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 ï>¿Angela Discovers Exhibitionism by JBEdwards

   Angela gradually curates her exhibitionism.

   It began at summer camp.  It was my first time at a sleep-away camp, and
I was both scared and excited.  I tried hard to fit in, to do as the other
girls did, which was mostly to talk about boys.  I was young, but post
puberty, and I was menstruating, so I knew the score.  Nevertheless, I was
young, and sex was still something foreign to me.  I mean I knew it was out
there and a near constant subject of conversation, but I wasn't ready for
the whole boy-girl thing.

   I saw some of the older girls changing clothes.  They changed outside of
their tents, flaunting (it seemed to me) their naked, mature bodies.  If
the boys at camp, across the river, had binoculars or just bionic eyesight,
they could see whatever secret treasures the girls chose to display when
they dressed in the morning.

   I never forgot what those girls did, especially because it happened
every year.  It seemed to be some kind of a camp tradition among the older
girls, and especially those with good bodies.  When I got older and had not
big, but bigger boobs, I thought about joining those girls who teased the
boys, but I never had the courage.  I dressed quietly in my tent, like
almost all the other girls.

   My last summer, however, when I was 18 and had reasonably nice boobs, a
small waist, and child bearing hips, I took the leap.  After my morning
shower, I did not return to my tent to dress, wrapped up in a towel, as
most of the other girls did.  Instead, I dried myself, stark naked, on the
shore of the river (really, it was just a creek; a tributary to the Russian
River in Northern California), showing off my nude body to anyone who
happened to be looking just then.  I kept the tradition alive!

   Mostly I was showing off to the other girls on our side of the creek,
and a few of them seemed to be truly interested, and yes, in that way.  Who
I was really showing off to, however, was the boys across the river.  The
boys could tell there was a naked girl showing off as she dried herself,
but unless they had bionic eyesight, none of them could tell who the girl
was, or get a good enough look to (for example) enjoy the sight of her
nipples or her pussy.

   The exception of course was boys who owned binoculars.  As the camp
session wore on, more and more boys seemed to acquire binoculars.  Where
they got them, I have no idea.  Maybe they told their parents everyone was
bird watching with binoculars, and they wanted to join in?  Who knows how
they got them, but they did.  They indubitably did.  It was a lesson: Where
there's a will, there's a way.  Also, never underestimate the
resourcefulness of teenage boys when it comes to sex!

   As for me, I was thrilled to the core by my relatively harmless
exhibitionism.  It gave me a rush like you wouldn't believe!  To hell with
heroin (and yes, I had indeed tried it once, with Brian Kaplan in my high
school), the rush from showing off my young body this way was even better!

   No boy was going to cross the wide, and fast flowing creek, to come and
molest me in front of all the fellow female campers.  I was in much more
danger from what was known among some of the campers as the Lesbian League.
As it turned out, it was a danger I didn't mind.  I turned into a lesbian
for a summer, although I still, and always, longed for a boy's touch.

   The point is, however, those times when I was showing off my naked body
after my morning showers, thrilled me to the core.  They made me tingle,
got me wet down there, and I suspect might even had led to a small orgasm
or two, and all of it without even touching myself in the obvious places.

   I also discovered, however, that some exhibitionism that I thought to be
harmless, was actually risky.  Once the boys got good enough resolution on
their binoculars, they could identify the girls who were showing off their
naked bodies.  They made the classic mistake, thinking that because we
weren't shy, we were easy.  That is, the five of us girls showing off our
bodies were assumed to be sluts.

   Well, if there's one thing a teenage boy wants, it's sex with a bonafide
girl; any girl.  Modesty aside, I was the prettiest of the five of us
girls, although Tiffany had the biggest boobs.  Only one of us, as it
turned out, was a bit of a slut; that was Mary, and boy, did she become
popular!  The other four of us spent a lot of energy and time politely and
delicately avoiding roaming hands.

   **

   Camp had a profound change in my personality.  I became comfortable with
my new adult, womanly body.  When I was home, I tried to relive the thrills
of camp, and I continued my behavior, although the audience was only
imaginary.  I dressed in my bedroom (with the door closed, of course, since
my father or my brothers might have seen me otherwise).  I first got naked,
and then laid out my possible outfits for the day on the bed.

   Each outfit had specially selected lingerie to go underneath it.  As I
contemplated what to wear, debating with myself between outfits, I stood
there naked, pretending people could see me through my window.  (I had
curtains, but I never drew them closed.) Sometimes I would contemplate for
quite some time, as I remained naked, imagining some boys from "across the
creek" were watching me.  Imagination is a wonderful thing.

   Nobody could see me, I thought, except the gardener my father hired. 
However, he came at 10AM and he would leave when it got dark, or usually
before, so he never was a threat to my virtue.  The flashing of my nudity
was strictly for my own benefit.  Behind my window, you see, was a steep
hill, nicely landscaped of course, and all I could see out of my window was
the steep hill and the greenery it provided.

   Never that good at physics, I didn't realize that the houses up the hill
a piece, could see down into my room, fairly easily in fact, especially if
I stood close to the window.  Otherwise, they could see my reflection, via
the large vanity mirror I liked to preen in front of.

   At night, to the houses up the hill, my room must have resembled a
yellow television screen, with a naked high school girl on display,
especially when said student stood at the window, looking thoughtfully out
into the darkness of the evening.

