From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Female Flashers (F, exhib) [1/2]
Date: 26 May 1996 15:46:08 GMT

			   Female Flashers
			       Part One

	One question runs through the mind of every red hardened
girl-watcher: aren't most young women exhibitionists at heart?

	Well frankly, yes, Women are wearing less and enjoying it
more. Styles and fads may fluctuate, but the trend is to more
suggestive and revealing clothes for women. By the year 2000, it is
conceivable that women will be wearing dresses which leave the breasts
fully exposed, as was the fashion in Napoleonic France.

	It is no longer a once in-a-lifetime miracle for a horny
commuter to discover that the beautiful young secretary sitting across
from him isn't wearing panties. Women are hiking up their skirts all
over the country and no one is crying out, "Exhibitionism!"

	The annals of sexology are replete with case histories of male
exhibitionists, most of whom satisfy their lust by exposing their
genitals to unsuspecting female victims, but almost no mention is made
of their shapely counterparts - the female flashers.

	Until recently, it was believed that the only females who
desired to display their naked bodies were the professionals topless
dancers, strippers and nude models.

	These paid female exhibitionists are often featured in lurid
pulp novels when, in fact, off the job they are no more or less
sexually active than anyone else. The real female exhibitionists are
the working girls who show off every inch of heir hot bodies from 9 to
5 every day - one piece at a time.

	To draw an accurate sketch of the modern female exhibitionist,
we took an in-depth look at Barbara H. of Sherman Oaks, California.
She is presently undergoing therapy to treat her exhibitionist
problem, she says, "for my own protection. ` `

	"I don't know when I began to fantasize about showing my cunt
off, but I first did it when I was in high school." Barbara told us.

	"My tits were small. Not that I was flat chested, but I was
hoping they would blossom as quickly as my hips and thighs. I've
always had nice thighs, and I needed I to emphasize how long I and
curvy my legs were in order to help prove my womanhood.

	"So I used to slump all the way down in my seat at school to
hide my firm little titties and to I give the teacher a clear I view
of my snatch. He I was really cute - for a teacher - and all the girls
used to wear push-up bras or padded bras to get his attention. I
noticed that he was more interested in what I had peeking out between
my legs, though.

	"I sat right in front of the teacher's desk in the first row.
It started harmlessly enough. I would prop my feet up on one of the
crossbars under my seat and spread my legs wide open. By wearing short
skirts and colorful panties, I'm sure I was getting the message across
to Mr. Batten, our teacher.

	"Sometimes he would assign work to be done in class, and that
gave him the perfect opportunity to feast his eyes on my gorgeous
legs.With all of the other students in deep concentration, Mr. Batten
could stare at my pelvis as I shifted around in the seat.

	"It kept on getting heavier each week, and by the middle of
the first term I had stopped wearing panties to class. Not
surprisingly, Mr. Batten was assigning more and more classroom work
and it seemed like his face was always tilted down and riveted to my
hairy triangle. Often his hands would disappear under his desk, and
I'm sure he was playing with his meat as he stared at me.

	"One day we had a substitute teacher, much older than Mr.
Batten, but very charming and handsome. When he walked into the
classroom, he was as shocked as I was.

	"So there I was, slumped down seductively and showing more
pink than a gynecology text book. I sat up hastily and straightened my
dress, but the new teacher had already seen an eyeful, and he wanted
more.

	"He didn't hold a lecture or anything that day. It was
strictly a study session, and boy, did he ever study me. He wasn't shy
about looking my way, like Mr. Batten was at first, and the leers he
gave me really turned me on.

	"After a few minutes I was pretty worked up and I let him have
another peek. This time I parted my legs slowly and slid my right hand
down between my thighs. At this point I was so horny that I didn't
give a damn. My fingers were trembling as with them and pushed open
the lips of my cunt. I had never fingered myself for a man before and
the feeling was delicious. I ran my fingers along the crack of my
pussy, wiping the juices all over my cunt and thighs. I looked down
for a second and saw my whole crotch glistening in the sunshine.

	"When I looked up,the teacher was grinning at me and licking
his lips. Then he put his fingers under his nostrils, sniffing them like
a dog."

From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Female Flashers (F, exhib) [2/2]
Date: 26 May 1996 15:47:09 GMT

			   Female Flashers
			       Part Two

	"I came just as he did that. My head was spinning and I knew I
was too far gone to stop rubbing my clit, so I clenched my thighs
around my hand and started grinding my bare ass into the seat until I
felt the hot contractions of orgasm race through my cunt.

	"When it was over, I was a mess. There were beads of come
still oozing out of my hole and seeping down my legs. The seat was so
wet that I had to sit side-saddle to stay dry. Then the substitute
teacher dismissed the class the class right after that. about fifteen
minutes early.

	"As the kids filed out of class, I felt the teacher's eyes
burning a hole in my dress. and he wasn't smiling at all. I was the
last one out. and I was sort of hoping he would call me back for one
reason or another. Instead, he followed me to the door and closed it
after me. I was waiting outside the classroom, thinking about what I
had just done, when I heard faint moans coming from the class.

