Making A Weakness A Strength

Weak 1

I had finished the first assignment the temp agency had given me; it was only one day a week, 8.00 'til 2.00, filling in while someone was on a course for a month, but I was going on to the next straight away. It was a start and I had been assured that if I did ok, was punctual and efficient there would be more jobs coming my way.

I was standing at the stop waiting for the bus that would take me to the next appointment when my mobile rang. It was Heather, my flat mate, asking how I had got on, which was real sweet of her. The traffic was noisy so I moved behind a line of trees. I walked to shelter at the side of a building and had to get across a large grill to get into a corner - although concentrating on the call I had not realised it. The sound of my shoes on the metal roused some interest from inside as a window opened and faces appeared below.

I saw them well enough, standing just to the side of the grill as I was but as I was still speaking to my friend I thought it best to ignore them. It was all too apparent that they were not ignoring me, though...

The faces belonged to two young men, hardly more than boys, and they were clearly taking the opportunity to look up my skirt. I felt confused and embarrassed; I didn't want to let my friend on the phone become aware of my predicament but I could not get further away from the prying eyes. Still pretending I had not seen them I pressed myself into the corner as far as I could. I was pretty sure that the boys were getting quite a good show of leg but little else, so I contented myself with the thought that I was keeping my modesty intact!

Then of course the bus I needed came. My options seemed pretty limited... to remonstrate with the boys and tell them to shut their window so I could get back across the grill without embarrassment, miss the bus and wait where I was until they got bored, or what I decided to do in the seconds I had. Somehow the thought of not acknowledge the two leering faces was less uncomfortable than trying to persuade them not to look up my skirt – I would be quite ashamed as a 28 year old to put myself in a position where I had to plead with youngsters 10 years my junior. And I certainly could not hang around for at least another half an hour given what had been said about punctuality. So I ended the call and walked as briskly as I could back across the grill, keeping my legs together as much as I could whilst holding my skirt close to me; all without making it obvious I was trying to stop anyone seeing up it.

I guess it was only three or four steps but it seemed as though I had to do the 100 metres sprint over the grill. As I did so wolf whistles and jeers greeted the sight below. Of course I had to pretend not to hear them as my face flushed and I hurried on.

Once on the bus I pretended that my red face was as a result of running to catch it, but try as I might to just forget the incident I could not erase it from my mind for the rest of the day. I had been made to feel so vulnerable by two teens all for seeing nothing more than my legs – less than I would have been happy to show off at the beach. But it was more private, more intrusive than that and I was intrigued that the possibility of seeing my knickers had captivated my voyeurers.

Once I got home I took a mirror from my bedroom wall and stood over it, trying to find out what they had seen. My skirt was just above the knee and I had black knickers on so even with my feet on either side of the mirror and my legs further apart than I think they had been above the grill I was not able to make out much of the shape of my bum or the top of my legs – all that fretting for so little I told myself. But part of me was disappointed, it was almost that the embarrassment I had felt so acutely had not been worthwhile.

I told Heather about what had been happening during our phone conversation earlier in the day. "It's just like when I was at school" she replied, "first formers would stand at the side of the stairs looking up, hoping to see the knickers of older girls. Most of my friends were horrified by the little jerks, and that seemed to please them just as much. But I liked to tease them and sometimes I deliberately let them see up my skirt and that meant they didn't have any power: I decided what they saw and when."

This all seemed very confident for a girl who would have been no older than the lads who had unnerved me this afternoon but it still made sense, away of gaining control. I wondered if I could ever have the resolve to do the same.

"Bet you couldn't go back there and flash your panties at them."

"No, you're probably right – I couldn't" I replied, but already trying to steel myself.

Weak 2

I dressed in the same skirt as I had for the job last week, but this time with white panties underneath. I stood over the mirror again, and yes they were more visible and the curve of my buttocks quite discernable. As I headed for town I told myself alternately that I was going to go through with it and then that I was just playing with the idea. I certainly hadn't told Heather of my plan/dilemma – in fact last week's incident hadn't been mentioned again.

