Showing School’s Colours
Showing School’s Colours
We had a game at secondary school, a dare if you like. It was called ‘showing school’s colours’. In fact, for me, the whole thing started long before secondary school, but I’ll start there.
I followed in my sister’s footsteps and went to an all girl’s grammar school over a mile’s walk from where we lived. The school was strict and uniforms were inspected when entering the assembly hall each morning. There had been a long tradition in the school for dares and the game ‘truth or dare’ was one played in the small playground during breaks. There was an initiation imposed on first year and new girls, called ‘showing school’s colours’. The name came from a check that was performed once or twice a term as girls entered the assembly hall. It usually involved walking over a small mirror placed on the floor. A teacher would stand to the side of the mirror and check that we were wearing appropriate coloured knickers.
Our school uniform consisted of a navy felt jacket with blue piping around the lapels and pockets. We wore a light blue blouse, a navy pleated skirt, knickers and light blue socks and black or navy shoes. In the summer, an option to the navy skirt was a blue gingham skirt. The traditional school knickers worn by the first year girls were soon discarded in later years and we would usually wear anything we liked, unless an inspection was anticipated. I had a number of dark cotton knickers in blue, black and navy, so I was reasonably safe. However, sometimes we would wear white and other light coloured knickers, carrying a pair of school bloomers in our bag in case we were queuing for assembly and word came back up the school that the head had ordered ‘school colours’.
Anyway, the dare! One of the dares commonly imposed on new girls and often repeated throughout the years on each other was our own version of ‘showing school’s colours’. The favourite spot to conduct this was on the latticework railway bridge a short walk from the school. There were fields either side of the main line into London from Kent and the footbridge was one of the main pathways to and from the school from the south. Anyone dared to show school’s colours was required to stand on the steps of the railway bridge and wait until a train left the nearby station. As the train approached, the poor wench would have to bend over, raise her skirt up over her back and ‘show school’s colours’. A variation to this was to stand on one of the rungs of the fence running alongside the track and do similar. This was more of a dare than the steps, as you were a little closer to the train occupants and more visible to anyone looking.
As years passed, the dare evolved and the ultimate dare to sixth formers was to remove one’s knickers and moon. It was called ‘showing one’s charms’. I remember being dared to do this on several occasions and one of the dares was to do it in fields that backed on to the nearby boy’s grammar school. A 15 second ‘show’ was required and on the day I did it, the air was full of wolf whistles, yells and so on.
These simple and somewhat harmful games probably caused me to develop an interest in flashing. It’s something that I haven’t been bothered about if it happens accidently, but in my younger years I would ‘accidently’ allow a glimpse of my knickered sex, my knicker-clad bottom or even my bare charms. One of the places this would happen naturally is the supermarket. Squatting down to get to something on a lower shelf or picking up something that you’ve dropped would result in a clear view up between your thighs. If I caught someone looking I wouldn’t let it be known that I’d noticed. Instead, I’d pause for a moment and perhaps part my knees a little, before getting up or whatever.
A supermarket where I shopped for many years had a small coffee shop at the end of an aisle stocking household utensils. The position of the coffee shop and the isle allowed two opportunities to flash. Firstly, sitting at the closest table to the rail running around the perimeter of the coffee shop allowed you to face the length of the isle. I would often sit there with my cup of coffee and my trolley, waiting for an unsuspecting gent to walk up the aisle. They would usually be following their wife and would be totally brain dead from shopping. As they approached, I would reach down to a bag beside me or perhaps pick up my shopping list, which I had casually dropped to the floor.
I would often ‘gush’ as the man caught sight of the view up my skirt. I would hold the pose for a couple of seconds before straightening up. I would never look directly at them, but once I had completed my little act, I would make sure our eyes met and would often smile politely. Sometimes, when feeling extremely daring, I would pop into the ladies before shopping and remove my knickers. I would be lubricating during my shop and see if I could ‘show’ somewhere down an aisle. Once finished, I’d be quite wet and in need of attention. I would take a cup of coffee to my usual seat and see if I could be ‘caught’ by someone. Sometimes, a woman would see my charms and I often imagined that they would go all wet below and would have to dash off to the ladies and see to themselves.
I shopped at this supermarket for several years and began to notice that a couple there on a certain day of the week; Wednesday afternoons I think. They were in their early 60s and looked very presentable. The chap would follow his wife up and down the aisles, as if on a lead. Every now and then he would be given an instruction and would dash off to get something, returning to his position behind her once the task was completed. The wife and I would always exchange a ‘good afternoon’ if we passed in an aisle and I would always get a pleasant smile from the husband. I was sitting at my usual seat in the coffee shop one afternoon when this couple made their way up the aisle in front of me. I began to have second thoughts as I some way knew this couple and felt a little awkward. They were around 5 meters away when the wife stopped and started to examine some Pyrex dishes. The chap stood there and glanced down the aisle towards the coffee shop. At that moment, I reached for my coffee cup and knocked my shopping list off the table. Instinctively, I reached down to my side to pick it up off of the floor, intentionally allowing my knees to part and my legs to open. The look on this chap’s face was a picture. I look of shock came over him and he held his stare up between my parted thighs for what seemed like ages, but was perhaps only a few seconds. I daren’t look his way and by the time I’d sat back and brought my coffee cup to my lips for a sip, he and his wife had reached the end of the aisle and had turned just in front of me.
