Car Park Exhibition

I posted some pictures with last week's blog which although they didn’t relate to the words I thought were quite sexy, showing me flashing beside a major trunk road. The kick I get from exhibiting myself is huge, an adrenaline pump, like rock climbing perhaps. But like that, the need is always to do something more difficult, more daring. So I decided to try something outrageous.

It wasn’t something I’d do in my own town. I don’t know many people socially, but most of my clients are based in or around the town, and running into one of them while somewhat exposed was something to be avoided.

My need was urgent. I couldn’t wait for the weekend and as my workload was not too heavy I decided to take an afternoon off.

I was just about to send an internal note to let everyone know I’d be out when my boss came hurrying in.

“You particularly busy Tracy?”

I could hardly say yes given I was just about to skive off for half a day, so admitted, “No, not really.”

“Excellent. Gordy (Peter Gordon’s nickname, one of the other managers) phoned in sick this morning, now we’ve had an urgent call from one of his clients which I think needs handling by a manager.” He went on to explain the problem and I could see why he didn’t want to send a ‘lower rank’. Bugger, there goes my afternoon of erotic fun I thought. Funny how things work out.

I phoned the client, explained who I was and they filled in more detail of their problem. The woman I spoke to, one of the two owners of the business sounded concerned so rather than deal with the issue at arm's length I said I’d drive over to discuss it in person which she was grateful for.

I did wonder after I’d put the phone down if my subconscious had played a part in that offer. Who knows.

I took the file my boss had left, picked up my coat, and went down to the car.

Holly (the director) had said to give her time to sort out some other matters before I arrived so my mind went to the possibility of a little flashing. Not what I’d had in mind originally, but something at least to relieve my need.

The thought of what I had been going to do had made me hot since I’d thought of it and although I needed to shelve that idea I was still on heat. I got to the car and took my knickers off. I’d driven knickerless before. I’d spent a day in the office knickerless, but I’d never conducted a meeting with a client knickerless. I hoped it wouldn’t affect my thought processes.

The car park has a fairly busy footpath running behind it and there’s hardly a time when there isn’t at least one person walking by. That day of course was an exception, the foul weather dissuading people from walking anywhere. I needed to be seen though. I stood where I could be spotted from the path but hidden from the office windows. My knickers had descended to my knees when a middle-aged woman obliged by walking by. So many people are so unobservant but she noticed. She stared as I made no attempt to hide stepping out of my black bikini knickers. Not that anything else was on display, my skirt hem descended close behind my knickers. As I stepped out of them I waved them at her and smiled. Her look was a mixture of puzzlement and… I was going to say disgust, but that’s too strong, more distaste ‘what a slut’. I’m finding it’s the common reaction amongst women of that age group, north of my age, caused perhaps by jealousy? Whatever the reason parading myself in front of women like that and eliciting that sort of reaction is a turn-on. Is that bad? (Answers on a postcard to…) The thrill is not so great as watching a man be turned on by spying on me, but nevertheless a good feeling.

I did momentarily think of taking my skirt off too but I had no idea of the parking situation at my clients so decided not to risk it.

I got in the car and as I did so hitched my skirt up above my waist. Such a gorgeous feeling of freedom. The mere act of doing that caused a little seepage.

The client's office was on the outskirts of town in a large multi-occupancy office building. The route meant going through the centre with its attendant traffic. Normally a source of irritation but I hoped for lots of stop-start motoring! I checked my watch. Yes, plenty of time to spare.

As it turned out I was disappointed. The traffic flowed, all sets of traffic lights seemed to be in my favour and pedestrians were in short supply. I think a couple of men did catch a glimpse, but by the time I arrived, I was feeling very frustrated.

The office block is fairly new and has a secure car park with security manning the entrance in the basement.

The security guard! What a boring job. Perhaps I could brighten his day. Should I or shouldn’t I? My skirt was still around my waist. Would word get out? Would he tell my clients? Would I start to get an undesirable reputation? I doubted it. I felt confident the guard would keep it to himself. If he didn’t, I’d argue that he was telling porkies or exaggerating and that my skirt had simply ridden up a bit on my drive.

