My First Flash

At nineteen, my start at exhibitionism came later in life than many others. The first time, though, was so intense that I still fondly remember the details of almost every second. That being said, looking back at what happened, I have realized that, while it had been exciting, what I had done was a very silly and dumb thing to do, that could have turned out very differently.

My memory of the event starts with me coming into my mom and dad’s house just after 9:15 and wondering, Why is it all dark? Where are they? They didn’t say anything about going out.

The mystery had been solved when I turned on the hall light and had seen, in a note on the floor, that they were at a friend’s place for the evening.

I recall, while gulping down a PB&J snack, I had reminisced about the After-the-Finals party from which I had just returned. Due to it being an unseasonably warm end of May, it had been a pool-party at Tony’s place.

As a typical horny nineteen-year-old male in 1990, I had loved pool parties. Along with seeing lots of skin, I was sometimes lucky enough to be treated to pokies and camel-toes. Though, having a vivid imagination, and seeing lots of skin, had usually put me in an embarrassing situation as my body reacted. It seemed I was constantly trying to hide erections.

I had really fond memories of the party because I had met Jennifer, a beautiful five-foot-nine-inch brunette, at it.

I had bumped into her when I had been swimming lengths of the pool. While technically not groping her, my hand had stroked the inside of her upper thigh at the end of a stroke. 

Realizing I had run into someone, I had tried to stop. However, my momentum was such that, as I stood, my chest had rubbed against her breasts and my arms had enveloped her. We had ended up with me gazing into her eyes as I held her in a bear hug.

I recall sputtering, as I had taken my arms away, that I had not seen her and that I was sorry.

With a smirk, after an uneasy moment of silence, I recall she had said, ‘Not to worry. I’m okay.’

‘I’ve got to say, though, I’ve had guys use lots of different ways to give me a hug, but yours was definitely unusual.’

‘And, to be honest, I’ve got to say that I’ve never had a guy cop a feel in such a unique way.’

When I had looked stunned, I recall she had continued, ‘I’m joking. Though I was quite startled to feel a hand stroke the inside of my thigh … especially that high up. I know it was an accident but ...’

Following that awkward start, we, and the four other people with whom she had been chatting, had continued talking. 

As we had chatted, I remember taking glances at her purple two-piece swimsuit. I really liked the way it looked on her. I also remember being surprised when I got to look at the back. Unlike the modest front, it was more like a thong and it really showed off her cute ass.

After the others had drifted off, she and I had chatted for quite a while. It felt like we had known each other for years rather than just a few minutes.

I remember I had been so comfortable with the conversation that I thought I could compliment her on her swimsuit. My compliment had caused her to smile. I recall that, after she had said thank you, she had asked why I liked it so much.

After apologizing that my response of liking the way it looked on her had sounded lame, I remember asking her if I could be truly honest with her about why I liked it.

When I had seen her quizzical look, I remember continuing that I hoped she would not be offended by why I like it.

After she had looked at me for several seconds, I recall she had said, ‘I think I trust you to be honest. Tell me the real reason that you like it.’

In response to her coy smile to my saying that it showed off her body, I remember I had continued, with a big smile, that I especially liked the way it accented and displayed her bum.

I recall thinking that I had blown it when that comment had been greeted by dead silence.

In response to my apprehensively asking if I had offended her by that comment, I recall her saying, ‘I appreciate your honesty. Few guys, upon meeting a girl for the first time, would be that forthrightly honest. What I really appreciate is that I don’t think you are saying it for the wrong reasons.’

She had continued, when I had looked confused, ‘I mean, I don’t think you said what you did as a sexual comment. I think you really meant it as a compliment.’

I remember, when I had nodded, she had continued with a smile that she had really appreciated it because she worked out and it was nice to have someone appreciate the results.

In response to that, I remember gazing into her eyes with a slight smile, which she had returned.

After several seconds, she had broken the moment with a nervous cough by asking where I went to school. It turned out, she was a month younger than me and she was in first year at the same school but in the Arts program.

