Pushing Buttons Trending Turn-Ons

My name is Ana Fleiss, and I am an exhibitionist.

It's the thing that most makes me feel alive; the thing that feeds my deepest, most erotic desires. But this isn't quite a story about my current life as an exhibitionist and all of the many incredible experiences that I have had since discovering and embracing this side of myself. This is an account of how I got here-- the experiences that led me to that turning point in my life. All of them leading up to the most shocking thing I've ever done; the thing that still leaves me shaking my head in disbelief.

The single push of a button.

But that comes later. Like most life developments, it all started out quietly and gradually, planting its small seed in my uninitiated mind one ordinary summer afternoon, about a year ago, when my boyfriend Chris and I decided to have a little picnic in a section of Central Park called the Sheep Meadow.

On the weekends we sometimes went for a walk in the park, carrying crusty French sandwiches with us and small bottles of juice from our local bodega which, tsk tsk, didn't actually contain what was indicated on the labels. We'd pass through a small gate onto the grass and lose ourselves in the maze of humanity, beginning to wind our way through a sea of sun-drenched flesh sprawled out on blankets, each body daring to wear a little less clothing than the next.

Chris and I found a comfortable enough spot to lay down our blanket. He tossed it out into the air in front of him and then guided it smoothly to the ground where it settled onto the soft cushion of grass. He began to unpack our sandwiches while I kicked off my sandals, removed my shirt, and revealed a navy blue bikini top. We ate, we drank, we relaxed in the sun. It was shaping up to be the perfect day for doing next to nothing.

"Having fun?" asked Chris, smirking as he observed me focusing on a certain shirtless guy. Just like when we're at the beach, I tend to discreetly check out the guys around me, but who doesn't?

I grinned and replied, "What do you expect? We didn't pack any dessert." Chris chuckled. He never gets jealous. I don't know why he's so easily trusting, but I like that about him. He leaned over and rested his head on his hand, staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You know, it's legal in New York City for women to go topless."

"I know. Your point is...?"

"I'm just saying... if you ever wanted to offer me something for dessert."

I rolled my eyes and smirked back at him. "I'm sure you'd love that... just like when you went ga-ga over that all-nude female theatre performance in the park last summer."

"Oh my god, yeah," he said, becoming lost in thought. I could tell he was thinking about those naked girls we had seen so animated and romping about as they performed a play in their birthday suits, seemingly undaunted by the dramatic lack of support otherwise required to contain certain body parts.

He added, "If it's for artistic purposes, full nudity is allowed. That's why they have all those nude body painting events in Times Square, too." He continued to dwell on this matter for a few moments, no doubt imagining all the pink and blue and orange bodies we once saw, naked from head to toe, the scandal of their exposure mildly obscured by swirling psychedelic patterns and cosmic beasts crawling across their skin.

I sat upright and studied his face. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"What are you thinking about right now? Are you, like, imagining that I might actually just stand up here, rip off my clothes, and deliver lines of Shakespeare in the nude for everyone?"

He laughed. "Well, no. But you could start simple and work your way there in time."

I rolled my eyes at him again-- but hey, that was a more innocent time for me. As I lay there in the sun, thinking about shirtless dude sitting a few feet away with his glistening, pulp romance muscles, I actually felt tempted for the first time to just go for it; to go topless. Because, why not? Were these not the rights that those performers and artists were defending for me as a woman?

I'm quite sure it was the juice-bottle-wine talking, but after several minutes I turned my head to glance over at Chris and said, "Do you dare me?"

He turned to face me with his interest clearly piqued. "Dare you to do what?"

"Go topless," I said.

He stared at me, not quite knowing whether I was joking or not. Finally he sat up, wrapped his hands around his legs, briefly surveyed the area, then turned back to face me. "Yeah. Let's see you do it," he said.

I laughed. "Really?"

"I don't believe you will, but sure!"

I'm not sure if I really believed I would do it either, at the time, but as I said I was a little drunk on wine and sunshine and Mr. Shirtless Eyecandy over there. "Fine," I groaned, my heart starting to race. Chris leaned back into a comfortable position to observe with a wide grin forming on his face.

