Indecent Exposure
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Southern Exposure free porn video
SOUTHERN EXPOSURE
Copyright Kristy Leigh 2003. All rights reserved.
1.
Jess Taylor ambled swiftly up the driveway, fishing his
keys out of his pocket as he approached the front door. He
was a boy on a tight schedule; his Aunt would arrive home
at five, dinner would be on the table no later than six.
That left him less than three hours of free play; three
hours of simple, childish joy through in the late September
sunshine, three hours on the swings and slides and monkey-
bars down at O'Connell Park.
Heart pounding with excitement, Jess let himself into the
house, dropping his backpack in the hallway. Aunt Cathy
would probably give him grief over that later, but he was
in too much of a hurry to consider the consequences.
Heading towards the staircase, he unzipped his jacket and
bolted up the steps two at a time. It was 3.15 in the
afternoon; the day wasn't getting any longer. Lisa and
Debbie would already be waiting for him down at
O'Connell's.
Leaving his jacket hanging over the banister, he scrambled
into his bedroom, hurriedly pulling his T-shirt over his
head. Six hours a day in the school from hell, surrounded
by creeps, cretins and bullies. He couldn't wait to get
changed, kick off his school clothes and slip into
something more comfortable - so to speak.
Pausing in the middle of the room, Jess climbed out of his
jeans and walked over to the closet, a petite, twelve-year
old boy with long blond hair and pale blue eyes. His soft,
effeminate features lent him a lush, girlish appearance,
the illusion further enhanced by his rounded, curvaceous
shape. Exceedingly pretty, he was often mistaken for a girl
at first glance. Strange to say, this was something Jess
didn't mind at all.
Jess, you see, was a very special boy.
He opened the closet door and started sorting through the
racks and hangers. One side of the space was full of boy's
clothing - pants, shirts, gym socks, boxer shorts and
runners. Jess didn't spare it a second glance. Boy's stuff.
Ugly, scruffy things, he'd never had much use for them. He
certainly never wore them once he got home from school. The
moment he stepped in through the front door, Jess was free
to shed his male identity as a snake sloughs its skin. He
could be his real self.
Jessica.
The right side of the closet was lined with cutesy little
girl's things: skirts, vests, tank tops; printed floral
blouses with puffy sleeves, drop-waisted sunfrocks with
outrageously frilled hemlines. They were all gifts from his
Aunt Catherine; stock-taking specials from her downtown
kidswear store. Strangely enough, Aunt Cathy had always
been surprisingly tolerant of Jessie's feminine
preferences. She even went out of her way to encourage his
cross-gendered behaviour. Jessie suspected it had something
to do with her not liking men.
Jessie reached into the closet and removed a pastel pink
sundress, a delicate cotton wisp decorated with tiny
rosebuds around the neckline. Sheer, loose and almost
unbearably cute, it was one of his all-time favourites.
Aunt Cathy had helped him pick it out for his last
birthday. It had been one size too big at the time, but
he'd grown into it over the past nine months.
Laying the frock out on his bed, Jess walked over to his
chest of drawers and took out a pair of pristine white
panties - flimsy cotton briefs with a dainty rose trim
encircling the legs and waistline. Jessie's pulse began to
race as he stepped carefully into the underpants and drew
them slowly up his thighs. Easing the pants into position
with a loud, elastic snap, he went back to the bed and
pulled the sundress over his head.
And, in the blink of an eye, a boy became a girl.
Smoothing the cool fabric against her tummy, Jessie turned
to look in the mirror, smiling at what she saw. The boy she
been a few minutes before had disappeared without a trace.
Jess Taylor had vanished the instant she'd kicked off the
jeans. No - that was wrong. Jess Taylor had never really
existed in the first place. He was just a mask she wore
during school hours. A mask, a name, and nothing more
(quoth the raven...).
Giggling a child's innocent laughter, Jessica spun around
several times to make the skirt twirl. The dress flared up
in a pink arabesque, then floated lightly back into place.
