The Evolution of an Exhibitionist
 

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist
Parts 1-3

Preface:

This story is intended to reveal my journey to understand how I became an exhibitionist. It started physically, but I believe even the telling of this story is related to these tendencies. I have come to enjoy not only showing but telling.

This is a long story, so over time I will add to this thread in parts, occasionally jumping around in time to explain and connect to any pictures or videos I can post. (In my early life, digital media and my necessary level of courage did not exist, so most material is from my later adventures.) When posting pictures or videos in other threads, I’ll try to refer to the parts of this story that directly relate, for anyone who may like to know how that material or situation came to be.

I very much appreciate anyone who will indulge. (Feedback and other postings in this thread are, of course, welcome.)



Part 1: Awakening
(Early 1980s)

I have had exhibitionist tendencies since I was a young girl. In an effort to better understand, I have given much thought to how this developed over the years. My first related memory is from when I was a girl in my parent’s house. There was a large window in the upstairs bathroom. It was always uncovered because it was located such that it was not exposed to the neighbors or street. One would have to be on our roof to see in. When taking a bath, I would fantasize that whichever boy I liked at the time was out there watching me. I think this was extra thrilling because of how much it was contrary to my world otherwise. My father was a Presbyterian minister. I was, and considered by all to be, a “good girl”. Over time, I grew to hate this. I so much wanted to shed this reputation.
As a teenager, I overheard a boy at school telling his friends that he slept in the nude. At first, I was shocked, but also fascinated. I thought about this a lot. How brave and somehow mature. I built up the courage and started sleeping naked myself. Although usually under the covers, it was quite liberating. I was afraid my mom would discover me – and eventually she did. To my surprise, she did not freak out. See did a double take, but generally ignored it. So, this became something normal in my world.

To this day I sleep in the nude, or sometimes in just my panties. This is likely connected to my always feeling sexiest in the morning. It is the time I feel the most slim and desirable. If I don’t pleasure myself before getting out of bed, I likely won’t get dressed at all, until I have no choice. I like to do my chores or find fun activities to do naked. It is not difficult. Just the work of everyday life is more enjoyable in the nude.

Just after I began sleeping naked, I would lie in bed until I knew both my parents had left for work, then I would kick off the covers and lay face down, exposed to anyone who may enter the room, although no one did. But I would fantasize about who this could be. At that time, it was usually Tom Selleck – dressed as a cowboy. My most prevalent fantasy is to be roughly taken, from behind. This intruder having his way with me. That can sound a little scary, but not to a girl in the 80s when the intruder is Tom Selleck.

My routine of naked morning chores, etc. was, and still is fun. But like most things people enjoy doing a lot, it can lose its luster after a while, and you must step it up to keep it exciting. This too happened to me. I started to fantasize more about being seen. But I did not want my parents to find out. And if they did, I knew I would need a good story for how this “accidentally” happened. I became determined to bring this fantasy to life.



Part 2: The Course of Things
(Mid 1980s)

My first idea to be seen related to the fact that we lived on a golf course. It was common to have tee shots miss the fairway and land near or in our yard. I decided to do some nude sunbathing. If discovered by my parents, I knew they would be mad, but at least it would make more sense than just running out and flashing someone. So, I laid out a towel in the yard - a long way from the fairway. It took a while to build up my courage. I knew to keep to areas not exposed to the neighbors. Most of the yard was well covered by trees, so I had to move often to stay in the sun and not appear to be a naked teenage girl just napping in the shady woods.

I was so excited and nervous, yet also somehow relaxed with certain parts of my body feeling the sun and air for the first time. When I spotted golfers in the fairway, I actually chickened out, but it was too late. I knew they were more likely to catch me if I jumped up and ran. I tried to cover up with the towel, but the leaves started to rustle. So, I closed my eyes hard and just froze until I was sure they had passed. I had no idea if they saw me, but I don’t think so.

It was weeks until I tried again. I wasn’t even planning on it at the time. I was cleaning the sliding glass door on the back deck when I heard the familiar knock of a ball striking a tree in our yard. It just came over me to really go for it. I grabbed a towel and rushed out to pretend to be sunbathing. As it seemed to take forever for the golfers to arrive, the excitement kept building and building, and with it my courage. I picked up my towel and hurried down closer to the course and set up again. I saw three men headed my way. Now I was terrified. I knew they would see me for sure. They would be looking for the ball very close to me. Then, just like before, I chickened out. But this time I did jump up to run back to the house. As I grabbed my towel, I looked right at them looking right at me. I was flooded with emotions as I ran for the house. I did not look back until hidden below my living room window. Peeking out, I could see them still frozen in their tracks. But after a moment or two it became clear they were engaged in happy conversation. I imagine I made their day. And after a few minutes I had calmed down enough to realize it made my day too. I ran around the house, jumped up and down, screamed and danced for some time after.

I knew it was unlikely that the golfers would know me or my family. We lived on Hilton Head Island. A vacation resort that always had many more tourists than locals. But as I still feared being recognized, this did not become a regular event. I would still lay out sometimes, but closer to the house. Although it was usually hard to tell if I was seen, I am pretty sure that a handful of times some golfers caught the show.

I had other adventures related to the golf course. At night, it was pitch black out there. You could not see more than a few feet. Sometimes I would sneak out at night and run naked around the course. Daring myself to go farther each time. This was a good outlet for me for a couple of years. As far as I know, I was never seen. But I had a few close calls getting in and out of the house, or crossing the light near a road to reach other parts of the course.



Part 3: Fashion Show
(mid 1990s)

I found myself in an unfortunate situation. I had married young, and it had gone very bad. I could not bring myself to tell my minister father that I was getting a divorce. So, I found myself without a place to stay, and pretty much just the clothes on my back. However, I knew a couple of guys, Brandon and Mark, who were starting a video editing business. It was low budget, so instead of a proper office, they had rented a small apartment to house their business. No one lived there. It was only used as a place where they could edit their projects. So, I asked if I could stay there, just until I got back on my feet. They agreed. I think they felt a little obligated because I already sometimes worked for free preforming in their videos. I wanted to be an actress. They mostly did cheap corporate and real estate videos, trying to build a media business as the internet was just getting going.

They were very nice to me. At first, I tried to stay out of their way when they were working, but they seemed to enjoy that I was there. One or both usually worked at night. And sometimes we would get to talking. I really started to enjoy their company. I needed this. Considering what I was going through, the attention of nice young ambitious men was wonderful.

They learned a good bit about my situation. After listening to me complain about not being able to get my possessions back from my husband, they surprised me with a gift card from Victoria’s Secret. That was so nice of them. But I thought it may also be a suggestion. I think they had their own ideas of what it would be like to have a girl living in their office. As an exhibitionist, I was not too shy about walking around while barely dressed, but I wasn’t sure how it would go over. I would not want one of them, or one of their girlfriends, to be put off and put me out. If it were later in life, I would just ask if it would bother them if I walked around naked. But back then I did not have the audacity.