"Look at you, settling in for the show..." I mumbled.

For a little while I sat there, fidgeting nervously, observing each and every person around me, trying to either come up with additional motivation for what I was about to do, or to find some reason to justify getting myself out of it. However, we were surrounded by strangers, mostly couples, a few groups of friends-- all absorbed in their own lives, seemingly without any interest in what anyone else was doing around them.

I focused for a moment on three sweaty college-aged guys reclining on the grass with a football cast down between them. I wondered what it would be like to reveal my breasts to them and what their reaction would be. I imagined them gesturing to one another, smirking, gazing down at my chest, and then up at my eyes, giving no real indication of what they thought of my body other than sheer amusement and surprise at what I had done. It was a terrifying, nerve-wracking daydream.

But I think that's what did it. That anxious anticipation of the unknown. It was frighteningly erotic, and somehow I loved it...

Trembling, I reached back to undo my bikini top. I tried to do it as nonchalantly as I could, pretending that I did this all the time and it was no big deal. "Whatever, get over it," I practiced saying in my head, to some imaginary observer. My top came loose faster than I had anticipated, and I felt my breasts bounce free. The warm breeze danced across my nipples. A bolt of anxiety shot through my body. I felt completely exposed, expecting all eyes to suddenly fixate on me.

At first no one noticed and I sat there with my heart thumping in anticipation of what was to come. A few girlfriends having a day in the sun together were sitting nearby and were the first to notice. They had been chatting incessantly, but when they spotted what I had just done they sat there staring through the dark lenses of their Gucci sunglasses like observant owls, saying nothing, exchanging knowing looks without forming any actual expressions.

I'll admit: at first I wondered if they were jealous. Not that I routinely check out other girls, but I've ogled my fair share of boobs at the Korean spa. Maybe it's just me, but they're not always that fantastic. I guess I'm proud of my body in general, but that might just be because Chris constantly fills my head with the idea that I have "spectacular tits," making it known that he would probably spend the entire day caressing those "beautiful melons" if I somehow never got bored of his boundless enthusiasm for kinky breast play.

Here and there a guy began to notice. They glanced up, did a double-take, looked away, and then casually snuck another peek while pretending to look for a friend or to watch someone walking a dog. I wanted to say, "Wow, you're seriously into watching that woman picking up dog shit." I couldn't help but smile when I saw a young man with his girlfriend take notice and stare. She watched him checking me out. He realized she was staring at him with irritation and quickly looked away, saying nothing.

Most importantly, shirtless guy laid back on his blanket with his twitching pecs, narrowing his eyes at me, making his interest obvious, even at the risk of upsetting Chris. I imagined two alpha males fighting over me. "Boys, boys..." I said to myself, briefly caught up in the fantasy of it.

I began to discover the thrill of the subtle scandal that I had caused, as the volume of muddled voices surrounding Chris and I ticked down a notch or two. My boyfriend seemed to be amused by the whole matter, taking note of the football guys suddenly discovering the shocking sight of my boobs wagging about as I took another sip from the not-juice bottle. Their eyes widened. They exchanged looks of quiet delight. They had no reason to look away. Their girlfriends were not present to protest.

I began to feel exceptionally self-conscious as the attention aimed at me began to reach a crescendo. I turned to lie down, feeling anxious about the attention-getting pendulum swing of my breasts as I repositioned myself. The faces around me were transfixed on their movement. I exhaled deeply as my body made contact with our blanket, obscuring my breasts as they compressed softly against the fabric, which in turn crunched into the grass beneath.

I felt the relief of being safe and securely contained, proud of myself for making it through the terrifying task. I smiled, replaying in my head the various reactions that I had witnessed, knowing how much of a turn-on it must have been for the guys to look up suddenly, only to find a pair of perky pink nipples pointed cheerfully in their direction.

I turned my head to the side to face Chris. He pulled off his shirt, perhaps wishing to compete with Shirtless Guy, or maybe to draw some of his own attention. He gently rubbed my bare back, glancing about as if wanting to catch more reactions to us. I spotted a few girls noticing him, scanning his body with their eyes. Chris is drop-dead gorgeous and they knew it. As he caressed me, I felt like I just took a hit from someone's joint. I closed my eyes, feeling the sun beat down upon my body and the gentle breeze on my cheek. I slipped into a state of perfect relaxation.

