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. The pretty girl took her camera and

pointed it up the steps at the Gallery.

Oh well, never mind, she just wanted

another tourist snap. But I still couldn’t

keep my eyes off her, and to my

delight I saw the camera tilt downwards so it was pointing straight

at me. Oh yes, that’s better. I stared hard at

my book, but I wasn’t taking any of it

in - it was just black blobs on a white

background. My whole mind was

wondering whether she was still

there; whether she was still taking pictures; whether she wanted more… I couldn’t resist glancing up. She had

the camera up to her face, but I was

sure it was pointing straight up my

dress. I breathed in deeply, then

moved my legs a little bit more apart.

They were rather wide now. I saw her twist the lens, zooming in on whatever

she was photographing. This was

exciting. I forgot for a moment that

there were hundreds of other people

around. I’m sure my pussy must have

been getting wetter and wetter inside, and I really wanted to touch it, to part

my lips and let the juices run out. I was

so aroused that I forgot to breathe for

a moment or two, and found myself

puffing to get oxygen back to my

lungs. Casually, the girl turned aside and

pointed her camera over towards the

church of St Martin-in-the-Fields and

took a few pictures of it. She began to

walk back up the steps towards me.

For a moment, I felt nervous, and looked back at my book, but as a

shadow passed over my legs I

couldn’t resist looking up. My eyes met

hers. Without saying a word, she sat down

next to me on the steps. My heart was

thumping. She held her digital camera

in her hands and leant towards me

with it. “Would you like to see?” she said. I looked at the view-screen. The first

picture was just a view of the

colonnade at the front of the Gallery. I

could just see the top of my head at

the bottom of the picture. “Press here to scroll through” said the

girl. I could feel the warmth of her

body next to me. I was trembling a

little. The next picture showed the whole of

the steps, with me in the middle, my

legs apart and my skirt up my thighs.

You could see straight up the front, to

the little plump bulge of my pubic

mound. I could just make out the pink curve of my labia. I felt myself blush

with a sort of embarrassment. I

suppose I hadn’t expected to be

looking straight at the evidence like

this. I scrolled to the next picture. This one

had been taken using the zoom, and

you could see the labia quite clearly. I

stared at it for a moment, fascinated.

Then I felt a nudge, and looked round.

She was smiling at me. “Keep going” she said. I saw why she was keen to move on.

Wow. The next one was taken after I

had moved my legs apart, and the sun

was shining straight up my frock. I

couldn’t help noticing how pale my

inner thighs were. But my plump little pussy really stood out. I saw that my

lips had parted more than I realised,

and the pink entrance to my vagina

was glistening and wet. I scrolled again. She’d used the zoom

again, and you could almost have

reached out and touched the pink

curves of my labia. There was a little

dark gap at the centre, leading the eye

into my sex. I looked at her again, and she raised

an eyebrow. I realised that as I had

been leaning over looking at the

pictures, the front of my frock had

fallen open so she could look straight

down at the swell of my bare breasts, including my pinkish areole and

darker nipples. Hard nipples. There was one more picture. She’d

pulled back on the zoom, and there

was all of me, looking straight at the

camera, with a little smile on my face

and my legs wide apart. God, I was

such a slut - but it was a classic up- skirt shot! I think we were each waiting for the

other to say something. It must only

have been a couple of seconds, but

felt like minutes. “These are great pictures” I said.

“Thanks for letting me see”. “I’ve got some more that you might

like” she said. “There’re on my camera

if you have a minute.” “Yes please” I said. There was another

slight pause, and I went on. “Why don’t we have a coffee and you

can show me properly?” “That would be nice” she answered;

“is this place ok?” - nodding at the

little café next to the steps, right on the

Square. “It’s ok, but the one in the Gallery’s

better” I said; “A bit more expensive,

but quieter”. “Sounds great” she smiled. “Lead the

way!” We crossed the pavement and went

into the Gallery through the Getty

entrance, which takes you straight to

the café and shop, and is obviously

meant for people who want to have

something to eat without all that tedious mucking about with paintings

first. I offered to get the coffees while she

found a table. I took a chance and

chose us each a piece of cake - I think

I needed a sugar hit! I looked round

with my tray and saw her waving at

me from the far corner. She’d found a perfect table, slightly out of the way,

and luckily there weren’t too many

people around anyway. I sat down

opposite her. She laughed when she

saw the cakes. “How did you guess?” she said. “I

shouldn’t, but then, why not?” And she took the creamier of the two

pieces. “So…” I said, taking a sip of hot coffee,

“Where are these pictures?” She’d found them on her camera while

I was at the counter, and passed it

straight across. “These are from all over” she said.