	"I cracked the door open a tiny bit and looked in. The teacher
was crouched beside my desk. His pants were bagged around his knees
and he was holding his somewhat awesome prick in his hand, pumping
himself furiously. He squeezed the hard rod just below the rim and
rubbed its purple smooth head along the edge of the chair. Oblivious
to the world, he craned his neck like a contortionist to sniff the
spot where I had creamed myself.

	"He threw back his shoulders,lifted his straining cock, and
laced the desk and chair with a stream of white liquid that splattered
almost halfway across the room. I'd never seen a guy who had that much
spunk to unload, and I wanted to see him do it all over again.

	"I blushed and said, `Why sir, you must learn how to lock
these doors.' I quickly locked the front and back doors and walked
towards him. `Do you like my body, sir?' I asked teasingly.

	"He pushed me down on my desk and lifted my dress from behind.
As my tits pressed against the gooey desk-top,he let his pants fall
open and tried to shaft me from the rear, but he couldn't get it up.
The guy had just shot enough cream to fill a glass and I don't think
he was very pleased with his timing. Just as his cock turned to hard
rubber again,the bell rang."

	Barbara's sorority years were flecked with minor flashing
incidents, though she restrained herself to one or two "outings" per
year. In her final year of college, the streaking fad swept through
her campus and Barbara was a front runner, but she found little
satisfaction in this spectator sport. For Barbara, exposing one's
private parts in a public place is a private affair, a one-on-one
encounter.

	It is easy to draw a parallel between Barbara's deviant
behavior and the antics of a male flasher, but the motivation is
sightly different.

	At a gut level, the male exhibitionist displays his naked body
in an attempt to convey this message unconsciously: "Reassure me that
I have a penis by reacting to the sight of it. Reassure me that you
are afraid of my penis, that is that you fear me; then I do not need
to be afraid of myself."

	Hence, it has been argued, the typical exhibitionist is also a
practicing voyeur because he hopes to witness, by exposing his
genitals, a show of emotion in his victim whether that emotion be
corresponding pleasure, shock, or confusion.

	In Barbara's case,the reassurance sought is positive only. Her
desires are, strictly speaking, not so much a deviation from the norm
as a flamboyant way of expressing what most females wish to express.

	What Barbara shares with her male counterparts is a definite
lack of discretion. She is an incorrigible flasher, and nothing will
stop her from doing what comes naturally to her.

	"By the time I was twenty, 1 realized how much pleasure I felt
by showing my charms to a strange man," she said. "Fortunately I was
living with Art, the only man I ever really loved, and his love kept
me pacified for a long while. Then,when he jilted me to pursue a former
girlfriend, I was shattered.

	"Almost immediately I reverted back to my old tricks. I used
to spend hours in front of the mirror, playing with my hot love box and
stretching it every which way. I was becoming desperate and I knew
it.

	"There was a tall gawky kid working in my office as a gopher,
not much to look at, but obviously well-hung and ready. He was a
cretin, so I figured I could shock the pants off him and nobody would
believe him if he decided to tell.

	"Sure enough, I caught him poring over a copy of Penthouse in
the back room. He was so enthralled in the glossy photos that he
didn't notice me. I sat on the order desk. pulled my skirt up, and
yanked my Panties to the side. `Yoo-hoo,' I called, `look at me. Do
you think my cunt is nice enough to be in a magazine?'

	"Well, that really did it! The gopher took one look at my
hanging cuntlips and almost fainted. He became very red in the face
and his tongue slobbered outside his mouth. I figured that mine was
probably the first `live' cunt this gopher had ever seen,and the
thought brought me closer to a shivering climax.

	"I kept rubbing my self and getting hotter. I knew the guy was
too shy to try anything, so he was the perfect audience and I was
hoping the moment would never end. I looked around for something to
ease up my pussy,but there was no time for delay and I let my cunt
explode in one or two hot flushes.

	"As I lay on the desk to catch my breath, the bastard snuck up
on me. Suddenly I felt his hot breath on my thighs. He parted them
with his clumsy, clammy hands and dropped to his knees. His nose was
about six inches from my throbbing pussy, yet he made no attempt to
bury his mouth in it.

	"Relishing each moment, I pretended to be giving myself a
thorough vaginal examination. I stretched the lips of my cunt wide
open and probed the inner folds with my pinky. By this time. the
gopher was cooing like a baby and rubbing his stubbly cheek on my
thigh.

	"When I'd finished inspecting myself. the dewy moisture was
all over my pubes. I pretended to discover the joy of touching my
clitoris, as if it were the first time. With wild abandon, I let out a
few obscene grunts as I came off right against the guy's chin.

	"After that time the gopher avoided me like the plague. but he
had a kind of permanent smile on his mug whenever I saw him.

	"When I visited the therapist last year to find out why it was
becoming very difficult for me to reach orgasm with my new boyfriend,
the doctor put me under analysis and I told him the whole story. The
doctor suggested I wear more conservative clothing which has helped
helped, but just the fact that I see him regularly to report my
progress has curbed my kinky urges."

	Barbara's case is far from unique. There are millions of
female exhibitionists stalking our cities, but you have to keep your
eyes peeled and remember the flasher's motto: "Now you see it, now you
don't."

	"But while my kinky urges are curbed; they're not entirely
Under Control I still rarely wear panties and often find myself
unconsciously spreading my knees on busses and park benches. But I'm
trying."