Those of you who live in the UK, or
any of those places with real seasons,
will know that one of the best things
about the end of winter and the warm
weather starting is the opportunity to
shed the winter woollies and get out the summery stuff. If, like me, you’re a
bit of an exhibitionist who likes to
tease, there aren’t many opportunities
to expose your bits when you’re
wrapped up against the wind and the
rain. In spring 2012 we had a few nice days in March, and I’d dug my spring
frocks out of the back of the
wardrobe. But then at the beginning
of April the Government announced
that we were in a period of drought,
and introduced a hosepipe ban. As if on cue, it started raining almost
straight away, and didn’t really stop all
through April and well into May. But at last we had a few days of sun,
and it began to get warmer.
Eventually, it seemed as if we might be
getting a real warm spell, and I got the
dresses out again. At last it was nice
enough to leave my panties off without getting frostbitten flaps. One week I decided I had to go up to
the West End to buy a few books that I
could only get from a big bookshop.
The next Saturday I dressed as lightly
as I could, which basically meant no
panties or bra, just a loose dress and little pumps on my feet. I got the train
to Victoria, then the bus up to the big
bookshop on Piccadilly. I got a few
admiring looks as people noticed my
bra-less bosom under my dress. To be
honest, my little tits don’t give much of a cleavage at the best of times, but at
least they’re nice and perky and don’t
droop. Bending down in the bookshop to
look at the lower shelves, I knew my
tits would be openly visible to anyone
else browsing nearby who happened
to glance down. I discreetly tweaked
my nipples through my dress to make them stand out. After a while doing
this and getting aroused, I paid for the
books I needed and walked across
Piccadilly Circus and down Haymarket
to Trafalgar Square. This was where I
was hoping to have some serious fun. I sat down on the big flight of steps
that lead up from the square to the
National Gallery and looked down
over the mass of tourists milling
around. If you want to get an idea of
the set-up, google something like “UK National Gallery steps”. You probably
won’t see me, but it’ll give you an idea
of how people always sit on them to
look out over the square; and the
sunnier it is, the more of them there
are. The fountains were playing, and the
little kids were dipping their hands in
and splashing each other. Other kids
were climbing onto the lions round
the bottom of Nelson’s Column and
having their photos taken. Just to the right of me at the bottom of the steps
was the 2012 Olympic Clock, counting
down the days, hours, minutes and
seconds until the start of the opening
ceremony at 9:00 pm on Friday 27th
July, and quite a few people were having their photographs taken
standing next to that too. In fact, if I
could have charged a pound for each
photo taken in Trafalgar Square that
day, I’d be a wealthy girl! But I wanted
to give everyone a chance to see more than just the usual tourist attractions. I
had some attractions of my own. I knew that, wearing just a loose
frock, anyone coming down the steps
from above would get a good view of
my breasts down the front – especially
if I leant over a bit so it hung away
from my nipples. And if I sat with my legs apart, anyone coming straight up
the steps from below would get a
great view up my skirt at my
uncovered pussy. I always look out
myself for accidental flashes (I’m such
a perve!) and it’s surprising how many cute panties you can see. The prize of
a bare pussy isn’t that common, but it’s
all the more fun when you do see one.
I’m still hoping that one day a Scots
guy in a kilt will sit down and give me
a flash of his equipment. I sat down on the second set of steps
from the top, making sure I was sitting
on the edge of my dress – just enough
to keep my bare bum off the steps, in
case they weren’t that clean. I took out
one of my new books and started to read it, trying to look like just another
visitor having a rest. To start with I
kept my legs together, but then slowly
eased them apart so that anyone
coming up the steps from below
would get a view straight up between my thighs to my pussy. I was enjoying
the feeling of having nothing covering
me down there; even if no-one saw, it
was still nice. I sat for a while, just letting people
move past me up and down the steps.
I was determined not to catch
anyone’s eye; I wasn’t trying to pick
anyone up. It’s a problem, I admit: just
because I’m enjoying exposing myself, it’s not like I’m saying “Look at
me, I want to fuck you”, although I
can see why some people may assume
it is. After a bit, without moving my head I
peeped up from my book. A couple of
young guys were looking my way.
They certainly seemed to be enjoying
the view. Cheekily, I decided they’d
had enough, and pressed my knees together. One nudged the other and
they whispered, but I waited until
they’d gone before opening my legs
again. Then I saw a pretty dark-haired girl
standing looking up at the National
Gallery with her camera in her hand. I
thought I’d spotted her walking up
the steps past me a few minutes ago.