   I suppose it was during those long winter nights that Bob Ferguson got a
35mm camera with a telephoto lens.  One day, on the bus to school, he
showed me his camera, but not his telephoto lens attachment.  He showed it
off in some kind of a meaningful way, as if I were supposed to know the
significance of him having such a camera.  I had no idea.  Not a clue.  One
thing I did know, however, was that I was not a big fan of Bob Ferguson,
who struck me as just a tad too freaky.

   I did suspect, however, that Bob might have a crush on me, so I was
always nice to him.  I was that kind of girl, during my teenage years.

   Like many teens, I was sexually frustrated.  I had enjoyed sex once, so
I was not a virgin, but that was when my Uncle Dante had visited us, and he
snuck into my room and deflowered me.  I should explain.  Due to the long
period when women are fertile, my Uncle Dante, who was my mother's brother,
was only two years older than me.  He was a change of life mistake by my
maternal grandmother, whom we called Oma.  He found me to be a very willing
niece, since he was handsome, two years older, and I had had a crush on him
since I was eleven years old.

   Uncle Dante had insisted on having the lights on in my room, so I could
lovingly watch his condom encased cock disappear inside me.  I knew where
his cock was at all times, however, with or without the lights on, I assure
you.  I replayed that first fuck in my mind countless times, usually before
I went to bed.

   To make my maiden fuck even more romantic, Uncle Dante happened to fuck
me on Valentine's Day.  He fucked me twice that day, and three times the
next day, all while parts of my family were in the house.  It was truly
thrilling to me, and it was a Valentine's Day I'll never forget, as long as
I live.  I secretly went on the pill after those times with my uncle. 
Thank goodness for Planned Parenthood!

   I also got a Valentine card from "a secret admirer." It was a beautiful
card, and it intrigued me.  Uncle Dante swore up and down it wasn't from
him.  I asked my boyfriend Rick, all of my brothers, and my Dad, and nobody
would confess to being the sender of my mysterious Valentine card, so I
figured it was a prank, most likely from my brother Fabien, but he refused
to admit it, and secretly laughed at me together with our other brothers. I
forgot about it.

   The incest angle was of course troubling.  I loved Uncle Dante with all
my heart and all my soul, as much as any immature eighteen-year-old girl
could love.  However, Dante was my uncle, and we were having incest.  I
knew, therefore, that spending my life with Dante and having his babies was
not a realistic possibility.  Having protected sex with him, however, was
quite realistic, and I enjoyed every fuck that long weekend, and wished we
could have fucked even more!

   Once Uncle Dante left and returned to college (where I assumed he had a
girlfriend), I got a dildo, which I name Dante, and almost every night
Dante the Dildo would plunge in and out of my welcoming pussy, pushed by my
own hand, just as Uncle Dante himself had once done.  Oh yes, it was always
with the lights on, too.  I wanted the re-creation to be as close to
perfect as possible.  My other hand played with my boobs, focusing on my
nipples, just as Dante himself had done.

   I would sit on the bed and face the window when Dante the Dildo would
work his magic.  I used the window as a mirror, and I had fun watching the
dildo plunge into me, as I imagined the boys from across the creek would
have enjoyed it, too.

   As it turns out, Uncle Dante had a college girlfriend, and even though I
adored my uncle, and I loved the kink of incest, I was just a convenient
piece of ass for him when he was forced to visit our home for a family
get-together.  That was hard to come to terms with, but I'm a resilient
girl, and as my Dad always said, everyone is replaceable, and no one is
essential.  He was referring to the employees of his business, of course,
not to one's love life, but I took his maxim and applied it to all of my
situations, including my romantic life.

   **

   Bob Ferguson became a renowned photographer at our school.  He entered
his pictures in contests, and they occasionally won prizes.  The local
newspaper had nature photography contests from time to time, and Bob would
typically get an honorable mention with his photo entry, if he did not win
them outright.

   Bob would show off his pictures to his friends on the school bus, and
quite frankly I was surprised how enthusiastic his friends would get just
from pictures of nature.  The ecology movement must have been stronger than
I thought.  I still thought Bob was freaky, but I couldn't help but admire
how good he was at photography.

   I had no idea Bob was showing the boys in the bus, with me right there
sitting several rows closer to the front, pictures of me naked in my
bedroom.  It certainly explained the smirks I got from the boys, and the
way they undressed me with their eyes.  It seemed to me at the time that
Bob's creepy nature was contagious.  In a way, I guess it was.

   Things came to a head when Uncle Dante arrived for another visit.  I
knew he was going to try to seduce me again, and I also knew I was looking
forward to it, even if I was just a piece of ass for him.  I did have a
boyfriend at the time, a sweet, respectful, naïve high school peer named
Rick, but I had not yet let Rick go "all the way." Only Uncle Dante enjoyed
the privilege of carnal knowledge of my curvy body.  I was in love with
Rick, nevertheless.

   Rick was pressuring me to have sex, real, full blown sex with him,
harder than he used to do.  I'm sure his newfound confidence and subsequent
pressure was due to Bob Ferguson having told everybody I was not a virgin,
and that 'he had proof.' To pacify Rick, I let him get me naked for the
first time (and not just above the waist), and also, I gave him my first
blowjob.  (I had already given him countless hand jobs, but I had always
kept my panties on.) I'm sure I was lousy at giving blowjobs, but Rick was
beyond thrilled.  It was his first blowjob, too.

