Shopping for Bras and Flashing Tits

Susan loves to expose her naked breasts to men so long as it appears accidental.

The mall is Susan's favorite place to flash her body and being that there aren't very many women's dressing rooms left that have curtains instead of doors, Susan was a frequent shopper of Helen's Dress Shop. She wasn't the only one who knew that this dress shop had curtains instead of doors on their dressing rooms. Many of the voyeuristic men knew that too.

Knowing there were always men watching her shop, especially for bras, there were always men watching a big breasted woman shop for bras while trying to make themselves appear innocuous. Whether they were shopping with their mothers, their wives, their significant others, or their girlfriends, the last place they'd want to be on a Sunday afternoon was shopping at the mall, when they could be home watching football. Understanding of that and with the help of her appetite for exhibitionism, Susan did all that she could to make their voyeuristic shopping experience enjoyable.

Blonde, beautiful, blue-eyed, and busty, at 5'9", and as tall as any Texas beauty queen, Susan was blessed with natural, big tits and not those silicone confections that plastic surgeons make women believe that they want and must have. Having had her 36 D cup breasts since high school, she was lusted over by every student, parent, and teacher, especially when she played field hockey, basketball, volleyball, and/or ran track. Even when wearing a sports bra was no match for these massive mammary glands. As if poetry in motion, there's just something mesmerizingly musical when a big breasted woman runs while playing sports.

"Ba boom, ba boom, ba, ba ba boom."

Whether she was wearing a coat, a blouse, or a bikini, nearly all heterosexual men were fixated with her big breasts. Being that most women, nearly 50% of them, are a modest 34 B and being that most women wear padded bras to fill out what God didn't feel the need to give them, most men stare at the impressions her tits made in her clothes. Proud of her breasts, if asked her best features, she'd say her natural blonde hair, her big blue eyes, and her D cup breasts. Susan loved her tits and unlike other women who wore baggy clothes, minimizing bras, and folded their arms across their breasts as if to hide them, Susan was proud of her big tits in the way that any man would be proud to have a big cock. Being that she was an exhibitionist and love showing all that she possessed, she loved wearing tight and low cut revealing blouses.

Certainly, there are lots of women with big breasts, whether a C cup, a D cup, a double D cup, or bigger, but most women with larger than average breasts are obese. Not defining the contrast, and losing much of their sexy shape, their asses and bellies are even bigger than their breasts. Moreover, with most of those overweight women, if they lost their excess weight, they'd also lose most of their breasts by going down a breast size or two. What made Susan different was that, even when she was 115 pounds as an 18-year-old senior in high school, she still had D cup breasts. Now that she's a woman, at 130 pounds, she still has her big tits. Only, her breasts appear even bigger on her shapely, slim frame than they would if she weighed 50 pounds more.

"Do you have any bras in size 36 D other than white and black," she stood at the bra counter asking the saleswoman. "I'm looking for something other than black or white," she said again when the saleswoman looked at her blankly while staring at her tits. She gets that a lot, blank stares. Enamored by her big tits, women are always jealous of other women. Yes, even women stare at her tits. Women don't have to be lesbian to wish they had breasts as big as her breasts. "I want a bra with color, blue, yellow, or green," she said holding the only bra of color that she could find, a red one.

"Unfortunately, the colored bras tend to be in the smaller sizes," she said with a plastic, albeit jealous smile. "I'm not sure if we have any pastel colors in your size but I think we may have a blue, a yellow, and/or a green one in back. I'll look," she said. "Try that one on and I'll bring what I have to you in the dressing room."

"Thank you," said Susan heading off to the dressing room where there were already an audience of bored men waiting for their women to emerge from the dressing room.

There was a man in his early twenties waiting for his mother, a man in his thirties waiting for his girlfriend and an older man sitting squarely in the middle of the bench waiting for his wife. Perfect, thought Susan. Playing her part as the sexy diva, knowing what men want in their sexual fantasy with a big breasted woman, Susan always shopped wearing white gloves. Perhaps a little weird to other women that she shopped while wearing white gloves, the men appreciated her white gloved hands.

