I would never actually call myself an exhibitionist, but thinking back, I must be in denial.
I remember summer nights, two tents pitched in the backyard, children in one, M and me in the other. The kids all sleeping peacefully, while in our tent, I’m getting the shit fucked out of me doggy style. M would stop, ears perked, as a car drove by. I imagine them, who ever they are, their headlights shinning through the thin nylon of the tent walls, outlining our silhouettes, him kneeling, me on all-fours. And the thought of the people in the car seeing this would make me back into him, hard, make me want to cum so bad.
The other night, he had me laying on the dinning room table, in front of the picture window. My legs were straight up, feet on his shoulders as he pounded into me. And I wondered, with every car that drove by, if they looked in the window, if they saw what he was doing to me. And it made me hot.
But the thing that truly made me realize I had some hidden desire to be watched happened not too long ago. M had asked me to dress up for him. Nothing fancy or elaborate, I ended up in a cream colored corset with garters and thigh-highs and a short jean skirt.
When we finally ended up in bed, M told me to touch myself for him. He sat at the bottom of our bed, his hand drifting to his hardening cock. I laid back, hands skimming my body, and closed my eyes as my nipples hardened and my pussy swelled. When I next opened my eyes, he had the computer opened, facing me.
And there I was, on screen. My face wasn’t visible, but I could see my legs spread, the wetness shinning of my skin as my fingers played in my folds. I could see how hard my nipples were, standing beneath the fabric of the corset. I could see how quick my breathing was, watching the rise and fall of my chest while my fingers moved to circle my clit.
I watched as I dipped one finger into my pussy and pulled it back out. I watched as I removed my breast from the corset, and wiped my juices over it. I watched as I pinched and pulled and my body started to move under my touch.
I was hypnotized. I didn’t recognize the body I was watching as my own, yet I knew I was being watched. What was happening to her was happening to me. How I wanted to touch myself was happening to her before my eyes. It wasn’t long before I was watching the girl on screen arch her back and let go at the same moment my first orgasm hit me.
It was by far one of the hottest masturbation sessions I have ever had.
So, I guess the point of all this is I’m coming to terms with the exhibitionist in me. I like to be watched. I like the chance of getting caught, of someone seeing me. The idea of exciting someone by an unexpected sight.
I love to watch M stroke his cock while he watches me touch myself. I love to watch his cock swell and grow because he’s watching me. I love to be the cause of that.
And perhaps that’s it. It’s not necessarily that I want to be seen. It’s that I want you to see me and be aroused. I want to make you want to touch yourself. I want to make you cum. I want to be the cause of that.