Look Mister - No Clothes!

The man walking along the quiet, tree-lined suburban street eyed appreciatively the smiling young woman walking towards him.

Hands thrust deep into the pockets of her light-coloured mac, long fair hair bobbing gently about her shoulders, she presented a provocative picture of youthful health and vitality, and obviously hadn't a care in the world.

When she was within a few yards of the man, she smiled directly at him. The man smiled back, his hand rising automatically to tip his hat. It never reached it. Instead, his gait faltered, the hand stopped in mid-air, his features froze in a look of utter incredulity as, without removing her hands from her pockets, the smiling girl flicked her mac wide open to reveal startling nudity.

The flabbergasted man had a clear view of gently bobbing breasts, slim hips and twinkling thighs as the girl walked quickly past. Then she snapped her mac shut, hurried to the nearest corner and disappeared out of sight.

It may seem incredible that such a thing should happen in mid-morning on a city street, but it is nevertheless true. Nor was the girl's action the result of a bet. Exposing herself to a casual passer-by was something she did quite regularly — and still does — though not always walking along the street.

Exhibitionism is a strong female trait, but it would appear on the surface that female 'flashers' are far outnumbered by their male counterparts. Almost every week we read cases of males exposing themselves to children and women; only very seldom do we hear of a female doing the same thing.

The reason for this should be fairly obvious; hardly any male would complain of being afforded an illicit view of naked femininity. And few female exhibitionists expose themselves to children. Their 'victims' are invariably adult — or reasonably adult — males.

Usually the female who exposes her whole body to male eyes chooses somewhere safer than the street. Safer from her point of view that is, for the object of the exhibitionist is to tease without being touched. She obtains her sexual thrills from being looked at. Actual physical contact of any kind would spoil the whole thing for her.

Typical of this sort of exhibitionist is the pantieless girl who mounts the stairs of a bus immediately ahead of a man, intending him to look up her skirt and knowing full well he is doing so. She feels safe because she knows quite well that in such a public place the tormented victim would not dare reach up and actually touch the deliciously-rounded bottom bared so provokingly to his gaze.

If he should sit beside her and attempt to open a conversation, she simply moves to another seat, and that usually attracts enough attention from the other passengers to keep all but the most ardent male anchored to his own seat.

Should he follow her off the bus to press his attentions, she has only to threaten to call a policeman for the frustrated victim to depart with alacrity, if he has any sense. For there is no law that says a girl cannot go knickerless, so long as she does not deliberately expose herself. And who is to say she has done so?

'You can see, but you can't touch,' seems to be the maxim of the female exhibitionist, most of whom show no concern at all for the feelings of their victims. Typical comment from one exhibitionist: 'If it upsets them they shouldn't look, should they?'

This was the problem of one middle-aged commuter on London's Underground. Every morning a young, ravishing brunette took the seat opposite him — indeed, she seemed to do so deliberately, even when other seats were vacant — and relaxing, allowed her knees to fall well apart, apparently unconsciously affording the man a view of her panties stretched tightly over her crotch.

Morning after morning the male commuter gazed longingly at her lovely long legs, imagining he could see the outline of her sex, and getting an embarrassing erection. He knew the girl was watching him, but didn't dare catch her eye.

Every morning a different coloured patch was displayed to the commuter's avid gaze, and he mentally complimented her on her hygiene while cursing the person who invented tights. He fantasised on her legs, imagining them bare, knees bent and far apart and himself kissing and caressing those deliciously long thighs.

And it was as if the girl read his thoughts.

One never to be forgotten morning, she sat down opposite him, gave a little twitch to her skirt, then began reading a magazine which she held in front of her face.

Gradually, her knees began to part. The man watched with baited breath as more and more of her thighs were revealed. Suddenly his heart leaped. She was wearing stockings. Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, a margin of smooth white thigh was revealed.

The girl's legs continued to part. Soon the whole expanse of ivory skin was displayed to his feverish gaze, and he shifted his briefcase to hide a powerful erection.

Her face hidden behind her magazine, the girl seemed totally unaware that she was sinking fractionally lower in her seat to display her panties.

But this morning no tight triangle of colour presented itself. Her thighs seemed to continue forever, and there, fully displayed, was her sex, adorned with a small, but beautiful, bush of hair!

The dark-haired girl remained like that for several minutes. Then she slowly lowered her magazine and looked her victim full in the face, as though to see the effect she was having on him. She made no move to shut off the sight of her secret flesh for several more minutes, when the train pulled into her station.

When she got up to leave, the victim rushed excitedly after her and attempted to introduce himself. Her reaction was terse and pointed, and not very lady-like. Then she hurried away, leaving her tormented victim staring after her.

He saw her many times after that, but she always deliberately avoided his compartment.

Few female exhibitionists are able to state clearly why they tease men for sexual thrills. The younger ones invariably dismiss their own actions either as 'a bit of fun', or by transferring guilt to their victim. Few accept that they are constitutionally exhibitionist, preferring to believe they are hitting back at males who ogle them through the male libido.

