After you date a girl for a little while and you’ve been fucking, it has been my experience — and I don’t have a lot of experience — that she inevitably begins to open up about her past sexual behaviors, once she can trust that you’re not going to call her a whore or shame her. I think women open up to me more rapidly than to most because I am such a schlep and I am harmless and they could never be shamed by me — they are very at ease.
Soon after we got together, Christine had confided in me about her cousin watching her through her bedroom window from the roof multiple times when she was 16 and 17. I found it to be kind of sexy. I would jerk off later and think about it — I didn’t know her well enough to jerk off in front of her as she told me stories. That came a few months later. Then she confided about her other experiences with exhibitionism. How dancing in a little revealing tutu (she was a professional dancer at the time) made her feel hot, especially if there were older men in the audience. She knew they were getting horny looking at her swirling around up there, and it made her horny. She loved most of all when she had her back to the audience and they had a nice view of her butt.
Christine confided more about her great secret then, when she was certain it was safe. She confided more about the cousin. Her sexiest experience ever was when that cousin would look through her window, and she had her back to him, standing there before her mirror in her panties. And she slowly, slowly would start to pull the back of her panties down, just to give him that view of her crack, her cheeks, her bubble, her naked exposed bottom. She would leave the panties pulled down there, at the bottom of her bottom, and let him jerk off to it. She loved that her naked butt was exposed. It made jolts of pleasure shoot through her. It made her throat dry. It made her squirm.
When she was up on stage as a dancer with her back to the audience, she would feel those same jolts of energy.
“It’s my great secret,” she told me. “The idea of people looking at my ass, and me showing my ass to them. It’s when I feel the most sexual pleasure in life. It’s better than fucking, or anything. It’s just so intense.”
She confided in me about her walks down Venice Boardwalk. When she was just 18, and a student at UCLA, during the late spring and the summer she would get in her bikini, and she would walk the whole length of the boardwalk from the Marina all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. She would see the men smile at her as she walked past, but she wouldn’t smile back. That’s not what it was about. She had headphones on, and was safe in her own world. Nobody could talk to her or catcall her.
I imagined the 18-year-old Christina in her bikini. She showed me a picture of her that summer. Her bikini was blue, sky blue. And it was one of those cuts that showed both her ass cheeks almost entirely. Just her crack was covered. It was kind of like a g-string at the back.
So although she didn’t smile back or flirt with any of the men, for Christina it was the feeling of their eyes on her butt after she had passed them. She had turned around a few times and caught them looking, so she knew almost nine out of ten of them must be enjoying her butt after she passed them. And it turned her on.
After getting back to the Marina where she started, she would get in her car and very quickly masturbate herself to orgasm, to finish off that feeling of about five miles round trip of people looking at her butt, maybe hundreds, one time she figured about a thousand guys had stared at her butt. And by the time she got back to her car she could feel her bikini so wet.
I have read Bataille. I know why this was exciting. It is because of taboo that eroticism is even possible. If we were a naked society, for instance, a primitive tribe of folks wandering around nude all the time, without any taboo about nakedness, and especially the naked female, these walks would have been profoundly uninteresting for Christina. But it was because of the taboo that desire became present. The desire to break the taboo. To show men her naked butt. To expose herself. To let herself be so vulnerable to their lusty eyes. To be naked or near naked when women are not supposed to be naked.
And maybe, just maybe, she was getting back at her father. I knew by then that her father was the philanderer and the cheater and the liar, and yet he had always been so strict with her when she was 12 or 13, before he left, about what outfits she could wear. They were good Catholics. People were supposed to be buttoned up and covered up — especially teenage girls.
But now, as Christina showed her naked butt to all of Venice, she was giving her Dad the fuck you.
The complexity of that emotion is too much for me, I don’t really want to even go there. I don’t know why it was the highest form of sexual experience to betray the orders of your father whom you hated. It seems covered in hatred and maybe not that sexy.
But she loved her father!
That was the complex truth. He had hurt her and her mother and all that, but this habit of hers revealed to me the truth, she protested too much about her dad. She told me so many times he was dead to her. But I knew how alive he really was.
It was his eyes, it was his male gaze that her unconscious mind probably sensed on her butt, in every male that passed her. I checked my supposition with her once. I asked her if it was the younger or the older eyes on her butt on the boardwalk that did the most for her.