I decided to test them. One day, around the time I expected one of them would come by, I left my hair brush out on the editing desk and watched TV naked in the main room. When I heard the key in the door, I rushed into the bathroom and turned on the water. I wet my hair, turned the water off, and walked right out to the desk. It was Mark, and he was alone. When we made eye contact, I feigned surprise. He froze for a second then looked away. I scurried back to the bathroom while apologizing and explaining about my brush. He apologized and said I could get my brush; he would not look. I came back out saying it was his place, he could look if he wanted. He didn’t. So, I picked up my brush and said it doesn’t bother me. He hesitantly glanced over as I started brushing my hair while walking back to the bathroom. I played it calmly, but my heart was pounding. As I was catching my breath in the bathroom, I heard him say, “Wow.” I called back, “Thank you.” He responded with an emphatic, “Thank you!”.

It took a few days for it not to be at least a little awkward after that. But I started doing little things like grabbing a snack from the kitchen while topless, leaving the bedroom door open, changing in front of them, etc.

When they gave me the gift card to Victoria’s Secret, I decided to pay them back with a fashion show of what I bought. I couldn’t figure out the best way to do this live. So, I surprised them with a video. I set up their camera in the corner of the office and put on a little show. It was silly, and not very well done. But it really got me excited. I thought maybe I took it too far. But I went through with it anyway and put the tape in their machine to discover. When Brandon came into work, I said I had somewhere to be and left. I didn’t want to watch him find it. When I returned, no one was there, and the tape was gone. He did not mention it for days. Eventually I learned they had both watched it. Brandon asked me if I would pose for more videos. This led to many videos and pictures around that time, and for years to come. There is a lot more to the story, as I ended up marrying Brandon.

A few clips from the Fashion Show video are posted on OCC under the thread “Sexy Homemade Recordings From Years Past”. Other videos on that thread, like “I’m Dripping Wet” and “Always Start with a Joke” were recorded around that time. Brandon was the camera operator.

Your story is fantastic Amy Sue. I can't wait to hear more about your journey into becoming a exhibitionist Thanks for sharing your album

Very hot stories Amy Sue and well described. Did you typically masturbate after your exhibitionist events?

I lived on Hilton Head
 

It was the late 90's, but I would have loved to seen you. Golf courses at night were fun places to hang as long you didnt trip over a gator.

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist, Part 4
 

Part 4: A Cheer for Confidence
(mid 1980s)

In our lives we all suffer embarrassing moments. Some more than others, and to different extremes. But in each I believe there is something we can learn about ourselves and possibly take the opportunity to grow. I venture to say that what I long thought of as my most embarrassing experience eventually became something for which I am grateful.

My story played out while out of town at an away game for my school’s basketball team. It was the boy’s team, for which I was a cheerleader. We were at the hotel. Our group consisted of the team, the cheerleaders, a few chaperones, some family members, and a few hardcore fans from the school. I don’t know if we were all housed on the same floor, but it seemed that way. We had our doors propped open and moved around the floor from room to room for hours with that youthful excitement for an out-of-town adventure. At some point, the chaperones, and probably the entire hotel, had had enough of the antics, and we were forced to retire to our rooms. The girls were housed four to a room.

In part 1 of my story, I told of how I came to always sleep in the nude. It made a significant impression on me when I overheard a boy at school tell his friends that he did this. I was not only intrigued by the act itself, but I also just wished to be so bold to tell others of this. But other than my mother discovering, I had told no one.
I did not come on this trip with any determination to sleep naked. I don’t remember having given it much thought. Can’t remember if I packed pajamas or gave much thought to these logistics at all. I had a crush on one of the basketball players, and this occupied most of my thoughts.

In the room with my three roommates getting ready for bed, I was confronted with a decision for which I had not prepared. As a burgeoning exhibitionist, I never had a problem in those moments that the girls would see me changing, etc., in fact I enjoyed it. But this situation was different. I had not been invited to a sleepover, or anything since starting to sleep in the nude. I was rarely invited to such events; I think because of my “good girl” reputation from my religious upbringing. They probably thought I that would bring the party down.

To this point it had been a great trip. But now I was saddened by these thoughts as we got ready for bed. When I thought about the possible reaction they would have if I just got naked and into bed, I imagined their impression of me might change. Whispers may spread through the school such to change everyone’s impression of me in the way I had long hoped. So, I did it. I stripped down completely, right next to the bed, and got in. They all noticed. At first, they just looked at each other. I was preparing to explain that this is just the way I sleep. Hoping they would find it as bold as I had. But this was not the case. I did not think this through with enough consideration for the girl with whom I shared the bed. Four girls to a room, but only two beds. She first asked what the hell I thought I was doing. I started to explain as she jumped out of bed and the others got involved. They pulled the covers away and had a quick discussion of what they should do with me. The answer was terrifying.

I was in the best shape of my life, but probably the least athletic cheerleader of all time. They had no problem dragging out of bed and into the hallway. It was quite a commotion, and shortly after our door slammed, some other doors in the hallway opened.

Now, even at this age, my exhibitionist propensities were intense. Opportunities were regularly sought, even if less frequently carried out. But there is a pattern to these experiences. It starts with an idea that builds to a fantasy. Then a period of anticipation filled with mixed feelings of fear, arousal, daring, pride, shame, confidence, desire, stimulation, titillation, and wonder… to name only a few. The build up to one of these events is as much, if not more, important than the act itself. It is a totally different experience when literally thrust into the situation. I was mortified!

First my pleas to be let in where a shouted whisper accompanied by light but frantic slapping on the door. I huddled up close to try to hide from view. But more and more people came out to investigate. Some started calling to me or for their friends. I began to plead and bang louder. I wanted to run. Our door was in front of the elevator, but this was no good, so I decided on the stairwell. As I turned, I could see the hallway was filling up and the stairway was far. So, I dove back into the little recess of our doorway and pleaded more. I heard someone call for a blanket at the same time I heard the elevator arrive at our floor. I thought it best to run the gauntlet to the stairwell when our door opened, and they pulled me in.

The girls landed in big trouble. I did not complain or pursue any punishment, but that was the last away game for all the cheerleaders. For me, the fallout was complicated. It began that night, after I finally got to bed and lay contemplating how I would face everyone in the morning. My school was very small. Not a private school but run as such. My graduating class was only 31 people. So, those that saw me in the hallway represented a significant percentage of my school, and included my crush.

Like most people, I had been caught doing embarrassing things – aside from my intentional activities. I found that if you try to hide, lie, cover up, or otherwise downplay what occurred, it only makes you look worse. People are more likely to think less of you. And usually, the act itself is something probably like what most people do in private anyway, so they’ll understand. For example, if caught masturbating, instead of pretending that is not what happened, or awkwardly avoiding the topic, just own it. Just go out and say “You sure walked in at the wrong time. I was really going at it!”. Joke with them, “I did even get to finish!”.