This was the reward for my fear. This was the return on investment for taking such a risk with my body, and it felt wonderful; the release of all the pressure and nervousness that had built up, followed by the rise of a certain arousal taking root and spreading slowly.

This is how it started.

I continued to review what I had just done over and over in my head until we got home. It just remained there, simmering in my mind, activating every part of my body. I couldn't believe I succeeded in doing it. I was proud of myself. I was turned on. I kinda wanted to do it again.

For something that was so momentous for me, Chris took it in stride. He's the chillest boyfriend I've ever had. There are days where I'd like him to be a little more tuned in, to tell me more about where he is and what he's feeling-- but most days it's a net gain. I need only think of several ex's who weren't as tolerant and accepting of my quirks to remember how lucky I am, and why I'm blessed to be with him.

"I'm gonna take a shower and get all this sun block off me," I said, lost in a daydream.

"Okay," Chris said, as he took a seat on the couch. I headed toward the bathroom, but stopped short and turned around.

"Do you wanna join me?" I asked, with a sly smile.

Chris hopped off the couch and was by my side in an instant. By that point I was undeniably horny after what had transpired in the park, and clearly he was too. Soon we had finished stripping out of our clothes in our cramped apartment bathroom and stood naked under the warm flow of water together in each other's arms. I remembered the girls that had been scanning his body after he took off his shirt. I ran my fingers over his chest. I buried my face in his neck. The familiar, earthy scent of his masculine sweat mixed with the sweet, fake coconut fragrance of our sun block soothed me instantaneously.

My hand wandered further down his body to gently cup his balls and then I slipped my fingers over his shaft. I felt him growing in my hand, becoming swiftly alive at my slightest touch. I stroked him slowly. He began to caress my body. His hands slipped over my breasts. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of our mutual play.

But I was elsewhere. In my mind, we were still laying there on the grass together, sprawled out across our blanket, our clothes lying in a heap to the side. Everyone was watching us engaging in these naked affections. Everyone...

***

Time passed, but the incident in the park stuck there in the back of my mind until the following weekend when I found myself needing to do it again. Walking home through the Village from a quaint brunch spot, we stopped in a park for a little while. I led us to the grass, where we found an open spot in the sun. Students from the nearby college were milling about everywhere, socializing, eating, reading books, and listening to music on their headphones.

Sparking Chris' amusement, I pulled off my top and removed my bra, restoring the wonderful sensation of the breeze across my stiffening nipples. College students everywhere began to notice. Somehow flashing guys a little bit younger than me was less threatening and allowed me to imagine that I was corrupting their youth, even though just a decade ago I was in their place (and maybe not quite so innocent).

I casually stretched, proudly putting my breasts on display, letting them jut forth from my chest, wagging softly left and right as I arched my body like a yawning cat. I felt myself becoming intensely aroused, seeing the students seated nearby gazing at them in wonder and amusement. I smiled at a young man. He smiled back. I craved an interaction with him, however small and insignificant, but I was limited by fear and distance. I felt a burning desire to know what was happening to his body, or more specifically, to what extent he was aroused by the sight of mine.

Somehow this curiosity about those watching me became an obsession, infecting me long after the incident in the park was over.

That same night, I had a sex dream. Most of my sex dreams either involve Chris, or a good-looking guy I'd seen recently on the train to work, or wherever. They're steamy encounters for sure, but pretty straightforward. Simple one-on-one scenarios at home, in a hotel room, and the like. Never in public.

This one was different.

Chris and I had hopped a train on the Hudson Line out of Grand Central. We made our way to the back of one of the cars until we found a spot all to ourselves. Despite choosing a mostly empty car, the seats toward the front were suddenly filled with people, because that's how dreams work. I began to shrink in my seat, feeling intimidated by their presence.