That was interesting – if it was the same person, that meant she’d gone
all the way down again. OK, there
were a few reasons why she might
have done that… But oh my God, she was hot. Her hair
was cut short and spiky in a boyish
kind of way, but it was the only boyish
thing about her. She was wearing a
denim jacket over a short t-shirt that
showed a tempting circle of bare skin above a pair of amazing ripped denim
shorts. The neck of her t-shirt had
been roughly cut down to show her
cleavage; I could see the top of a red
bra supporting a pair of large boobs. I
might not dress that way myself, but that sort of grungy sexiness can be
such a turn-on. At least, she seemed to be looking at
the Gallery, but I could see her eyes
keep on dropping down to my level. I
decided to give her a bit more of a
treat. Casually, I shifted my bum as if to
get more comfortable, and spread my legs a bit more, letting my frock ride
further up my thighs as well as giving
a clearer view of the area between my
legs. I felt a draught of air waft round
my labia. I wished I could use a finger
to part my lips a bit and let her see a bit more pink, but that might have been a
bit obvious. The pretty girl took her camera and
pointed it up the steps at the Gallery.
Oh well, never mind, she just wanted
another tourist snap. But I still couldn’t
keep my eyes off her, and to my
delight I saw the camera tilt downwards so it was pointing straight
at me. Oh yes, that’s better. I stared hard at
my book, but I wasn’t taking any of it
in – it was just black blobs on a white
background. My whole mind was
wondering whether she was still
there; whether she was still taking pictures; whether she wanted more… I couldn’t resist glancing up. She had
the camera up to her face, but I was
sure it was pointing straight up my
dress. I breathed in deeply, then
moved my legs a little bit more apart.
They were rather wide now. I saw her twist the lens, zooming in on whatever
she was photographing. This was
exciting. I forgot for a moment that
there were hundreds of other people
around. I’m sure my pussy must have
been getting wetter and wetter inside, and I really wanted to touch it, to part
my lips and let the juices run out. I was
so aroused that I forgot to breathe for
a moment or two, and found myself
puffing to get oxygen back to my
lungs. Casually, the girl turned aside and
pointed her camera over towards the
church of St Martin-in-the-Fields and
took a few pictures of it. She began to
walk back up the steps towards me.
For a moment, I felt nervous, and looked back at my book, but as a
shadow passed over my legs I
couldn’t resist looking up. My eyes met
hers. Without saying a word, she sat down
next to me on the steps. My heart was
thumping. She held her digital camera
in her hands and leant towards me
with it. “Would you like to see?” she said. I looked at the view-screen. The first
picture was just a view of the
colonnade at the front of the Gallery. I
could just see the top of my head at
the bottom of the picture. “Press here to scroll through” said the
girl. I could feel the warmth of her
body next to me. I was trembling a
little. The next picture showed the whole of
the steps, with me in the middle, my
legs apart and my skirt up my thighs.
You could see straight up the front, to
the little plump bulge of my pubic
mound. I could just make out the pink curve of my labia. I felt myself blush
with a sort of embarrassment. I
suppose I hadn’t expected to be
looking straight at the evidence like
this. I scrolled to the next picture. This one
had been taken using the zoom, and
you could see the labia quite clearly. I
stared at it for a moment, fascinated.
Then I felt a nudge, and looked round.
She was smiling at me. “Keep going” she said. I saw why she was keen to move on.
Wow. The next one was taken after I
had moved my legs apart, and the sun
was shining straight up my frock. I
couldn’t help noticing how pale my
inner thighs were. But my plump little pussy really stood out. I saw that my
lips had parted more than I realised,
and the pink entrance to my vagina
was glistening and wet. I scrolled again. She’d used the zoom
again, and you could almost have
reached out and touched the pink
curves of my labia. There was a little
dark gap at the centre, leading the eye
into my sex. I looked at her again, and she raised
an eyebrow. I realised that as I had
been leaning over looking at the
pictures, the front of my frock had
fallen open so she could look straight
down at the swell of my bare breasts, including my pinkish areole and
darker nipples. Hard nipples. There was one more picture. She’d
pulled back on the zoom, and there
was all of me, looking straight at the
camera, with a little smile on my face
and my legs wide apart. God, I was
such a slut – but it was a classic up- skirt shot! I think we were each waiting for the
other to say something. It must only
have been a couple of seconds, but
felt like minutes. “These are great pictures” I said.
