Giselle….My Confession

I’m an intelligent, self-made woman who is proud of what, and who I am….

I am an Exhibitionist…

Raised in a strict Catholic environment, sheltered by my mother, home-schooled primarily by my maternal grandmother, I realized early on that despite what my mother told me to the contrary, I had a body that was always admired by young and old alike.

Freed from my mothers grasp at 17, I quickly found a man whom I believed would Love and cherish me forever. Pregnant at 18, I had my now 17 yo daughter who I am proud to say is entering college soon.

I spent nearly 18 years of my life doting after this man whom I believed would protect me as I thought the Catholic church would also do for me till, and beyond death. Imagine my surprise when I found my husband with my best friend. My priest, whom I loved as my ultimate spiritual advise, had the gall to ask me to forgive him, to take serious our vows to God. I could not – my relationship with the Catholic church and my husband ended that day.

Crushed and unable to function, I proceeded with my divorce. Walking around in a daze, having lunch in Washington Park one early spring day in 2009, I found my favorite bench that I could find peace and solitude. Not paying much attention to my surroundings, I had no idea my skirt had risen high on my thighs. At the very moment I re-crossed my legs, I looked up to find a rather handsome man in a suit on the bench across from me; he was staring intently at my legs. I could feel his gaze burning deep inside me…I felt a tingle deep within me that warmed me throughout. He looked up, smiled, and slowly stood to leave. One part of me felt violated, that he had no right to look at me as he did. Another part of me wanted him to look longer, see more, and feel the heat rising up deep inside me.

The next day, at the exact same time, on the same bench, I found my handsome, voyeuristic man in his nice suit. That morning when I dressed, I wore a blouse I knew was transparent, my white lace bra cut low – I wore a pretty sweater over it as it was a bit chilly that morning. My skirt, shorter, silkier, was the only thing I wore – I felt that familiar heat rising deep inside me as I walked out my door, sans panties. Sitting at my bench, mindlessly reading a book I had no idea the title of, I slipped into a trance-like state as I slowly crossed and re-crossed my legs. Unbuttoning my sweater, I slipped it off my shoulders, feeling the cool breeze on my breasts, billowing the loose fitting blouse. I could feel the eyes of my handsome, voyeuristic man undressing me – devouring me – wanting me to show more….

Shortly thereafter, one fateful day after I left Washington Park and returned to work, I was told that the economy was too tight, that I was being laid off with no known re-hire date. I was crushed once again…

Months dragged on, no job, bills piling up, and my little girl becoming ever more excited about going to college. My ex-husband was of no help, his child support barely kept a roof over our heads. I found myself dreaming of my lunches in Washington Park, returning to those feelings of warmth as I felt his eyes on my body. I desperately wanted to feel that again, but I was left with a big question of ‘how?’

I’ve come to terms with who I am. Through my blog, I’ve discovered an outlet that allows me, and a few other women, the means to reveal the inner depths of who we are to those select few who can appreciate our desire to bare as much as we dare. My/our blog is: “Confessions of an Exhibitionist – Personal Essays of Women Who Like to be Watched”

I’m not looking for a relationship, dating, or anything remotely close to even having coffee. I’m here for me, to enjoy sharing all of who I am, and doing so with those who can appreciate and respect my decision to recover in my own way from the devastation I’ve suffered these past few years….

Introducing…

Mr. Suit

I have always wondered if I am wrong…as in mentally, because I love to watch people.  Observe them. Is voyeurism wrong?  I find it exciting, tantalizing…

I came back today because I was wishing for her to be back.  Yesterday I had taken a walk to refresh myself during lunch.  I strolled thru Washington Park and grabbed a bench to soak in the sun.  She came only minutes later, attractive, sexy, in such a classy way.

She seemed agitated, or more upset, like something was saddening her.  I looked as a man would look at any beautiful woman, and wondered what was wrong; should I be the knight in shining armor and say something, or attempt to make it better?  No, she needed her time.