   Rick and Bob were casual friends.  They were both in the marching band
at our high school, and they both played the trumpet, so they had that in
common.  Apparently, Rick had told Bob about me giving him a blowjob, since
boys love to discuss sex, and he was surprised how Bob was constantly
urging Rick to get it on with me in my bedroom.  Rick thought it strange
that Bob seemed to have undertaken a relentless quest for Rick and me to
get it on in the Biblical sense.  Rick, provoked by Bob's taunts, wanted to
see the "proof" he claimed to have that I had already had Biblical sex. 
Bob stalled him.  Instead, Bob came to me.  He first showed me the pictures
of myself nude that he had taken of me when I was changing clothes in my
private bedroom.

   In a triumph of will that Leni Riefenstahl would have been proud of, I
managed to show neither shock nor even surprise.  I stayed outwardly
perfectly calm and yet, within my internal bubbling rage, I somehow devised
a strategy to deal with Bob and his damnable pictures.  On that score, I
felt a kinship with the late Princess Diana of British royalty renown.

   I think, however, I shocked Bob to the core.  From all appearances, it
was a heart attack inducing kind of shock.  Bob was young and strong,
though, and not about to have a heart attack; but it was that kind of
shock. I shocked him, to be precise, simply by not being upset with the
existence of the pictures.  In fact, I was channeling my time at summer
camp when I revealed all on the shores of Austin Creek, in Sonoma County,
in a redwood forest, near Cazadero, California.

   "Bob, I've always thought you had immense talent with photography, but
only for photographing nature.  These candid shots of me dressing, and
more, in my bedroom, however, are spectacular.  You not only capture my
mood and my sensuality, but I don't look fat, and you even make me look
pretty in them.  They're amazingly good photos.  Good for you.  Can I have
copies?"

   "Are you okay?" was the next utterance out of my mouth.  I knew he
wasn't expecting a reaction like that from me, all the more so because it
was obvious, I should think, that my remarks were genuine.  I meant every
word.  I had forced myself to exist in an alternate universe, or something.

   Still, I was enjoying shocking him, the asshole.  Peeping on a girl is
not an admirable trait.

   Bob was maintaining a stunned silence, so I continued.

   "Maybe you'd take even better pictures up close?  You could sneak into
our backyard and take them from just outside my bedroom window?  Let me
know, and maybe I could pose for you?  Would you like that?  I could pose
with my dildo, too, if you like?  Or would posing destroy the Peeping Tom
high you're getting?  You're a bit of a pervert, you know, and kind of a
creepy one," I proclaimed.

   Bottom line: Bob having secretly taken those pictures of me, good as
they were, was turning me on, something fierce.  I was hoping Bob couldn't
tell.  Now, it seems, I was no longer so sure my carnal instincts could
wait for Uncle Dante's next visit.

   Bob finally spoke a bit, and he said, rather quietly, "There's more."

   I figured he had to have seen me getting it on with my uncle, and since
he had bragged he had proof I wasn't a virgin, it didn't take a rocket
scientist to figure out he had photos of Uncle Dante and me in flagrante
delicto.  I really wanted to see those, given the high quality of the
photos so far.

   So, in a brief spasm of reckless courage, I said, "Do you have extra
photos taken of me having sex?  I mean with someone else, not just with my
dildo?"

   I had developed a habit of getting myself off, on the edge of the bed,
facing the window, which at night and with my lights on, served as a mirror
so I could watch myself.  This had unwittingly provided some rather
spectacular X-rated shows for Bob and his telephoto lens.  Bob doubtless
had pictures of me suppressing noise with my hand over my mouth, as I drove
myself to climaxes with Dante the Dildo, night after night after night.

   I began to think I had a Narcissus complex, in love with how I looked in
the window's mirror effect, together with how I appeared in great pictures,
even if the pictures were humiliating, but sexy as hell.

   "Yes," Bob replied.

   "Well, let's see them.  C'mon, Bob," I said, as he hesitated.  Not
surprisingly, his photos of Uncle Dante fucking me were great.  I mean,
they were Playboy and Penthouse quality.  Unsurprisingly, he also had a
short video of us having sex, suitable for You Porn.

   "This one is my favorite," Bob said.

   The photo was of Uncle Dante and me copulating, but with me sitting on
Dante, my boobs were bouncing around in a manner Bob called 'delicious,' as
I rose up and down, with Dante's hands on my hips.  You could actually see
Dante's cock partly inside me.  There was absolutely no question, from that
photo alone, that I wasn't a virgin.

   "Fantastic picture, Bob," I said.  "I want copies of everything, please.
Oh yeah; please don't show them around, okay?  I prefer that Rick not learn
of them, nor my parents, you know?"

   "I understand, Angela.  Hey, would you like to see my studio?" Bob
asked.

   "You have a studio?" I asked, surprised.

   "Yes, it's in my parents' basement, but it's nicely done up.  I hope to
take professional portraits.  Maybe you could pose for me there?"

   "Fully clothed, right?" I asked.  "I'm not in any danger with you,
right?"

   "Of course.  However you want to pose is fine.  I think you're beautiful
and your beauty will always shine through.  I'd love to take glamour shots
of you, if you're willing."

   I began to like Bob.  A guy who thinks I'm beautiful and wants to
capture my beauty in pictures?  Who wouldn't like a guy like that?  Also,
to my happy surprise, he wasn't trying to extort anything from me, due to
his having such compromising pictures of me.  Any girl, myself included,
would be horrified to have nude photos circulating among all the boys at
school.