“Thanks for letting me see”. “I’ve got some more that you might
like” she said. “There’re on my camera
if you have a minute.” “Yes please” I said. There was another
slight pause, and I went on. “Why don’t we have a coffee and you
can show me properly?” “That would be nice” she answered;
“is this place ok?” – nodding at the
little café next to the steps, right on the
Square. “It’s ok, but the one in the Gallery’s
better” I said; “A bit more expensive,
but quieter”. “Sounds great” she smiled. “Lead the
way!” We crossed the pavement and went
into the Gallery through the Getty
entrance, which takes you straight to
the café and shop, and is obviously
meant for people who want to have
something to eat without all that tedious mucking about with paintings
first. I offered to get the coffees while she
found a table. I took a chance and
chose us each a piece of cake – I think
I needed a sugar hit! I looked round
with my tray and saw her waving at
me from the far corner. She’d found a perfect table, slightly out of the way,
and luckily there weren’t too many
people around anyway. I sat down
opposite her. She laughed when she
saw the cakes. “How did you guess?” she said. “I
shouldn’t, but then, why not?” And she took the creamier of the two
pieces. “So…” I said, taking a sip of hot coffee,
“Where are these pictures?” She’d found them on her camera while
I was at the counter, and passed it
straight across. “These are from all over” she said.
“But I have a special folder for them
all”. They were a mixture of candid shots,
up-skirt and down-blouse, all
obviously taken without the subjects
knowing. Some of the girls were
wearing panties, but a few were like
me, showing it all. Most of these were shaved, so you could see the detail of
their pussies. Most of the down-blouse
ones were of bra-less breasts, usually
showing a nipple or two. They were all
very, very sexy. “You’ve a great collection here” I said,
impressed. “It must have taken you
ages”. “I take a lot of pictures anyway” she
said, “and I’m always on the lookout
for this sort of shot. I do sell some stuff
commercially – but not these – these
are just for me. Don’t worry, you’re not
going to see yourself on some website – at least, not unless you want to!” “But you know” she said, “You’re
almost the first person I’ve seen who I
thought might have been doing it on
purpose. The way you just sat there
with your legs apart, you must have
known what you were showing. But you didn’t seem to care. I noticed you
didn’t have a bra when I walked past,
and I was going to try and get a shot
of your tits. But then when I realised
you had no panties either…I was just,
like wow, my kind of girl!” “I mean,” she went on “I like not
wearing undies either, just because it
makes me feel good. “But I don’t really
flash at people, unless I know them
and it’s all part of the foreplay sort of
thing”. “It just turns me on” I admitted. “The
thought of people walking past and
seeing me just makes me so horny,
and I just love it. Sometimes I do it in
the park, pretending to sunbathe and
pulling my skirt up as far as I dare”. “Photographing you got me so turned
on too” she said. “Especially once I
knew that you knew I was doing it…
that’s when I plucked up courage to
show you!” That’s when I felt a touch on my leg
under the table. It made me jump, and
I looked down and saw that it was her
bare foot tickling me. She’d kicked off
her sandals and her toes were
stroking against the outside of my leg. I moved my leg against hers and
smiled at her. My legs were slightly
apart now, and I deliberately edged
my chair a bit closer to make it easier
for her. She slid her leg over mine until
it was between my legs, stroking against my inner thigh now. Her skin
was smooth against mine. I put my
hand under the table and stroked her
calves, pulling my dress up a bit more
to give her room to manoeuvre. Her foot slipped under the front of my
dress. She knew what she was doing
with her toes, though she was teasing
me by rubbing against the tops of my
thighs, deliberately not going any
higher. Then she broke contact, and I got that weird feeling you get when
you know something is close to you
even thought you can’t see it. This
time, I got the feeling in my pussy,
knowing her foot was almost
touching. Then I felt her toes touch the lips of my
pussy. She wiggled them backwards
and forwards, tickling my labia. It felt
amazing. I was squirming about in my
seat, wriggling back at her, trying to
manoeuvre myself so her toes would go inside my slit. She managed to find
the button of my clitoris, and flicked
her toe against it. I had to put my cup
of coffee down, for fear I’d spill it
everywhere. I gripped the edge of the
table with my hands and braced myself against her, breathing heavily
through my nose, letting out the
occasional little squeak in my throat.
