My girlfriend is a born public flasher. To be truthful, you’d probably have to call her an exhibitionist. But there’s nothing wrong with that. I have to use a false name for her, so I will call her Beth. If she ever found this little story on the Net, she’d think it was cute if her name was disguised. But if I used her real name, she would probably end my life in no time.
Beth claims she’s always been a flasher. She went to Catholic school, and finally clued me (a boring old Protestant) in on the truth of: Now what use do you think we made of those shiny patent leather shoes? She also claims to have been the rudest girl on the cheerleader squad, frequently forgetting to put her shorts on before practice.
When she found out I was an upskirt fanatic, she was delighted rather than annoyed. I thought I was lucky because I would get a lot of private upskirts, but little did I know I was in for something better. Believe me, I would have been too shy to ask her to pull such antics in public. But I didn’t have to ask. Beth pretty much suggested it herself.
From the very beginning, you could see she was an expert. She waited for me to open the car door for her, which most modern girls no longer bother with. But she swung her leg in a broad arc as she stepped out of the car, giving me a heavenly glimpse of white panties.
During the first few times we went out on the town like that, she was careful to do her flashing in such a way that no one else in the bar, night club or restaurant could actually see her. But then she mentioned that perhaps, one night in a crowded bar, someone else might have got a look. She said it tentatively, as if gauging my reaction. It would not have been difficult for her to see that I was excited rather than jealous or possessive.
Next time we went out, she wore a short little black dress and white nylon panties (personal favorites of mine, since they remind me of the panties girls wore when we were back in high school). We went out to watch the sunset on the terrace of our favorite club (I live in Hawaii). The sun made its famous green flash as it disappeared into the ocean, and I got plenty of white flash as well. We were sitting pretty much by ourselves in one corner of the terrace where no one could really see her.
It got dark quickly, as it does in the tropics, and Beth was on her second glass of wine. Another couple had taken the table next to us, and the two of them were talking with a certain confusion about the stars “the poor souls couldn’t tell Venus from the North Star.
Beth is an expert skywatcher, like myself, but much more sociable, especially after a few glasses of wine. She began to give the other couple a nice lecture about the heavens above us. Soon, though, I noticed that the fellow in the other couple was looking not above but fixedly at our table. His eyes were glassy and his mouth was gaping.
I looked, and realized that Beth was sitting cross-legged, though not as a woman crosses her legs, but like a man. Those of you who’ve seen the famous Ellen Barkin clip from the film Switch will know what I mean. Beth was deliberately flashing this guy one of the boldest white triangles I have ever seen, and she kept it up for a few solid minutes. By that time the guy’s girlfriend was staring too, though she was also a bit tipsy and seemed not at all put out. If she hadn’t been wearing slacks, she might well have joined in.
Needless to say, I was quite turned on. We had a great night in bed afterwards. In the future, I hope that love, passion and good treatment on my part will encourage her to even more daring acts of flashing.