Controlled Exhibitionism

What is Controlled Exhibitionism?

I have always considered myself to be adroit in public. In the span of only a second or two I am able to survey a room and assess, roughly, who is in it, the layout and where I want to be in that room. I have great vision out of the corners of my eyes and as I do believe that I am cognitively-endowed in these regards and more – I have resultantly developed this fascination for the rush of exhibitionism.

My exhibitionism is not careless. It doesn’t mean raincoats and naked men in cars and perverts on playgrounds. Those are exactly the under-developed mental midgets that I loath. To the contrary, my kind of exhibitionism is slight and discreet. And the skill sets that I have built-up around my exhibitionism and voyeuristic delights, are highly cultivated.

My exhibitionism began, in part, because of a series of voyeuristic situations. That was coupled with the fact that I’ve always been complimented on my cock. And while I am not an egomaniac – I am confident in those components which create attention; and good, sometimes even, great moments and reactions.

It is wearing a cock ring in public. It is getting a woman to walk past me and have her eyes bounce-down to my bulging cock. My kind of exhibitionism is my girlfriend wearing vibrating panties to the mall and having me in control of the remote. I enjoy getting handjobs while driving and for that matter, very discriminately playing with my cock in traffic.

Sometimes I go to sex clubs, just to sit around and be watched. I love seeing a couple that is playing – watch me stroke my cock. I love, even more, seeing a woman who is sucking on a cock – watch me stroke mine. I have been in group situations and had up to three lovers at once – the biggest thrill being, watched while they are being pleasured.

I love being deliberate about my exhibitionism. I love playing, alone or with lovers, in front of open windows that I know may catch the eye of a gorgeous girl across the way. I love masturbating in dim light, with the same hopes of catching an admiring eye.

My hottest sexual experience involved some voyeurism and exhibitionism.

My aim is to push myself; to push others. I am always looking for the supreme reaction of lust and excitement and thrill and people collapsing those cardboard boxes they live in.


3 Responses to “Controlled Exhibitionism”

  1. As I continue, albeit hesitantly, to discover how much I want to be seen, I am more and more pushing my own envelope of comfort. I have to admit, your post is a little encouraging. And, gives me some different ideas about how to achieve my desire, tastefully.

  2. I love what you wrote…I do. It reminds me of the thrill of pulling over and giving head on the side of the road…just because…and not caring. Or going out do dinner and having his hand up my skirt all throughout dinner..cumming the whole time…damn those breadsticks where torn to shreds…poor busboy that had to clean up after me. Sweetness. M

  3. I’m with ya, brother. I’m a voyeur, and the two most erotic sights are as follows. First, shear clothing. Not so shear as to make a mockery of transparency, and not if the woman is nude beneath her clothing. Rather, the translucent shorts, pants, dress or skirt that let me see her panties. I’m not supposed to know if she wears bikinis. I’m not supposed to know that they are full-bottomed but tiny in front. But I do, and I love knowing that she is boldly, publicly letting me and all matter or other people — married men, older men, women, boys — into the club of her Personal Intimate Knowledge. Thank you for the invitation, dear. AND SECOND…the most provocative area of a woman’s body is that of her breasts below her nipple. I’ve seen cleavage my entire life, my first memory being that of the inner edges of Charo’s voluminous round breasts, pressed tightly together. And I pursued seeing nipples for most of my life, then realized in college that every other man joined me in the same goal. Being a contrarian by nature, I despised that. It made me one of THEM, not someone with more refined taste or keener insight into women or sexuality. And it also gave women a common currency. Their nipples became cash, the sight of which they’d trade for alcohol, attention or even (Heaven help us all) necklaces of plastic beads. No, it is the undersides of a woman’s breasts that never see sun or voyeuristic glances, that are bracketed by underwire and nylon bras from early pubescence through the end of life. It is the sight of this palest and softest skin of a woman’s breasts that I captivate me, particularly in public. Bless the man (or, more likely, brazen woman) who first cropped a t-shirt, and bless all women who wear short, blousy shirts and then make a point of bending over — to shoot pool, to tie a shoe, to pick something off the ground — showing off for me and my fellow voyeur connoisseurs. I’d never approach you…the magic disappears instantly…but it is you who I think of, even when enjoying the passions of a different woman.

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