I watched, and wondered who or what had made her so sad.  Then it happened.  Those legs!  I couldn’t help but relish her body.  She uncrossed her legs, not seeing my gaze.  Did I see “v”?  The soft patch of black panty between those smooth well-toned legs?  I fought to not look.  But I couldn’t resist.  Again, they uncrossed and re-crossed.  It was as if this simple act was in slow motion.   The heavenly gap unfolding in front of me.  Those legs, the panties, the slight crease revealing what lay beneath.  I was fully engorged.  I crossed my legs to avoid the embarrassment of being caught.

The action of me crossing my legs caught her attention and our eyes met.   She knew! She saw my appreciative, enraptured gaze.  Did she think I was a creep for lusting after her while she was in emotional distress?  As subtle as I could, I stood up, using my suit jacket to cover my hard unit. I smiled politely and walked away, embarrassed, but aroused to the point of almost climaxing.

I wanted her so bad.  I wanted to have every inch of her.  Taste every morsel of flesh, her wetness.  Smell her perfume, her musk.  I needed her.  That’s why I came back today.

My heaven arrived a little later than the day before…I watched her as she walked down the path.  Was she going to turn and avert contact with the creep and his knowing look?  No, she came and sat across from me.  I brought a paper to use as a distraction.

I looked over my paper smiled at her.  She simply nodded back.  She seemed less agitated today.  Not happy, but not sad. She looked even more amazing today.  The see thru blouse, her perfect breasts, and those legs… bare, toned, screaming for my hands to glide up them to her inner thighs.  I was hard at first glance.  I put my paper down in my lap.

I think she knew what had happened.  She gave me a slight smile and uncrossed her legs.  Slowly and purposefully but not to long.  Long enough for me to see there was no patch of panty but the baby smooth flower of my desire.  I felt like I was 14 again.  I was dripping with excitement.  My hands were shaking.  I wanted to take her right there.  Run my tongue between the sweet petals of her flower.  I was blinded by lust.  What will she taste like, what will it feel like as I enter her?

Again she tortured me with the vision.  What do I do?  Do I ask? Do I just do?  I was exploding .  I reached for my paper needing time to think, not realizing my throbbing mass was fully visible.  I quickly put the paper down only to see her walking away slowly.  Do I chase her?  Could I follow her, the steely shaft of my desire leading the way?  No, I would return again and hope that she would too.

Beyond the Pain – My Recovery and Discovery

After that fateful day when I was permanently laid off, I had some time to reflect on my tenure there.  A catalyst to my deeper reflections of late was my lunch dates with my handsome suit (Mr. Suit).  I continued, and still do on occasion, lunch with Mr. Suit; each time becoming more and more risque with what I wear, or don’t wear.

I remember a girlfriend at work, years ago, telling me about a place that sold ‘toys’.  At the time, I was so entirely stuffy, I labeled her a pervert (I actually prayed for her, lol.)  Not too long ago, I drove there before my ‘date’ with Mr. Suit.  I remember sitting in the parking lot, my hands shaking as I ripped open the package, and having no earthly idea what I was doing, I actually read the instructions.  On the way to the park, I stopped at a drug store and bought the required batteries.  Sitting in my car, batteries installed, I turned the remote on.  The sensations of the vibrating egg were immediate.   I wasted no time inserting the egg; the ‘antenna’ hanging strangely out of me.  I resisted the urge to turn the remote on; I wanted to discover the egg with Mr. Suit.

I casually strolled to my bench and familiar surroundings, awaiting my date with Mr. Suit; and my egg.  That day, I wore my favorite skirt – silk, light, short.  My loose fitting blouse, sans bra, barely covered my breasts.  As I sat down, I could feel the egg adjusting to the angle of my body, fitting snugly inside me – I was ready for my date.  Since I was about 15 minutes early, I began to reminisce about my former job and how I got to where I was that day.

At 24, I was a young lady who had no experience – nary a job on my resume that would warrant any company hiring me for my skills.  Answering the first ad I came across in the Times Union, I showed up for my interview dressed ultra conservative (as any ‘good’ Catholic girl would!)  Although raised like I was in a convent, my mother did instill some redeeming qualities in me.  I was, and still am, very direct with appropriate eye contact, and quite articulate.  That day was no exception as I sat across the desk from a very handsome, middle aged man who conducted my interview.  Although I didn’t catch on that day, I realize today that despite my attempts to be ‘conservative’, my dress did well to show off my body (I recall him looking more at my body than my eyes, or my resume for that matter.)  Again, naive beyond measure, his parting words, after he said I had the job, was, “feel free to dress more casually, I’m looking forward to seeing more of you.”  LOL, I had no idea what he meant, but at the time, I thought he meant that he liked me as a person – that all changed over time.