So, I owned it. I played it proud. I acted like they were lucky to catch the show. I did have a great body at the time, and up till then, I don’t think anyone knew. I had been the preacher’s daughter in braces and thick sweaters. But my braces had come off recently, and now they saw me without the sweater, to say the least. I started to believe this would be the turning point for me. I would finally gain distance from that “good girl”.

There was a little bit more attention from the boys, but truth is, little changed. And for those that did look at me in a new way, I don’t think it was what happened in the hallway. I think it was the confidence with which I emerged from the incident. I took this lesson with me and had many new experiences. And looking back, I am no longer embarrassed… it just turns me on.

Not long after this I was set to leave for college. I purposely chose to go far from home, and to a university that none of my classmates would be attending. For this, I was planning to build a whole new persona.



I have no pictures from this trip, but have attached a few of me taken around that time.

I love your story. So well written and it has me anticipating what happened next. I do hope you will continue.

So erotic. I feel like I was there. Can you imagine the number of guys who jerked off to you that night…including your crush.

Autoeroticism
 

Thank you for the nice comments and for your question. I am sorry that my answer is likely a good bit more substantial than you may want.

The answer is yes. Most certainly. My arousal can build to be incredibly intense in anticipation of my shenanigans, that I will need such release many times leading up to, sometimes during, and certainly after these events. To this day, I will do so while remembering my various experiences.

Please don’t read this next part if my getting a bit more clinical will bring you down. But this topic touches on something significant for me. I am a habitual self-stimulator, and have been for as long as I can remember. It was so prevalent that my family knew. My parents made me go to counseling. It did not help, but I pretended otherwise. I also developed mild scoliosis, and I was told this could be due to the frequency and intensity of my masturbating. I almost always do this in the same position, face down with both hands applying serious pressure with small but strong gyrations from my hips.

The attached picture is not really one for which I posed. The picture was taken while I was masturbating. I was in the middle of posing for a series of pictures when I became so aroused, I needed this break.

It gives me pleasure to expose myself in this way, but I also elaborated because it may be good that I warn any younger readers out there. Unlike my parents and some others, I don’t think there is anything wrong with masturbation. I think it is wonderful. But if you do it a lot, be careful. Maybe mix up your methods and positions. And don’t be embarrassed, it is a beautiful thing.

They were lying, maybe they actually believed it, but it’s not true. Posture and stress on the back can cause many spinal problems, but not scoliosis, which is a sideways curvature. It’s usually genetic, although can occur spontaneously. It may not have been noticeable in previous generations, due to being mild, but most would find there is a history of scoliosis in the family if investigating.

So don’t believe you caused it due to masturbation, that sounds more like an attempt to scare you away from it, like so many other horrible things allegedly associated with it in the past.

Thanks for the information. I have always been skeptical about that. I'm sure they meant well.

Wow part 4 is amazing. What a hot once in a lifetime experience. I think the locked outside fully nude is a very common fantasy especially for women. I can't believe their first thought was to force you into the hallway naked.

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist, Part 5
 

Part 5: Testing the Waters
(mid 1980s)

It was the summer before I left for college, I was at my parent’s house on Hilton Head Island. I had been looking for new adventures I could bring to life around the house. We had an outdoor shower next to the utility yard. It was uncovered because it was intended to be used by people in swimsuits rinsing off the sand when returning from the beach (common in resort communities like ours). But I fantasized about having a proper shower outdoors. This came together one morning after I spent some time lying in bed, revving myself up while waiting to hear my parents leave for work. When I knew they both had gone, I got out of bed, naked as always, grabbed the soap and shampoo from the bathroom and walked right out the back door and around the corner to the side of the house where the shower was located.

After rebounding from my experience at the hotel (part 4), I was in a special mode, brimming with confidence. I did not bring a towel, or even peek out the windows to be sure the coast was clear. I just bravely walked out with purpose. I knew the shower could not be seen by the neighbors for the trees, and was blocked from the street because of the walls around the utility yard. That is where the trash cans were hidden behind little walls to keep the resort looking nice. I took a short shower, half hoping and half afraid of being discovered. It was exciting, but it did not last as long as I wanted because the water was just too cold.

A while after dripping my way back into the house, I heard the garbage truck. My heart raced. I had given no thought to that it was trash day. We were not allowed to put the cans out near the street. The garbage men had to retrieve the trash from everyone’s utility yard. If I had taken my shower a bit later, they may have caught me. Most likely I would have still heard the truck over the running water. But this started an idea that I knew right then I would make happen.

I was so impatient for the next collection day. My excitement was building the whole week. I did not think the men would report me. And if they did, I would tell my mom that I had so much sand in my bathing suit that I had to take it off, and I thought I would be safe with the reasonably private shower.

Knowing I would be just around the corner from the trash cans, only a few feet from the men, naked and soapy wet – I was dizzy with excitement all week. And unlike some of my other ideas, I knew I would go through with it. Not even the cold water would deter me. I planned to pretend I could not hear them because of the water and would just keep showering while they watched. My biggest fear was that they would duck away with embarrassment and not help my fantasy come true.

When the day finally arrived, I waited at the window for much longer than necessary in case they came early. I heard the truck when it was far down our street, and I ran to position. I don’t remember the water being as cold as before. I showered for what seemed like forever before I could tell they were at our house. I didn’t want to look. I thought they would be more likely to watch if they thought I didn’t know. So, I would try to catch sly glimpses in their direction. I saw no sign of them.

After a couple of minutes, I decided it had been too long. They must have turned back when they heard the shower. I started to look up and caught sight of a pair of boots near the door to the utility yard. They were pointed right at me. He was so close. Quickly looking way, I was hit with a pounding pressure in my head. I thought I was going to burst. I kept showering, and for some reason I stopped breathing and had to focus just to catch my breath. It was so intense. With no doubt he had seen me, I felt on the edge of an orgasm, but feared I would pass out.

Soon I heard the cans being moved. I felt the pressure subside a bit. They had caught me, but they are just continuing with their job. I started to catch my breath, but my head was still pounding. I thought to peek up a bit more to see them taking the cans to their truck. But as I started to look, I could see he was still there. Thrilling for sure, he was only seven or eight feet away. But this was the first time I thought it could go much different than I had planned. What if he enjoyed the show too much and decided to do something about it? I was filled with so many conflicting emotions.

As I was wondering what to do now, I realized he was gone. I looked up farther to watch them leave but saw no one. I realized this was my chance to retreat, but I couldn’t. The overwhelming satisfaction was more powerful than the fear. I couldn’t end it now. So, I stood on my tippy toes to look over the walls. He was farther away now but looking right at me. I locked eyes with him. I let out a little involuntary screech and covered my mouth. He looked off to the side a bit and put up both his hands as if I had pulled a gun on him. Neither of us moved for a moment. He seemed more scared than me. Then his partner came up the walk returning the cans. They could not see much of me now as I was tucked up tight to the little wall I was peeking over. Not knowing what to do next, I just smiled at them. The one smiled back with eyebrows raised, but kept his hands up. The partner just kept looking down and shook his head while replacing the cans. I wanted them to know it was okay. So, I said, “Thank you.” and they both backed away while waving their hands – not in the way of goodbye, but more as if to shoo me away. They were both Mexican, but probably spoke English, although they said nothing.