Intermittently I thought about standing right over the grill and eyes of 18 year olds looking up at me; if I summoned up the conviction that I was in control I felt quite sexy about it. If I could keep conjuring up that feeling I was sure I could do it. So at 2.00 I said goodbye to the other office girls and first headed for the ladies. There I fantasised about showing myself off, rubbed my crotch and breasts through my clothes enough to feel aroused but not so as I wanted to cum.

I then set off for the bus stop, except I was really heading for the grill. This time I took more notice of the building it was next to; it was a college and the side the bus stop was nearest to seemed to house the gym. I march right up to it as I knew that if I allowed myself to doubt I would be scared away by the humiliation of what I was doing, not empowered by being in control. Just for a moment I hesitated right in front of the metal bars that I knew would alert the people below. Fleetingly I thought it may not be the same lads inside, something I had not considered until right then... it didn't matter, it was me who was different.

My shoes rattled the grill, the window squeaked open and this time three pairs of eyes peered up. I kept my legs as open as I dared, which may have not been very much but felt like doing the splits. Looking down I recognised two of the teens from before and I am sure they recognised me. I did think of running off as quickly as I could but that would have meant I had no control. So I willed myself to stay.

Suddenly I thought about not what I looked like to those below but those on the street; I imagined I would appear rather abnormal. Last week I had been on the phone and that somehow would have seemed more natural. So I did the natural thing and got my mobile out. It didn't occur to me that I could just pretend to talk to someone, instead I rang Heather.

"Hi, Heather. Guess where I am?"

"No, not yet. Remember I told you about having to walk over a grill last week and you said 'Bet you couldn't go back'? Well that's where I am!"

"I sure am - in white knickers so they can see better."

"I'm not making it up! Listen..." I held the phone by my side, over the grill in the hope that Heather would be able to hear the wolf whistles, and calls of "Get'em off!"

"Did you get that?"

"See, I am here!"

We talked for a few more minutes until I could see the no 24 working its way through the traffic.

"The bus is coming now; got to go"

With some elation I dropped the phone back in my bag, bent slightly down and called out "Bye, boys!" before striding towards the stop. I felt proud, strong and sexy.

Weak 3

Heather had laughed, half from disbelief, half from amusement when we had both got home.

"You've got more bottle than I thought!" was her assessment. She thought that was the end of it but the whole thing was still nagging at me and I often thought about the nerves I had had, the sheer will power it had taken to stay standing over the grill knowing I was deliberately allowing people to look between my legs, the possibility that others would work out what I was doing, the thrill the whole thing had given me...

When Heather was out I spent two or three hours stood over the mirror looking for the best combination of skirt or dress and panties, just to see if I could have made a better display – not intending to actually to do it again. The best combination was a light summary dress and a white thong with hold up stockings. I tried it with suspenders but there were too obvious under the dress. I began to regret that I had not done this "research" before and slowly I realised that I was going to have to do it again if I was going to get the thing out of my head...

I got quite excited dressing for work on the day. The dress and wearing stockings, let alone a thong were quite different to what I had turned up in before. The dress was slightly too summery for the weather and colleagues did comment on my more feminine appearance but soon formed the impression that I must be meeting someone after work, which I fostered. At 2.00 I headed for the loos again; I pulled my dress around my waist this time and rubbed myself through the thong thinking of the eyes that would soon be seeing what none of my colleagues had. When I was sufficiently aroused off I headed again.

I almost marched to the grill and without hesitation I strode onto it; immediately the window opened. The two young men who had seen me the first time were there but the third was different to last time and I became aware that there were more behind them pressing closer to the window to get a look.

Cries of "she's here" and "get a look at that" greeted me.

As before I got my phone out but only pretended to have a conversation – if I rang Heather again I was sure she would have thought I was taking this too far and there was no one else I could possibly have rung. So I ran a commentary on what was happening to myself.