We had continued chatting but with a seemingly newfound intimacy and comfortableness.

When laughing at one of her jokes, I remember seeing my ex-girlfriend of six months showing up with her new boyfriend. He was a six-foot-six-inch, two-hundred-forty-pound monster who was the starting guard on the university football team. He also had a reputation for being very possessive of his girlfriends.

I vividly remember seeing her, as he left her alone to talk with his teammates, catch sight of me. 

As she had walked down the pool steps toward me, I recall Jennifer surprising me when she had said, in a harsh whisper, ‘Shit! What’s she doing here?’

I had told her that Kelly was my ex, and that she had broken off with me six months previously because she wanted to go out with her new boyfriend. I had told her, with a sigh, that, as a football player, he was much higher viz than me.

I had been really surprised when Jennifer had exclaimed, ‘That’s typical of her. She was in my class all through grade school. She was a spoiled, self-centred princess back then. I can’t stand her. If she’s coming over to see you, then I’m out of here!’

I experienced a warm, pleasant memory when I recall Jennifer had said, with a big smile, as she had turned to leave, ‘I enjoyed meeting you, Greg. You are different. Call me sometime. Ask Tony for my number. If I give it to you now, you might forget it. I don’t want that to happen!’

Running into Jennifer had turned out to be a momentous event in my life. I had called her the next day and we had started to go out. After a year of coming to the realization that what we had felt initially was real, I had bitten the bullet and asked her to be my wife. 

Thinking back, my memory of my dealings with Kelly, however, did not give me the same type of warm feeling.

The first thing I remember about my interaction with her was the swimsuit that she had been wearing. It consisted of three tiny pieces of white material that barely covered anything. Those three minuscule patches were joined by thin flesh-coloured straps that were almost invisible. From across the pool, I remember it looked like the the swimsuit was just those three small white triangles.

Coming toward me, she had gone from the shallow end, where the stairs entered the pool, through a deep section to the shallow, thigh-deep part of the pool where I was standing. 

I smile as I remember that the result, from my point of view, was quite interesting. The white patches had become totally transparent leaving her nipples and vulva completely visible. It was like she was standing in front of me totally naked. I saw more of her body that afternoon than I had seen in the six months we had gone out. It was also very apparent, from the trimmed dark patch of pubic hair I could see, that she was not a natural blonde.

The second thing I recall was feeling bad when, after saying hi, she had snarled, ‘What were you doing talking with that Goody-Two-Shoes? I’ve known her for years. She’s a bitch. I can’t stand her! She’s nothing like me. Take it from me, she’s no good for you!’

Knowing better than to argue with her, I had changed the conversation by asking her how it was going with Brad.

Being the self-centred airhead narcissist she was, she had immediately brightened up. With a big smile, she had said he was a fantastic guy and then continued, proudly, that he had bought her the swimsuit.

When she shown me the back, I recall that there was even less there than there was in the front. The halter-top fastening around her neck was hidden by her long blonde hair. That left only one T-shaped strap visible across her lower back. The top of the T joined the two pieces of the top while the body of the T disappeared into her ass crack as it joined the front of the bottoms. From behind, it looked like she was not wearing anything at all.

To continue seeing her seemingly naked body, I had complimented her on the suit. I had also continued to endure her inane chatter about what she and Brad had done.

I remember how uncomfortable I had been when Kelly had taken a step toward me and whispered, ‘Do you like what you’re seeing, Greg?’

In response to my stammered nervous confusion, she had accused me of constantly looking at her boobs rather than her face. After that accusation, I recall her saying, ‘I’m glad you like what you’re seeing, Greg!’

I recall my nervousness had turned to anxiousness when, as she had slid her right thigh between my thighs and ground it against my crotch, she had said, in a raspy voice, ‘Do you like this, too? Brad likes it when I do it to him. I never did this to you when we were going out, did I, Greg?’

I remember I had developed an immediate erection and gasped at her to stop. I had been worried about what Brad would do to me if he saw what she was doing and my resulting tent.