It was clear by their expressions that this was a confusing but positive encounter. I think they were gesturing away any guilt on their part, or perhaps suggesting I should not be out here like this. After they turned and moved farther down the walk, I realized this went better than I had hoped. I was not ready for it to end. Just before they reached their truck, I stepped out from behind the wall, in case they looked back one more time. They did. I struck a little pose and gave a cute wave. The more engaging one raised his hand to his forehead and went to his truck.

I turned off the water and scurried around the corner and into the house. I watched from the front window to see the truck continuing down the street, but I could not see much of them. I dropped to the floor and rolled around on the soft white carpet, overwhelmed with excitement and pleasure. It could not have gone better.

I wondered if I should do it again next week. That thought lasted for a few days, but I decided not to push my luck. Probably best they thought it was an accident. I was realizing my antics could give someone the wrong idea and get me in trouble. Although, when lying in bed each morning, I would still fantasize about Tom Selleck – or sometimes a couple of sanitation workers…

It is rare to have all go as well or better than planned. And even though I would go on to much more daring and intense adventures, I still think of this experience as one of the best ever.

Amy Sue, your stories are amazing. It's just like being there and seeing it all unfold. They are extremely exciting and very stimulating. It must be extreamly stimulating for you to relive them for all our enjoyment. Can't wait for the next account.
Thanks

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist, Part 6
 

I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been reading. Without you I could not tell my story. I also should remind you that my story is a long one, and I will occasionally jump around in time to explain and connect to any pictures or videos I can post.
The part numbers reflect no chronology. They are only for reference. Better to note the time periods at the top of each part.


Part 6: Naked Acceptance
(Mid 1990s)

After I recorded my little fashion show for Mark and Brandon, Brandon asked if I would be interested in making more videos. He offered his services as camera man. I didn’t hesitate. I had left my husband in large part because I could not be myself in that relationship. When I tried to express my exhibitionist nature, he was not into it. It upset him. I went years being the wife he wanted and not able to even discuss by desires. Returning to who I am was goal number one for me.

I was enjoying the freedom that my new friends supported. Using their office as my apartment and launching point into my new life had so far been a wonderful experience. But it was scary. I also felt somewhat alone. Going from my parents’ house to the sorority, to my husband, I had never really been on my own. But now I was, and it was intimidating.

Brandon’s acceptance and interest in using me as his model made me feel like I had a partner, of sorts. Mind you I was not looking for a relationship beyond friends. My parents had found out that I had left my husband, and they were pressuring me to return to him. I was very confused, and had no idea of a direction, and was starting to think I would have to go back to that life. So, I wanted to make the most of my freedom now, without overcomplicating a possible return to my old life.

At first, this was working with Brandon. He was very professional with me. As amateur as our efforts were, he made me feel like a real model. He was the camera man, and I was the subject. He was good at giving me direction, and I could still do what I wanted. I always felt very sexy when he would video my posing and frolicking, and I felt safe with him.

I would talk often of my problems, and he was supportive. That may have been my mistake. I tend to overshare. The more I came to trust him, the more I wanted to be close to him. But he never showed signs of true interest. Our recording sessions would bring my libido to a boil. Some of the time I would be touching myself in the videos and I would become overwhelmed. But he was all business. It started to bother me. I didn’t want a relationship, but I wanted him to want me.

Brandon and I had a lot of mutual friends. That’s how I met my new landlords, Brandon and Mark, in the first place. We all worked at a theme park / movie studio in Orlando Florida. Brandon and I did not work directly together much. I mostly knew him through our friends. In these circles, Brandon was a leader. He made independent films and used a lot of us want-to-be actors in his projects.

One night while Brandon was working on a project at the office, and I was doing my best to distract him by cooking my dinner topless, he asked if I wanted to go with him to a party. I knew our friends were throwing him a party for his birthday, at a bar just North of Orlando. I had been intending to go. But now that Brandon asked me to go with him, to his birthday party, I thought he was finally going to make his move.

Brandon picked me up at the office/apartment and drove us to the bar. The dynamic was different, as I think we both were wondering if this was a date. The party was fun, but as we mostly mingled with our friends, and often not together, it did not feel like a date.

On the drive home, I wasn’t sure what to say. It was his birthday. He set this up to leave the party with me. He was in a good mode, but I had no idea what he was thinking. So, I asked, “What should we do now?”.

“You should get naked.”, he answered.

“You really think I should?”, I asked, looking around at the surrounding traffic. But I had hardly finished my question before pulling my shirt off over my head. I realized mid-question that I did not want to give him the opportunity to say he was joking.

As I continued to undress, he kept looking over at me with wide eyes. I was naked around him regularly, but this was the first time we were in public, as much as being in the car is public. And this was the first time it was not for the camera, or me just relaxing in the apartment. This was arguably a date. It was new territory for us. I was not undressing for me, but for him… and perhaps others on I-4.

I sat there naked for a minute with no conversation. I could tell he was nervous. I took his hand and brought it to my chest. All the times he directed my actions, or adjusted my clothes, etc. while videotaping, he had never really touched me. We both relaxed a bit, and I reclined my seat. He caressed me as I put my arms over my head and closed my eyes, peeking only occasionally as I sensed the sweep of the street lights across my body.

I asked if he thought people could see me. He said it was too dark, and pointed out that we could not see into their cars. I thought he was right, and I felt some of the thrill recede. I reached up and turned on the overhead light. He pulled away to put both hands on the wheel. I asked if he could see. He looked down at me and said, “Yes.”. I meant see the road, but I think he knew. I pulled his hand back to my body and imagined the passing cars all watching. He mentioned that we could get pulled over with the light on. I smiled and let out a little moan to indicate pleasure. I was having amazing sensations from head to toe. His caress was wonderful. But it was connecting with someone in this way (for the first time in my life), while completely exposed, that brought my pleasure to a climax.

As we were nearing the office/apartment I asked if he thought I should go in like this. He said no, that I can’t do that. I felt the moment deflate a little. Then he picked up my skirt from the floorboard and told me I should just wear this and my heels. The sensations were returning. My skirt was accompanied by a slip, as it was sheer. But he left the slip on the floor.

When he unnecessarily parked far from the apartment, I began to think he understood. It was just what I needed. He was nothing like my husband. These emotions mixed with the excitement I felt anticipating the walk to the apartment.

As I sat in the now quiet car in just my skirt and heels. He looked over at me as if to say, “You really doing this?”. I thumbed my purse strap over my shoulder, gave him a quick smile, swung the door open, and stepped out into the light of the parking lot.