"There are three boys below looking up my dress and they are calling to others behind them about what they can see. I can't make it all out but they are saying things like, 'she's wearing stockings', 'you can see her arse', 'I'm telling you it's a fucking g-string!' Oh, there's no need for that language!"

I giggled into the mouth piece after each phrase I recounted, somehow the fact they were getting excited about me was quite amusing. I was truly in control; I felt I had them round my little finger!

"I'm going to close my legs to tease them" I told my imaginary friend on the other end. "Now they are groaning... and asking me to show them my bum again! They are saying 'open your legs up', 'if you can hear us please let us see some more'. Well, seeing as they asked so nicely..."

I shifted my foot one, two, three, and then four bars to the right, the widest I had dared to spread my legs (I would have opened them wider than that for my vouyerers, but I was more concerned about what I would have looked like to passers by). My move was greeted by cheers and more wolf whistles!

"They are in the palm of my hand"

It was about then that I was aware of a flash of light; at first I thought it was the sun reflecting off a moving car but then it happened again. There was no mistaking the flash of a camera that illuminated my dress from the inside and would have alerted to anyone who happened to glance my way as to what was going on. Immediately I got off the grill, wall side. The prospect of photos of my arse being passed round the college, or even put up on the internet then came to mind. Like the first time I had strayed over the grill though I was now trapped, the only way to meet my bus, which would not be long now, was to walk back over it.

Either I just walked back across risking further flashes (in more ways than one) or I attempted to negotiate my way out of the situation.

Bending down and attempting to hide my face as much as possible for fear that a photo of me could give my identity away I hissed "What the hell do you think you are doing? Do you want everyone to know what we are doing?!"

"It was too good a chance" someone laughed.

"Well you are ruining everyone else's chances" I retorted, saying the first thing that came into my head.

"Chances of what?" said the boy with the camera in his hand.

"Are you going to show us your pussy?" his friend asked.

"Put that camera away and I might" I said rather feebly, seeing my bus coming and knowing I had to get out of there quickly.

"Ok, it's going away now" the first boy said, and I saw him slip it into his pocket. "Let's see what you've got!"

"Not now, I've got to go. I'll be back next week."

"As if!"

"I will, and I promise I'll have no knickers on." I said standing ready to run as the bus was at the stop. "But if there any cameras around I'll go straight away and you will see nothing!"

There was some shouting as I made a dash across the grill but I could not make it out. I got to the bus just as the doors were closing but the driver was good enough to open them for me "anything for a pretty girl" he quipped. Ordinarily I might have picked him up on that remark but how could I after what I had just been doing? Besides my head was dizzy with what I had just promised to do; of course I could just ignore it and never go back near the school again, couldn't I?

That evening I stood over my digital camera taking pictures of up my skirt, with and without panties.

Weak 4

From believing I was in complete command of the situation to pleading and bargaining in, literally, a flash: I was flung back to the same feeling of embarrassment I had felt the first time I had walked over the grill and the same dilemma off how to win back control. It came down to this: how could I get back my self respect? If I did not keep my promise I would feel that I was cheating and dishonest, but how could showing my pussy to teenagers be a way of getting self respect?! And if I did I would just feel I was being compliant, that they were in control, not me.

I couldn't talk about all this to Heather, of course, but I did remember what she said about her being the one decided what the kids in her school saw and that gave her the upper hand. I decided that is what I had to do. I had said they could not take photographs; maybe I should take pictures to give to them, perhaps completely naked so that they could see my tits too. I took several, making sure I didn't show my face. I thought about how I could give them to the boys, on a disc or print them off. The possibility of them being found, passed round or put up on the internet did not make feel I was in control though so I decided against it.

