My mother used to tell me, "Guys only want to go out with you for sex."
I'm starting this story with my mother because I've received tons of emails about my Grand Prix stories, and several people - including 2 women I'm happy to say! - have asked about how I became so daring in showing off.
Mum always was a sexy woman - still is, in fact. She has heaps of wise things to say about men and women, some of it a bit tongue in cheek:
* "Men usually fall in lust first, then love";
* "Girls need to know just two things to get any guy they want - first, how to be a good conversationalist and, second, how to walk in high heels";
* "On a date, when men get tired of talking about themselves, they want something to look at while you talk about yourself."
Knowing this, I've always made sure I showed off when I went on dates. This generally involved wearing as little as I could get away with. One of my first boyfriends, Jason, used to tell me off for the skirts I'd wear. Once, we were going to a movie and, as a skirt, I wore this piece of silver stretch material about 8 inches wide I'd bought in a fabric shop sale for $2.
"Bloody hell, everyone can see your butt! Can't you cover it up a bit?"
I used to smile and think, "That's the whole idea, dummy!"
I loved the looks I'd get, especially from guys roughly my age, but even from a few of the guys who must have been around mum's age, or even older!
One of my favourite outfits for years has been a thin, tight black t-shirt and a really low slung pair of hipster pants. Walking down the street, my tits would bounce around and, when I started to learn wearing high heels, they'd stick out even more.
"You know I encourage you to look your best, but you don't have to show that much midriff!" mum would sometimes say, when I'd unzip the pants an inch or two and fold the bottom of the t-shirt up.
Most of the guys, Jason included, got really jealous of the looks I'd get.
"I feel like I'm going out with some kind of slut!" Jason would sometimes say.
"Don't you like it?" I'd ask him, "Some guys pay to go out with sluts Jase!"
I never understood guys. They were all really interested in you looking sexy while they chased you but, when they thought they had you, they'd get all possessive, like Jase.
"Show us your tits!" guys would sometimes yell at me if I walked past sticking my chest out in one of my tight tops.
"Show me your dick, idiot!" I'd usually yell back.
I guess I've always loved teasing guys; I'd go out on group dates with a bunch of girls and guys and I'd love upstaging everyone.
"Wow!" the boys would say, "Great skirt!"
Until I grew out of it, my favourite skirt used to be a striped pink one; it was a 10-inch number and hugged my butt nicely. It was impossible to sit modestly in it: I'd sit cross-legged on a bench in a park, or at McDonalds, and it'd bunch up around my waist, showing my taut panties.
Some of the girls would give me dirty looks and say sarcastic things like, "So you think you're pretty hot stuff, don't you?"
Once or twice, this really jealous girl, Frances, would say something like, "Go on, I dare you to walk around town without your briefs on!"
I wasn't brave enough to do this, but I had fun pretending I didn't even know what was showing when I'd sit cross-legged just chat to the guys. Their eyes couldn't be ripped away from my pussy, especially when I acted like there was an itch on my thigh and had to rub it.
"Let's go to the movies!" I'd say, if one of the cute guys was part of our group, knowing that I could casually sling a leg over the knee of the guy sitting next to me. Predictably, within two seconds, his hand would all over my legs, sometimes even probing my pussy!
I eventually started having sex because I figured it wasn't worth the trouble to fight the guys off. Sometimes, I even enjoyed it, when they took the trouble to give me some pleasure. Most of them just liked being seen with a young chick who dressed sexily.
It meant, though, that I got to go to some cool places, especially when I started to be a bit more daring with my outfits.
One guy, Bevan, a radio DJ, took me to an opening of a bar and said, "Dress really sexy for this one 'cos you won't be the only one!"
So I borrowed mum's sewing machine and made myself this leopard skin fur bikini, just a little one to hold my tits in place and hide my pussy.
"What do you think?" I asked Bevan, modelling it for him in the high heels he'd given me as a gift.
He almost spluttered his drink right out at me and looked speechless.
"If I was to lean backward like this onto the bar," I went on, "and push my hips out, can you see behind the fur?"
You see, I like clothes that I can squirm around in to reveal my hidden charms: g-strings so brief they run inside my pussy lips and that you could only see when I parted my legs under a tiny skirt; low-cut spaghetti strap tops that gape when I lean over, occasionally spilling my tits out altogether.
When Bevan and I got there, it was a bit tricky to get through the crowd to the door. Dressed the way I was, no door bitch ever got in my way, so we got in quickly. They knew it was good for business to have sexy things like me walking around.
And I did more than just walk around . . .
Once I'd shaken Bevan off I had fun going up to guys standing at the bar and saying, in my cutest little girl voice, "Would you buy me a drink, please?"
They nearly always said yes and then I'd sit up on the bar, facing them, with my tits just being held in by my furry top and my furry leopard pussy right there in front of them. Some guys couldn't help themselves and would start to stroke my legs, or even grab my tits.
I'd pretend to be offended, "What are you doing!?"
They'd look sheepish and mumble something but then I'd add, "Whatever it is, it feels great!" and put their hand back where it was.
The third guy I did this with was pretty cute and he had his fingers inside my bikini bottoms before I knew it.
"Hey, you gotta wait until a girl's turned on a little," I told him. "Just 'cos you are, doesn't mean I am - yet."
Just then, Bevan came up and saw that something was happening. He started yelling stuff at me and grabbed this guy to take him outside for a fight. Luckily, the bouncers came and saved them both.
Before I left Bevan for good that night, I told him, "It drives me crazy that you guys get that jealous. It's my body, isn't it? I never said to anyone I was theirs alone!"
Around that time, I went out with plenty of guys and, whenever they'd want to buy me something, I'd always ask them for clothes.
I'd say, "That way, if you buy me something sexy, you get some of the benefit too!"
One guy, Mark, was a real raver and he'd take me to these parties with incredible techno music. A lot of the girls there were slim and athletic (all those party drugs!) and they'd wear really tight, fluoro clothes for dancing.
For my birthday, Mark took me to a dance party. He told me to show off as much as I dared, "I'll buy you whatever you need to do your best!"
So we went shopping and I tried on this silver bodysuit which fitted me like a glove. You could just see the dark bits of my nipples through it and, if I hadn't shaved my pussy hair, you could have seen that too.
"I like the way the seam parts my lips Mark!" I purred as I spread my legs in the shop to show him.
The sales lady didn't quite know where to look as I paraded up and down the mirrors and bent over to see how my pussy looked.
"Look, Mark, when I bend over, the fabric stretches so it's almost see through!"
Mark grinned and the sales lady just turned bright red, which I loved.
Anyway, we had a great time. I danced and danced in this outfit and got groped all over. One guy I took behind some pot plants and let him lick me to orgasm through my bodysuit!
When I met Mark fifteen minutes later he looked down and said, "Well, what's been going on down there?"
I looked down and saw that the whole bodysuit had changed colour where it was damp; my pussy lips could clearly be seen pressing against the fabric.
"Spilled my drink, Mark," I said, giggling.
"Sure, honey, sure," he said, without much of a smile.
Another jealous type, I could see that. Time to piss him off, I thought to myself.
Probably the most important event in me becoming a real exhibitionist happened about a year ago, when I met this incredibly sexy girl at a party. She was wearing strappy shoes so high she could hardly walk in them and a yellow satin minidress which probably started life as a slip. Whenever she took a step, her dress would ride up at the back, showing that she wore no panties.