I’m glad I left it. As I pulled up at his kiosk a very bored Middle Eastern looking man turned to me saying in stilted English, “Good morning, do you have an appoin…” His brain caught up with his eyes! When I’d got in the car I’d hoisted the back of my skirt up so I wasn’t sitting on it so there was no way I could easily pull it down now even if I wanted to. Which I most decidedly didn’t. He had a clear view of everything. Even so, I widened the gap between my knees to make sure. I told him who I was visiting and he directed me to a parking spot and added directions to the access to the building. Three times. Very thorough in ensuring I understood. I managed to keep an innocent look on my face but inwardly I had a huge smile. I could imagine his cock straining to get out of the confines of his trousers. After all, I don’t suppose he was gifted the view of many women's pussies as they drove in. I do so enjoy bringing joy to people's lives!

He decided giving me directions a fourth time was overkill and that reluctantly he’d have to let me go. I envisaged a king-sized wanking session for him.

Whether he’d decided on my parking spot deliberately or it was serendipity. I didn’t know, but he still had a view of my car and a clear line of sight to my driver's door. I couldn’t disappoint him. The space next to mine was empty so I pushed the door wide and swung my right leg out. I doubted he could see much more than he’d drooled over when I was at his kiosk as I stepped out but I loved the slutty feeling of getting out so inelegantly. My skirt was a fairly tight pencil skirt and I knew it wouldn’t fall down of its own accord. I ignored him, pretending to be unaware he was able to see me and made a performance of adjusting my suspenders before pulling my skirt down. I leaned back in the car to get my bag and the file when a thought hit me. Did I dare? Was that a step too far given he knew who I was? I glanced at my watch. I had time. No excuse there not to do it. Haven’t I told all you readers I was aching to do this? Go the extra mile? No, I’m not talking about fucking him. I’m talking about peeing in public. Being watched. I could squat down near the bonnet. There was a restricted line of sight to that spot. It just happened to include his kiosk. As the thought thundered through my head I knew I had no choice. If I didn’t do it I’d be livid with myself.

I put my bag and file on the car roof, closed the door, went to the front of the car, turned to face the kiosk, and pulled my skirt up to my waist again. I was going to squat but decided he’d get a better view if I remained standing. I parted my legs, and tried not to look at the guard but keep him in my peripheral vision. He was looking. No doubt. I was too far away to see his expression but hardly needed to, to know what it would be.

The stream started. Oh god! The sensation! Totally wanton. Totally sluttish. The act made my body tremor. Made me inwardly groan. An orgasmic feeling. I hadn’t planned on doing this and had been to the loo before I left my office so there wasn’t a huge amount but it was the act that counts. Isn’t it? It did go on for longer than I thought it would but I wished it could have gone on forever. Another sensation to add to the ever growing list of feelings that turn me on to the nth degree. I swear if he’d come out of his kiosk and approached me I’d have let him have me. But he didn’t. The flow stopped. I found a tissue and wiped myself. Only one tiny problem. I was now steaming. I needed to at the very least finger myself off. There though? Yes, yes, yes, my libido screamed at me. Let him watch you. Could I? More to the point could I not? God, I had a meeting to attend. No way could I concentrate on anything feeling as I did. I had no choice. The car park was still empty apart from my watcher. I leant back against the car and pushed my hand up and into my cunt. My soaking wet cunt. My finger had hardly entered when I came. Never, ever, had it happened so fast. My head went back, I called out “Oh, god! Fuck fuck.” or some such thing! My breathing was as if I’d just run a mile. I needed to focus. Bring myself under control. I glanced at the kiosk. The man was staring. Smiling. No, leering. I wondered what state his trousers might be in. Perhaps I’d ask him on the way out. For now, I had to change persona. Get back to being that professional woman and sort out my client’s problem.

At least I’d had the experience I’d wanted. And without wasting a half day of holiday!