Harkening back to the 1950's and before, especially popular during the Victorian age, 1837-1901, a time gone by, a lady back then never left her house without her white gloves. Never should a lady touch anything slimy, dirty, or smelly with her bare hands, even if it's a hard, hairy, throbbing cock, especially if it's a hard, hairy, throbbing cock. Besides, even if she felt conspicuous wearing her Heloise Good Housekeeping white gloves, white gloves was something that, surprisingly, even Martha Stewart doesn't wear. By the looks she received from women, she wasn't dissuaded from wearing her white gloves because, by the looks on the men's faces, especially the older men, she was encouraged, compelled actually, to continue her with her white gloved shopping excursion.

In the way she was so prim and proper, a true Back Bay and Beacon Hill Bostonian, she realized long ago that they all looked upon her as if she was Donna Reed, June Cleaver, Dinah Shore, Harriet Nelson, or Lucille Ball reincarnated. There's something sexy and sexual about a beautiful, busty woman wearing white gloves. All she needed was a flared skirt and petticoats to perfect their sexual fantasy of their mothers, no doubt. Don't believe me? Just imagined a your mother's snow white gloved hand tightly grasping your erect cock while stroking you.

"I love you Mommy," wrote Wm Forrester when he wrote his incestuous story about a mother's love for her son, the most read story in Literotica in all of 2010 and presently #76 in the top 250 most read stories of all time with more than 1.2 million hits.

So transparent in their thoughts by the way they either stared at her white gloved hands or her enormous breasts, she was excited that she was the star of so many men's attention. If only pillows could talk, Tweet, Twitter, Facebook, and e-mail, no doubt, she'd be the star of their sexual fantasies later that night. There were always a few men who followed her around the mall, those men who practically lived at the mall hoping to see something they shouldn't see as fodder to masturbate over later. Knowing they were there but never acknowledging them by turning to look at them, smile at them, wave, or shake their hand with her white gloved hand, even if she was to give them the finger with her white gloved hand they'd be more sexually excited than insulted. To see the image, all you need to do is to imagine Minnie Mouse giving Mickey Mouse the finger to understand that bit of imagery.

"Fuck you Mickey. I'm leaving you for Goofy. He has longer fingers than you."

Anyway, Susan's sexual thing to do was to accidentally on purpose flash unsuspecting men. Not as easy as it sounds and/or seems, how do you flash someone without them thinking that you're flashing them on purpose? Surely, she didn't want men coming after her and following her home on the hopes that she'd continue her flashing game in private. Her game to play, so long as she was in control, she loved driving men wild with sexual lust for her by showing them all that they hoped to see. Much more than flashing them, when seeing her white gloved hands and imagining what she could do with them, she imagined that any man would love for her to give them a hand job while wearing her white gloves, especially while she was topless. With her big boobs bouncing and jiggling to the beat of her fingers fondling and hand stroking, white gloved, topless hand jobs, no doubt, was every man's secret, sexual fantasy.

A sexual fantasy come true, Susan couldn't believe it when the store installed a bench right in front of the five dressing rooms. Wow, now with men not minding the waiting, they had front row seating. As if she was an actress or a stripper on stage, perfect. No matter where a man sat on the bench that was long enough to hold five men, her captive audience sitting there bored while waiting for their mothers, wives, significant others, or girlfriends to try on their clothes and get the Hell out of that always too warm store, they could see her changing in whichever dressing room she chose. Picking the middle dressing room, her favorite, as if sitting at first base on a Blackjack table but for different reasons, the middle dressing room allowed everyone, no matter where they sat on that bench, a view of her trying on bras.

When she closed the curtain, by closing it fast enough and closing it hard enough, the curtain never closed all the way. She purposely left the curtain open just enough for them to see enough of her. Those men who sat to the left of her could see inside the dressing room and those men who sat to the right of her could see her reflection through the dressing room mirror. A win/win voyeuristic situation for every man sitting on that bench, it was just as sexually satisfying for Susan to expose herself as it was for the men to voyeur her topless body.