   Perhaps I should elaborate about my Uncle Dante.  I like calling Dante
'Uncle Dante,' since it re-inscribes how perverse it is to have an uncle
just two years older than myself.  Dante is the brother of my mother, and
he was obviously a change of life accident; an unexpected pregnancy of his
mother, who was 47 when he was born!

   Dante was raised by the whole family, except for my own mother.  She was
the oldest, and she was away in college during Dante's infancy.  By the
time Dante was two, my own mother was pregnant with me.  Dante and I grew
up almost like brother and sister, until my Dad got a new (and better paid)
job and we moved a few hundred miles away from the ancestral family home.

   **

   I decided to bring a girlfriend to Bob's proposed photo shoot, for
protection, because I did not completely trust Bob.  I knew he had been
planning to blackmail me for money or sex with the pictures he took, but I
had bamboozled him with my unexpected praise and enthusiasm.  He was still,
nevertheless, a peeper and a pervert, and not a man to be trusted.

   Ever since I became aware of Bob Ferguson peeping on me, I closed my
drapes when I changed clothes.  He had enough compromising pictures of me
already!  He didn't need more.  I needed to keep him happy, though, because
in this digital age, one is only one Internet post away from scandal and
public humiliation.  Also, Bob is the type of guy who would have the
pictures backed up in every cloud imaginable, so even if he deleted them
right in front of me, I would never know if he was deleting all the copies,
or not.

   In the meantime, there was Rick.  Yes, Rick.  Rick really liked me and
he had been pursuing me since the ninth grade.  I was kind of an idÃ(C)e
fixe for him, an obsession.  His persistence won the day, and since
everyone 'knew' I was Rick's girl, the other guys smiled at me, and were
friends with me, but romantically they left me alone.

   I didn't mind, however, since Rick was great!  He was perfect for me in
every way, and having a guy around all the time who adores you, when you're
young and insecure (and all of us girls are insecure, no matter how pretty
guys think we are), having someone like Rick looking out for you,
protecting you, and showering you with affection, well, it has its effect!

   So, even though I gave my precious cherry to Uncle Dante, Rick was my
'one and only,' even if, obviously, he had to share me with Uncle Dante. 
He didn't even know about my ongoing (I hope!) affair with Uncle Dante.  I
decided putting out for Uncle Dante, and not for Rick, was unfair; so,
unbeknownst to Rick, I decided he was about to get lucky.

   I also knew that for Uncle Dante, as I said before, I was just a piece
of ass for convenience, for him to get laird while visiting relatives,
while for Rick, I was his whole world, and then some.  Bizarrely, both
situations appealed to me.

   I didn't want my first time with Rick to be in his car, so I wanted to
reserve a room somewhere.  To do that, I needed a credit card, and my
credit card bills went to my Dad, so that was a non-starter.  I explained
this to my Uncle Dante, asking if he could reserve a hotel room for me.  He
became furious, and I saw the ugly side of my uncle for the first time. 
So, a hotel room was out.

   When the time came, I had a wonderful date with Rick, and at the end of
the date I suggested we go to Cherry Hill.  A lot of teens went there to
make out, and a fair number of my friends had lost their cherries in the
back seats of cars on Cherry Hill.  We used to joke that was how it got its
name.

   The local police usually left us alone, unless they were horny and
wanted to see some teenage boobs.  I was hoping this wasn't one of those
nights.  Rick and I were making out hot and heavy, in the back seat of his
father's extended cab F-150, when the moment came.

   "I love you, Rick.  Would you like a blow job, or do you want to make
love?" I asked, while suggestively sucking on my finger.

   Rick was shocked, but he recovered quickly and smiled.  "I love you too,
Angela," was all he said.  Rick never was that verbal.  Strong and silent,
that's my Rick.  He pulled off my panties and spread my legs, seeing my
not-quite-virginal pussy for the first time.

   I'd like to say Rick was only the second (after Uncle Dante) to see it,
but there was Bob, too, with all of his pictures, not to mention the boys
across the creek at summer camp.

   I still didn't know if Bob had shown those X-rated pictures around.  I
knew by now every guy I knew in my high school had seen pictures of me nude
in my bedroom, but Bob had close-ups of my pussy, and even some with Dante
the Dildo inside me.  I was with Rick now, however, and I pushed Bob from
my mind, and concentrated on the wonderful guy poised and ready to fuck me.

   Rick seemed to know what he was doing, which surprised me.  I knew a lot
of guys used Internet porn as a sex ed class on what to do when the time
came with a willing girl, so maybe that was how Rick knew so much, but in
any event he did.  He raised my naked legs in the air, got between them,
kissed me, and then poked around with his cock, looking, but not finding,
my sacred hole.  Uncle Dante had had no trouble finding my hole, but he was
experienced, I was sure.

   I reached down, found Rick's cock (which was not hard to do; it seemed
to be everywhere!), and guided it to my hole.  That was all that was
needed. Rick took the plunge.  It was unclear who was more excited, Rick or
me.  Rick was finally laying me, his adolescent wet dream coming true, at
last!  I, on the other hand, was looking over Rick's shoulder at Scott
Stone, who was perving on our little show, and smiling knowingly at me.

   I winked at Scott, but turned my attention to Rick fucking me, the first
time for Rick, and only the seventh for me.  It was awesome.  I realized
with Dante, I had lust for him, and excitement for me, plus the turn-on
that it was incest, and totally taboo!  With Rick, on the other hand, it
was wholesome sex.  With Rick, we were making love.  I was making love for
the first time!  The excitement of the first time with Rick, however, was
greatly augmented by having, unawares to Rick, a peeper watching us through
the window of Rick's father's truck.  I was so turned on!

