This is yet another of my escapades that went kind of wrong, maybe not as potentially bad as the “dress stuck in the car door in the car park” adventure had been, but nevertheless it still caused me some embarrassment.
It happened not long after the car park episode, about two or three weeks, actually. I had to go into town for some items for that evening’s dinner, and so, as I had a half-day booked, I took full advantage of the chance for a nice, relaxed browse around the shops. So off I went.
The local shopping centre is built as a sprawling complex, some of it under cover, while some is outside with alleyways and concourses between the different sections. Sort of like a maze if you’ve not been in there before, but of all the places, this has the most variety of shops, etc. I already had an idea of what I wanted and had a shoulder bag with me to carry it all in.
The floor in the shopping precinct (I’ll call it a mall, although it’s a bit too grand a name for it) was of a stone type, like marble, and my heels were clicking loudly, echoing all around as I walked along the store fronts.
I called into a couple of shops and bought a few items, and as I left one shop, some kids ran past. They were being chased by a security guard, but were rapidly leaving him behind.
Everybody watched, as crowds do, making no attempt to stop the kids, but paused and then continued on, myself included. I assumed these kids were just young shoplifters caught red-handed and running for it. I was later to find out just what they were up to, to my own cost!
On this particular day, I was wearing a skirt and blouse. The blouse was a cream, button-up, collarless, long-sleeve type. The skirt was black and about knee-length. I needed this length as I had my stockings on with a garter belt too (hold-ups I don’t trust).
When I had got dressed, I hadn’t planned on wearing anything too revealing. I do actually lead a normal life, except when I get that wicked streak for fun getting the better of me.
My shoes were black suede court shoes with a four-inch heel. I always feel smart and sexy in this type of shoe, so it isn’t unusual for me to be seen in them.
While walking back the way the kids had run, I saw some people gathered around a couple of women who looked a bit upset, so, not really wanting to be nosey, I walked on by. But I did hear them saying things like “attacked by youths” and “assaulted”, obviously something to do with the running kids I saw.
After maybe an hour of wandering the mall, I stopped at one of the cafés dotted about the place and was enjoying a coffee and a slice of cake, watching the world walk by. Idly tracing circles on my knee, feeling the nylon under my fingertips, I suddenly felt that “wicked streak” hit me. I got that hot rush of sexual energy that accompanies it.
I’m sure you know what I’m talking about here. So, forgetting my cake, I began to plan out something to relieve that tension and spice up my day a bit using the things I had at hand before I had to go back to the office.
Only, what to do?
I wasn’t wearing panties, which isn’t that uncommon for me, as it’s very comfortable, and I thought maybe a flash to a stranger would be fun. Flashing my bum is so much easier than my breasts, as I can cover up reasonably quickly with a skirt, and doing up a blouse takes time. But the skirt I had on was a little tight to lift up, flash, and let go, and make it all look natural.
So, I thought about it and came to the conclusion that my credit card would have to save the day.
I soon found the skirt I decided to purchase in a sports shop: a wraparound type tying at the hip. The best way to describe it would be to say it resembled a gymslip. The skirt came to mid-thigh, allowing me two inches of cover between the stocking tops and hemline — plenty of tolerance so long as I didn’t do anything too drastic, which I didn’t plan on doing until the right moment.
I paid for it and changed in a dressing room, and put my original skirt in my shoulder bag.
Before leaving, I checked myself in the mirror and liked what I saw too. I have long legs and am very slim, and with the heels I had on and the short skirt, my legs looked really long now. Clad as they were in black stockings, I felt really feminine and sexy.
I must admit a few heads turned as I walked out of the shop into the main concourse. The feeling of the hem swishing against the back of my thighs felt so good, and my senses began to kick into overdrive as I walked around trying to look casual, yet humming inside with the sexual tension.
I was aware of eyes following me as I walked around various shops and establishments, but I needed something to really give me a boost to push me fully into “flash mode”, and I spent maybe half an hour wandering about in shops, etc.
I decided to leave this level and walk around the galleries above, walking close to the railings to afford people below a flash of an up-skirt view. I even stopped and stood with my back to the railing, presenting myself to all and sundry below.
But for some reason, the chemistry wasn’t there for me today. OK, it was nice, but I was beginning to cool off and thought about calling it a day when I spied the perfect setup.
I’d gotten to this level via a long ramp for prams, but there was also the choice of long escalators to get to and from this level. This was my target.
I walked back down the ramp and strolled to the bottom of the up escalator and sat at a convenient bench, waiting for “Mr Right” to come along.
After about three or four minutes, I was now well and truly hot, and I sat trembling in anticipation of what was to come.
Looking up the approach path, I spied my victims: two student types, both in their late teens, but not much older. They both looked the “bookish” type rather than “Mr Macho with an attitude”.
My whole plan was to tease and excite and not appear to be looking for easy sex, which from past experience, the “Mr Macho” types have tried to grab and grope, thinking I’m theirs for the taking. But, on the other hand, the “bookish” types tend to stand there too stunned to move or do anything except maybe come in their pants, I hope!
I stood up and moved in front of them as they got onto the up escalator and walked up a couple of steps. I guessed by now my bum was about level with their faces, so to get their attention, I flipped my skirt a bit, turning sideways as I did to see if it had worked. Nope, not yet. I flipped it again, showing the stocking tops. One head snapped around — yep, got him that time — and he nudged the other, and I could almost feel the heat of their gaze on my bottom.