She imagined the men sitting outside of the dressing room thinking that maybe she was a naughty woman and she was. She imagined them thinking that maybe she'd give him a private show of her big, beautiful breasts and she would. They sat in front of her dressing room as if they were obedient boys waiting for the school nurse to examine them with her white gloves. Whether they were 18-years-old or 88-years-old, no doubt, they all wished she'd give them a striptease show in the same way that they watched women emerging from behind a curtain at a strip club. No doubt, they all wished she'd give them a white gloved, hand job while flashing them her tits.

Only, someone like her, so classy, so sexy, so refined, and so beautiful would never flash them her naked breasts, would she? Someone like her could have any man. Why would someone who looked like her flash her tits to someone like them? Apparently, they didn't know that she was bitten by a vampire when she was younger. Now, just as it was her vampire's need to expose himself to women then, it was her need to expose herself to men now. Apparently they didn't know that just as they had a need to see her tits she had the need to flash them her tits.

Having seen her enter the dressing room carrying her red bra as if it was a flag that signaled the start of the show and now knowing she was in there getting ready to try on a bra of all things, the men sat there staring as if mesmerized by the mere curtain. Preoccupied with the dressing room curtain and with the woman behind it, assuredly they all wished that the dressing room had no curtains on them at all or that they had Superman's powers of X-ray vision to see through the curtain. Ending their hope of seeing any part of her voluptuous body, sadly and disappointedly, they watched her close the curtain to change. Only with Susan having practiced this curtain closing move enough by using her shower curtain at home, jamming it by bunching it all up together, she knew exactly how to close the curtain without closing it all the way. Moreover, she knew precisely how much to leave open to give them all a good view of her beautiful boobs.

Whether the men thought that the curtain was stuck or she inadvertently didn't close the curtain all the way, or maybe she left the curtain open on purpose to flash them her bare breasts, who cares? What did the reason matter when they were about to see two, big, beautiful boobs? So long as they could see what they all needed to see and so long as she showed all that she needed to show, that was all that really matter. Maybe later, when the men were home masturbating over all that they saw of Susan's tits, they'd scratch their heads while wondering if she flashed them accidentally or on purpose. For now, it was all a mute point.

There was a twelve inch opening at the end where Susan stood facing the mirror, not very much but plenty enough to see, especially with her facing the mirror. Being that men are so gullible, so pliable, and so agreeable especially when it comes to a beautiful woman willingly or accidentally flashing her tits, they'd never believe that she'd be just as slutty and just as horny as they obviously are. Susan used that belief and their guilt to make them feel that she was the victim and they were the predators. She enjoyed making them feel that they were taking advantage of her by looking, staring, and leering at her big, naked tits when she was the one who wanted to show them her big, naked tits.

No doubt giving her the benefit of the doubt, not ever thinking or suspecting that she'd be as randy as a common woman and/or a whore, obviously, of course, she didn't realize that the curtain was open enough for them to see her, watch her, and stare at her while she tried on her bra. It's funny how with three men sitting on a bench watching the same show that none of them responded to or even looked at the other. Different than when they were horny teenagers when they'd be giving one another the thumbs up, a high five, or at least a shit eating grin, not wanting to miss a thing, they just remained motionless while staring at the curtain as if they were about to witness some magic or a puppet show.

"Show us your tits!" As if they were psychically in tune with the God of exhibitionism and voyeurism, if a mind reader was to read their horny minds, read one, read them all. They'd all be thinking the same thing. "Show us your tits!"

Evidentially feeling as if they was doing something wrong, feeling as if they was doing something illegal, and feeling so much like the voyeurs that they were, as soon as Susan appeared in their line of sight, even though she was still fully clothed, they looked away. Apparently embarrassed that each man knew what the other man was thinking, no doubt, they all felt that they were better than that and would never take advantage of a woman by peeping on her while she tried on bras because her curtain wasn't closed all the way.

"Thou shall not covet thou neighbor's wife." Not even knowing if Susan was married and if she was, no doubt, not caring, the tenth commandment had nothing to do with this one woman's, topless revue show.