Anyone watching could surely guess
what was going on… Wriggling her toes, she eased between
my labia and pushed up into the
entrance to my vagina. I let out a
definite squeak…she was smiling at
me as she pushed against me. I felt her
toes wriggling around inside me. Something pressed against my clitoris
– her big toe probably – and she
flicked it backwards and forwards
against the little button, pushing hard
against it. Oh god. I felt my orgasm
building. Not for the first time, I felt a bit embarrassed at how quickly I
would climax once my clitoris was
stimulated. If I’d been a man, I’d have
had no staying power at all! I leant over and grasped her hand,
squeezing it tight as I pressed against
her toes, clenching the muscles of my
pussy. Oh god here it came…and I
orgasmed. My knuckles were white as
I gripped her so hard. All the muscles in my legs and bum were clenched
and I felt my thighs spasming as I
struggled to stop myself from
thrashing my body about and crying
out. It must have looked as if I was
having an epileptic fit! She stared at me across the table with
a delighted smile on her face. “Wow!” she whispered. “Did you just
come?” I nodded, trying to get my breathing
under control. “I just couldn’t help it” I
said. “I guess I was just so turned on…
it just happened!” “You are just so amazing” she said,
laughing. I smoothed my dress down under the
table, trying to look decent. Looking
under the table, I could see the toes of
her right foot were wet and sticky. She leant over and whispered again.
“And you’ve got me so horny. Won’t
you do something for me now?” “Sure” I said. “Here?” “Come to the toilets” she whispered. “I
want you properly”. “Not the ones just here” I said
“They’re too busy – but if we go over
to the back door, there are some that
hardly anyone uses”. “How do you know this stuff?” she
asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve fucked
your way all round London’s bogs?” I laughed “Not yet – but I actually like
paintings as well as fucking! So I come
here quite a lot” “I’ll follow you then” she said. I couldn’t remember exactly which
rooms to go through, but I knew that
from the Central Hall there would be
signs for the “Orange Street Exit” and I
followed those. We went past the
Velasquez “Venus at her Toilette”, with her lovely bum, through more
random rooms until I saw the full-
length portrait of Cardinal Richelieu by
Philippe de Champaigne and I knew
we were nearly there. The toilets I was
looking for were by the Educational Centre. During the week it tends to be
swarming with school parties, but at
the weekend it’s practically deserted. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I
pushed open the door to the
“Disabled” toilets. “Come on, there’ll be more room in
here” I said. She shut and locked the door. She put
her arms round my waist and our lips
met, hard and rough and urgent. Her arms rubbed roughly over my
back, wrinkling my dress. Her large
breasts were pressed against my
chest. I pushed both my hands up the
front of her t-shirt. Her skin was warm
and flushed with excitement. My hands made contact with the firm
swell of her breasts inside the lacy
support of her bra. She groaned deep
in her throat. I rolled her breasts
under my hands, feeling them move
inside the bra. Pushing upwards, I felt the bottom of her bra cups moving up,
slowly slipping over the soft flesh. I
pushed again, and with a rush felt the
cups spring up, her boobs bouncing
free and unsupported. At last my
hands gripped the hot bare flesh. Her nipples tightened and became hard
under my grip, her areoles dimpling. I
wanted her body so badly. I dragged
at her t-shirt and she raised her arms
to let me pull it over her head. I
stepped back for a moment, holding her t-shirt, gazing at her tits swinging
too and fro as she quickly unclipped
her bra and let it fall from her arms
onto the floor. She smiled at me,
enjoying her bareness. She had clear
sharp tan-lines round the curve of her tits, showing that she normally wore a
small bikini top that must have barely
covered her nipples. My own body was fizzing with desire. I
pressed my hand to my crotch, circling
my palm against my clitoris. She pulled
me against her again, rubbing her
bare breasts against my dress as we
kissed. I squeezed her bum, rubbing against the crack between her cheeks,
before scratching my nails up the bare
skin of her legs. I pushed my hand down the back of
her shorts, inside her panties as well.