When we closed ourselves safely in the apartment, both filled with the excitement of the moment, I put my arms around him, pushed my body up against him and asked, “What do you think about that? Do you think the neighbors saw?” He said I sure closed the car door loud, and he expected I would walk along the darker path next to the buildings, instead of right down the middle of the well-lit parking lot. I pulled away and asked if he was upset. He told me it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

I kissed him. We made out on the sofa for a while, but that was it. He didn’t spend the night.

I didn’t come out and say it, but I thought I made it obvious that I wanted him to stay. He seemed a little nervous. Maybe he thought I was too drunk? Maybe he thought I was only giving him a birthday present? Maybe it was because I was still married? At the time, I did not know.

I did not see Brandon for a few days, which was rare. So, I called him. We had a good talk, but it was hard to gauge if something was wrong. I could not stop thinking about how good I felt that night driving home. He enjoyed watching me do something I enjoy – a thing many people think wrong. And he suggested it, even if he was joking. I felt accepted in a way I thought could never happen.

I was determined to do something about this. Knowing myself, I first feared I could take it too far, then a realization. It would be fine if I took it too far. I was looking for acceptance in extremes. He would either embrace me for who I am, or it would never be anyway.

My plan was to go to his apartment (where he lived, not the office) and knock on his door wearing only my little black sheer skirt and heels, and tell him I needed to get the rest of my clothes out of his car. Not only would this be hysterical, I also thought he would love it, or I would learn what I needed to know.

The problem was, I could not find the skirt anywhere. I searched desperately. It was not uncommon for me to lose clothes, but this was a tiny apartment. I had no idea where it was. So, I decided it would be more impactful anyway if I were completely naked.

I took a shower and revved myself while waiting for it to get late. When the time came, I opened the door to head for the car, and I couldn’t do it. So much of me would love to drive over to his house like that, but I was just too scared. So, I put on a t-shirt that was long enough to cover everything, and headed out.

I had never been in his apartment, but I knew where it was. I had been to a pool party at his complex, and his apartment was visible from the pool. (That party was broken up by the police. I was somewhat to blame – a story for another time.)

Driving over, I planned to leave my shirt in the car and go knock on his door. But I could not park anywhere close, so I wore the shirt and walked barefoot up to his door. It was brightly lit by the porch light, but it was a private alcove, not visible to much but a few windows of a far building. I did a nervous little jig, took a deep breath, pulled off the shirt and threw it around the corner. Knocking on the door, I thought how this is not the first time I stood knocking on a door in the nude while hoping for acceptance.

From inside, I heard, “Holy shit!” Brandon saw me through the peep hole. Not the presentation I had planned, but all the same, I guess. He opened the door wearing sweatpants and a wide goofy smile and ordered me in. As he shut the door, he tossed out a few more expletives out of astonishment. He asked if I walked up like that, and as I tried to get out my funny line about needing my clothes from his car, he interrupted with, “You know I have a roommate?”. He pointed to a door across the living room. I did not know. That could have been interesting. Turned out his roommate was not home. Nevertheless, Brandon ushered me into his bedroom.

After taking a few minutes to settle down, I asked him if he was going to put me out like this. He teased me a bit, but it became clear he really enjoyed my little stunt. I was so relieved. I was giddy the rest of the night. I remember well because, like a lot of things Brandon was around, it was caught on video. As we hung out in his room, and had a few beers, he started taping me. I guess we were more comfortable like this, as compared to how things ended the night of his birthday. But unlike our other recording sessions, this time he touched me.

The video begins after Brandon asked me to dance for him. Of course, I love to be in front of the camera, and I love to dance, but I was very nervous about having to improvise a sexy dance. That only added to my endless nervous giggling. I made every excuse and distraction to avoid the dancing.

Honestly, I had come to his apartment that night to make love, not a video. But I am so grateful now that I have these tapes to look back. I was never the prettiest girl around, but I can see I was glowing with a great energy, an adorable charm. I was beautiful. The tapes allow me to be there again. And what happened that night was instrumental in the direction of the rest of my life.


Some of this video titled “Nervous Naked Joy” can be seen on OCC under the thread “Sexy Homemade Recordings From Years Past”. I apologize that the video is old and much of the audio is messed up. It was necessary to cut out the bad places. I tried to patch it some, but with the music in the background, it is still pretty rough. I usually mute my videos and just put nice music over them, but a good bit of the charm is lost without the original audio. I find it lovely. I hope you do as well.

Love these stories from your youth and your ability to capture the sense of excitement one feels as they explore new territory and discover their inner sexuality for the first time.

I think most of us can relate to that time in our life when it’s all fresh and exciting and I thank you for sharing it with us.

Also glad to hear you found away out from under a disapproving partner as there is few things worse than feeling judged or unaccepted for who we are, especially from those we love.
Look forward more tales of adventure…

When you walked up to his apartment you had the long t shirt on or were naked?

It is clear you have wonderful understanding of my stories. It is most reassuring that I have been able express what I intended. I am grateful for your detailed feedback. It adds greatly to the overall experience.

Naked at the Door
 

Driving over, I was working myself to leave the shirt in the car. But I could not find a parking spot anywhere close. His walk could be seen only from far apartments, so I thought it would be reasonably safe, but still exciting. But from my parking spot, it was just too much. A few weeks earlier I was among those run off from his complex pool by the police. (A story I'll post later.) I didn't want more trouble.

I wore the shirt and hid it just around the corner from his door. I don't have pictures from that, but to set the scene, here is one of me standing just a few feet from his door, which I am facing.

Thx!!!
 

We, Bea & Udo, love your sstories! We did something in this way, too... Please tell more!:D

Loved the stories.

“At night, it was pitch black out there. You could not see more than a few feet. Sometimes I would sneak out at night and run naked around the course. Daring myself to go farther each time. This was a good outlet for me for a couple of years. As far as I know, I was never seen. But I had a few close calls getting in and out of the house, or crossing the light near a road to reach other parts of the course.”

Were you nude before you left the house or did you undress after? So erotic! So different from me when I was a teen! I never would have done something like that. Wish I had now.

“It took a while to build up my courage” “I was so excited and nervous” “the excitement kept building and building, and with it my courage” “I was terrified.” I can’t say I shared any of your teen experiences, but not long after I have felt everything you describe in your quotes.

Guten Tag, Bea & Udo!
I always enjoy your messages. And I think we all would enjoy your story, if you care to post. Your English is marvelous, but I'm sure we would all be forgiving of any challenges for the second language.

Frolicking on the Golf Course
 

Thank you for your questions and compliments.

