would like to share with you is the one involving Sean the window cleaner. He was in his mid-thirties and he was a good-looking guy. He wasn't too tall or too short. He had a strong upper body and he always looked rugged and masculine.
I was just a curious, curvy eighteen-year-old brunette with blue eyes. If it wasn't for my big boobs I would have been an ordinary girl in the street, but I was far from ordinary once you got to know me.
I liked risk and danger when it came to sex and being sexy. The thrill was overpowering and controlling at times. It was hard to recognise myself in some of those moments. It was if I had all the courage in the world to do anything I wanted. But then I'd masturbate and suddenly feel ashamed of my antics, and mightily relieved the orgasm had saved me from doing something really crazy, like letting those builders fuck me on the job my parents were paying them so handsomely to do for them.
Anyway...
I was doing what most college girls do when they're in the safe space of their bedroom. I was listening to loud music, singing and bopping along to the lyrics and beat whilst getting undressed.
"Louise!!!" my father screamed up the stairs. I hurried towards my bedroom door and opened it.
"Yeah?" I replied, poking my head over the bannister.
"Turn that bloody music down, or off! Me and your mother are going food shopping, and the window cleaner is here, so make sure you're decent and you're blinds are closed!"
"Ok. Will do. Thanks, dad."
I returned to my bedroom, closed the door, smiling mischievously and turned the music off. I then buttoned my college blouse back up and waited. I'd been fantasising about doing something with the window cleaner for quite a while, so I decided to finally do it.
"Close the damn blinds, Louise! Don't do it!" my sensible thoughts told me.
"You know you want to do this, Lou-Lou!" my naughty thoughts waded in.
