Those of you who live in the UK, or
any of those places with real seasons,
will know that one of the estimable affair
about the end of winter and the warm
weather starting is the chance to
shed the wintertime woollies and get out the summery hooey. If, like me, you're a
bit of an exhibitionist who likes to
flirt, there aren't many opportunities
to disclose your scrap when you're
wrapped up against the wind and the
rain. In spring 2012 we had a few skillful days in border district, and I'd dug my spring
frocks out of the back of the
closet. But then at the beginning
of April the regime announced
that we were in a time period of drought,
and introduced a hosepipe ban. As if on cue, it started raining almost
straight away, and didn't really give up all
through April and well into May. But at final stage we had a few daylight of sun,
and it began to get warmer.
Eventually, it seemed as if we might be
getting a rattling warm spell, and I got the
dresses out again. At hold out it was gracious
enough to leave my panties off without getting frostbitten tizzy. One workweek I decided I had to go up to
the West End to buy a few script that I
could only get from a big bookshop.
The next Saturday I dressed as lightly
as I could, which basically meant no
panties or bra, just a liberal dress and niggling pumps on my metrical foot. I got the gear
to Victoria Falls, then the bus up to the big
bookshop on Piccadilly. I got a few
admiring looks as people noticed my
bra-less bosom under my dress. To be
honest, my little tits don't gift much of a segmentation at the respectable of times, but at
least they're nice and perky and don't
droop. Bending down in the bookshop to
face at the depressed shelf, I knew my
tits would be openly visible to anyone
else browsing nearby who happened
to glance down. I discreetly tweaked
my nipples through my dress to hold them stand out. After a while doing
this and getting aroused, I paid for the
playscript I needed and walked across
Piccadilly Circus and down Haymarket
to Trafalgar Square. This was where I
was hoping to have some serious fun. I sat down on the big flight of stairs of steps
that lead up from the square to the
national verandah and looked down
over the mass of tourer milling
around. If you want to get an idea of
the set-up, google something like"UK national Gallery steps ”. You probably
won't see me, but it'll give you an idea
of how people always sit on them to
wait out over the square ; and the
sunnier it is, the Thomas More of them there
are. The fountains were playing, and the
small kid were dipping their hands in
and splashing each other. other kids
were climbing onto the lion round
the tail of Horatio Nelson's Column and
having their picture taken. Just to the rightfulness of me at the bottom of the footstep
was the 2012 Olympic Clock, counting
down the daylight, hours, hour and
seconds until the start of the opening
ceremony at 9:00 pm on Friday 27th
July, and quite a few people were having their picture taken
standing next to that too. In fact, if I
could have charged a pound for each
photo taken in Trafalgar Square that
day, I'd be a wealthy girl ! But I wanted
to sacrifice everyone a luck to see to a greater extent than just the usual tourist attractions. I
had some attractor of my own. I knew that, wearing just a promiscuous
frock, anyone coming down the stairs
from above would get a honest view of
my breast down the front - especially
if I leant over a bit so it hung away
from my pap. And if I sat with my legs apart, anyone coming straight up
the stone's throw from below would get a
great view up my dame at my
uncovered pussy. I always look out
myself for inadvertent flashbulb ( I'm such
a perve ! ) and it's surprise how many cute panties you can see. The prize of
a desolate kitty isn't that plebeian, but it's
all the more fun when you do see one.
I'm still hoping that one day a Scots
guy in a kilt will sit down and give me
a newsflash of his equipment. I sat down on the second set of steps
from the top, making sure I was sitting
on the edge of my dress - just enough
to keep on my bare bum off the dance step, in
caseful they weren't that clean. I took out
one of my new books and started to show it, trying to look like just another
visitant having a relaxation. To get down with I
kept my legs together, but then slowly
eased them apart so that anyone
coming up the steps from below
would get a scene straight up between my second joint to my pussy. I was enjoying
the intuitive feeling of having nothing covering
me down there ; even if no-one saw, it
was still skillful. I sat for a while, just letting people
move past me up and down the steps.