It was the older.
Not the dirty old men.
But the men of about 40. Exactly her Dad’s age at the time.
No wonder she enjoyed being with other men in front of me.
It was as Freudian for her as it was for me.
Of course I wanted to witness the primal scene, of mommy and daddy together, and I’m somehow both of them combined, as a voyeur. As I magically transform myself into the subject and the object at the same time.
But enough of psychology.
As Christina confessed to these tours down the boardwalk, when she was 18, I was overcome with fascination for her desire. I found it so interesting. She wanted to create that one moment, over and over again, of her pulling her underwear down in front of her cousin. She had done it with me already a bunch of times, in the bedroom as we were preparing to make love. She would always turn away from me, lean against the headboard, and slowly pull her panties down so I could see her butt. Sometimes I just let her linger there for ages. Then I would go up and start fondling it. She was so turned on by me coming up and touching it.
That was the next great taboo. Not just exposing the butt, but letting someone touch the butt. Letting someone kiss the butt, as her panties rested there, just below the butt. She would moan and moan. We would usually start our fucking with me fucking her right there from behind, at the headboard, and not until she had her first orgasm would she turn and let me fuck her on top. Or mount me and fuck me on top. For most women, being on top is the greatest position because of the pressure on the clit. But for Christina, being taken from behind was always the hit.
After some weeks I learned of her other great secret of exhibitionism. She had gone with some students at UCLA to a strip club one night, and had been overcome with fascination and desire. Often, of course, a stripper will adopt that very same pose. She will turn her back to the audience and then she will slowly pull her panties down to just below her butt line, and she will let the audience see what they want to see.
“That sweet ass,” Christinia called it. “The stripper was showing everyone that sweet ass, and I got such a feeling in my chest, not because I was attracted to her, but because I imagined it was me up there showing my sweet ass.”
Her friends all laughed at her serious face.
“Jesus, Christina,” they said. “Have you never seen an ass before.”
“Not like that,” she sighed. “Never like that…”
The only time she had seen a sweet ass like that was in her own mirror, as she would turn and observe herself the way her cousin had observed her.
“Oh my God.”
On the way out, she saw there was a sign for amateur nights at the strip club. Christina wasn’t really going to do that, was she? Of course not. UCLA kids always went to that particular club, on the West Side. She couldn’t risk being seen there.
But there was a club far out in the valley that advertised an amateur night.
She studied the moves of the other dancers that night as she waited her turn backstage. As a professional dancer it wasn’t hard for her to adopt the choreography. She went out there and did the pole dancing and kicked her legs up and all that. But it was all a prelude to that one perfect moment, when she would turn to the darkness of the crowd, and all the eyes there, and pull down her panties and reveal her ass.
“I came,” she said. “I came on the stage. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to touch my genitals, that was the law. But I just pushed against the front of my panties, as the back was pulled down, and the crowd were hooting and hollering for my sweet ass. And I orgasmed on the stage.”
She never went back, though, because there was a kind of ugly scene afterwards when a bunch of the valley crowd tried to come onto her, and she was only 18. She got in her car and raced away.
In order to satisfy her next level of exhibitionism, she turned to Craigslist. In those days there was still a casual encounters section. She found the guys who just wanted to watch a girl and jerk off. They didn’t want to touch her. One night she got the nerve to meet up with a guy at his dorm room at Cal State Northridge. She drove out there, not too nervous. He couldn’t be that much of a creep, right there in the dorm. All she wanted to do was show him her butt while he beat off.
She was showing him the sweet ass and he was jerking himself off, when he suggested a little lap dance.
She didn’t really know what a lap dance was. But she made him pull his pants back up and she went over with her panties pulled back up. She sat on him with her back to him, and gyrated on his hard cock. Then she stood just in front of him and she did — the thing. Her secret thing. She peeled the back of her panties down slowly.
“Oh yeah,” said the stupid kid, and he had no idea how brilliant he was being when he said, “Show me that sweet ass. That sweet sweet ass.”
Those words really did it for her.
She allowed him to put his hands on that sweet ass. And she allowed him to put his lips on the cheeks and kiss it. And then she sat back down on his lap, and rubbed his cock though his jeans with that sweet ass. And she felt him come in his pants, as she brought herself to orgasm with her hand.