“But I have a special folder for them

all”. They were a mixture of candid shots,

up-skirt and down-blouse, all

obviously taken without the subjects

knowing. Some of the girls were

wearing panties, but a few were like

me, showing it all. Most of these were shaved, so you could see the detail of

their pussies. Most of the down-blouse

ones were of bra-less breasts, usually

showing a nipple or two. They were all

very, very sexy. “You’ve a great collection here” I said,

impressed. “It must have taken you

ages”. “I take a lot of pictures anyway” she

said, “and I’m always on the lookout

for this sort of shot. I do sell some stuff

commercially - but not these - these

are just for me. Don’t worry, you’re not

going to see yourself on some website - at least, not unless you want to!” “But you know” she said, “You’re

almost the first person I’ve seen who I

thought might have been doing it on

purpose. The way you just sat there

with your legs apart, you must have

known what you were showing. But you didn’t seem to care. I noticed you

didn’t have a bra when I walked past,

and I was going to try and get a shot

of your tits. But then when I realised

you had no panties either…I was just,

like wow, my kind of girl!” “I mean,” she went on “I like not

wearing undies either, just because it

makes me feel good. “But I don’t really

flash at people, unless I know them

and it’s all part of the foreplay sort of

thing”. “It just turns me on” I admitted. “The

thought of people walking past and

seeing me just makes me so horny,

and I just love it. Sometimes I do it in

the park, pretending to sunbathe and

pulling my skirt up as far as I dare”. “Photographing you got me so turned

on too” she said. “Especially once I

knew that you knew I was doing it…

that’s when I plucked up courage to

show you!” That’s when I felt a touch on my leg

under the table. It made me jump, and

I looked down and saw that it was her

bare foot tickling me. She’d kicked off

her sandals and her toes were

stroking against the outside of my leg. I moved my leg against hers and

smiled at her. My legs were slightly

apart now, and I deliberately edged

my chair a bit closer to make it easier

for her. She slid her leg over mine until

it was between my legs, stroking against my inner thigh now. Her skin

was smooth against mine. I put my

hand under the table and stroked her

calves, pulling my dress up a bit more

to give her room to manoeuvre. Her foot slipped under the front of my

dress. She knew what she was doing

with her toes, though she was teasing

me by rubbing against the tops of my

thighs, deliberately not going any

higher. Then she broke contact, and I got that weird feeling you get when

you know something is close to you

even thought you can’t see it. This

time, I got the feeling in my pussy,

knowing her foot was almost

touching. Then I felt her toes touch the lips of my

pussy. She wiggled them backwards

and forwards, tickling my labia. It felt

amazing. I was squirming about in my

seat, wriggling back at her, trying to

manoeuvre myself so her toes would go inside my slit. She managed to find

the button of my clitoris, and flicked

her toe against it. I had to put my cup

of coffee down, for fear I’d spill it

everywhere. I gripped the edge of the

table with my hands and braced myself against her, breathing heavily

through my nose, letting out the

occasional little squeak in my throat.

Anyone watching could surely guess

what was going on… Wriggling her toes, she eased between

my labia and pushed up into the

entrance to my vagina. I let out a

definite squeak…she was smiling at

me as she pushed against me. I felt her

toes wriggling around inside me. Something pressed against my clitoris

- her big toe probably - and she

flicked it backwards and forwards

against the little button, pushing hard

against it. Oh god. I felt my orgasm

building. Not for the first time, I felt a bit embarrassed at how quickly I

would climax once my clitoris was

stimulated. If I’d been a man, I’d have

had no staying power at all! I leant over and grasped her hand,

squeezing it tight as I pressed against

her toes, clenching the muscles of my

pussy. Oh god here it came…and I

orgasmed. My knuckles were white as

I gripped her so hard. All the muscles in my legs and bum were clenched

and I felt my thighs spasming as I

struggled to stop myself from

thrashing my body about and crying

out. It must have looked as if I was

having an epileptic fit! She stared at me across the table with

a delighted smile on her face. “Wow!” she whispered. “Did you just

come?” I nodded, trying to get my breathing

under control. “I just couldn’t help it” I

said. “I guess I was just so turned on…

it just happened!” “You are just so amazing” she said,

laughing. I smoothed my dress down under the

table, trying to look decent. Looking

under the table, I could see the toes of

her right foot were wet and sticky. She leant over and whispered again.