Sitting there on the bench as if jurors at a trial, they had the perfect, unobstructed view of Susan removing her clothes to try on sexy lingerie. With each man looking in a different direction, whether to the left, the right, up, or down, they all focused forward as soon as Susan made a move to remove something. One man averted his stare before looking in the direction of Susan. Another man focused his stare on Susan as if he was high on drugs and couldn't look away even if he wanted to look in a different direction. The third man, after looking here, there, and everywhere, refocused his stare back to Susan as if his eyelids were glued open. Their lucky day, being at the right place at the right time, who gives a care about missing a football game when there's a show of naked tits? Oh, yeah, tits trump football any day. Obviously, in the way they were staring at her now, it was obvious that none of them could believe their eyes.

As if they all had just won a lottery and they all did, in the way they were staring, none of them could believe their luck. Every heterosexual man's sexual fantasy, watching Susan about to undress was so much better than any dirty magazine and so much better than watching any woman undressing in a movie. No doubt, with every man thinking the same thing, they only hoped that she didn't notice that the curtain failed to close all the way and reclosed it herself again. By the determined focus of their stares, no doubt, they only hoped, that preoccupied with trying on her bra, she didn't see them staring.

As if watching her in slow motion, no longer looking anywhere else but at her, removing one slow finger at a time, as if she was a stripper removing her feathers or balloons, they watched her remove her white gloves before slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Acting as if she was just another ditsy blonde, she never turned to look at them. Not even looking at their reflection in the mirror to acknowledge that they were there watching her, leering at her, and lusting over her, obviously, if they could see her through the mirror, she could see them too. Instead, mindlessly, she stared up at the ceiling as if she was contemplating her day.

Oblivious to them staring, leering actually, they all appeared as if they were terrorists about to explode their vest bombs when she flayed open her unbuttoned blouse. Then, when she removed her blouse, she revealed her supersized bra as if it concealed nuclear weapons and it did, two, big, bomb sized boobs. As it is in America, as it is in Texas, and as it is with Susan about to flash her tits to these poor men, everything at that lingerie store and inside that dressing room that day was bigger and better. As if they were two huge mountains that protected a deeply defined valley, dressed only in her bra and short skirt, they stared at her bra clad breasts and her long line of cleavage as if they were men dying from thirst.

"Got milk?"

Looking at her massive bra clad breasts from the side and only averting their stare long enough to look at her breasts from the front reflection of her in the mirror and to make sure that the saleswoman didn't see what they were up to in peeping on a customer changing in the dressing room. Watching them watching her, the saleswoman was fully aware of their deviant and inappropriate sexual, voyeuristic antics. Turning from side to side as if modeling a bra on television, they watched her look at herself in the mirror before she reached around behind herself to unhook her big bra to release her huge breasts. All she needed to be a Victoria's Secrets angel were wings. Inhaling a joint erotically, excited gasp of excited air with the sexual anticipation of seeing her big, naked breasts, the room fell quiet when they held their collective breaths.

One slow bra strap at a time, she wiggled out of her bra straps while holding her bra in place. As if removing a drop cloth from a valuable piece of artwork, as if she was a stripper stripping for her male audience on stage and she was, and as if there was a drum roll going off in their collective heads, no doubt they heard the symbols crashing as soon as she removed her bra.

"Ta-da!"

Having just seen the woman for the first time, not just any woman but a blonde, beautiful, blue-eyed, busty woman, obviously, they couldn't believe that they were rewarded by the sight of her big, naked breasts. Without even turning her head to acknowledge what they were seeing, as if she knew that they were watching her, they watched her cup her breasts in her hands while turning from side to side to look at her huge tits in the mirror. Then, perhaps too obvious in her intentions, they may have wondered if this naked breast show was purposeful and for their benefit. Lost in space, as if her breasts were suddenly eclipsing their planet, she stepped closer to the mirror to fill their eyes with her reflected twin, full moons. Continuing her exhausting albeit sexually exciting show and, no doubt, with every man wishing they were her doctor or breast exam technician, they watched her feel her breasts for lumps as if she was giving herself a breast exam.