   Of course, the fact that we were in a teenagers' make-out spot was a
super-duper turn on, since Scott Stone himself was peeping on us!  Someday,
somehow, I will have private sex, with nobody watching, assuming I even
want that.  It just wasn't going to be this time.  I had heard, from the
other girls, ie, my friends, that the first time, boys don't last long. 
It's just too intense for them, and sure enough, in what seemed like less
than a minute, maybe only 30 seconds, Rick emptied his balls into the
rubber.

   Rick was embarrassed, and apologetic, for not having lasted long.  I
lied, saying it was wonderful nevertheless, and let's wait until he's hard,
and try again.  Scott was gone when Rick opened the door to drop his condom
onto the ground.

   I had gone on the pill after Uncle Dante had fucked me bareback, which
was like closing the barn door after the horse had bolted, but because I
had done that, I told Rick, "I went on the pill for you, so if you want,
next time you can skip the condom."

   Rick's face lit up in a smile.  His cock stirred.

   "Ooh, nice," I said.  I took his cock in my hand, and lovingly tugged at
it, encouraging it to once again become erect.  I felt as if I had magical
powers as Rick's flaccid cock gradually stiffened up before my eyes,
presumably due to the loving caresses of my hands, but probably due to the
promise of intense pleasure another round with my welcoming pussy afforded.
After it stiffened, it began to harden.  I felt pride.  Rick was playing
with my boobs as I tugged on his cock, and even better, Scott was back,
peeping in through the window.

   Even though Rick's cock was covered with his spunk and my love juice
from our first fuck, I overcame my repulsion and took Rick's cock into my
mouth, to speed up his recovery.  The real reason was, however, to show
Scott that I could suck cock as well as anyone.  I guess I love having an
audience.

   My need to impress Scott Stone bears a little elaboration.  Scott had
always been on my case.  He thinks I'm an ice queen and don't put out. 
Compared to the crowd Scott hangs out with, there's some truth to that
statement.  Quite a few girls in my high school are just a tad easy with
their sexual favors, and I know from reliable gossip, that Scott has laid
every one of them.  Again, this is according to gossip, which naturally I
believe completely.

   Scott came after me last summer, when Rick was out of town, on a
vacation with his family.  Unfortunately, Scott is irresistible.  Every
girl in my high school has a crush on him, and I felt really flattered that
Scott was coming after me.  Yes, I really was that vacuous a girl back in
high school.  I succumbed to his charms, but only partially.  Scott managed
to be the first boy to get me completely naked, and he wanted to profit
from that achievement by taking my cherry.

   When I refused to put out for Scott, and since he was not a date rape
kind of guy, all he could do was express his displeasure.  I tried to
dispel things, and salvage what I thought we had together.  I had thought
getting me naked was kind of enough to keep him interested, but I was
wrong. I pacified him with a hand job, but Scott wanted a blowjob.  I was
not ready to do something like that, even if I knew every other girl on the
planet gave them right and left, as if they were candy.  We compromised and
I let him squirt all over my boobs at the end of my hand job.

   I knew on our next date he'd expect a blowjob, but luckily, Rick's
family returned early, and Scott Stone was history.  I thought it was fine,
because he hooked up with Emily, and (according to the gossip mill) she
gave him blowjobs and also, even more impressively, she put out for him. 
This was quite something, because Emily was one of the "good girls," like
me, and Scott took her cherry on only their second date.

   Given this history, I was quite pleased that our voyeur, Scott Stone,
had seen Rick fuck me, and was now watching me blow him, preliminary to our
second fuck.  It was worth it all, because Rick's second fuck was
spectacular, and we rocked the car, and at the end there were my footprints
on the headliner of his parents' Kia Sonata.  It felt so good to be filled
up with Rick's cum.  And Scott got to watch it all, the dirty peeper, hee,
hee.

   **

   Bob was not going to let me get away without giving him something, to
stop him from circulating his pictures of me.  He didn't know Dante was my
uncle, but nevertheless it would be highly shameful if the picture of Dante
fucking me were to circulate in our high school.  Bob would do it by
putting it up on the web and giving a few guys the URL, and then in a New
York minute, everyone would see me naked and fucking my uncle.  No way
could I let that happen.

   I tried to forestall it as long as I could, but Bob kept after me to
pose for him in his studio, and finally I had no choice but to relent, and
to do it.  I dressed for my first official photo shoot.  My best friend
Michelle came over to give me clothing and -- especially -- make-up advice.
I wore a white, see through blouse with a camisole underneath it, and a
lace, black bra below the camisole.  I wore a royal blue tight skirt, that
showed off my bubble butt quite nicely, and I wore panties of black lace
that matched my bra.

   Michelle used her considerable cosmetic skills to give me a face like
one I could get at a fancy department store, where they try to sell you the
latest products of Chanel and give you a make-up session as a kind of
incentive.  Michelle has real talent.  I also asked her to come with me to
Bob's.  That way I had some protection, or so I thought.

   Bob loved the way I looked, and he offered us a drink to "get in the
mood." He spiked both of our drinks with ecstasy, unknown to us.  Next, he
took an entire set of pictures, giving the ecstasy time to have its effect
on Michelle and me.  During this first shoot, I had to move and twist every
which way.  Then he said he wanted to take sexy pictures.  That surprised
no one.  Absolutely nobody.