The hem barely reached down past the tops of her thighs;
the cotton was so thin that her underpants were clearly
visible through the gauzy fabric. She posed in the mirror,
admiring the line of the frock, the shape of her long,
tapering legs. Moistening her lips in anticipation, she
whirled around once more, allowing the dress to sail up
past her belly button this time.
Having completed the dress-twirling ritual, she retrieved a
pair of socks from the drawer and sat down on the bed to
pull them on, one tiny foot at a time. They were the kind
with a lacy white frill decorating the band. Worn up to the
ankle, they looked achingly sweet. Aunt Cathy had bought
them for her during a recent shopping expedition.
(Jessie had fallen in love with them at first glance,
putting them on right there in the Stocking Shop. When they
got home, Aunt Catharine had taken her shoes off and
proceeded to tickle her feet for half an hour - frilly
little girl-socks and all. Jessie had no idea why Cathy had
tortured her so mercilessly, but she secretly hoped her
Aunt would do it again one night soon.)
Jessica stood up, glancing at the clock. It was 3.25; time
to go. Her friends would be wondering where she was.
Stepping into her pink Barbie runners, she grabbed a black
hair-band on her way out and tapped off down the hall. She
descended the stairs at a gallop, binding her hair back in
a long, golden ponytail. Not a second to lose now, she'd
have to sprint all the way to the park. As she noted
earlier, Debs and Lisa wouldn't wait forever.
And neither would the boys.
2.
Autumn in Ridgewick was known locally as "The Breezy
Season," two chilly months of clouds, mistrals and dancing
leaves. The winds blowing in off the Bucknell River held a
promise of snow this time of year, whispering through the
trees like the breath of winter. The days were usually
mild, but temperatures dropped rapidly toward the end of
the day. Jessie's bare legs were buzzing with gooseflesh by
the time she reached O'Connell Park. She held her dress
down against the invading breeze with one hand, well aware
that good little girls don't show off their underwear if
they can possibly avoid it.
Which was why she worked so hard at showing them off
accidentally.
Fortunately, the Breezy Season had given her plenty of
opportunities. She could always count on an errant gust to
lift her skirt an inch or two every time she stepped out
the front door. The trick was making it look unintentional.
No easy feat, considering how much she loved the Southern
Exposure, but she'd gained a lot of experience squealing in
embarrassment over the past few months. Not even her two
little girlfriends could tell how much she was enjoying
herself.
Speaking of whom, Lisa and Debbie were waiting precisely
where she'd expected to find them. O'Connell Park was
actually a football oval on the outskirts of Ridgewick; the
River lay just beyond a slight rise. There was a small
playground on the other side of the playing field; Jessie
could see her friends rocking sedately back and forth on
the swings.
Both girls were wearing baggy jeans, Eminem sweatshirts and
Dodgers baseball caps, their ponytails pulled through the
backstrap. As long as she'd known them, Jessie had never
seen either wearing a dress. Shorts, yes, knee-pants
sometimes, but never anything even vaguely resembling a
skirt. Neither were tomboys so far as Jessie could tell.
They just liked dressing homeboy.
Well, to each their own, as Aunt Cathy often said.
Jessie cut across the oval, where an exceedingly violent
game of football was in full swing. She knew many of the
boys by sight now; most of them went to St Patrick's over
on Lincoln Road. Lanky Irish lads with chestnut hair and
about six zillion freckles. The majority were Jessie's age,
though she'd noticed a few older guys chasing the ball
lately; kids from St Paddy's ninth grade, she judged.
Seemed to be more every week.
She skirted around the game, ignoring the football-guys'
covert glances, and headed towards the playground. Her
friends were still seated on the swings, idly dragging
their feet through the turf. Noting her approach, Debbie
called her name and raised a hand in greeting. Jessica
waved back, careful to retain her grip on the wayward
skirt. There was a low chain-link fence dividing the oval
from the playground. The opening was on the far side of the
park, and Jessie had no intention of walking half a mile to
use it.