I took his parting words to heart.  From that day forward, and for the next two years as his personal secretary, I did in fact dress more casually.  With my new found freedom and income, I began to update my wardrobe.  Shorter skirts, pretty blouses, and high heels quickly filled my closet.  I felt out of place initially, although not out of place in my clothes; I felt out of place as the ‘good Catholic’ girl who shouldn’t be revealing so much of my body.  But, in time, I noticed the change in how I looked and felt about myself.  More and more, I felt appreciative looks from my boss, but also from the other men in my office.  I noticed, too, that the more they looked at me (especially my boss), I began to have feelings that I was not consciously aware of then, but today I realize where my exhibitionist roots were taking hold.

Looking back on it today, I know that my boss  took full advantage of my naivety.  He would often call me into his office to take a letter or notes of something or other.  Instead of having me sit in one of the chairs directly in front of his desk, he always came out from behind his desk and sat in one of them as he had me sit on his leather sofa.  Every time I sat in it, I sank deep into the cushions, always my knees where higher than my waist.  Of course I always sat like a lady, legs crossed, prim and proper, but sitting for long periods sometimes, I would cross my legs repeatedly – his eyes never left my body, oftentimes I would catch him looking at me, apparently lost in thought despite still talking.  Other times, he would have me stand next to him as he was seated at his desk, have me lean over his desk to have me read something – there were a few times he would touch the small of my back or my arm.

Not long after he hired me, I began to notice how we would seem to ‘dance’ around certain topics.  My naivety began to slip away as it became more and more apparent to me that his actions were not necessarily directed to me as a person or his secretary, but more because he was attracted to me.  I also began to enjoy, and even look forward to his advances and appreciative looks and/or touches.  I felt, as I know so well today with Mr. Suit, those first hints that having him look at me was more than flattering, he was turning me on.  I would often arrive home from work, greet my boring ass husband with a kiss, and steal away to our bedroom to slowly remove my dress.  I can’t tell you how many times I would peel the cotton panties off my body (yes, I actually wore ‘granny panties’, lol) to find them moist.

Stirred from the remembrance of my moist panties, I hardly noticed Mr. Suit sitting across from me on his bench.  I wondered how long he had been watching me.  Much like the well rehearsed dance between my boss and me from years ago, Mr. Suit and I quickly slipped into our finely orchestrated dance on our respective benches.  The exception today was the egg inside me and my finger on the remote, hidden under the news paper laid across my lap.

Mr. Suit was not going to receive his view of my pantie-less leg crossing, today he was going to witness my orgasms that I had, up to that point, enjoyed while fantasying as I touched myself in front of my mirror; oh, what a beautiful discovery that was! – watching myself!  I could feel his eyes riveted on my now hard nipples, the flimsy material of my blouse not even remotely hiding how aroused I was.  Within less than a minute of turning the egg on the lowest setting, I quietly climaxed.  I knew he was aware of something different; perhaps it was the flush I felt as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

I repeated this exercise two more times, each time increasing the intensity of the egg, and each time I looked up long enough to see him squirm on his bench, seeming to ‘adjust’ himself to the show I was putting on.  Finally, he stood to leave.  This time, as he turned slightly to smile back to me as he always does, I noticed the bulge in his pants.  After he was out of sight over the hill, I increased the intensity on the remote; my whole body shuddered one last time.

That afternoon, when I got home, I quickly removed my skirt, blouse, and heels.  It was then that I noticed the wet stain on my skirt where I was sitting.  I removed the egg, and put it and the remote in my dresser.

Midwest Farm Girl – My First Essay

Thank you soooo much Giselle for doing this sight and our amazing chat the other night!