Were you nude before you left the house or did you undress after?
Most of the time, after the activity became common, I would lie in bed nude and feel the urge enliven to point beyond almost any inhibition. At the breaking point, I would get up and go right out as is. Rarely would I wear clothes, but on rainy nights, I did leave a towel on the deck. Also, I came to regret going barefoot through the rough ground of my tree covered backyard. I started wearing shoes through that part, but would leave them behind to enjoy the grass on the course, which was terrific. I tried not to leave evidence or cause problems, but sometimes I also enjoyed the sand traps.

I can’t say I shared any of your teen experiences, but not long after I have felt everything you describe in your quotes.
I think it is beautiful that you can relate. And I am grateful that you express this sentiment now.
Thank you!

You tell the stories of your experiences the best, it is such a hot read and maybe will inspire someone else to act out their fantasy in a car ane then a parking lot. Is it so wrong i wish the roomate answered the door?

Knock Knock
 

Thank you. I would be thrilled to believe someone could be inspired by my story.

After I learned of his roommate, I was amused by the idea of him having answered the door. If it is wrong, then we are both wrong.
(I got to know his roommate well. I never mentioned the incident, but I think he would have been happy to have answered the door that night.)

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist, Part 7
 

Part 7: A Stop in Nevada
(mid 1980s)

When I look back on some of the things I did in the those days, I just can’t imagine what I was thinking. I know we all feel that way sometimes, but I am certain that not long into this story, you are going ask, “What the hell was she thinking?!”. It will probably make you realize that my decision to sleep naked with unexpecting classmates (part 4) was not even close to the strangest thing I’ve done.

It was the summer before I left for college. It starts with my learning which way an egg is facing when it is laid by a chicken, and ends with my first sexual experience – with a boy. (I don’t count innocent experimenting with a girlfriend.)

Whether it be from books and movies, or the talk at school, I had come to believe all the girls my age were having sex. But not me. The preacher’s daughter had been working hard to break away, but I had yet to make a valuable connection with a boy. I think partly because I generally fell for boys beyond my reach, and I expected something meaningful. So, as my move to Gainesville to attend the University of Florida drew close, I was determined not to be the only virgin there. I set out to find a boy and just get it done.

I came close a couple times through the summer. But something always went wrong. At the beach one night, I was straddling a guy I had admired for years. But just at the critical moment was about to occur, I was literally pulled away by my father who had come looking for me past curfew. I was 18 years old, but this had no relevance to my father.

With the clock ticking, I turned my attention to a boy who I knew liked me all through high school. There was nothing really wrong with him, I just never felt that way about him. Nevertheless, I now thought it would be nice for him to be seduced by his high school crush. And my problem would be solved.

I spent the morning in my room listening to one of my Billy Joel albums. The same song over and over. The lyrics were about a woman leaving her old life behind, but first had to make a stop along the way to complete a crucial step in her journey. It was not about losing her virginity, but the tone paralleled that of my venture. It had become a theme for my endeavor. Although I was looking forward to it, I still needed to get worked up. This day should be something I would remember for the rest of my life.

However, there was one thing that had happened a while back that I thought could be a problem.

A few weeks earlier, I did something really stupid. It began like most trouble I caused around this time. I was home alone with my urges. Having spent years in the same house, trying everything I could think of, I found myself now looking through the refrigerator for something new I could use for stimulation. Wanting a break from my usual methods. I decided on an egg. Yes, of all things, an egg. Like I said, sometimes I don’t know what I was thinking.

Lying naked on the kitchen floor, just as I was starting to really get into it, the egg was suddenly, for lack of a better word, slurped far up inside me. I know I should have expected this, but it was not my plan. My worry became panic as I realized the egg was incredibly difficult to extract, particularly considering the way it was facing. I found myself using spoons and other utensils in varied efforts to remove the egg. I was very concerned about the possibility of the egg breaking. What would the jagged shell fragments do to me?

After a long while of fruitless efforts with several devices and many awkward positions, I was sore and exhausted. I collapsed flat on my back and cried. I thought I would have to go to the hospital. This was devastating for me. My father would have to know. No doubt some of the hospital staff attended our church where he preached. I cried hard as I did everything to make one more effort with the spoons.

As I lay there, I could see the vacuum stored away in the laundry room off the kitchen. From what I thought was working best so far, I believed that suction combined with the business end of a spoon just might work. The tube at the end of the vacuum hose was quite large for where I needed it to go, so I added a narrow attachment. I thought the suction might grab, or at least encourage, the egg just enough.

No pun intended; the vacuum idea sucked. As soon as I began this effort, the vacuum aggressively sucked to my flesh. It was very painful as I worked to pull the hose away. For a moment, I thought I was stuck. I was just making things so much worse. As I wrestled with the spoon and nozzle, I began to cry harder. I was bawling and frightened as it finally occurred to me to just turn the vacuum off. But before I could, I saw through my tears, Michael standing on the back deck at the sliding glass door.

I had known Michael for years. I was aware he had a crush on me all through high school, from where we had both just recently graduated. His family was heavily involved in our church. But we were not very close. I don’t recall him having ever come to my house before.

My vision was distorted by the tears, but that was not enough to keep me from seeing the look of shock on Michael’s face. Before I could react, he ran. I wanted to stop him. Even in my current state, I was able to recognize immediately that this was incredibly bad. Our mutual friends, my church, even my parents would be likely to hear that I was having sex with the vacuum cleaner, while crying uncontrollably.

I needed to get to him first. I realized to just pull the nozzle from the vacuum hose to cut the suction. Once free from the vacuum, I raced out the back door, but did not see him. I called for him in desperation, several times, but he was gone. Or maybe he was hiding. I don’t know why I expected he might return. It was quite a scene. I was naked, crying, clutching a vacuum nozzle, with the handle of a spoon still protruding from my vagina, and screaming his name. Not my best moment.

During my continued efforts to extract the egg, it broke. Dealing with the pieces was most uncomfortable, but not as bad as I had feared. My attention turned to the Michael problem. I called his house several times that afternoon, and no one answered. I eventually went over to his house and knocked on his door. His mom said he was not home. I wondered if she already knew.

By that night, I had decided to just wait and see what happens. I didn’t really know what to say to him anyway. And if word got out, I would just own it, like I had learned to do at the hotel when so much of my class saw me naked. Michael was not at the hotel that night. I imagined he wished he was. But he got to see me naked now. I imagined he wished he hadn’t.

Nothing ever came of it. No one said a word. I don’t know if he told anyone, but he certainly didn’t make a big deal about it. I respected him for that. I was never very attracted to him, but this made me feel good about the idea of making him my first.

In my room, listening to that same Billy Joel song repeatedly, I worked myself up into the right mood. When I felt it was time, I got on my bike and rode to Michael’s house. The song still playing in my head as I thought more about the egg incident, and what I would say to Michael. I wondered if he had come to my back door that day with the same intention that was bringing me to his house now.

Anyone who has not seen the movie American Pie, you might want to skip this next paragraph. The movie came out years after these events, but I related very well to a particular moment. I saw a nerdy girl say something that very much reminded me of myself. I could appreciate the contrast between what seemed to be an innocent girl blurt out, “One time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my pussy.” Watching this movie, I laughed so hard I cried. Many tears, happy and sad, came out of that egg incident.