“And you’ve got me so horny. Won’t

you do something for me now?” “Sure” I said. “Here?” “Come to the toilets” she whispered. “I

want you properly”. “Not the ones just here” I said

“They’re too busy - but if we go over

to the back door, there are some that

hardly anyone uses”. “How do you know this stuff?” she

asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve fucked

your way all round London’s bogs?” I laughed “Not yet - but I actually like

paintings as well as fucking! So I come

here quite a lot” “I’ll follow you then” she said. I couldn’t remember exactly which

rooms to go through, but I knew that

from the Central Hall there would be

signs for the “Orange Street Exit” and I

followed those. We went past the

Velasquez “Venus at her Toilette”, with her lovely bum, through more

random rooms until I saw the full-

length portrait of Cardinal Richelieu by

Philippe de Champaigne and I knew

we were nearly there. The toilets I was

looking for were by the Educational Centre. During the week it tends to be

swarming with school parties, but at

the weekend it’s practically deserted. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I

pushed open the door to the

“Disabled” toilets. “Come on, there’ll be more room in

here” I said. She shut and locked the door. She put

her arms round my waist and our lips

met, hard and rough and urgent. Her arms rubbed roughly over my

back, wrinkling my dress. Her large

breasts were pressed against my

chest. I pushed both my hands up the

front of her t-shirt. Her skin was warm

and flushed with excitement. My hands made contact with the firm

swell of her breasts inside the lacy

support of her bra. She groaned deep

in her throat. I rolled her breasts

under my hands, feeling them move

inside the bra. Pushing upwards, I felt the bottom of her bra cups moving up,

slowly slipping over the soft flesh. I

pushed again, and with a rush felt the

cups spring up, her boobs bouncing

free and unsupported. At last my

hands gripped the hot bare flesh. Her nipples tightened and became hard

under my grip, her areoles dimpling. I

wanted her body so badly. I dragged

at her t-shirt and she raised her arms

to let me pull it over her head. I

stepped back for a moment, holding her t-shirt, gazing at her tits swinging

too and fro as she quickly unclipped

her bra and let it fall from her arms

onto the floor. She smiled at me,

enjoying her bareness. She had clear

sharp tan-lines round the curve of her tits, showing that she normally wore a

small bikini top that must have barely

covered her nipples. My own body was fizzing with desire. I

pressed my hand to my crotch, circling

my palm against my clitoris. She pulled

me against her again, rubbing her

bare breasts against my dress as we

kissed. I squeezed her bum, rubbing against the crack between her cheeks,

before scratching my nails up the bare

skin of her legs. I pushed my hand down the back of

her shorts, inside her panties as well.

Her bum was warm and smooth and

firm. “Let me get these off” she muttered,

and undid her shorts, pulling them

and her panties down, kicking them

off across the floor. Now she was

totally naked. Her pubes were covered

in a tidy nest of hair, but I could see the pink folds of her pussy, aroused

and moist. She pushed me back against the sink,

and began to unbutton the front of my

dress. I was breathing heavily already,

my little tits heaving. She pushed my

dress off my shoulders, and I wriggled

to help the sleeves slip down my arms. The whole dress fell to the floor and I

was naked too. I pulled her towards me and kissed

her hard on her lips, feeling her body

hot against mine. She nibbled at my lip,

and I raked my fingernails down her

back, digging in as hard as I dared. In

the mirror opposite me, I could see the red marks on her skin. “More, more” she moaned, and I

kissed down her neck and over her

shoulder-blades. She had her hands

on my buttocks, and I felt a finger

nuzzling between my cheeks,

followed by a gentle pressure against my sphincter. “You’re so tight” she murmured. “I can