Never saw him again, or did another lap dance. It was always moving forward, moving onward, her secret thing in its next manifestation. How would she satisfy this need to share her sweet ass with the male eyes and the male hands. And the male cock.
Sometimes, in her fantasies, she would see herself with a being from Greek Mythology. She had read about him in her Myths and Stories Anthropology class at UCLA. His name was Argos, and he was a creature with a hundred eyes. When one or two of his eyes slept, the other 98 or 9 remained awake. This way Argos was always watching. Never stopping.
She imagined herself in a Greek grove, olive trees, a breeze blowing. And this creature was holding her captive. He told her to stand before him, turn around, and slowly pull down her panties and show him her ass. Christina dutifully complied. And this was the best, she said, the best she had ever done with her secret thing, because as she pulled down her panties in her fantasy, she saw it as Argos saw it, a hundred times. A hundred times she saw the panties coming down slowly. The moment seemed so long. To slide down her panties took five seconds. But multiplied by a hundred, it was eight minutes. Then he told her to pull them up and to pull them down again. Another eight minutes it seemed, as she imagined all hundred eyes watching her.
Her mind became somewhat distorted, after that fantasy. She had an inspiration, and drove out to Venice Beach. She hadn’t done it for so long. She walked the length of the boardwalk in her blue bikini, the one that showed her ass so nicely. But this time, each man who gazed at her ass was Argos. Each one had a hundred eyes on her. By the time she got back to her car, she felt like thousands and thousands of eyes were still on her, on her ass. Right there in the Beach parking lot, she couldn’t control herself, she felt like the eyes were commanding her. She had suddenly ripped off her bikini top and pulled down her bikini bottom, reclined the driver seat and lay there masturbating and screaming. She didn’t know if anybody saw, because she felt a million eyes on her naked body. She felt her own breasts, and stroked her own thighs, and finally she turned over onto her belly and showed these million eyes her ass and stroked herself to orgasm for the million eyes.
After my wife told me that strange story, she looked at me and blushed.
“Is that weird?” she said.
“Well,” I said, looking at her sincerely, “if I had an ass like yours I could see myself ending up doing something as exquisitely crazy as that.”
She laughed and I fucked her. I was so turned on by her bizarre “secret thing.”
That’s how we got the idea to join the dogging car clan. These were a group of people we had read about who parked their cars at a certain hillside parking lot in Los Angeles, overlooking the city. And if the car doors were open, you could climb in someone’s car and join them having sex. We never did that. We just cracked the window somewhat, to indicate that we wanted the dogs to watch outside the window. It was fascinating, because in these hills of course there are numerous clans of wild dogs — coyotes. You could hear them howling not so far away. Then when a group of dogs gathered outside your window, and the real coyotes happened to be howling at the same time, it was an intense experience.
When the dogs gathered in front of the passenger window, my wife would recline the front seat, and she would lie face down on the seat, and then she would lift up her skirt, and sure enough — the thing. She would slowly pull down the panties and show the dogs her bottom. The coyotes would howl. The dogs would knock on the door and beg to be let in. But my wife wasn’t into that. She was into sucking my cock from that position, though. It wasn’t about the cock sucking for her, or for me, actually. I was much more fascinated by looking at the way her ass bobbed up and down as she sucked my dick. And with her hand underneath she would bring herself to orgasm. She really liked dogging for a while.
But then, as with the others, it went by the wayside and she waited for a new manifestation of the “thing.”
Her thing.
It was the second time she cheated on me that she achieved the apex of her thing, to such a degree that I can safely say that it is really no longer a thing at all. She’s into lots of other stuff now, all various forms of exhibition, to be sure. But this infidelity cured her of her addiction to the ass thing by satisfying her on the deepest level possible. There was no further to go. She had, as my very witty wife told me herself later, hit her head on the end of the infinity pool.
My golfing buddy Jim and his girlfriend Julia had come over for a barbecue, and we had done some drinking. But then Jim’s girlfriend had gotten a call from work, she had to go in. She was a nurse and they were short staffed. That left Jim and I and Christina.
By the end of the night, Christina was drunk and really flirting with Jim. He’s a pretty good looking guy, but he’s no porno stud. He’s a lawyer, like me, but into litigation, not tax. That’s a lot sexier. We were together at Loyola law school.