I was determined not to catch
anyone's eye ; I wasn't trying to piece
anyone up. It's a problem, I admit : just
because I'm enjoying exposing myself, it's not like I'm saying"Look at
me, I want to fuck you ”, although I
can see why some people may assume
it is. After a bit, without moving my head I
peeped up from my book. A duet of
Whitney Moore Young Jr. guy cable were looking my way.
They certainly seemed to be enjoying
the view. Cheekily, I decided they'd
had enough, and pressed my knees together. One nudged the other and
they whispered, but I waited until
they'd gone before opening my peg
again. Then I saw a pretty dark-haired young lady
standing looking up at the national
picture gallery with her tv camera in her hand. I
thought I'd spotted her walking up
the step past me a few minutes ago.
That was interesting - if it was the Lapplander mortal, that meant she'd gone
all the way down again. OK, there
were a few intellect why she might
have done that… But oh my God, she was hot. Her hair
was cut short-change and spiky in a boyish
variety of way, but it was the only schoolboyish
affair about her. She was wearing a
denim jacket over a inadequate t-shirt that
showed a beguiling circle of bare skin above a duo of amazing ripped denim
short pants. The neck opening of her jersey had
been roughly cut down to prove her
cleavage ; I could see the top of a red
bra supporting a pair of tumid knocker. I
might not snip that way myself, but that sort of grungy amorousness can be
such a turn-on. At least, she seemed to be looking at
the verandah, but I could see her eyes
keep on dropping down to my storey. I
decided to establish her a bit Thomas More of a
delicacy. Casually, I shifted my bum as if to
get more well-situated, and go around my stage a bit more, letting my frock drive
further up my thighs as well as giving
a clearer survey of the field between my
leg. I felt a draught of air streamer troll
my labia. I wished I could use a finger
to part my lips a bit and let her see a bit more pink, but that might have been a
bit obvious. The fairly little girl took her tv camera and
pointed it up the tone at the Gallery.
Oh well, never mind, she just wanted
another holidaymaker pushover. But I still couldn't
retain my optic off her, and to my
delight I saw the camera rock downwards so it was pointing full-strength
at me. Oh yes, that's better. I stared hard at
my book, but I wasn't taking any of it
in - it was just black blobs on a albumen
background. My unscathed judgement was
wondering whether she was still
there ; whether she was still taking exposure ; whether she wanted more… I couldn't resist glancing up. She had
the photographic camera up to her face, but I was
sure it was pointing straight up my
frock. I breathed in deeply, then
moved my legs a little bit more apart.
They were rather wide now. I saw her worm the lens of the eye, zooming in on whatever
she was photographing. This was
exciting. I forgot for a moment that
there were hundreds of former people
around. I'm sure enough my pussy must have
been getting wetter and wetter inside, and I really wanted to touch it, to part
my lips and let the juices run out. I was
so aroused that I forgot to breathe for
a consequence or two, and found myself
puffing to get O back to my
lungs. Casually, the female child turned aside and
pointed her tv camera over towards the
church of St Martin-in-the-Fields and
took a few exposure of it. She began to
paseo back up the dance step towards me.
For a moment, I felt flighty, and looked back at my book, but as a
trace passed over my stage I
couldn't resist looking up. My eyes met
hers. Without saying a word, she sat down
next to me on the steps. My gist was
thumping. She held her digital camera
in her hands and tilt towards me
with it."Would you wish to see ?"she said. I looked at the view-screen. The first
word-painting was just a sentiment of the
colonnade at the front of the Gallery. I
could just see the top of my school principal at
the underside of the picture."mechanical press here to scroll through"said the
girl. I could finger the warmth of her
physical structure succeeding to me. I was trembling a
little. The future painting showed the whole of
the stone's throw, with me in the center, my
legs apart and my skirt up my thighs.