Turning back to face away from them, I slid my bag off my shoulder and bent at the waist, placing it on the step in front of me. I could feel the hem ride up at the back, lifting up, revealing stocking tops and white thighs above, and knew what they could now see.
I walked away from the two men casually, stopping now and then at various places and window-shopping, and from my backward glances, I knew I had them in tow, following about twenty feet behind and looking almost comical in their attempts to look elsewhere when I looked back.
I sat at a bench, choosing one that had another row opposite it on the other side of the concourse. My bench had the balcony behind it, and the others opposite backed up against a wall. I got a newspaper out from my bag and pretended to read it while watching as my admirers sat themselves on the opposite bench and began to talk, but with eyes always in my direction.
I was now in my element and loving it. I couldn’t have hoped for a more accommodating pair. They were prepared to sit and look and not try to touch or interfere with me in any way. I felt at ease with this too, and so I slowly crossed my legs, making sure in the process that plenty of stocking top was flashed but stayed in sight as I finished the move.
I was watching them from the corner of my eye and noticed conversation stopped as I began moving, but elbows began to nudge instead, like they actually needed to tell each other what they were seeing!
I stood in front of them and folded my arms under my breasts, holding my elbows, with the bag over my shoulder, and just looked down at them. Not a foot from them, my feet were placed between their own; I was that close.
I shifted my weight onto one leg and waited for them to notice me. One finally did and very sheepishly looked up at my face. He was so nervous. The other looked up and acknowledged me too. I smiled, and they just about collapsed with relief that I wasn’t about to rip into them or something.
I leant down and placed my head between theirs and whispered in their ears, “Was I showing very much?”
One of them stammered back, “Er, yes, quite a bit actually, but we—”
Before he could begin to offer excuses, etc., I interrupted him and said, “Did you like what you saw?”
“Er, yes. It was very nice.”
I said, “Thanks. You’re both very sweet.”
I stood upright and felt I’d gone too far with them, but they seemed happy and content with my response, and I didn’t get any danger signals warning me to get away from them.
I had calmed down a bit now. The pecks on the cheeks had “defused” me, so I waited for them to say something, but one of those awful pregnant pauses seemed to be there, and we began to feel uncomfortable. One then asked if I’d like a coffee or something, but I relaxed again and said, “Thanks, fellas, but I really must be going.”
Now remember those brats I saw earlier? Well, they were back. As I turned to walk away from the men, about six of them came barrelling around the corner, running and shouting. Everybody looked in their direction, and I saw first-hand what they were up to.
They were running behind girls and women and grabbing handfuls of skirt and lifting them up really high. I saw two ladies get this treatment and a third about to get it. Then I saw one of the little turds lock eyes with me and knew I would be next.
He ran towards me and made a grab, but I managed to avoid it by shoving him away. But one of his mates made a grab for my skirt and got hold of it, and I felt it ripped up quickly as he ran by.
I was watching them run along the concourse and get another couple of women when I felt my own skirt slither down my legs, unwinding itself as it did. I froze for a second, and before I had time to think about it, I just sat down on the bench, jamming myself between my two new friends, sliding my bare bum between them, and thrust my bag on my lap, covering my stocking tops, and just sat there in shock, frozen to the seat.
My mind was numbed for the moment, but slowly I began to gather my thoughts. The cold marble I was sitting on and cooling my bottom helped somewhat!
I leant forward and looked on the floor in front of me at my skirt lying on the ground. I could see the ties that held it in place had been ripped away, which had caused it to fall down.
My two admirers were slow in recovering themselves from the shock in having me jammed between them without a skirt on, but I’m glad to say they handled themselves very well. Neither had moved or were attempting to feel me up. One even asked if I was OK.
I said I was and asked whether he would mind not moving too much, please. He answered he wouldn’t move until I told him to.
I hooked my skirt with my foot and pulled it in, and one of my new friends picked it up for me. But I didn’t put it on. With the ties broken, it would be useless to try, so I took my other skirt out of the bag. I thanked my lucky stars I had it with me.
All while this was going on, people were milling about in the wake of what those brats had done and were paying attention to the other victims, one of whom was crying hysterically. I guessed she thought she had been mugged or something.
I took advantage of this confusion to shift around on the seat and moved my original skirt down to around my ankles and slipped it on, and I wriggled it up and got it mostly on. I could feel the heat from the legs of the men beside me against my hips. It was nice and snug too between them.
I slipped the skirt up and reached behind me to do it up — no easy task, I can tell you, sitting down! My admirers, and now saviours, I’m sure were enjoying every moment of this — all my wriggling, etc. — and the sights they’d seen of me earlier must have been giving them a day they wouldn’t forget for a long time to come.
After I’d got myself sorted out, I looked into each of their laps and saw some impressive bulging there, as well as some rather damp patches staining the light material of the cloth. I guess having a half-naked girl wriggling between them with stockings on and no skirt, plus all that body contact of me rubbing myself up and down their legs and hips — well, something had to happen, and looking at the lads’ laps, something did. Quite spectacularly!
I hope that if either of you are reading this, you know that, to be honest, you did look the stereotype to be hunched over a computer rather than some of the Neanderthals that I could have run into.
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there at the right moment.
All my love,
Suzy XXXXX
