Exhibitionist in me
- 2 years ago
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A quick info
This story covers universal themes as exhibitionism, voyeurism, ENF [Embarrassed Naked Female], CFNF [Clothed Female Naked], OON [Only One Naked], public nudity, humiliation, shame, masturbation and consensual dares) but takes place in Brazil, so we will have some cultural differences that I will explain briefly throughout the narrative.
This story is based on true events.
At the age of 19, away from my parents, and for the first time in my life living alone to attend a college of literature, I was living a dream. And by dream I mean: I could finally fulfill my most secret erotic desire away from the scrutinizing eyes of my family. I was born and raised on a farm in the countryside under strict morals and customs, within a sexually repressive religious doctrine, and overprotected from all the dangers of the world. Not surprisingly, when I became a teenager and my body was flourishing and begging for more and more attention, my bubbling mind was the only place where I could live my desires without guilt.
Without ever having had a boyfriend, had sex, or committed "any flesh sin," as my mother always warned me, I only knew the sensations of nocturnal masturbation under my heavy covers and nurtured a burning desire for a fetish that I only discovered the name of a while later, using the anonymous tab of my cell phone's internet browser: exhibitionism. Within the oppressive environment in which I lived, nothing was more natural than to lie awake at night imagining myself naked in daring and dangerous situations around the farm, running the risk of being caught and humiliated not only by my family, but also by employees and neighbors who had known me since I was born. For me, fear, shame and desire were all part of the same package, a deliciously pleasurable and explosive mixture that I never had the courage to experience.
Not until that unforgettable early morning from Friday to Saturday.
It had been a week since I had moved into the small three-story building in a quiet residential neighborhood of the big city where my parents had rented a cozy apartment for me. Classes had not yet started properly, only teacher introductions and the inevitable college hazing. That Friday, there would be a fraternization between freshmen and seniors that I was not too keen on attending, but my new friends encouraged me to face my shyness and I even encouraged myself to buy a dress especially for the occasion.
In the store, when I told the extrovert saleswoman what the occasion was for, she said she had the ideal dress for my body type and presented a very tight, short, navy blue piece that sent shivers all over my body and left me speechless, wondering how exposed I would be wearing that little fabric.
"It's not really my style," I finally managed to say a little later, without much conviction in my words.
The saleswoman noticed it and used the loophole:
"Try it, then tell me if you still have the same opinion," she replied, confidently.
I took those words as a dare, so I grabbed the dress and locked myself in the fitting room. I took off my shirt and jeans pants and stood only in black lingerie in front of the mirror. With 5'3'' (1,60 cm) tall and white as snow, slim with soft curves, wavy brown hair at shoulder height, my bra and panties hid small but proportional breasts with light brown perky nipples, a pussy with pubic hair of the same color as my head, and a small but rounded and hard buttocks. Below, my thin but shapely thighs from my horseback rides closed the set.
After contemplating myself for a few seconds, I put the dress and realized that the lingerie was visible under the thin fabric. Although it fit my body perfectly, with a modest neckline and the hemline a few fingers below my pussy, it didn't seem the most appropriate way to wear the dress. This is what the saleswoman made clear as she looked at me as soon as I opened the fitting room door:
"If you are wearing this kind of dress, you should know the rules well."
I used those words as a kind of mantra from the moment I left the store with the dress in the bag until moments before I put it on naked in front of the mirror in my bedroom that Friday night. In fact, I was feeling even more naked because hours earlier, for the first time since I was a teenager, I didn't have a hair covering my light pink pussy. I had decided to shave it so that the hair would not show under the thin and tight fabric of the dress. As I adjusted it on my body, I noticed that my momentarily slightly erect nipples would be marked all the time, but it wasn't as if I were topless and publicly displaying them. I finished by slipping my purse over my shoulder, putting on my high heels, and closed the wardrobe door mentally repeating to myself: "If you're wearing this kind of dress, you should know the rules."
Despite feeling exposed to a few more prying eyes and a little aroused about the constant adjustments I had to make to my dress to keep it "decent," imagining that if I didn't take some action my privates might accidentally be on display to anyone I would socialize with over the next four years of my classes, nothing else happened at the party. I stayed with my new friends almost the whole time, and around two in the morning, already tired and bored, I decided to order a cab (from a company where female drivers only pick up women passengers, as I had promised my parents I would) and go back to my apartment.
As I got out of the car and the hem of my dress slid up a bit, decreasing the distance to my pussy by a finger or two, I closed the door and, with the same arousal I had felt at the party returning in a greater dose, decided that I would not adjust the dress under any circumstances nor would I try to cover my privates with my hands until I was inside my apartment; masturbating in the common areas, then, was totally out of the question. It was a little after two o'clock in the morning, there was no one on the street, and anyway, the little lift of the fabric was not showing anything yet. I walked slowly from the street gate to the entrance, and then by the hall to the beginning of the stairs with the feeling that without the necessary adjustments my dress would soon leave me in an explicitly revealing situation.
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Straight Sex