hardly get one finger in. Relax,

babe…” The finger pushed harder, just

entering, causing me to wince slightly. “Don’t stop” I whispered, as I felt the

finger leave. “Don’t worry” she replied. She picked

up the liquid-soap dispenser from the

hand-basin and pumped slippery

soap all over her palm and fingers,

before returning her hand to my

buttocks. I barely had time to register the cool soap on my bum, before her

freshly-lubricated finger slipped easily

into my hole. I gasped, pressing my

naked body against hers. I could feel

her finger twirling inside my bum-

hole. I was nuzzling her neck, but my teeth closed on her flesh as I felt a

second finger joining the first. I’d

never had two fingers up my bum

before, and without the soap I’m sure

she’d never have managed. I put my hand under her right tit,

raising it to my mouth. I sucked the

flesh into my mouth, moving towards

her dark nipples. As my mouth closed

over her right nipple, I felt her fingers

wiggling more inside my bum-hole, and I thrust my pelvis against her,

biting down on the nipple at the same

time. This wasn’t nice soft sex: it was

rough and dirty, and I was loving it. My teeth clenched her nipple; my lips

could feel the rough aroused skin of

her areole. Her fingers began thrusting

in and out of my bum and I could feel

the pulsing of my pussy, getting

wetter and wetter with pleasure. But she had already brought me to

orgasm once, and I wanted to do the

same for her. I pulled away from her, feeling the

“schlup” as her fingers slipped out of

my lubricated bum. Quickly I slid to the

floor, pulling her with me, rolling her

onto her back against the cold tiles. I

crouched over her, one leg on either side of her waist, my little tits swinging

slightly, my pussy pressed against her

tummy. I writhed my crotch against

her, stimulating myself and spreading

a wet smear of my sexual secretions

all over her tummy. I could see little red marks on her tits where my mouth

had bruised her skin. She lay still,

panting with excitement but allowing

me to take charge. With one swift movement, I slid down

past her waist, put one leg between

her thighs, and roughly pulled her

legs apart. Her pussy was gaping

wide, and I lowered my face to it,

breathing in her musky scent. I rubbed my face over the light fuzz of

hair on her pubic mound, my nose

bumping against her clitoris, which felt

engorged and hard. Her labia and the

entrance to her vagina were very wet,

and her sex juices were soon smeared all over my face. I momentarily raised

my head to let her see. She smiled. I dipped down again, and my tongue

made contact with her labia and licked

over and between the folds. Spreading

her lips with my fingers, I gazed for a

moment at the sweet pink moist

interior, breathing in the musky aroma, before burying myself in it. She

was dripping with juices, gasping and

thrashing as my tongue lapped

around her vulva; pushing her pussy

into my face, grinding against me. With

my tongue still lapping at her, my thumb found her clitoris, and she bit

back a scream as I rolled and rubbed

it. I quickly worked out from her moans

and gasps exactly what flickers of the

tongue and rolling of the thumb were

needed to propel her towards her

climax. I licked upwards inside her as

far as I could go, finding the soft spongy area around her g-spot, and

at the same time increasing the

pressure on her clit. As I’d hoped, that

was all it took, and her thigh muscles

went tense as she began to shudder

with the force of the orgasm that engulfed her. As soon as I felt her

climax hit, I raised my face, and

pushed two fingers of my other hand

deep up inside her soaking cunt, while

circling faster and faster round her clit.

My hand was drenched in her juices and she was shaking all over as a

second even more intense orgasm

exploded. She was clutching her tits,

pink and glowing with perspiration all

over her body. I withdrew my fingers and watched as

her trembling subsided. She put her

fingers inside her own pussy and

withdrew them coated in her own

stickiness. She fed me her fingers and I

sucked the juice off them. I let her suck mine as she clutched me too her,

both our bodies sticky and sweaty. We knelt on the floor, holding hands,

trying to let our breathing get back to

normal, both of us glowing with the

aftermath of the experience. She

stroked one hand over my little pussy,

touching my puffy labia. “You’re still aroused, aren’t you” she

said, more of a statement than a

question. “I want you to have me now” I said. “I want you as well - but can you wait

until we get back to my flat?” she said

matter-of-factly. I nodded. “Put your dress on then” she said.

“And if we can get an empty carriage

on the tube, I’ll make you come

again”.