You could see straight up the front line, to
the little plump down hump of my pubic
mound. I could just make out the garden pink curve of my labia. I felt myself rosiness
with a kind of superfluity. I
suppose I hadn't expected to be
looking straight at the grounds like
this. I scrolled to the following motion picture. This one
had been taken using the zoom, and
you could see the labia quite clearly. I
stared at it for a instant, fascinated.
Then I felt a nudge, and looked round.
She was smiling at me."Keep going"she said. I saw why she was acute to motivate on.
Wow. The side by side one was taken after I
had moved my legs apart, and the sun
was shining straight up my frock. I
couldn't help noticing how pallid my
inside thigh were. But my plump little pussy really stood out. I saw that my
lips had parted more than I realised,
and the garden pink entrance to my vagina
was glistening and wet. I scrolled again. She'd used the zoom
again, and you could almost have got
reached out and touched the pinko
curves of my labia. There was a little
night gap at the nub, leading the eye
into my sex. I looked at her again, and she raised
an eyebrow. I realised that as I had
been leaning over looking at the
pictures, the front of my frock had
fallen receptive so she could search unbowed
down at the fop of my bare titty, including my pinkish areole and
darker nipples. Hard nipples. There was one more than characterisation. She'd
pulled back on the soar, and there
was all of me, looking straight at the
camera, with a little grin on my fount
and my branch wide apart. God, I was
such a slut - but it was a authoritative up- skirt guesswork ! I think we were each waiting for the
other to say something. It must only
have been a pair of secondment, but
felt like minutes."These are great pictures"I said.
"Thanks for letting me see ”."I've got some more that you might
like"she said."There're on my camera
if you have a minute."“ Yes please"I said. There was another
rebuff pause, and I went on."Why don't we have a coffee and you
can show me properly ?"“ That would be nice"she answered ;
"is this blank space ok ?"- nodding at the
little café next to the steps, right on the
Square."It's ok, but the one in the veranda's
honest"I said ;"A bit more expensive,
but quieter ”."strait outstanding"she smiled."jumper cable the
way !"We crossed the paving and went
into the Gallery through the Getty
entranceway, which takes you straight to
the café and store, and is obviously
meant for the great unwashed who want to sustain
something to eat without all that verbose mucking about with house painting
first. I offered to get the java while she
found a mesa. I took a probability and
chose us each a composition of bar - I think
I needed a sugar hit ! I looked round
with my tray and saw her waving at
me from the far corner. She'd found a unadulterated mesa, slightly out of the way,
and luckily there weren't too many
multitude around anyway. I sat down
opposite her. She laughed when she
saw the cake."How did you judge ?"she said."I
shouldn't, but then, why not ?"And she took the creamier of the two
pieces."So…"I said, taking a sip of hot coffee,
"Where are these pictures ?"She'd found them on her camera while
I was at the comeback, and passed it
straight across."These are from all over"she said.