I hoped that no one would come to the back of the train and infiltrate our increasingly small bubble of privacy, however another couple arrived, taking the seat across from us. They settled in, checking their phones quietly. They must have been in their mid-twenties. She was blonde with large brown eyes and pouty lips. He was clean cut, tall, with a small amount of stubble, and wore a bulky set of headphones over his ears.

"Let's do it here," said Chris.

"Why here? There's someone sitting next to us..." I whispered back.

"So?" he said, with a wide grin.

"Uh... they'll see us..." I said.

"They seem cool. I hardly think they'll report us," Chris was saying. "They'll probably find it hilarious and tell all their friends."

The train rumbled to life and began to pull away with a series of squeaks and hisses. My heart raced faster than ever before. Was this a pleasant dream, or a nightmare? The ticket collector came by to punch our tickets with a loud "clack-clack." He looked us up and down, as if finding us suspicious.

"How does he know?" I thought, worried that he'd catch us in a lewd act. He handed back our tickets then attended to the couple next to us. As he took their tickets, the girl glanced over at me. Our eyes met and she stared at me curiously, then at Chris, then looked away.

As soon as the ticket collector left, I felt Chris' hand slide over my thigh. "Seriously? Now?" I asked, brushing his hand away before anyone could notice his advances.

"This was your idea!" he laughed.

"I know... but..."

His hand passed back over my thigh, then up my body and under my shirt. I struggled and smirked, glancing frequently at the couple next to us, making sure they weren't aware of what was going on. She still had her nose in her phone and he was gazing out the window while listening to music. Finally I gave in, reaching over and rubbing Chris' cock through his pants. I could feel that he was already getting hard.

"The coast is clear, hurry..." whispered Chris.

"Jesus, we're really doing this..." I thought to myself.

I quickly unzipped Chris' pants, suddenly feeling excited that we were actually going ahead with this plan that apparently my dream-self had come up with. I inhaled deeply and double checked that the couple wasn't watching, before pulling Chris' cock out. I began stroking him, watching him melt into the cushioned seat.

I checked the couple again. They were both looking away, peering through the window at the landscape sliding by. Buildings whipped past, then gave way to trees. I felt relieved that they were distracted.

I began to suck Chris' cock, right there in the seat, at the back of the train. It was just a dream, but it felt so real. The fear and exhilaration were as powerful and present as they would have been had we really been doing it.

"Wow, that's a haaard-fucking-cock," I sarcastically remarked, letting it pop back out of my mouth, glistening with saliva. I briefly made eyes at Chris before I began stroking it again, grinning in disbelief at the fact that the couple next to us was apparently still oblivious to what was going on, right across the aisle.

Then I realized what was going on. I saw the reflection of their eyes in the window peering back at me. Both of them, secretly watching us, our carnal act vaguely superimposed over the whizzing scenery. Two hazy, translucent forms moving amongst the trees like some phantom lust.

I felt a bolt of panic shot through my body and before I could react they realized that I had taken notice. The girl turned first, and then her boyfriend. They took one look at Chris' massive erection, peeked briefly over the top of the seats to see if the coast was clear, then slumped down in their own seats, settling in to watch, their eyes full of shock and silent wonder.

I couldn't believe that they wanted to see what we were doing!

Our private moment. Our passions laid bare, far from the bedroom where we normally kept it secret from the prying eyes of the outside world. Trembling, I quickly glanced toward the front of the train car to confirm, then switched places with Chris and slipped down my jeans. I glanced nervously at the couple, whose eyes were glued to my every movement. I watched the girl's boyfriend hold his breath as I slipped down my panties and let Chris lower his body between my legs.

The couple exchanged a brief look of disbelief as Chris dove in and began to navigate my nether regions with his tongue. I lay there, a helpless slave to pleasure, frequently sneaking a peek at our audience. The couple began to tenderly express their own affections for each other. He wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her neck, she smiled softly and guided his hand to her breast, all the while observing us with a growing arousal...

Then: I woke up abruptly, shocked that I had dreamed of such a thing; wanting to be seen, wanting to be watched, in such a sexually charged scenario. It only made me want to go further, to reveal more of myself to strangers, to be bolder and more daring. Maybe I wasn't quite ready for sex in public, but something. I needed... something.