   I felt I had no choice, and I blame my compliance on the ecstasy.  He
had me remove my camisole, so one could see my bra through my transparent
blouse.  He took a few pictures, and then he wanted me to remove my bra,
but to keep on my blouse.  That way my boobs would be visible through my
blouse.  I knew he'd want that, which is why Michelle and I chose that
blouse.  Had we chosen a thin sweater, for example, I'd be topless at this
point.

   Effectively, however, I was topless, since only a transparent blouse was
giving me modesty, as far as my tits were concerned.  I was beginning to
get turned on.  So was Michelle.  I thought it was strange, but I went with
the flow.  It's only pictures, right?

   It began.  Bob reached under my blouse to tease my nipples to get them
erect and hard.  I couldn't help it, but a little moan escaped my lips when
Bob did that.  I was hoping nobody noticed, since it was so soft and
subtle. Bob and Michelle both noticed, however.  Of course, they noticed.
Bob and Michelle looked at each other.

   Michelle said, "Go for it, Bob."

   "Michelle!" I said, feeling betrayed.

   "You know, her panties match her bra," Michelle said, and in no time at
all, or so it seemed, my skirt left my body, and I was sitting there in my
bra and panties.  Bob had me take all sorts of poses, quite a few of which
were, shall we say, suggestive?  Now I was clearly aroused, and could not
hide it.  I think I was giving off a pheromone smell, or something.

   "Okay, that's enough.  I've got a great set of photos.  Thanks a lot,
both of you," Bob said.

   I gave Bob a big smile, I was so grateful that it was over and without
any sex, even though, strangely, I seemed to want sex, just not with Bob! I
began to get dressed, smiling constantly, when Bob stopped me.

   "What are you doing, Angela?" he asked.

   "Getting dressed, obviously.  You said we were done, and you just
thanked me, remember?" I said, not bothering to hide that I was just a bit
incredulous at his question, which seemed accusatory.

   "We're done with the photo shoot, but there's still the matter of you,
or you and Michelle if you prefer, taking care of my boner," Bob said, as
he finished removing his pants, revealing quite a spectacular erection. 
"You really turn me on, Angela."

   "Uh...this wasn't part of our deal," I said, but I couldn't take my eyes
off of his thick, hard, cock.

   "Of course, it was, and you knew it," Bob said, as he took my head in
his hands and kissed me.

   I thought about it quickly.  I had fucked my Uncle Dante, and I had
fucked Rick, all within the last few months.  Could I also fuck Bob?  It
was totally different: with Uncle Dante, I had had a crush on him since,
well, forever.  I loved him.  With Rick, well he was my boyfriend, and it
was expected of me.  Besides, I think I also kinda, sorta, loved Rick.  I
knew Rick loved me.  Bob, however, was just a creep.  I knew I'd be unable
to fuck a creep like Bob.  It was totally different.

   On the other hand, Bob's cock looked quite tempting, just then.  I'd
been aroused by the photo shoot for the last two hours, and my pussy was
good and wet.  I looked over at Michelle.  She gave me that raised eyebrow
look she has.  Michelle was not only a good friend, but she was wise.

   "Let me talk to Michelle.  In private, okay, Bob?" I said.

   Michelle and I, well, mostly Michelle, laid out a plan.  Bob ended up
happy.

   **

   I went to college out of state.  I never saw Bob again, which was a good
thing in my book.  Michelle kept dating him, and they stayed together for
two years.  Michelle is a size queen you see, and Bob was, well, big where
it counts.  Bob was enthralled with her, because she was the one he fucked
that night, and it was his first fuck ever, and he could not get enough of
Michelle.  Bob forgot all about me, and his risquÃ(C) pictures.  He took
pictures of Michelle, all sorts of pictures.  Pictures of Michelle dressed
and looking pretty, and pictures of Michelle topless and looking pretty,
and pictures of her nude, and still looking pretty.  They were always
tasteful, too.

   I had boyfriends while at college, but nothing really clicked.  Uncle
Dante dropped in from time to time, and that was fun.  In fact, my times
with Uncle Dante are the best sexual memories I have of my college years. I
did see my peeper Scott Stone from time to time.  It was a mild surprise
that he went to Purdue, too.  Scott and I became friends, and eventually I
even told him where I thought my boyfriend of the moment would take me for
backseat sex, so that he could peep on us.

   When it was a visit from Uncle Dante, since Scott lived off campus, we
would use Scott's room for our hanky-panky.  Scott had a one-way mirror, so
he could easily watch the entire love session of me with my uncle.  Dante
never even suspected; he just knew I was turned on in the extreme when we
used Scott's room.  Scott of course didn't know Dante was my uncle.

   I know it's perverse to arrange to be peeped on, as I did, but Scott and
I had an understanding.  I don't know what was in it for Scott, but my
orgasms were much more intense when someone was secretly watching, all the
more so when that someone was Scott.  I began to realize I was a
specialized exhibitionist.  I liked showing off for Scott, but not for
anyone else, at least not that much.

   As I've recounted already, Scott and I had some history.  He had dated
me in high school briefly every time Rick was out of town, and I knew he
really wanted to have sex with me.  All he got from me though, was a really
nice hand job.  I let him squirt all over my boobs.  One time, however,
after I had broken up with Liam, one of my many casual boyfriends, Scott
asked me out.