"Hi," Lisa called from the swings, "didn't think you were
coming".
"Got out of school late." Jessie replied, setting a hand on
the fence-rail.
The back of her frock filled up like a sail as she climbed
over, although she managed to preserve her modesty (well...
sort of) by clamping down on her drifting hemline. Quite a
trick, considering how short her dress was. Had to be
careful; these wintry updraughts loved to catch you
unawares.
Clearing the fence, she walked over to the swings and took
her place between her two friends. All three began swinging
in unison, gradually increasing their velocity. Overhead,
the endless blue sky seemed to revolve above them.
"Hey," Debbie said, looking over at her pretty blond
friend, "you in dutch with your teacher?"
"No, we had dance practice after school." Jessie
straightened her legs, pointing her feet towards the sky.
Her dress began a steady hike along her thighs, inching its
way up to her panties.
"You take DANCE class?" Lisa asked incredulously, as if
this was some momentous revelation.
"Yeah, every Thursday afternoon," Jessie replied, arching
her back for greater height, "my Aunt Cathy says I have to
go. Says it's important."
Another inch, two. The rush of air around her thighs was
utterly delicious. A burst of warm pleasure hit her
bloodstream like adrenalin. She licked her lips, fighting a
desire to look down to see how far her hemline had climbed.
"Why?" Lisa, again.
"She says girls ought to know how to dance," Jessie
shrugged.
Faster now, her ponytail trailing out behind. The dress had
crept up nearly three inches, making her bare legs look
impossibly long and slender. A sense of exhilaration filled
her veins.
"So, what are you learning?" Debbie wanted to know.
"A lot of things," Jessie answered, "tap, modern jazz. Some
Latin stuff too."
Her skirt slid one final, teasing inch to the top of her
thighs. The hem was now quivering at the very edge of her
panties. Jessie closed her eyes, inhaled deeply. Any moment
now: she could almost feel the wind gathering strength at
the tip of her underpants.
"What - you mean like SALSA?" Lisa inquired, eyes bulging.
"Yeah. We dance to Ricky Martin sometimes."
The front of Jessie's skirt began to rise, just the barest
fluttering of pink cotton. She shivered with anticipation.
The suspense was unbearable: her underwear was about to go
on display. Her dress was going to blow up around her hips,
every boy in the park was going to see her panties. It was
unavoidable, inescapable. A foregone conclusion.
"Rick Martin is wayyyyy cute!" Lisa exclaimed, eyes
glittering with pleasure, "Hey, do you get to wear like a
FLAMINGO costume or anything?" That was how she said it -
in italics and capitals.
"No, we just practice in whatever we're wearing," Jessie
explained, soaring ever higher.
Her tummy seemed to be swarming with butterflies, her heart
pounded in her chest like a trip hammer. The tip of her
dress flickered once, twice, settled - then flickered
again. The capricious Autumn winds played around her
thighs, probing and teasing with icy, tickling fingers. She
clung to the swing-chains with both hands, waiting for the
inevitable.
"Do you have to put on a show?" Debbie asked, prompting
Jessie to smile despite herself.
"At the end of the year, maybe," she affirmed, soaring off
into the wild blue yonder, "we have a school concert around
Christmas."
A cold thrill ran the length of Jessie's spine: her skirt
was dancing a fraction of an inch above her thighs, but the
lace trim of her panties remained just out of sight. Dear
God, when was it going to happen?!
"We're having a school concert in SEPTEMBER," Lisa cut in,
running off at the mouth like a country housewife,
"DEBBIE'S going to be in it, she'll be doing this routine
with her GYM club - you know she does GYMNASTICS, don't you
Jess?" She looked over at her friend, eyebrows raised
expectantly. Jessie opened her mouth to answer -
And the front of her dress ballooned up like a big pink
bubble.