“Your wife has a nice ass,” Jim told me as Christina was standing there dancing in front of us, more than a little drunk.
That was the kind of thing you could only say out loud to your buddy when you were still less than 40 years old and you had more than six beers in you.
“She sure does,” I said. “Why don’t you show Jim, honey? Show him how nice your ass is.”
My wife didn’t miss a beat. In a second somehow she had dropped her skirt to the ground, facing away from us.
“Oh yeah,” said Jim. “Oh yeah. Show me that sweet ass.”
And then she did the thing. She pulled the back of her panties down. And she let Jim see the sweet ass.
“Holy shit,” he said. He was very impressed by this nice round tight ass.
Then Christina, as though suddenly embarrassed, pulled the back of her panties right back up and covered it up.
“No!” Jim complained. “Don’t make it go away! Make it come back. Make the sweet ass come back.”
My wife was charmed by this drunken fool’s great wish, to see that sweet ass again.
So down came the back of her panties, slowly, and there it was again. The sweet ass.
“Oh yes. That’s it. That’s the sweet ass.”
But then, swish, up came the panties again. I’m sure she was quite shy about showing her ass to my friend. But she was enjoying herself too. She was torn.
“No!” cried Jim, melodramatically. “Make it come back. Bring back that ass!”
And so it went, on and on. She would pull her panties down. Jim would cheer. Then she would pull them back up and he would complain.
I was beating off the whole time.
“Hey, do you mind if I do that too,” Jim said, noticing me. “I mean, I don’t know if beating off to your wife’s ass is cheating. Would Julia think it was cheating?”
“Would she, Christina?” I asked.
“Probably,” she said. “But go ahead and do it anyway, Jim. I want you to jerk off onto my ass.”
“Onto your ass?”
“Yeah, I want you to shoot your come on it.”
“Jesus, that seems like it would really be cheating, wouldn’t it, Phil?”
“Oh yeah, that’s cheating. We won’t tell Julia though. We promise, don’t we Christina?”
“Yeah, aren’t you tired of coming on that ass of hers,’ she joked. “Don’t you want to come on a new ass? Don’t you want to come on my ass, Jim?”
“God yes,” he said, and he stood up right behind her and started beating off.
She did her thing.
She pulled down her panties, and she let him see it now for as long as she wanted.
“You’re not going to make it go away again, are you?” the drunken Jim whined.
“No, it’s yours now, Jim,” she said. “ It’s yours forever. Enjoy that sweet ass.”
“Can I fuck it?” asked Jim.
“I don’t know,” said Christina. “Ask Phil if it’s OK.”
“It’s OK by me if it’s ok with you, Christina.”
“It’s OK with me to fuck me from behind, Jim,” said Christina. “Not in my ass. But from behind. Would you like that? I mean, it’s your ass, but it’s not your asshole. It’s Phil’s asshole. So when you say fuck that ass, what you mean is…”
“Yes, I think the semantics are clear,” I said. “You understand what she’s saying, don’t you, Jim?”
“Um,” said Jim. “I sure do.”
And then he was fucking her, standing up, from behind. And it was sordid and strange and good. I saw my wife really get into it. They evolved a little, she got down onto all fours and put her ass in the air for Jim to pound. He really went at it for about an hour. He had drunk so much beer that it took forever for him to come.
“Pull out and come on that sweet ass,” ordered my wife.
And he did so. I did too. For the second time. I had already come about a half hour earlier, when Jim was fucking her. Then it wasn’t that pleasant to watch, as I had already reached my culmination. That’s the thing with this kind of encounter, they seem fun but then they seem disgusting as soon as you come. But if you just wait a few minutes they seem fun again.
So I was beating off and watching my buddy fuck my wife’s sweet ass. And it was pretty great, I have to say. And we all came together. He shot cum all over her ass, there was a ton of it, because he had been building it up for an hour. The sweet ass was covered with delicious wet pearls. I had never seen anything so beautiful.
The next day Jim called me at work, in a panic.
“Did that really happen?”
I laughed. He had been so drunk he wasn’t sure if he just dreamed it. We swore that Julia would never find out and that we would never talk about it again. It was our secret.
And Christina’s “secret thing” became relegated to history. To have that sweet ass pounded, while someone else watched, that’s what she had wanted the whole time. And now that was done.
She was ready to move on to bigger and better things.
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