Her bum was warm and smooth and
firm. “Let me get these off” she muttered,
and undid her shorts, pulling them
and her panties down, kicking them
off across the floor. Now she was
totally naked. Her pubes were covered
in a tidy nest of hair, but I could see the pink folds of her pussy, aroused
and moist. She pushed me back against the sink,
and began to unbutton the front of my
dress. I was breathing heavily already,
my little tits heaving. She pushed my
dress off my shoulders, and I wriggled
to help the sleeves slip down my arms. The whole dress fell to the floor and I
was naked too. I pulled her towards me and kissed
her hard on her lips, feeling her body
hot against mine. She nibbled at my lip,
and I raked my fingernails down her
back, digging in as hard as I dared. In
the mirror opposite me, I could see the red marks on her skin. “More, more” she moaned, and I
kissed down her neck and over her
shoulder-blades. She had her hands
on my buttocks, and I felt a finger
nuzzling between my cheeks,
followed by a gentle pressure against my sphincter. “You’re so tight” she murmured. “I can
hardly get one finger in. Relax,
babe…” The finger pushed harder, just
entering, causing me to wince slightly. “Don’t stop” I whispered, as I felt the
finger leave. “Don’t worry” she replied. She picked
up the liquid-soap dispenser from the
hand-basin and pumped slippery
soap all over her palm and fingers,
before returning her hand to my
buttocks. I barely had time to register the cool soap on my bum, before her
freshly-lubricated finger slipped easily
into my hole. I gasped, pressing my
naked body against hers. I could feel
her finger twirling inside my bum-
hole. I was nuzzling her neck, but my teeth closed on her flesh as I felt a
second finger joining the first. I’d
never had two fingers up my bum
before, and without the soap I’m sure
she’d never have managed. I put my hand under her right tit,
raising it to my mouth. I sucked the
flesh into my mouth, moving towards
her dark nipples. As my mouth closed
over her right nipple, I felt her fingers
wiggling more inside my bum-hole, and I thrust my pelvis against her,
biting down on the nipple at the same
time. This wasn’t nice soft sex: it was
rough and dirty, and I was loving it. My teeth clenched her nipple; my lips
could feel the rough aroused skin of
her areole. Her fingers began thrusting
in and out of my bum and I could feel
the pulsing of my pussy, getting
wetter and wetter with pleasure. But she had already brought me to
orgasm once, and I wanted to do the
same for her. I pulled away from her, feeling the
“schlup” as her fingers slipped out of
my lubricated bum. Quickly I slid to the
floor, pulling her with me, rolling her
onto her back against the cold tiles. I
crouched over her, one leg on either side of her waist, my little tits swinging
slightly, my pussy pressed against her
tummy. I writhed my crotch against
her, stimulating myself and spreading
a wet smear of my sexual secretions
all over her tummy. I could see little red marks on her tits where my mouth
had bruised her skin. She lay still,
panting with excitement but allowing
me to take charge. With one swift movement, I slid down
past her waist, put one leg between
her thighs, and roughly pulled her
legs apart. Her pussy was gaping
wide, and I lowered my face to it,
breathing in her musky scent. I rubbed my face over the light fuzz of
hair on her pubic mound, my nose
bumping against her clitoris, which felt
engorged and hard. Her labia and the
entrance to her vagina were very wet,
and her sex juices were soon smeared all over my face. I momentarily raised
my head to let her see. She smiled. I dipped down again, and my tongue
made contact with her labia and licked
over and between the folds. Spreading
her lips with my fingers, I gazed for a
moment at the sweet pink moist
interior, breathing in the musky aroma, before burying myself in it. She
was dripping with juices, gasping and
thrashing as my tongue lapped
around her vulva; pushing her pussy
into my face, grinding against me. With
my tongue still lapping at her, my thumb found her clitoris, and she bit
back a scream as I rolled and rubbed
it. I quickly worked out from her moans
and gasps exactly what flickers of the
tongue and rolling of the thumb were
needed to propel her towards her
climax. I licked upwards inside her as
far as I could go, finding the soft spongy area around her g-spot, and
at the same time increasing the
pressure on her clit. As I’d hoped, that
was all it took, and her thigh muscles
went tense as she began to shudder
with the force of the orgasm that engulfed her. As soon as I felt her
climax hit, I raised my face, and
pushed two fingers of my other hand
deep up inside her soaking cunt, while
circling faster and faster round her clit.
My hand was drenched in her juices and she was shaking all over as a
second even more intense orgasm
exploded. She was clutching her tits,
pink and glowing with perspiration all
over her body. I withdrew my fingers and watched as
her trembling subsided. She put her
fingers inside her own pussy and
withdrew them coated in her own
stickiness. She fed me her fingers and I
sucked the juice off them. I let her suck mine as she clutched me too her,
both our bodies sticky and sweaty. We knelt on the floor, holding hands,
trying to let our breathing get back to
normal, both of us glowing with the
aftermath of the experience. She
stroked one hand over my little pussy,
touching my puffy labia. “You’re still aroused, aren’t you” she
said, more of a statement than a
question. “I want you to have me now” I said. “I want you as well – but can you wait
until we get back to my flat?” she said
matter-of-factly. I nodded. “Put your dress on then” she said.
“And if we can get an empty carriage
on the tube, I’ll make you come
again”.

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