Dee sips her black coffee as I listen and jot bullet-points for this month's fetish article. I'll write it up later at home. She's wearing a tight black leather mini-skirt, black knee boots and a cream coloured, knitted short-sleeved top which is really clingy. Her blonde hair is tied back in a pony tail and she looks pretty with her minimal make-up. She's a seasoned Kinkster and often attends the local Munch with her husband. He knows about her thrill-seeking antics. Dee says that her flashing turns him on. I bring up the subject of leather clothing.
"A-ha! Yes. I like my short leather skirts," she laughs, "people get a good eye-full when I bend over."
"You do it on purpose? You let people see up your skirt?"
Dee uncrosses her legs as wide as her leather allows to reveal the brightest orange, plastic G-string. Her plump, pussy lips strain against the tightly creased, glossy panties. "Yes. It gives me a thrill to see their surprised faces.
I admire her womanly thighs. "I see," I press, "and can you give us a history of your very public shows?" I'm starting to get hard.
"I can," she beams, smoothing her skirt with her palms. "It started by accident."
I'm intrigued and aroused as I record her exposures. "Go on, tell us more."
I dropped my purse on the bus a few years ago now. My skirt was really tight so I struggled to bend down. After a bit of contortionism, I picked up my wayward wallet to a round of applause from some cheeky lads. I turned round, before I got off the bus, to see the sharpest lust on an old guy's face. I'd never seen such hunger in a man's eyes before. Of course, I was flustered and apologetic. I was also very wet.
I did a bit of shopping in town but decided to grab a breather in the public park. I sat trying to unpack how I felt on the bus. I couldn't understand why I didn't lose my temper at their laddish behaviours.