As I rode my bike to Michael’s house, I decided I would just come out with it. “I put an egg in my pussy.”, I said out loud, just to see if I could. A big part of owning it was to be honest and just come out with it. And for some reason I would have rather he knew I had inserted an egg than he believe I was having an intimate relationship with the vacuum.

I feel lucky that Michael was home that day. A beautiful summer afternoon on the island. It plays out in my head today as if it were a dream. Michael did not ask what I had been doing that day in the kitchen. And I chose not to say anything about it. I don’t remember saying very much at all. I just led him to the woods near our school, where I understood this kind of thing happened.

When we were far enough from the trail, I undressed in front of him, then undressed him. He was hesitant and nervous. But he went along, as much as he could. I don’t know if I was too aggressive, or if he thought he could not compete with a Hoover Upright, but he could not maintain an erection. I still enjoyed the experience a great deal. Just lying on top of him, I loved the feel of our skin touching, the air on our bodies, and being out in nature in such a natural way. This began my fondness for making love outdoors.

When we heard people passing on the trail, he scrambled to get dressed. I tried to hold him there with me and let them pass, but it was just too much for him. I was thought by most to be a “good girl”, although I was far from that. But Michael was a “good boy.” I let him go.

I lay there alone in the woods for a long time, thinking about it all. How I would soon be leaving behind the island, this part of my life with my parents, and my girlhood. It was all so terrible and terrific. I got dressed and rode my bike home while trying to determine if I was still a virgin. I decided that I would consider this my stop in Nevada.



Of course, I do not have pictures from the kitchen or the woods, but I have attached here a few pictures of my 18-year-old self, taken just a few weeks before I took Michael into the woods.

That was a great story Amy Sue. I was both feeling your embarrassment of laying on the floor with a vacuum stuck to you and laughing at your situation. Your stories are amazing. I can't wait to hear more of your journey into becoming an exhibitionist

The story is very hot, interessting and exciting! Thx again... You are loooking very pretty, not only today, as a young girl at that time, too. Woiuld love to naked pics from you at that time... Is there any chance?

Bea and I hope, this story will never end...

Picturing the Precocious
 

Udo and Bea, you are both so sweet. Thank you.

Even when I was young, I wanted nude pictures of myself. Several reasons. Among them, I knew I would one day be interested to look back. If I had been what most people thought of as beautiful, I don't know if I would have been so aware. But because I was not perfect, I had to reconcile my feelings, and I came to be proud of my body. This led to my wanting to share what I liked, in part looking for confirmation.

If the same in Germany, then I am sure you remember how difficult acquiring pictures like this could be in the days before digital media. I didn't even know, nor could ask anyone, if taking such film to be processed was even legal. So, I was older before I ever tried. But for the exception of Polaroids. I took some of myself when I was young, a task with several challenges. And I hated them. A second effort sometime later pleased me. I fantasized to secretly leave them for a boy I admired, but I never did.
When I was 19, I let a gentlemen take some pictures of me. (A story I plan to share in this thread soon.) He promised no one would see them, not understanding how I would enjoy thinking otherwise. But I did not express my real feelings about it. I told him only that I would be interested to see them when I am old. I never saw these pictures.
What little I did have from these early days was almost entirely destroyed nearly 20 years ago when hurricane Charley damaged my house in Florida. I so much wish I still had them to share.

I know it does not meet you request, but I could not help but take the opportunity to include a few more non-nude pictures I have from that year. (Not destroyed in the hurricane because these were in my mother's collection.)

Thank you so much for sharing, it is so hot knowing women that WANT to be exhibitionists, they weren't coerced into it or anything, they derive so much pleasure from it. You are GORGEOUS too! Please share as much as you feel comfortable!

Thank you so much, Karl... if I can call you that. Although I have been an exhibitionist for quite a number of years, the feedback and encouragement is most valuable. Hope you continue to enjoy.

Cheers,
Amy Sue

Thx a lot
 

Dear Amy Sue, what a beautiful photo of a sexy woman with a great body, beautiful figure and hot breasts.

Bea & I - or I think we all - hope that you will show yourself naked more often in the forum - like in perfect, great album - and show us your body, your face, your breasts, your butt and your vagina.

This is at least as much fun for us watching as it is for you when you show yourself erotic. Win - Wion for all...

Yes!
 

We like these pics very much! Not only the nude ones. The last pic - we both have laughed and smiled how you lift your miniskirt and show your slip...

Have a nice day and show yourself again anf again, please!

thank you
 

Thank you for sharing these stories. They are so well-written and evocative.
One issue I have - your frequent assertion that you are not particularly attractive. Not so. Not at all. OK, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but also there are different kinds of attractiveness. There is the Audrey Hepburn/Linda Rhonstadt pretty and there is the Sophia Loren/Raquel Welch beautiful. I think you certainly fit better with the latter than the former, but also attractiveness is at least as much about state of mind as it is about looks. If you feel attractive, you are attractive, almost regardless of what you look like. (OK, that argues against my previous point, but you get what I mean.) You are a highly attractive woman. Believe it. As you say: own it. And please do continue to share more stories and pictures. We look forward to them...

Yea, I totally would have had a crush on you in any of these photos!

Lifting My Skirt
 

Glad you liked that picture. I was just telling someone about this the other day. Through my senior year of high school and freshman year of college, I went through a phase of lifting my skirt just as pictures were taken. Silly me. I would do this even in important pictures. What was I thinking? There was one of my entire sorority out front of the house, that was taken by a professional. We were a large group, such that finding a particular person in the picture was like playing Where's Waldo. But it was easier to find me in the picture - I was the one showing my panties.
My mother hated this. My sorority sisters didn't care much for it either. Because of my mother, and hurricane Charley, many of these pictures did not survive.

But old habits are hard to break. Here is a more recent picture of my antics.

A Beautiful Thought
 

I cannot be more grateful to everyone who has been so very complimentary. And your comments are particularly cherished. Most interesting to me is that you mention Audrey Hepburn. I long wished to be as pretty. Like Audrey or Marilyn. (As you have recognized the distinction between types already, I feel I should state that I recognize there are dramatic differences between my idols. But much to admire in each.)
I thank you for keeping me in check, and reminding me that however dissimilar from what one perceives as beautiful does not mean that one is not beautiful.

Thank you for your lovely compliments, which have revealed you are a beautiful person yourself.

An idea for you...
 

First of all, thank you for your stories and your photos. Anyone who doesn't know: You've posted a great album by a great naked woman - namely yourself.

A little idea - not meant entirely seriously: Lift your miniskirts if you don't have any panties under them - then people will find you even faster... Or pull up your top and show your sweet breasts... :):):):D:D:D

We love your style - Bea & Udo

Do you still engage in exhibitionist tendencies?