A frigid gust of air blasted up her thighs, inflating her
skirt and chilling her belly. So abrupt, so unexpected, so
breathtakingly cold. Jessie gasped with shock, watching her
dress bulge and ripple literally right before her eyes. The
hem flew up past her waist, offering the world an utterly
heart-stopping view of her underpants.
Vaguely aware that Lisa was still prattling on about the
school concert, Jessica streaked forward on the swing, her
panties fully visible clear up to her belly button. The
breath caught at the back of Jessie's throat, her cheeks
were flushed with excitement. This had never happened
before, not in all the months she'd been hanging out here
with her friends. Embarrassed beyond words, she stared
directly ahead, hiding her rapture behind a mask of child-
like indifference.
Out on the oval, star quarterback Robbie McEwan
mysteriously fumbled a pass even his decrepit old
grandmother could have brought home. Diving heroically
after the ball, he was instantly stampeded by five of the
opposition. Their attention inexplicably diverted, they
slammed into one another at a break-neck pace, yelping in
pain and surprise. Similar collisions were later reported
all across the field.
Over on the swings, Jessie shifted her position to catch
the Autumn slipstream, seemingly oblivious of the show she
was putting on. She couldn't let on in front of the girls,
couldn't betray the slightest sign of the delight she felt.
Fortunately, neither of her friends appeared to notice
anything out of the ordinary. Lisa babbled on and on about
the school concert, Debbie was busy watching the football-
guys crack skulls for no apparent reason. The big pink
bubble continued to swell, revealing more of Jessie's
virginal white panties.
Blood roaring in her ears, Jessica Taylor swung in a great,
looping arc, biting her lip to hold down her giggles. The
wind was still picking up, threatening to peel her dress
off completely. The tension was intolerable! She wanted to
squeal, kick her legs, scream with laughter. Her nervous
system was flooded with pure, liquid ecstasy.
The bubble finally popped.
Jessie's billowing dress collapsed in on itself, the front
turning inside-out for good measure. The wind pasted the
skirt against her torso, leaving her panties completely
uncovered. Hair flailing in the gale, Jess fought an
impulse to lower her hemline to a more demure position. She
felt as if every boy in Ridgewick was staring at her
underwear.
"Hey," Debbie said, interrupting Lisa's monologue, "did you
see what just happened out there?"
She pointed to the centre of the park, where half a dozen
of St Paddy's finest were picking themselves off the
ground, Robbie McEwan amongst them. A mischievous smile
touched Jessie's lips. She knew precisely what had
happened.
"No, I didn't see anything," Lisa replied, wondering what
her friend was actually talking about. All she saw were a
bunch of Neanderthals chasing each other 'round the oval,
same as always.
"That's because you were shooting your mouth off again,"
Debbie observed. Turning her feet towards the ground, she
gently applied the brakes, slowing her momentum by degrees.
"Well, who cares what the boys are doing anyway?" Lisa
demanded crossly, stung by Debra's wry little comment. She
was also in a state of gradual deceleration, her runners
gouging miniature furrows into the grass.
"Nobody," Debbie replied mildly. Dropping her speed to a
safe Kamikaze nosedive, she leapt off her swing in a
perfect two point dismount. "Wanna climb the monkey bars?"
she asked, changing the subject.
"Okay," Lisa agreed, falling to earth rather less
gracefully than her gymnastically trained companion, "you
in, Jess?"
Jessica stepped down from her swing, primly adjusting her
dress. Her hands shook imperceptibly as she smoothed out
the rumpled fabric. She felt giddy, out of breath. A faint
crimson blush tinted her pretty face. She'd never shown so
much panty in her life. Nothing more than a flash of lace
around the bottom, even on the windiest days. Today, every
inch of her chaste white knickers had gone on public
exhibition. Every stitch, every lace, every frill, right
down the little red tag on the waistband. Nothing had been
left to the imagination.
Climb the monkey bars? Jessie thought, quietly smiling to
herself.
Just try to stop me!
NEXT: The Monkey Bars.
Email me on [email protected] if you'd like to
know what happens next.
Wynona
- 08.03.2022
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