I vividly recall her coyly replying, ‘Why, Greg? Don’t you like it, Greg? Given the reaction of your body, I think you do, Greg. Do you really want me to stop, Greg?’

As she had backed away, I vividly recall she had, with a smirk, given my erection a squeeze. With a husky laugh, she had then said, ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll leave you alone, Greg. Enjoy the rest of the party.’

I had given a large sigh of relief when I had seen the eyes of every guy, and a few of the girls, watch her as she walked up the steps. I had been thankful because it meant they were not looking at me and what I thought was my very visible erection. To get it to subside enough that I could get out of the pool, I remember I had needed to swim four or five lengths.

I distinctly remember that, after I had reminisced about Kelly, I had felt the need to jerk off to the new Playboy magazine I had just purchased.

Coming into my room, I remember seeing that my mMom had left my window open. When I had glanced out the window at the house across the backyard, I saw that my neighbour Patty’s window was lit. While she had gone to my high school, and was in the same grade, she had never been in any of my classes.

The first time I had seen her had been the previous August. I had been standing in my room, with all the lights out, watching the Perseids meteor shower with my Dad’s 7X35 binoculars. I had been following two meteors down to the horizon when I had been distracted by light, and movement, in a window. I had been intrigued when I had seen that the movement had been a girl pulling a t-shirt over her head. I had been even more intrigued when she had then taken off her bra.

I still reminisce about standing in awe of the sight of her naked 18-year-old breasts that first night. I looked at them for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a couple of minutes. Unlike today, guys did not get many opportunities in 1989 to see, other than in magazines like Playboy, nude women. While I have seen many breasts since, Patty’s were the first and are still memorable.

Ever since that first sighting, I had seen her beautiful breasts a few times a week. Periodically, I had also been treated to bonus sightings of her wispy pubic hair.

While I could see Patty well without the binoculars, they let me see her as if I was standing just outside her window rather than fifty feet away. 

I also recall, for some reason, the acoustics were fantastic between our two houses. While spying on her, I had frequently overheard conversations, even when she lowered her voice, she had with her girlfriends. Some of them had been very interesting.

I had occasionally thought about reciprocating by letting her see me nude. I had come close to doing it on a couple of occasions, but had always chickened out.

That night, I recall noticing that she was not by herself. Through the binoculars, I had seen four girls, a couple of whom I recognized from my high school, with her. I had been surprised when I had seen they were all in just their bras and panties. Seeing them putting on and taking off t-shirts, blouses, pants, shorts, skirts, and dresses, I remember thinking that Patty was having a wardrobe downsizing party with her classmates. As the clothes had been put and taken off, I remember hearing lots of laughter.

Hoping to see one of them in less than their underwear, I remember I had continued to watch them for a while. All I had seen, though, were the girls in their bras and panties.

As I watched them trying on clothes, I remember hearing them talk about how different university was to high school. The difference in how boys and girls interacted was the most radical. I remember hearing several of them, including Patty, say how they had to fight off the advances of guys so that they could concentrate on their assignments.

I was about to give up hope of seeing anything else, when I saw one girl try on a short, pleated, light blue plaid miniskirt. As she modeled it, the laughter had been extremely loud. The banter between the girls about the skirt had been hilarious. It turned out that Patty had purchased it on sale without realizing that, when she bent over, her bum was completely visible.

After that, I recall that the conversation had turned to Lacy and her boyfriend Jordan. I remember Patty asking her how she could balance her studies with the demands of seeing Jordan.

After that the girls had teased Lacy about whether she had let him see her nude or whether she had seen or touched his penis.

I remember that there was a lull in that conversation before I heard a voice exclaim, ‘You slut! You did that to him? What was it like? How did it feel? Come on girl. Tell all. I want to hear every detail!’

For the next while, I had seen Patty and three of the girls alternate between quiet, intense stares at someone I could not see, and excited expressions that were accompanied by loud shrieks and howls of laughter.

