Exhibitionists for the Voyeur
A true story in her words
Romance, Erotica, Erotic Photography, Taboo, Erotica Shorts
| Author: | Marie Boone | ISBN: | 1230000292104 |
| Publisher: | Marie Boone | Publication: | January 18, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Marie Boone |
| ISBN: | 1230000292104 |
| Publisher: | Marie Boone |
| Publication: | January 18, 2015 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
We have both always been very highly sexually motivated!
The longer we spent together, the more in tandem we moved together.
Our photos outside continued for some time but along with that, we would often take trips into Central London and just walk around. Of course you know from what you have been reading that wasn’t all of it, I mean just walking around and window shopping the clothes and gift shops don’t you?!
No, in the summer months especially when we didn’t have to be concerned about keeping warm, I would wear small crop tops and of course the most revealing miniskirts.
Skirts short enough to cover what they needed to but enough to get a cheeky glimpse of my buttock cheeks. Short enough for Al to comfortably touch my bottom and a sneaky touch of my bare flesh at the tipple of the bottom of the skirt when his hand progressed southward.
Flowing skirts that would display a purposely orchestrated wardrobe malfunction as the wind blew up. No-one wore a shorter skirt than me.
Tight skirts that would leave his (and possibly other guys) imaginations to run away with them.
We liked this, it gave us a thrill. It made us both happy in our own way.
I liked to feel sexy, and know that I was making Al happy, teasing and feeding his appetite at the same time. I felt young and somewhat mischievous.
On one occasion we were walking through Piccadilly and a taxi driver was looking at me as he was driving through the traffic. He wasn’t paying attention to the road because he was far too busy looking at my legs or my skirt or my cleavage or maybe all of it, I really couldn’t tell you but the next thing was, we heard a screech of tyres. He had almost kerbed his car into a lamp-post. (No joke, he really almost did)!
As we looked over to assess the state of affairs, we noticed the driver was definitely not looking over in our direction anymore and sheepishly and embarrassingly correcting his steering and swiftly driving his cab away.
Thankfully there was no damage but hopefully now he will pay more attention to the road ahead.
Al usually noticed men looking at me as if he was equipped with radar and could detect their sonar. He didn’t mind, he was aware, being a bloke himself that others would and did very often look or even stare at me when I was out attired as I was. Though not too many almost crashed their cars in doing so.
We have both always been very highly sexually motivated!
The longer we spent together, the more in tandem we moved together.
Our photos outside continued for some time but along with that, we would often take trips into Central London and just walk around. Of course you know from what you have been reading that wasn’t all of it, I mean just walking around and window shopping the clothes and gift shops don’t you?!
No, in the summer months especially when we didn’t have to be concerned about keeping warm, I would wear small crop tops and of course the most revealing miniskirts.
Skirts short enough to cover what they needed to but enough to get a cheeky glimpse of my buttock cheeks. Short enough for Al to comfortably touch my bottom and a sneaky touch of my bare flesh at the tipple of the bottom of the skirt when his hand progressed southward.
Flowing skirts that would display a purposely orchestrated wardrobe malfunction as the wind blew up. No-one wore a shorter skirt than me.
Tight skirts that would leave his (and possibly other guys) imaginations to run away with them.
We liked this, it gave us a thrill. It made us both happy in our own way.
I liked to feel sexy, and know that I was making Al happy, teasing and feeding his appetite at the same time. I felt young and somewhat mischievous.
On one occasion we were walking through Piccadilly and a taxi driver was looking at me as he was driving through the traffic. He wasn’t paying attention to the road because he was far too busy looking at my legs or my skirt or my cleavage or maybe all of it, I really couldn’t tell you but the next thing was, we heard a screech of tyres. He had almost kerbed his car into a lamp-post. (No joke, he really almost did)!
As we looked over to assess the state of affairs, we noticed the driver was definitely not looking over in our direction anymore and sheepishly and embarrassingly correcting his steering and swiftly driving his cab away.
Thankfully there was no damage but hopefully now he will pay more attention to the road ahead.
Al usually noticed men looking at me as if he was equipped with radar and could detect their sonar. He didn’t mind, he was aware, being a bloke himself that others would and did very often look or even stare at me when I was out attired as I was. Though not too many almost crashed their cars in doing so.