"But I have a special folder for them
all ”. They were a mixed bag of candid shots,
up-skirt and down-blouse, all
obviously taken without the subjects
knowing. Some of the girls were
wearing scanty, but a few were like
me, showing it all. almost of these were shaved, so you could see the contingent of
their pussycat. near of the down-blouse
ones were of bra-less boob, usually
showing a mammilla or two. They were all
very, very sexy."You've a great assemblage here"I said,
impressed."It must stimulate taken you
ages ”."I take a lot of mental picture anyway"she
said,"and I'm always on the lookout
for this sort of shot. I do sell some stuff
commercially - but not these - these
are just for me. Don't concern, you're not
going to see yourself on some internet site - at least, not unless you want to !"“ But you know"she said,"You're
almost the first-class honours degree person I've seen who I
thought might accept been doing it on
purpose. The way you just sat there
with your legs apart, you must have
known what you were showing. But you didn't seem to care. I noticed you
didn't have a bra when I walked past,
and I was going to try and get a crack
of your knocker. But then when I realised
you had no panty either…I was just,
like wow, my kind of girl !"“ I mean,"she went on"I like not
wearing undies either, just because it
makes me feel honest."But I don't really
flash at the great unwashed, unless I know them
and it's all part of the foreplay sort of
thing ”."It just turns me on"I admitted."The
thought of the great unwashed walking by and
seeing me just makes me so horny,
and I just have it off it. Sometimes I do it in
the park, pretending to sunbathe and
pulling my skirt up as far as I dare ”."Photographing you got me so turned
on too"she said."Especially once I
knew that you knew I was doing it…
that's when I plucked up braveness to
show you !"That's when I felt a cutaneous senses on my leg
under the tabular array. It made me jump, and
I looked down and saw that it was her
unembellished foot tickling me. She'd kicked off
her sandals and her toes were
stroking against the outside of my leg. I moved my leg against hers and
smiled at her. My legs were slightly
apart now, and I deliberately edged
my chair a bit closer to make it easier
for her. She slid her leg over mine until
it was between my leg, stroking against my inside thigh now. Her skin
was smooth against mine. I put my
manus under the table and stroked her
calves, pulling my dress up a bit more
to present her elbow room to manoeuvre. Her foot slipped under the front of my
attire. She knew what she was doing
with her toes, though she was teasing
me by rubbing against the tops of my
thighs, deliberately not going any
higher. Then she broke contact, and I got that Wyrd feeling you get when
you know something is finis to you
even thought you can't see it. This
time, I got the feeling in my pussy,
knowing her invertebrate foot was almost
touching. Then I felt her toes touch the back talk of my
pussy. She wiggled them backwards
and forwards, tickling my labia. It felt
amazing. I was squirming about in my
fanny, wriggling back at her, trying to
manoeuvre myself so her toes would go inside my slit. She managed to find
the button of my clit, and flicked
her toe against it. I had to put my cup
of coffee down, for reverence I'd spill it
everywhere. I gripped the bound of the
mesa with my hands and braced myself against her, breathing heavily
through my poke, letting out the
occasional little squeak in my throat.
Anyone watching could surely guess
what was going on… Wriggling her toes, she eased between
my labia and pushed up into the
entrance to my vagina. I let out a
definite squeak…she was smiling at
me as she pushed against me. I felt her
toes wriggling around inside me. Something pressed against my clitoris
- her big toe probably - and she
flicked it backwards and forwards
against the little button, pushing hard
against it. Oh god. I felt my orgasm
building. Not for the first time, I felt a bit embarrassed at how quickly I
would climax once my button was
stimulated. If I'd been a man, I'd have
had no staying power at all ! I leant over and grasped her paw,
squeezing it tight as I pressed against
her toes, clenching the musculus of my
pussy. Oh god here it came…and I
orgasmed. My knuckles were White as
I gripped her so knockout. All the muscles in my ramification and bum were clenched
and I felt my thighs spasming as I
struggled to stop myself from
thrashing my body about and crying
out. It must experience looked as if I was
having an epileptic fit ! She stared at me across the board with
a ravish smiling on her face."Wow !"she whispered."Did you just
fall ?"I nodded, trying to get my breathing
under ascendence."I just couldn't assistance it"I
said."I guess I was just so turned on…
it just happened !"“ You are just so baffle"she said,
laughing. I smoothed my garb down under the
table, trying to look becoming. Looking
under the tabular array, I could see the toes of
her redress foot were wet and sticky. She leant over and whispered again.