   We went out a few times, and we reminisced about my hand job from back
when we were in high school.  Well, we were older now, and I still liked
Scott, so this time he got a blowjob.  I always find it amazing how
thrilled a guy can be with a blowjob.  I mean, they're easy to give, and if
you like the guy, it's kind of fun giving one.  And if you swallow (as I
do), they're less messy than a hand job, and for some obscure reason, more
thrilling to the guy.

   The one catch is the issue of deep throating the guy.  It's not at all
necessary; I became quite skilled, and I was able to give one hell of a
blow job without deep throating.  However, Scott happens to be both long
and thick, and ironically perfect for Michelle.  I tried hard to please
him, and you know what?  Just before Uncle Dante came to town, I
successfully deep throated Scott.  Scott then graciously let Dante and me
fuck in his room (I had a roommate in my room, and back seats of cars were
getting old), while he peeped, of course.

   Perhaps it was inevitable.  After watching Dante, my mysterious
boyfriend from out of state, fuck my brains out, Scott knew that, at least
for Dante, I put out.  When Scott next dated me, we both knew he wasn't
going to be satisfied with just a blowjob.  I had to decide: Was I ready to
go all the way with Scott Stone?  He had seen the two big loves of my life,
Rick and Uncle Dante, both of them, fuck me; could I satisfy Scott with
just blowjobs?

   The problem was this: I love Uncle Dante, and I loved spending time with
him, but even though he was perfect for me, he was my freaking uncle!! 
There was no future in Dante, except as an occasional illicit lover, on the
side.  That left Rick.  I felt I almost loved Rick, and I enjoyed the sex a
lot, but it wasn't exciting, like it was for Dante, unless of course Scott
was watching.

   I had to parse things.  Was sex with Uncle Dante so good because it was
incest, and taboo?  Was sex with Rick so good because Scott was watching? I
thought long and hard, and came to be the conclusion that the answers were
yes to both questions!

   That left the question: Did I need some extra thrill to make the sex
really good?  Was that how I was going to choose a potential life partner?
Was sex that important?  The answer was no, it wasn't key that the sex be
wonderful; if the man himself was wonderful, good sex was enough.  Still,
the big question, for me, was could I ever have over the top wonderful sex
without these extra props of incest, or being watched?  It was an
interesting question.

   My first test was with Rick.  We did the deed in a spot with a high risk
of being caught.  We weren't caught, but the sex was over the top.  I
concluded risk was enough; we didn't really need a voyeur.  That was
encouraging.

   There was a final step.  Scott wanted sex, and I had fallen for Scott,
big time.  Rick and I were dating less frequently, as my affection for
Scott grew exponentially fast, and my love for Rick withered away on the
vine.  Rick began to date Mary Beth, and that doomed out relationship.

   I heard that Mary Beth not only sucked and fucked her dates, but she let
them do her in the ass.  Rick was infatuated with her.  I was not going to
put out for Rick after he had taken Mary Beth up her ass.  Rick became
history.  The worst part of it all is that Rick didn't even seem to care.

   I wanted a guy to be upset if I dumped him, especially if I had been
giving him everything he wanted!  Rick should have been emotionally
destroyed, or at least damaged, that I was gone from his romantic life. 
Losing me as his love, or at least his sexual partner, should have been
akin to the burning of the library of Alexandria.

   It wasn't.  Rick was so infatuated with Mary Beth, that he seemed to be
nonplussed that he and I were finished.  He ran to Mary Beth and took out
his emotions, if he had any, on her sweet body.  I was left wondering what
had happened to our relationship, even if it was I who had ended it.  I
felt easily replaceable, just as my dear father's maxim predicted I would
be.  Maxim aside, it was nevertheless depressing.

   On the other hand, I was free of Rick, and free to see other men!  Scott
just happened to drop over during all this, and he invited me to dinner and
a movie.  You've got to love a man with timing like that!

   **

   A year passed, and I received another Valentine card, a really pretty
one, from 'a secret admirer.' It was identical to the one I had received
senior year of high school.  At the same time, I had a Valentine's Day date
with Scott.  Scott made an effort, and he drove me down to Indianapolis for
a romantic dinner, and we then went to the art theater there, since he knew
I loved European, American, Korean, and Japanese art movies.

   We ended up at Scott's apartment, making out on his bed, with the famous
one-way mirror on the wall, right next to us.  It was that mirror Scott
would hide behind to watch Dante and me do the deed.  "Since you're right
here with me, you can't be behind the mirror.  I guess you can't have
everything," I teased.

   "True, and I know how that turned out on, to have me watching," Scott
said.

   "Right you are," I confessed, for the first time.

   Scott then entered me.  He didn't fuck me; he made love to me.  It was a
perfect fuck, and I realized as he fucked me, that it was the first perfect
fuck of my life.  There was no incest, no voyeur, it was just Scott and me,
and it was wonderful.

   "Scott, I love you," I said, as he pumped away.

   "I've always loved you, sweet Angela," Scott said, as he gave me a
particularly strong thrust.

   "What about all those other girls you laid in high school, and now in
college?" I asked.

   "They were fun, and practice so that I could give you my best," Scott
the romantic said.

   "Did any of them give you an STD?" I asked, as Scott fucked me hard,
making me gasp with pleasure.  Scott didn't answer my eros-killing
question, he just fucked me without mercy and drove me to a spectacular
orgasm.