Typical of this type of exhibitionist is Linda, a 19 year old secretary who says: 'All the men in my office strip me with their eyes when I walk through, so I wear tight sweaters and skirts and wiggle my bum a bit. I know darned well the effect it's having on them — they'd just love the chance to have me. But they can't, can they?'

Whilst recognising the males' adoration of her sex, Linda feels safe and superior to her victims. She also realises the situation is open to unusual sexual thrills, and allows her own erotic feelings to run riot. Although she professes contempt for the males she now works with, were she removed to another office she would behave in exactly the same way.

It is not generally understood by the female exhibitionists male victims that she is deriving as much sexual satisfaction from exposing herself as she would from coitus. The male who is able to approach his tormentor views her exhibitionism as an invitation to have sexual intercourse. A rebuff leaves him bewildered... and if he has been exposed to a particularly erotic display for a lengthy period, frustrated.

One young man whose bedroom window overlooked that of two female flatmates noticed that one girl was very diligent about closing their bedroom curtains, the other much less so. He confesses to playing the role of Peeping Tom for several evenings, with but little reward, until one Friday evening when he was sitting listening to a Beethoven concerto in his own darkening room and the light suddenly snapped on in the bedroom across the way.

He could see the less diligent girl, a lovely red-head in her mid-twenties, moving about the room. Beethoven was instantly forgotten as he watched her fussing with the already made bed, before going to the mirror and studying her reflection.

'She was wearing a dark green dress,' the young man remembers, 'and standing there, her hair shining like burnished copper under the room light, she was a vision of loveliness. She came to the window and looked out, and I could see her only from the waist up.

'While I watched, she reached both hands behind her and unzipped the dress, then slipped it off. She had no bra. Her breasts were smallish and firm-looking, their nipples small and pointed. She massaged them casually, as if glad to be free of restrictions, and it was a mind-blowing experience to watch those white breasts being pressed together, pulled apart, cupped and lifted, then gently caressed as if she was proud of them and the feel of them gave her deep pleasure.

'She left the window to hang her dress in the wardrobe, on the far side of the bed. I could see nearly all of her now. She had on a pair of white panties and nothing else. Keeping her back to me, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband, bent and slipped them off, affording me a long view of her beautiful white bottom. Then she turned and stepped up onto the bed, and I could see all of her, from the top of her beautiful red-head to the tips of her little white toes!

'She stayed like that for several minutes, just staring at the window, as if trying to see me and my reaction. She couldn't of course, and I didn't dare move for fear of putting her off. Then she turned her head quickly, as if she'd heard something, and sprang off the bed and hurriedly drew the curtains.

'I knew quite well the whole thing had been for my sole benefit, and naturally I was eager to try and make it with her. So next morning I watched for her to come out of the house, darted across the road and said 'Hello'. She looked right through me and cut me dead!

'The most annoying thing is, she never again performed that private striptease for me. I wish now I hadn't approached her, because then I think she might well have done so. Perhaps many times.'

She may well have done so, but not understanding the psychology of the female exhibitionist, the young man had made her feel vulnerable. The exhibitionist lives in a secret world of her own making, a world in which she sees herself as superior to her male victim. If the victim approaches her, that world is in danger of being penetrated. The victim is no longer a victim but a willing accessory, and exhibitionists derive no sexual thrill from exhibiting themselves to accessories.

The exhibitionist's greatest thrill comes when she is able to watch the effect she is having on her victim, while at the same time knowing she is safe from any physical contact. At least one girl has developed her own particular brand of exhibitionism to a fine art, subjects her male victims to a refined sort of torture, and, by applying her own vivid imagination to the situation, is even able to bring herself to orgasm with no physical contact whatsoever.

Doreen, an ex-photographic model, is 24 and lives with her parents in a seaside town in the south. She lived in London for a number of years until, she says, 'I became tired of the rat race. Modelling isn't as glamorous as most people think. At least, not for the model it isn't. You're out of work half the time, and when you've got work the pay isn't stupendous. You can count the top models on one hand, and they only stay at the top for a very short time. I got sick of either worrying myself ill wondering where the next job was coming from, or half killing myself rushing from job to job so as to earn enough money to tide me over the bad times. So I chucked it and came home.

'I've always been an exhibitionist. If I wasn't I would hardly have posed for nudie calendars, would I? I'm probably over-sexed too. I had scores of boyfriends in London. I made it with most of them, and I loved it.

'What I didn't like, though, was the way some of them treated me. I hate the sort of bloke who thinks every girl is an easy lay. There are a lot of these bastards around, believe me. If I knew a guy was like that, I'd spend the whole evening deliberately teasing him and getting him all worked up, then I would go off and leave him flat.

'That's how all this started, I suppose, because sometimes I found myself getting sexually excited too.

'One of these guys was a photographer named Neil. He offered me some advertising work, movie and stills, on a seaside location — a sort of Aphrodite in a yellow bikini rising from the English Channel. Neil told me to provide my own bikini, and it had to be yellow and as small and tight as propriety would allow. Remember, this was early summer and the beach we used semi-public.