"And you've got me so aroused. Won't
you do something for me now ?"“ Sure"I said."Here ?"“ seminal fluid to the gutter"she whispered."I
want you properly ”."Not the ones just here"I said
"They're too interfering - but if we go over
to the back doorway, there are some that
hardly anyone uses ”."How do you cognize this stuff ?"she
asked."Don't order me you've fucked
your way all round London's bogs ?"I laughed"Not yet - but I actually like
paintings as well as fucking ! So I come
here quite a lot"“ I'll follow you then"she said. I couldn't remember exactly which
rooms to go through, but I knew that
from the telephone exchange G. Stanley Hall there would be
planetary house for the"orangeness Street going"and I
followed those. We went past the
Velasquez"Urania at her Toilette ”, with her lovely bum, through to a greater extent
random rooms until I saw the full-
length portrait of Richmondena Cardinalis Cardinal Richelieu by
Philippe de Champaigne and I knew
we were nearly there. The potty I was
looking for were by the Educational Centre. During the week it tends to be
swarming with schooling parties, but at
the weekend it's practically deserted. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I
pushed open the door to the
"Disabled"toilets."seminal fluid on, there'll be more way in
here"I said. She shut and locked the door. She put
her blazonry circle my waistline and our mouth
met, surd and crude and urgent. Her limb rubbed roughly over my
back, wrinkling my wearing apparel. Her large
chest were pressed against my
breast. I pushed both my hands up the
forepart of her jersey. Her skin was warm
and flushed with excitement. My deal made physical contact with the firm
clotheshorse of her chest inside the lacy
reinforcement of her bra. She groaned recondite
in her throat. I rolled her knocker
under my manus, feeling them move
inside the bra. Pushing upwards, I felt the backside of her bra loving cup moving up,
slowly slipping over the piano flesh. I
pushed again, and with a spate felt the
cupful spring up, her boobs bouncing
free and unsupported. At cobbler's last my
hands gripped the hot bare soma. Her nipples tightened and became hard
under my grip, her areoles dimpling. I
wanted her body so badly. I dragged
at her t-shirt and she raised her arms
to let me pull it over her head. I
stepped back for a minute, holding her t-shirt, gazing at her tits swinging
too and fro as she quickly unclipped
her bra and let it fall from her blazon
onto the floor. She smiled at me,
enjoying her bareness. She had crystallise
acutely tan-lines round the curvature of her tit, showing that she normally wore a
minuscule bikini top that must have barely
covered her nipple. My own dead body was fizzing with desire. I
pressed my hand to my genitalia, circling
my palm against my clitoris. She pulled
me against her again, rubbing her
bare chest against my dress as we
kissed. I squeezed her bum, rubbing against the crack between her cheeks,
before scratching my nails up the bare
skin of her legs. I pushed my hand down the backbone of
her shorts, inside her panties as well.
Her bum was affectionate and smooth and
firm."Let me get these off"she muttered,
and undid her shorts, pulling them
and her panty down, kicking them
off across the story. Now she was
totally nude. Her pubes were covered
in a tidy nest of hair, but I could see the pink flexure of her kitty-cat, aroused
and moist. She pushed me back against the sink,
and began to unbutton the battlefront of my
wearing apparel. I was breathing heavily already,
my footling tits heaving. She pushed my
dress off my shoulder joint, and I wriggled
to facilitate the arm slip down my arms. The entirely clothes fell to the floor and I
was naked too. I pulled her towards me and kissed
her hard on her back talk, feeling her body
hot against mine. She nibbled at my lip,
and I raked my fingernails down her
back, digging in as backbreaking as I dared. In
the mirror opposite me, I could see the red marks on her skin."More, more"she moaned, and I
kissed down her cervix and over her
shoulder-blades. She had her hands
on my buttocks, and I felt a finger
nuzzling between my cheeks,
followed by a soft press against my sphincter."You're so tight"she murmured."I can
hardly get one finger's breadth in. Relax,
babe…"The finger pushed harder, just
entering, causing me to wince slightly."Don't stop"I whispered, as I felt the
finger leave."Don't concern"she replied. She picked
up the liquid-soap dispenser from the
hand-basin and pumped slippery
soap all over her palm and fingers,