The Evolution of an Exhibitionist, Part 8
 

Part 8: McDonna
(Mid 1980s)

Gator Growl is basically the world’s largest pep rally. Held at the University of Florida, where tens of thousands gather to be entertained by a student-run production that includes a variety of entertainment and appearances by top entertainers. When I was there, the main acts were Bill Cosby, The Smothers Brothers, Billy Crystal, and one year I was the director of Gator Growl when the guest performer was Jay Leno.

My freshman year, I was a nobody. I volunteered to help with the production and was assigned some low-level responsibilities. But before it was over, I landed a role that led to a world class experience for an exhibitionist.

The weeks leading up to Gator Growl were a roller coaster. I was accepted into a sorority, and having grown up watching 70’s and 80’s comedies of sorority girls frolicking in lingerie while boys spied through the windows and plotted panty raids, I had prepared for something much different than I encountered.

I arrived with the plan, simply out of habit, to prove I was wild and daring. I vastly overcompensated because of my high school experiences. My new friends did not already think of me as the preacher’s daughter. So, my efforts were not only unnecessary, I ended up alienating myself from my peers. After the early problems, I spent the rest of my freshman year trying to recover.

Most of the trouble had to do with boyfriends, but not my own. Guys were not allowed on the second floor of the sorority house, but they still end up there much of the time. As I had already learned my lesson about getting naked around my girlfriends, I started wearing nighties at the sorority house. After a while, some of the girls asked that I not wear lingerie, particularly my see through stuff, around their boyfriends. I probably should have been more accommodating, but I felt I was already wearing more than I wanted, and the boys were not supposed to be on the second floor anyway. If they came upstairs, they saw what they saw.

I was also upset because of how much money I had spent on the nighties. I grew up in a nice house on Hilton Head Island, reaping the benefits of living in a resort community, with a membership to the county club, sailing on friend’s yachts, and traveling to Israel, Egypt, and dozens of other amazing places. But my family actually had very little money. These extravagances were only possible because my father was the minister for a wealthy community. Admissions were regularly granted, fees generally waved, and much of what we had was given to us, as is common in this type of arrangement through the church and its members.

When I left for college, my parents gave me money, but it was not very much, and I was expected to make it last through the year. But I immediately squandered it all. Never having been in control of any real money before, I spent it on fancy dinners for my new friends. I bought a lot of new clothes – and very few the type I could wear to class. Just a few weeks in, I realized it was necessary for me to get a job.

Highlighting my foolishness, and motivations at the time, the very first place I found that was hiring was an offbeat novelty shop that happened to sell a product I had been wanting to buy for a while. So, I went in and filled out the job application, then bought a vibrator on the way out.

I kept the vibrator in its original box on the table next to my bed. I saw it as a sign of maturity. And I didn’t want to feel ashamed of it, which I would have if I tried to hide it. I was determined to not be shy about owning or using it. So, I was open about it. Some of the girls thought this was amusing or strange, and the boys were fascinated. I was asked a lot of questions about it, and I was happy to answer.

This is when things came to a climax at the house. A boy had asked me about the vibrator while his girlfriend, Kim, was out of the room. I showed it to him and gave a little pantomime of how I would use it. Kim didn’t like me already, but when she returned to find her boyfriend sitting on my bed with me in my nightie holding my vibrator, all hell broke loose. I had never been in a fight before. If it was not for her boyfriend, she would have killed me. I felt bad for him. I never saw him on the second floor again.

I had been slapped upside the head, literally and figuratively, with the realization that I needed to improve my behavior. First, I took a break from the house and started finding more activities outside of the sorority. One of these was volunteering to work on Gator Growl.

My responsibilities were quite boring (nothing worth writing about). But one day I heard that a certain parade float was going to be cancelled. Part of the show would have floats paraded through the stadium. The float to be cancelled was the one I thought would be the best. It was to be cancelled because they could not find anyone to play the lead character in the skit that was to take place on the float. I was shocked. I thought this would be a dream role. I immediately volunteered.

The theme of the float was “McDonna”. It was an amalgamation of Madonna and the McDonald’s slogan. This was around the time Madonna had caused a bit of a scandal with her Like a Virgin performance at the MTV Video Music Awards. She writhed around and gyrated while touching herself in a white “wedding dress” that was more like lingerie. (Please Google it if you have not seen it. For the time, it was quite salacious.) I envied her. Most of my wardrobe at the time was inspired by Madonna. Playing her, and in this way, was beyond anything I could have dreamed.

The float was to have McDonna writhing around in lingerie on a bed atop the float while groping, and being groped by, a group of beautiful men – under a McDonald’s like sign reading “50 Billion Served”. Although this worked against my new effort to clean up my act and improve my relationship with my sorority sisters, I never wanted to do anything more than be McDonna. I decided that pretending to be a good girl to fit in at the sorority was wrong. I would embrace my true self.

This project was practically designed for me. My first job was to demonstrate costume ideas. Of course, I took this too far. I went all white choosing a lacey bra and panties with thigh high stockings and garter. It was great fun to work through these options with everyone while putting our ideas together. But I was told the bra was too sheer, and I would have to wear a skirt.

I was disappointed but found ways of keeping it sexy. I went with an opaque bra, but smaller than the first. It made my breasts look amazing. I knew it would be easy to deal with the skirt once the performance began.

During rehearsals, I noticed the guys were often coming close, but not really touching me very much. I made it clear to them that I intended to go all out. I told them it had to look sexy, and to not hold back. We agreed to go easy for the rehearsals, to avoid being cancelled, but we would really go for it at the show. I was as excited as I had ever been to do anything.

I feel certain that something like this act could not be considered today, but even back then it was racy and a bit controversial. I relished being in the middle of it.

When the day came, and we were in the tunnel about to make our entrance, I told the guy who seemed the most into it that when we got out there, I wanted him to rip off my skirt. It was very loud and the float started to move, so I didn’t get an answer. As we came out of the tunnel and the float was revealed to the crowd of 70 thousand people, they went wild. Their energy fed my own, and that of my guys. It had hardly begun, and my skirt was gone. It was far more physical and salacious than even I had intended. I was so overcome I could barely see or hear anything while I gave it my all.

For any aspiring exhibitionist out there, if you are ever presented with an opportunity to dress in your sexiest outfit and be ravaged by many in front of an incredibly high energy, cheering and screaming crowd of 70 thousand… seize it!

The fallout at the sorority was not as bad as I had expected. By the end of the year, they knew what to expect from me, and just accepted it. I wish I could have gotten along better, but I felt good about being accepted for who I really am. If I had done any different, I would have missed out on one of the most incredible experiences of my life.



I don’t have any material to share from my McDonna adventure, but here is a picture of me with Jay Leno, taken a few years later when I was the director of Gator Growl.

That sounds incredible! Imagine how amazing it would be if the guys stripped you completely naked and several were kissing you all over wearing only your stockings with an audience!