   **

   We continued fucking in Scott's bedroom every Friday and Saturday night
for the rest of the year.  Just after winter vacation, Scott asked me, "Do
you ever imagine someone behind the mirror, watching us fuck, and wishing
he were me, or she were you?" It was getting close to Valentine's Day,
again,

   "What are you saying, Scott?" I asked.

   "Well, would it freak you out if one of our friends was behind that
mirror, tonight, watching us as we make love?" he asked.

   This took me by surprise.  I thought only Scott went into the small,
dark space to watch.  Now he was suggesting other people might be watching.
My pussy tingled.  "Have people been watching us, Scott?" I said, horrified
at the idea, and yet at the same time, aroused.

   "Not yet.  I've been waiting for Valentine's Day," he said.

   "Who would it be?" I asked.

   "Someone you know," he replied.

   "You're not going to tell me?" I asked.  I knew he was not; I knew Scott
all too well, at this point.

   "Someone I trust," Scott said.

   I never did find out who peeped on us that Valentine evening, as Scott
drove me to heaven with his cock.  It was just after he shot his load
inside me, however, and I had the climax of all climaxes, that Scott
proposed.  When I said yes, whoever it was behind the mirror applauded.  I
never did find out who it was!

   I always wondered, whoever it had been watching us, if he or she had
attended our wedding, enjoying the memory of our naked coupling as Scott
and I said our vows.  It was the most amazing Valentine's Day present a
girl like me could have received.

   **

   Several years later, as I was lost in my own world checking Facebook
while sipping coffee in a cafÃ(C), Bob Ferguson found me.  It was the first
time I'd seen him since the wedding.  I was happy to see him, and instantly
asked about Michelle.  I was pleased to hear they were still happily
married, and I confirmed my ongoing marital bliss to Bob.  After those
relatively standard formalities, we began to discuss our friends in common,
and we inevitably drifted back to our high school times.

   Bob managed the impossible, and I was impressed.  He managed to ask me,
delicately, if I still enjoyed exhibitionism, and he confessed his
unrelenting attraction to being a voyeur.  Indeed, he only rented
apartments in New York (where we both lived and worked) if the prospects
were good for peeping on some women in various states of undress.

   "Old habits die hard," I quipped.

   "Well, it's because of you I have the habit," he replied.

   "Because of me?"

   "Don't be coy, Angela.  You flashed all the boys at summer camp after
your morning showers, and more than a few of us developed crushes on you.
That time you went braless in the dining tent still lives in my memory. 
Then when you followed up in your bedroom ..."

   I cut him off.  "Okay, okay," I said.  "You've made your point.  You
know how it is when you're young; those days were long ago."

   "They were fun, though, weren't they?" Bob asked.

   "Yes," I admitted, "They were fun."

   "Say, whatever happened to that stud who was always coming to town to
lay you, back in the day?" Bob asked.

   "He was Dante," I said, and I almost slipped up and said, "Uncle Dante."

   "Yeah, what happened to Dante?"

   "Oh, he's around.  I see him from time to time, mostly at family
functions," I stupidly, stupidly said.  Bob is nobody's fool, and I could
actually watch the mischief entering his eyes.

   "He's your cousin, isn't he!" Bob said, and it wasn't a question.  "You
had incest with your cousin?  Angela, you little minx!"

   "No, he's just a friend of the family.  It's a long and complicated
story," I said.

   "Tell me, we have time," Bob said.

   "I'd rather not," I replied, as my mind went into overdrive.  I ended up
telling him a long and convoluted story about how our family and Dante's
were friends, and it finally exhausted both Bob and myself.

   Bob had a strange look on his face.  I felt he had been undressing me in
his mind as I recounted my long, fabricated story of Dante, my occasional
incestuous lover, but there was something else he was remembering,
something for the life of me I couldn't figure out.

   Suddenly, I began to wonder.  I had told my hubbie Scott about how Bob
had peeped on me in high school, and how it led to him and Michelle hooking
up and later marrying.  Scott gave me the third degree, wanting to know if
Bob ever extorted sex from me, due to the pictures he had, and no doubt
still has to this day.

   I denied it repeatedly, but finally, I had to admit it.  Bob extorted a
date from me.  At the end of the date he drove us to Cherry Hill, and since
it was a weekday, he had me alone in the traditional teen make-out spot. 
Many a girl had been deflowered at Cherry Hill; it was practically a
tradition.

   Bob quickly undressed me to the point I was naked in the backseat, and
in exchange for never revealing his pictures of me, ever, I caved, and gave
my body to him.  I didn't tell Scott, but what Michelle had told me was
true: Bob was a sexual Don Juan.  It was the best sex of my life, and still
is, to this day.

   After I confessed about my shameful deed back in the day, I asked again
who it was who was watching us consummate our marriage?  After all, the
applause of the anonymous voyeur turned me on to such an extent that I
practically raped Scott for a second post marital consummation.  My orgasm,
spurred on by having an anonymous voyeur, was over the top.

   "Please?" I asked Scott.

   "No, I promised never to tell," he replied.

   "I just confessed to you how the evil Bob Ferguson extorted sex from me,
back in high school!  You can at least tell me who the voyeur on our
wedding night was," I said.

   Scott looked at me thoughtfully.  "Our wedding night voyeur told me he
had always had a crush on you, but he wished us happiness, since thanks to
you he had found the love of his life," Scott said, and that was enough.  I
knew.  I finally knew who it was who applauded, from behind the one-way
mirror as we consummated our marriage.
   "Thanks, Scott," I said, and we kissed.