'I'll skip details of the photographic session, but I will say that bikini was the closest thing possible to being non-existent. The tiny half-cups only half covered my breasts, and my nipples protruded like two fat buds under the thin material; the panties were no more than two tiny triangular pieces that sat very low across the tops of my thighs and were held together at the sides by a pair of brass rings.

'Obviously it was the sort of bikini one wasn't supposed to get wet, because after I'd been in and out of the sea a few times it became transparent, and then the effect was absolutely devastating!

'It wasn't until Neil suddenly said, 'God, girl, you look great!' with an unusual depth of feeling, that I looked down at myself. The bikini cleaved to my body like a second skin, the bra merely compressing and lifting my breasts just enough to emphasise them, my prominent, dark-red nipples showing clearly through the transparent material, while further down the dark bulge of my pubic mount was clearly displayed.

'I could see the effect this was having on both Neil and his assistant. He said we'd done enough for the day, and suggested we eat the packed lunches we'd brought and spend the rest of the afternoon sunbathing. Then Neil and the assistant both stripped down to their shorts and we all stretched out on the hot sand.

'I knew Neil wanted me just from the way he kept looking at me, and I began to feel a little sexy myself. Although the other people sharing our beach were a short distance off, they were too close for us to do anything about it. Then I remembered what sort of guy Neil really was, and decided to tease him right out of his mind. As a preliminary, I turned onto my stomach and unfastened my bra.

'Neil opened a can of lager. I asked for one, and when he opened it, rolled onto my side and reached out, exposing the whole of one breast to him. When his hand moved towards it, I dropped flat again and pressed both breasts hard into the sand, then turned my head and chatted unconcernedly with Neil's assistant lying on my other side.

'He was younger and less experienced than Neil, and already I could discern an interesting bulge in his pale-blue shorts. Lying near-nude between two men, both of whom desired me, filled my mind with all sorts of erotic images and started my imagination working overtime. I was keenly aware of the effect the sand's friction was having on my sensitive nipples; I could feel them swelling and standing right out of their bases. Deliberately shifting position, I treated Neil's assistant to a full view of one, and was rewarded by seeing the bulge in his shorts grow noticeably bigger.

By now I felt as sexy as hell. But I didn't want either of the men to have me. I was getting a whale of a thrill just from watching them want me.

Turning back to Neil, I went right over onto my side, letting my bikini fall completely away and giving him a full view of my body. Then, remarking 'This sand gets everywhere, doesn't it?' I raised one knee and pretended to brush the inside of my thigh.

Neil stared at my exposed sex as if he wanted to eat it. He didn't dare touch me with so many people about, and I watched the bulge in his shorts growing and growing, and suddenly I felt myself moistening. I thought, if I keep this up I'll bring myself off whether they touch me or not! And wondered if that was actually possible.

I continued teasing each man in turn, using the same technique, brushing imaginary sand from my breasts and making them bobble, exposing my vagina every time I brushed my thighs. Once Neil suggested we go for a swim. I refused because there were few people in the water, and I knew what would happen when he got me out there.

All the time I was teasing them, their reactions were exciting me to such an extent I could feel the heat growing in my private parts, and little spasms, not unlike tiny orgasms, tickled my vagina. I knew I was on the very brink of real orgasm, and I rolled onto my stomach, pressed my pelvis hard into the warm sand, and suddenly it came — a really strong climax that made me thrust against the earth and bite my lips to keep from moaning.

I shifted around immediately, pretending I was uncomfortable, so the men wouldn't notice what had happened. I didn't feel like teasing them any more, and when they saw I'd lost interest in that particular game Neil suggested we pack up and go home.

He did try to get me into his studio, but I wasn't interested. I did quite a few jobs for him afterwards, and sometimes teased him when other people were around, but I never let him have me.

'I still tease men, usually on the beach. I don't get an orgasm every time, it depends a great deal on the particular circumstances, but I can bring myself off when I really try.'

Not too long ago it would have seemed incredible that anyone could achieve a sexual climax without any form of physical contact at all. Nowadays psychiatrists, sexologists and criminologists all testify that 'sympathetic orgasm' is more prevalent than the layman would ever credit.

Sex is often a state of mind rather than a condition of the body, and any normally healthy person can will themselves to want sex without initial physical stimulation. The average person does, however, need further stimulation — either with a partner or through masturbation — to reach orgasm. The basic difference in this respect between the ordinary female and the exhibitionist is that the latter does not want sexual intercourse with the man she is exhibiting herself to, though she may very well want to have intercourse with her husband or boyfriend immediately afterwards.

Perhaps more puzzling to sexologists than the female exhibitionist is the girl who walks the streets naked under her mac or topcoat yet does not exhibit her body to anyone.

She derives her sexual thrill simply from knowing she is nude in public, even though her nudity is a secret from the people about her.

Sometimes things go wrong for this type of girl, the skirt of her coat snags a bush, a strategic button breaks off, and the girl becomes a 'flasher' involuntarily.

Imagination and fantasy play some part in all our sex lives, but imagination is all these girls have to depend on for sexual thrills. They are deprived of the satisfaction of watching a victim's reaction because there is no tangible victim.