Film At Eleven

A lot of women have walked in on me as I perform these ablutions; seldom do any walk out before I'm finished. In fact, they will usually sidle up to the sink next to mine and busily wash their hands--for several minutes--while I bathe my breasts, darting quick, sidelong glances at my naked bosom as they do so. Some try to initiate a conversation. "Did you spill something?" they'll ask. I just look at them and smile. Others are even more direct. They will stare openly at me; after a few moments, they will offer a compliment, saying "You have lovely breasts." I'm honored by their praise, of course, but I don't encourage them except to smile or say "thanks." I don't have anything against genetic girls, but I prefer guys and, frankly, most women who come on to me in the ladies' room are likely to be lesbians. If they are, they're interested in women who have cunts, not cocks and balls, between their legs. I definitely enjoy their stares and their comments, though. If the bolder lesbians persist beyond their initial compliment, I usually just say, "I'm flattered by your interest, but I'm not into other women myself." They get the message.

Trying on clothes is a great way to get completely naked. Some stores' dressing rooms are equipped with curtains, rather than doors, and these changing booths provide an extra thrill, since another customer or a sales clerk could easily see me undressing or undressed--especially if I "mistakenly" leave a sizeable part in the curtain, as, naturally, I am careful always to do. (I face away from the curtain or stand sideways, so my ass, or both my tits and my ass, can be displayed without my also revealing my genitals.) On more than one occasion, a young woman has stared at me, her eyes wide and her mouth agape, before muttering an apology. I always smile understandingly and say, "No harm done." Most women never suspect that my show is deliberate.

Only the most naive man or woman would suppose that dressing rooms are not kept under constant surveillance by a security guard seated behind a bank of closed-circuit TV monitors in a back room.