Film At Eleven

The rest of us know better, and this knowledge makes stripping for a hidden camera sexy and fun for an exhibitionist like me. I imagine some fat fucker in a cum-stained T-shirt, with his tongue out as he salivates like one of Pavlov's dogs, masturbating while he watches me show him my tits, my ass, and my cock and balls. In my mind's-eye, I see him pumping his fist up and down on his stiff, swollen cock, faster and faster and harder and harder, as he thinks about kissing me, squeezing my tits, flicking my nipples, and thrusting his prick into my girlish ass.

When he ejaculates, spewing his thick, warm, white seed all over the monitor, he probably imagines he's deep inside my rectum. In removing my blouse and stepping out of my skirt, I can feel his eyes on me, even though he's watching me from afar, over a closed circuit. Sometimes, confident that he can't report me without revealing the store's surveillance, I cup a breast in my hands, caress and squeeze it, tweak and pinch its nipple, and circle its areola with one hand while I masturbate with my other hand, working the taut flesh back and forth and up and down upon the stiff, standing shaft of my trembling prick, pausing now and then to rub and squeeze my balls through the tight pouch of my risen scrotum. I'll continue, sometimes, until I shoot, spewing semen against the door or one of the walls of, best of all, the full-length mirror in which I watch myself being watched.

Another way to show off is to rip one's clothes. Whenever I decide to do this, I wear an old, inexpensive dress--something expendable. Instead of taking the bus, I drive, making sure I close the car door on my dress as I exit the vehicle. The fabric tears, and I act surprised and embarrassed to have shown the world my breasts, cock, balls, and ass. Usually, I hesitate, as if I don't know what to do, before trying to dash back inside my car. Of course, I make sure I've locked the doors, so I can't get back inside immediately. Then, I must find my purse, which I've not only dropped but flung away from me when my dress ripped from my body, struggle to open it, frantically look for my keys (taking a long time to find them), and, after another long delay, finally succeed in unlocking the door and getting into the car.