Upskirt Photography Can Be Fun

Those of you who live in the UK, or
any of those places with real seasons,
will know that one of the best things
about the end of winter and the warm
weather starting is the opportunity to
shed the winter woollies and get out the summery stuff. If, like me, you’re a
bit of an exhibitionist who likes to
tease, there aren’t many opportunities
to expose your bits when you’re
wrapped up against the wind and the
rain. In spring 2012 we had a few nice days in March, and I’d dug my spring
frocks out of the back of the
wardrobe. But then at the beginning
of April the Government announced
that we were in a period of drought,
and introduced a hosepipe ban. As if on cue, it started raining almost
straight away, and didn’t really stop all
through April and well into May. But at last we had a few days of sun,
and it began to get warmer.
Eventually, it seemed as if we might be
getting a real warm spell, and I got the
dresses out again. At last it was nice
enough to leave my panties off without getting frostbitten flaps. One week I decided I had to go up to
the West End to buy a few books that I
could only get from a big bookshop.
The next Saturday I dressed as lightly
as I could, which basically meant no
panties or bra, just a loose dress and little pumps on my feet. I got the train
to Victoria, then the bus up to the big
bookshop on Piccadilly. I got a few
admiring looks as people noticed my
bra-less bosom under my dress. To be
honest, my little tits don’t give much of a cleavage at the best of times, but at
least they’re nice and perky and don’t
droop. Bending down in the bookshop to
look at the lower shelves, I knew my
tits would be openly visible to anyone
else browsing nearby who happened
to glance down. I discreetly tweaked
my nipples through my dress to make them stand out. After a while doing
this and getting aroused, I paid for the
books I needed and walked across
Piccadilly Circus and down Haymarket
to Trafalgar Square. This was where I
was hoping to have some serious fun. I sat down on the big flight of steps
that lead up from the square to the
National Gallery and looked down
over the mass of tourists milling
around. If you want to get an idea of
the set-up, google something like “UK National Gallery steps”. You probably
won’t see me, but it’ll give you an idea
of how people always sit on them to
look out over the square; and the
sunnier it is, the more of them there
are. The fountains were playing, and the
little kids were dipping their hands in
and splashing each other. Other kids
were climbing onto the lions round
the bottom of Nelson’s Column and
having their photos taken. Just to the right of me at the bottom of the steps
was the 2012 Olympic Clock, counting
down the days, hours, minutes and
seconds until the start of the opening
ceremony at 9:00 pm on Friday 27th
July, and quite a few people were having their photographs taken
standing next to that too. In fact, if I
could have charged a pound for each
photo taken in Trafalgar Square that
day, I’d be a wealthy girl! But I wanted
to give everyone a chance to see more than just the usual tourist attractions. I
had some attractions of my own. I knew that, wearing just a loose
frock, anyone coming down the steps
from above would get a good view of
my breasts down the front – especially
if I leant over a bit so it hung away
from my nipples. And if I sat with my legs apart, anyone coming straight up
the steps from below would get a
great view up my skirt at my
uncovered pussy. I always look out
myself for accidental flashes (I’m such
a perve!) and it’s surprising how many cute panties you can see. The prize of
a bare pussy isn’t that common, but it’s
all the more fun when you do see one.
I’m still hoping that one day a Scots
guy in a kilt will sit down and give me
a flash of his equipment. I sat down on the second set of steps
from the top, making sure I was sitting
on the edge of my dress – just enough
to keep my bare bum off the steps, in
case they weren’t that clean. I took out
one of my new books and started to read it, trying to look like just another
visitor having a rest. To start with I
kept my legs together, but then slowly
eased them apart so that anyone
coming up the steps from below
would get a view straight up between my thighs to my pussy. I was enjoying
the feeling of having nothing covering
me down there; even if no-one saw, it
was still nice. I sat for a while, just letting people
move past me up and down the steps.
I was determined not to catch
anyone’s eye; I wasn’t trying to pick
anyone up. It’s a problem, I admit: just
because I’m enjoying exposing myself, it’s not like I’m saying “Look at
me, I want to fuck you”, although I
can see why some people may assume
it is. After a bit, without moving my head I
peeped up from my book. A couple of
young guys were looking my way.
They certainly seemed to be enjoying
the view. Cheekily, I decided they’d
had enough, and pressed my knees together. One nudged the other and
they whispered, but I waited until
they’d gone before opening my legs
again. Then I saw a pretty dark-haired girl
standing looking up at the National
Gallery with her camera in her hand. I
thought I’d spotted her walking up
the steps past me a few minutes ago.
That was interesting – if it was the same person, that meant she’d gone
all the way down again. OK, there
were a few reasons why she might
have done that… But oh my God, she was hot. Her hair
was cut short and spiky in a boyish
kind of way, but it was the only boyish
thing about her. She was wearing a
denim jacket over a short t-shirt that
showed a tempting circle of bare skin above a pair of amazing ripped denim
shorts. The neck of her t-shirt had
been roughly cut down to show her
cleavage; I could see the top of a red
bra supporting a pair of large boobs. I
might not dress that way myself, but that sort of grungy sexiness can be
such a turn-on. At least, she seemed to be looking at
the Gallery, but I could see her eyes
keep on dropping down to my level. I
decided to give her a bit more of a
treat. Casually, I shifted my bum as if to
get more comfortable, and spread my legs a bit more, letting my frock ride
further up my thighs as well as giving
a clearer view of the area between my
legs. I felt a draught of air waft round
my labia. I wished I could use a finger
to part my lips a bit and let her see a bit more pink, but that might have been a
bit obvious.