I remember thinking that Lacy had to be describing what she had done to Jordan. From the way they were reacting, I also thought that they were certainly interested in guys and, it appeared, seeing their cocks.

That, I recall, had been the turning point of that evening for me. I still vividly remember thinking, I can help them satisfy their desire to see a guy nude. I can also finally reciprocate for seeing Patty nude.

The more I had considered it, probably strongly influenced by the six-pack of beer I had consumed at the party, the more I thought it was a good idea.

I remember that it took me several minutes to decide that I would pretend to be changing for bed so that they would think that they were accidentally seeing me nude. I figured if I did that way they would not think that I was doing it on purpose.

I turned out that thinking it was a good idea and actually doing it, were two different things. I recall, after turning on my light, I had then nervously wandered around my room for several minutes fiercely debating with myself whether I should do it.

The memory of what I had done is still burned indelibly in my mind. 

I recall stopping in front of the window and seeing the girls had returned to trying on clothes.

Where I knew they could see me, I remember I had slowly pulled my red t-shirt up over my head to stand in front of the window in just my jeans.

Being disappointed that no one had noticed that movement, I had slowly pushed my jeans down, so I was left wearing only my black jockeys.

Much to my disappointment, the girls had kept doing what they had been doing, oblivious to me being visible to them wearing only my jockeys.

Not knowing what else to do to get their attention, I had walked around my room. While I continued to hear and see them laughing, no one looked over to see me.

I recall growing more and more frustrated that, while I had done my part, they were not doing their part. 

Hoping that a loud noise would get their attention, I remember I had turned on my radio and jacked up the sound.

I still have a vivid recollection of one of the girls saying, ‘Whoa! Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Look at this, girls! Is that guy just in his undies?’

The other girls had joined her in exclaiming about seeing a guy dressed only his underwear. At one point I remember Patty telling them my name. I remember smiling that I finally had their attention.

I recall I had almost immediately hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my jockeys and slowly pushed my hands down. The sensation of my jockeys sliding over my thighs is an enduring memory.

I vividly recall hearing one of the girls shriek, ‘He’s taken off his underwear. I can see his bare bum!’

When I heard another say she wished I would turn around, I remember taking a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves and slowly turning to face the window.

Like the other things that the girls said, I recall one of them squealing, ‘Oh my! Oh my! Oh my God! I can see his weenie!’

I remember my breathing was shallow and rapid and that I felt flushed as I stood there, totally naked, for them to see.

With nothing else to do I remember that I had puttered around my room sometimes out of their view but most of the time where they could see me. However, within a couple of minutes, knowing that a group of girls were seeing me naked, I recall my penis began to thicken.

As much as I tried, nothing curtailed the feeling. I recall I had started to panic as I thought, I have to hide that it’s growing! If they see me hard, they’ll know they aren’t accidentally seeing me nude. Why else would I randomly get hard?

As my penis continued to swell, I remember turning away from the window and beginning to move papers around my desk. I recall naively trying to use thought control to get rid of my erection. But it had not worked. In fact, I remember that it only seemed to make it harder.

I recall, as I had stood there, my panic had grown as I did not know how I was going to get out of the situation I had gotten myself into. I remember the relief I had felt when I had seen the spine of my new Playboy magazine peeking out from below some papers.

I reached over and pulled it out as I thought, Maybe if they see me looking at a Playboy, they‘ll think that’s why I have an erection.

Remaining with my back to the window, I had opened it to the centrefold. The girls, I remember, were curious as to what I was doing. One of them figured out I was looking at a Playboy.

I recall that, when I had heard that, I had slowly turned until I was presenting my profile to the window.

Like they had when they had first seen me naked, they were excited. I particularly recall one of them exclaiming, ‘My God, it’s standing straight out from his body.’

It is strange the memories stick with you. I do not remember the names of Playboy Playmates. However, I do remember that June 1990’s Playmate was Bonnie Marino. I also remember that, in the centerfold, Bonnie was topless and wearing a lacy blue plaid skirt.