Giselle asked me to post my ‘essay’…our chat realllly opened my eyes, and my mind!  OMG i really thought i was peverted for some of the things i was thinking.  After my chat with Giselle i learned that i wasn’t peverted at all.  i found her in this chat room (hah, the things i talk about in there, lol).  She was soooo nice.  She told me how cute and smart i am.  When i asked her what she did she said she said she had this blog that she was thinking of workubg from home doing cam shows.  i was like “huh?”  she gave me a link to her blog and told me how she does really sexual things on her laptop (she even has a computer just like mine with the camera).    i was like so amazed!  i’ve seen cams in chat rooms (even watched a few of them but most are gross).

She explained about what she did and funny thing is i was like really turned on.  Giselle wanted me to share my story so here it is:

i was braught up on a farm out in the middle of no where (no trees for miles!).  i suppose i had a normal life (well, normal for me, lol).  My mama has always been like this thorn in my side.  For as long as i can remember, my Daddy was always my hero.  He took me everywhere (im a lonely child).  i remember riding in his tractor a lot sitting on his lap sometimes he even let me stear!  Daddy would always let me do what i wanted but my mama was always up in my stuff.  We weren’t poor but if i ever wanted to do things like play on the computer i had to use a friends.  We had this piece of shit computer from like the 80’s or something that some of the keys would stick.  A couple years ago one of my girlfriends invited me over to her house and we visited sights that were like OMG.  When i got my grant money for college my Daddy took me to Springfield and got me this cute little laptop (hah it even has a camera built into it).   We even got high speed internet now since the cable runs right down our yard.  Now that i have my own computer my Mama leaves me alone and i do whatever i want and never leave my room.

As i got older and ya know more mature (u know boobs and such hehehe) i noticed men looking at me more.  Even my Daddy took a liking to me more than before it was like he wanted to spend more time with me like without mama around.  Aside from the idiot boys at school i noticed some of my male teachers were looking at me alot more to.  One day before mama had a chance to stop me i wore a super short skirt to school.  it was really to small like it was from the last year but i thought it was really cute.  i noticed when I sat down in the school bus it rode up really high on my thighs.  i remember feeling my panties actually touching the seat thats how high up it rose.  wouldn’t ya know my first class with my one male teacher i caught him looking at me more than he usually did.  i think i actually caught him trying to look up my skirt.  i thought what a freaking pevert!  Wierd thing was I felt warm all over kinda like the time my then dumb-ass boyfriend tried to slip his hand up my skirt.  God knows he was a stupid oger but i do remember what i felt like when he actually touched my (well, you know what, lol)

Thank god my mama wasn’t in the house when i got off the school bus that day   i ran upstairs and closed my bedroom door and locked it and pulled off my skirt.  i balled up it up and threw it in the back corner of my closet thinking i ain’t wearing that again.  i threw myself on my bed and the first thing that came to my mind was the feeling i had when i caught my teacher trying to look up my skirt.  Then i got to wondering if he saw anything.  i climbed into my closet and got my balled up skirt out of the corner and put it back on.  i grabbed my chair like it was my desk chair in school and sat on it in front of the mirror hanging off my closet door.  Just like when i was in school in his class i sat the same way.  i kinda remember i mighta tried to cross my legs but didnt for some reason and stopped.  I was sitting to close to the mirror to see anything so i moved the chair all the way back against my bedroom door thinking that as about as far as he would have been sitting (i always sit in the front row of all my classes seeing how i can’t read far away).  from where i was sitting with my skirt being so short i swear i could just about see my panties (i think they were pink that day).  Then i tried the crossing my legs thing – OH MY GOD – i could see my panties!  i felt myself get red in the face (wierd, huh, i was looking at myself, lol) – he prolly saw the same thing – my pink panties!  then i felt that same warmth rush over me.  i did it again slower this time and looking at my own pink panties i felt that exact same feeling when dumb ass oger touched me.

The following week when i knew mama was going to be out of the house first thing in the morning i tore outta my room and down the stairs and out the front door wearing that same skirt.  That day in my front row seat with my (voyeuristic?) teacher watching i spent nearly the entire class crossing my legs – real slow!   It was all i could do that day to get home run up to my room lock the door and touch my wet panties!

Thank you again Giselle – you’re the best!