before returning her hired hand to my
posterior. I barely had clip to register the cool soap on my bum, before her
freshly-lubricated finger slipped easily
into my kettle of fish. I gasped, pressing my
naked body against hers. I could sense
her finger twirling inside my bum-
pickle. I was nuzzling her neck, but my teeth closed on her flesh as I felt a
second digit joining the starting time. I'd
never had two finger up my bum
before, and without the max I'm sure
she'd never have managed. I put my hand under her right tit,
raising it to my mouth. I sucked the
flesh into my sass, moving towards
her iniquity mammilla. As my lip closed
over her right wing nipple, I felt her finger's breadth
wiggling to a greater extent inside my bum-hole, and I thrust my renal pelvis against her,
biting down on the pap at the same
time. This wasn't nice soft sex : it was
rough and dirty, and I was loving it. My dentition clenched her nipple ; my lips
could feel the rough aroused skin of
her areole. Her finger's breadth began thrusting
in and out of my bum and I could feel
the pulsing of my kitty, getting
wetter and wetter with joy. But she had already brought me to
orgasm once, and I wanted to do the
same for her. I pulled away from her, feeling the
"schlup"as her finger's breadth slipped out of
my lubricated bum. Quickly I slid to the
floor, pulling her with me, rolling her
onto her back against the cold tiles. I
crouched over her, one leg on either side of her waist, my little tits swinging
slightly, my pussy pressed against her
tummy. I writhed my crotch against
her, stimulating myself and spreading
a wet smear of my sexual secretions
all over her tummy. I could see little red marks on her titty where my mouth
had bruised her tegument. She lay still,
panting with fervour but allowing
me to contract charge. With one swift movement, I slid down
past her waistline, put one leg between
her thigh, and roughly pulled her
legs apart. Her twat was gaping
wide, and I lowered my expression to it,
ventilation in her musky scent. I rubbed my face over the light-headed hair of
hair on her pubic hammock, my poke
bumping against her clit, which felt
engorged and difficult. Her labia and the
entree to her vagina were very wet,
and her sex juices were soon smeared all over my face. I momentarily raised
my head to let her see. She smiled. I dipped down again, and my spit
made liaison with her labia and licked
over and between the bend. Spreading
her lips with my fingers, I gazed for a
moment at the sweet pink moist
interior, breathing in the musky perfume, before burying myself in it. She
was dripping with juices, gasping and
thrashing as my tongue lapped
around her vulva ; pushing her pussy
into my expression, grinding against me. With
my knife still lapping at her, my thumb found her clitoris, and she bit
back a scream as I rolled and rubbed
it. I quickly worked out from her moan
and gasps exactly what flickers of the
tongue and peal of the thumb were
needed to motivate her towards her
climax. I licked upwards inside her as
far as I could go, finding the diffuse spongy area around her g-spot, and
at the same clock time increasing the
pressure level on her clit. As I'd hoped, that
was all it took, and her thigh muscles
went tense as she began to shiver
with the force of the sexual climax that engulfed her. As soon as I felt her
climax hit, I raised my face, and
pushed two digit of my former hand
deep up inside her soak slit, while
circling faster and faster round her clit.
My bridge player was drenched in her juices and she was shaking all over as a
second even more intense orgasm
exploded. She was clutching her breast,
pink and glowing with sweating all
over her body. I withdrew my digit and watched as
her vibration subsided. She put her
finger's breadth inside her own pussycat and
withdrew them coated in her own
stickiness. She fed me her digit and I
sucked the juice off them. I let her take up mine as she clutched me too her,
both our torso sticky and sweaty. We knelt on the trading floor, holding hands,
trying to let our breathing get back to
normal, both of us glowing with the
aftermath of the experience. She
stroked one handwriting over my petty pussycat,
touching my puffy labia."You're still aroused, aren't you"she
said, more of a assertion than a
question."I want you to have me now"I said."I want you as well - but can you wait
until we get back to my flat ?"she said
matter-of-factly. I nodded."Put your dress on then"she said.
"And if we can get an empty carriage
on the subway, I'll make you fall
again".