I’ve always been the good girl. Straight A’s, prefect badge, the one teachers point to when they say “role model.” But that party last month cracked something open inside me. My friends were drunk and giggling, trading stories about hooking up in club bathrooms, flashing truckers on road trips, one even admitted she’d masturbated in the library during finals week. I sat there burning with second-hand heat, my thighs pressed tight together. They teased me for being vanilla, and I laughed it off, but the second I got home I was googling every filthy thing they’d mentioned.
That’s how I found exhibitionism.
At first it was just research. Then I watched a video of a girl walking through Tokyo with no panties under her pleated skirt, wind flicking the hem up every few steps, and my hand was between my legs before I even realized it
The next morning I did it. Just left the bra in the drawer. My nipples rubbed against the inside of my blouse with every breath, stiff and obvious. I kept waiting for someone to notice, to call me out, but no one did. Or maybe they did and just stared in silence. Either way, I was soaked when i went home.
No bra became no panties. Then no panties plus short skirts. Then no panties, short skirts, and deliberately sitting with my knees a little too far apart on the subway so the man opposite got a flash of bare pussy when the train lurched. Every time I told myself it was the last, and every time I woke up wetter than the day before.
Today I’m in my favorite corner of the coffee shop, the one right against the huge plate-glass window that looks out onto the busy pedestrian street. Sunlight pours in, warm on my bare legs. I have my literature textbook open like a good little student, but my phone is propped inside it, screen tilted down, cycling through panels of a hentai I bookmarked last night: a shy honor-student who keeps “accidentally” exposing herself until she’s riding the train with her skirt around her waist and strangers’ fingers inside her.
I’m wearing the skirt that ends four inches above my knees when I’m standing. Sitting, it rides higher. No panties, of course. The wooden chair is cool against my bare lips and I’m already slick; I felt it the second I walked here, the seam of my skirt teasing my clit with every step.
There’s a couple at the table next to me, a businessman scrolling on his laptop across the room, people streaming by outside. Anyone could look over. Anyone could see.
My pulse is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. I pretend to turn a page in my textbook, then let my knees drift apart—just an inch. Cool air kisses my wet skin and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Shame floods me,. Good girl Lucy is screaming inside my head: close your legs, you disgusting little slut. But the other voice, the new one, whispers louder: they might notice. They might look right at your naked cunt and know exactly what you are.
I spread wider.
The skirt slides up my thighs on its own now, no resistance. I can feel the edge of the chair under my bare ass. If anyone glances down they’ll see everything. My clit throbs so hard it hurts. I scroll to the next page of the hentai: the girl has her legs over the train seats, fingers buried in herself while salarymen watch hungrily.
I shift forward, just enough that the skirt bunches higher. Now I’m fully on display. The window reflects me back faintly: prim blouse, cardigan, knee socks, like a pnormal girl, but with her legs spread wide and her pussy dripping onto the chair beneath her. A group of college guys passes outside; one of them looks straight at me. Our eyes meet through the glass and I freeze, heart slamming against my ribs. He slows, just a fraction, gaze dropping to my lap. I should close my legs. I should die of shame right here.
Instead I tilt my hips the tiniest bit forward, letting him see how wet I am.
His mouth actually falls open. He nudges his friend. They both stop, staring. My face is on fire, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from pure humiliation, but my cunt clenches so hard I almost moan. I’m shaking. I’m so turned on I can’t think.
I force my trembling fingers to scroll again. The hentai girl is coming now, back arched, strangers holding her legs open while she squirts on the floor. I want that. God, I want that. I want them to see me break.
The first guy outside pulls out his phone. He’s going to take a picture. The thought should terrify me. Instead it sends a fresh rush of s heat down my thighs. I spread my legs wider. The sun warms my bare pussy like a spotlight. I’m panting.
Look at me, I think. Look at the straight-A girl who can’t stop showing strangers her cunt.
I let my right hand drop casually into my lap, pretending to fix my skirt. My middle finger brushes my clit and my whole body jerks. Just one stroke.. unbearable. I’m right on the edge already. The guys outside are grinning now, one of them saying something filthy I can’t hear through the glass.
I come silently, teeth sunk into my lower lip hard enough to bruise, pussy spasming so hard I feel the wetness drip down onto the chair. My vision whites out for a second. When it clears, the guys are cheering silently, fists pumping like they just won a bet.
I snap my knees shut, skirt falling back into place. Shame crashes over me in a suffocating wave. I just masturbated in public. People saw. There’s probably a photo. Tomorrow it could be all over some group chat: “Look at this slut in the coffee shop window.” I turn around and run.
I should be crying. I should never leave my dorm again.
Instead I’m already aching for the next time, already planning how much further I can go.