Finally I hit upon the best thing I could do. They wanted to see my pussy? They could – and I would give them the best view possible, better than that I would show them what an aroused and engorged pussy looked like. A couple of years ago some girl friends of mine had bought a group of us embarrassing gifts from a sex shop they had been dared to go into. They had a vibrator for one girl of course, crocheless panties for another and ben-wah balls for me. I had tried them once and quite enjoyed the feel of them inside me; pulling them out had been the most exciting thing, though. I tried them again, standing over the mirror and taking pictures of myself too.

It was clear that popping them out standing up with a skirt on was going to be very difficult and, unless I thought of something, very obvious to anyone watching. I decided that I would wear as short a skirt as possible and tie a thread to the little chain that attached to the last ball to be inserted and hung down. It would hardly be seen and if I measured it right could belong enough for me to bend over and pull from around my knees, pretending to pick something off my leg.

It all took quite a while to work out but on the morning of the final Tuesday I would be going to this temp job I dressed in a mid thigh-length leather skirt (not the shortest I have but the one I thought I could get away with) hold-up stockings, boots and a tight woollen top over my bra. I frigged myself thinking about what I was planning to do until I was wet enough to push the ben-wah balls, with the thread already tied onto the chain, up my cunt. Finally I pulled on a pair of knickers, partly because I wanted to feel sure that the balls were not going to drop out at any point (I knew they wouldn't but I wanted to be safe rather than sorry) and partly because I knew the balls would keep me aroused and my panties would stop any leaks. I looked at myself in the mirror, now back on the wall, and thought it all looked a sexy ensemble; a little provocative for an office job, but it was my last day, so what the hell!

Off I went with the balls massaging my pussy as I walked.

My appearance drew quite a lot of attention, with everyone assuming I was dressed to wow whoever my boyfriend was, so I strung them along a bit saying he was someone at the next job I was going out with. Three of the girls took me off an hour early for a drink as it was my last day. I was quite glad of the alcoholic lubrication given what I had planned. We said goodbye at about quarter to two, giving me some extra time to prepare. Again I made for the ladies and in a cubicle I pulled down my knickers. Given all the stimulation from the balls I wasn't surprised to find the crotch quite wet but I still wanted to get to a higher state of arousal before attempting to pull them out or, indeed to have the nerve to go ahead with the x-rated show I wanted to give. I sat on the loo and began frigging, imagining the look on the lad's faces. When I masturbate I most often play with my breasts so I pulled up my top and unclasped my bra to pinch and pull my nipples.

I was close to coming and just had the will power to stop before going over the edge. To keep that level of excitement up though I pulled the top right off and removed the bra putting it with my knickers in my shoulder bag. My voyerers were not going to benefit much from the top stretching across my braless tits to outline my nipples, but I was enjoying the sensation. Once my clothes and hair were all back in place I strode off to the college for the forth time.

The boys were clearly expecting me to keep my promise as the three I recognised had already climbed out of the window and wedged themselves into the space directly below the grill. Three others had taken their place inside. The first thing I did was to drop the knickers I had taken off between the bars, which was greeted by cheers and clapping. I warned them not to make so much noise that it might attract attention and they were certainly not to take any pictures. The first time either happened I would leave and never come back. There was mumbled acceptance and I stepped on to the grill to the sound of muted excitement.

Slowly I parted my legs then felt for the thread at the end of the ben wah balls; it had become slippery and sodden with my juices and as I pulled it just came away from the chain I had tied it to. Momentarily I was flummoxed: this was to be the culmination of my exhibitionism and now I might not be able to pull it off; I certainly could not reach up my skirt to get the chain, that would have been far to obvious. The only thing for it would be to crouch down and see if I could get hold of it. I put my bag down in front of me and tried to squat behind it. The leather skirt was too tight to allow me to open my legs like that, so with as much grace as I could muster, I half stood and hitched it up as far as I dared. I knew that my thighs above the stocking part of the tights would be visible from the side but was fairly confident that I would be able to see anyone coming in that direction before it became obvious. I was also aware that those below were getting an unrestricted and close up view of my arse too.