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I even let them know that I was going into town one day to try on some clothes. Once I knew they were watching I took some clothes into the cubicle to try on but left the curtain slightly open so they could see. I acted like I didn’t see them of course. Then a man who was walking past stopped and look as well. I should have grabbed the curtain and closed but instead I just looked at him, letting him see my naked body. I was wet with longing. Longing for him to ram his rampant cock into me. I shook myself out of my stupor and donned the clothing I had brought in with me. My hands wanted to close the curtain but wouldn’t obey instructions. I turned and looked at my red face in the mirror. Right then, at that moment I wanted something hard up my throbbing pussy. I looked back out to see the man was gone, and the boys tight were giggling to each other. I quickly put my own clothes back on and left the store in a hurry Once I had crossed that barrier I enjoyed the experience many times over the next few months. I had got so addicted to flashing my body I found myself flashing my own son’s ‘by accident.’ or that’s what I told myself. I also started doing it when I was out on my own. I had become a real exhibitionist. I would occasionally dress slutty in short skirt and low cut top without a bra and walk down the street to the local shops. I loved the feel of my tits swaying freely and rubbing on the material making them rise up and show to world I was turned on. I even got the courage to go into a sex shop hoping someone would look at me or touch me. Maybe more. At the back of the shop was a row of cubicles and looked into one of them and saw a man masturbating as he looked through a widow at a girl dancing. I wanted to be that gorl, only without the glass. Too frightened at my ow teen feelings Hardcore I turned and ran out of the shop. When I got home I realised I was putting myself at risk. This I knew came from an experience in my past. The shock was, that I wanted to be at risk. I wanted a man to see me and, well, take me, make me his slut and turn me into his whore. To use me and humiliate me. I knew it could never happen so I judged that what I was doing with the boys was a petite safe option. I could expose myself safely and know that they would be getting some pleasure from it. They certainly became more chatty when they saw me but never actually mentioned what we were doing. As for my own son’s they too made it clear that they wanted to see more. Once I realised what had brought this need back to life I couldn’t help but remember what happened with Ken. I was 12 at the time and Ken who was in his sixties, was our next door neighbour. Our, being my single mum and me. Mum and Kens wife Mary would often go into town to shop or go to bingo and Ken would baby sit. It all started off ok but then oral after a few times he would encourage me to sit on his lap and well you know the story. It wasn’t long before I was his eager sex slave and all I wanted to do was please him. Then of course he introduced a few chosen friends and I would sometimes be having sex with three or even four men all over sixty. This went on for several years. I suppose once it stopped I just put it out of my mind and got on with my life. I don't know when or where he learned how but he was excellent at giving oral sex, he made love to a cock, not just sucked petite it. “Sorry, teen Hardcore Miss Dannel,” I said, not even out of breath. "Such as?" Drool trickled down my cheek and towards my ear as I continued to spasm as if processed. She nodded. If you can survive, then you can train me. Otherwise we better both die here," the girl proclaimed in a melodramatic voice. “Wanna smell it from the source?” she oral whispered as she stripped her nightie off, whisked her panties away from my busy nose and crawled up over my face. We played some silly games and chatted before it was time for the girls to go. “The tight dress only stays on until we get down to the harbour.” It was why I was here.