I wouldn’t do this every time I shopped there, only when I felt like it. I happen to ‘catch’ this chap several times after that and being that we were usually in the store at the same time each week, it wasn’t unusual to find him strolling down the aisle behind his wife or even there on his own! I think he must have seen up my skirt five or six times over the course of a few years and each time, like all the other times I’d flashed, it would leave me moist. I would usually put my shopping in the car and dash back home. However, on some occasions i would return to the supermarket and use the ladies there or walk a little way through the town to public loos and pop into a cubicle to see to myself. Masturbation would usually be swift. There wasn’t the time and it wasn’t an ideal place for an extended session. Having had an orgasm, I’d pull my knicks up (if I was wearing any) and get back home to finish the job.
Flashing has always been a way of flirting for me and as long as it doesn’t cause offence and gives people pleasure (especially me!), I would continue to do it. It’s a form of exhibitionism, reverse voyeurism if you like.
Just to finish, I mentioned that a few females had caught sight of my charms and this has been so over the years. Be it the beach, changing rooms at the pool or the shops, in the supermarket or getting out of a low chair, women have caught an eyeful. I know that some have shown more interest than others. How do I know this? Well, I am more than interested in spotting a knicker-clad crutch or a woman’s bare sex or bottom!
We had a game at secondary school, a dare if you like. It was called ‘showing school’s colours’. In fact, for me, the whole thing started long before secondary school, but I’ll start there.
I followed in my sister’s footsteps and went to an all girl’s grammar school over a mile’s walk from where we lived. The school was strict and uniforms were inspected when entering the assembly hall each morning. There had been a long tradition in the school for dares and the game ‘truth or dare’ was one played in the small playground during breaks. There was an initiation imposed on first year and new girls, called ‘showing school’s colours’. The name came from a check that was performed once or twice a term as girls entered the assembly hall. It usually involved walking over a small mirror placed on the floor. A teacher would stand to the side of the mirror and check that we were wearing appropriate coloured knickers.
Our school uniform consisted of a navy felt jacket with blue piping around the lapels and pockets. We wore a light blue blouse, a navy pleated skirt, knickers and light blue socks and black or navy shoes. In the summer, an option to the navy skirt was a blue gingham skirt. The traditional school knickers worn by the first year girls were soon discarded in later years and we would usually wear anything we liked, unless an inspection was anticipated. I had a number of dark cotton knickers in blue, black and navy, so I was reasonably safe. However, sometimes we would wear white and other light coloured knickers, carrying a pair of school bloomers in our bag in case we were queuing for assembly and word came back up the school that the head had ordered ‘school colours’.
Anyway, the dare! One of the dares commonly imposed on new girls and often repeated throughout the years on each other was our own version of ‘showing school’s colours’. The favourite spot to conduct this was on the latticework railway bridge a short walk from the school. There were fields either side of the main line into London from Kent and the footbridge was one of the main pathways to and from the school from the south. Anyone dared to show school’s colours was required to stand on the steps of the railway bridge and wait until a train left the nearby station. As the train approached, the poor wench would have to bend over, raise her skirt up over her back and ‘show school’s colours’. A variation to this was to stand on one of the rungs of the fence running alongside the track and do similar. This was more of a dare than the steps, as you were a little closer to the train occupants and more visible to anyone looking.
As years passed, the dare evolved and the ultimate dare to sixth formers was to remove one’s knickers and moon. It was called ‘showing one’s charms’. I remember being dared to do this on several occasions and one of the dares was to do it in fields that backed on to the nearby boy’s grammar school. A 15 second ‘show’ was required and on the day I did it, the air was full of wolf whistles, yells and so on.
These simple and somewhat harmful games probably caused me to develop an interest in flashing. It’s something that I haven’t been bothered about if it happens accidently, but in my younger years I would ‘accidently’ allow a glimpse of my knickered sex, my knicker-clad bottom or even my bare charms. One of the places this would happen naturally is the supermarket. Squatting down to get to something on a lower shelf or picking up something that you’ve dropped would result in a clear view up between your thighs. If I caught someone looking I wouldn’t let it be known that I’d noticed. Instead, I’d pause for a moment and perhaps part my knees a little, before getting up or whatever.
A supermarket where I shopped for many years had a small coffee shop at the end of an aisle stocking household utensils. The position of the coffee shop and the isle allowed two opportunities to flash. Firstly, sitting at the closest table to the rail running around the perimeter of the coffee shop allowed you to face the length of the isle. I would often sit there with my cup of coffee and my trolley, waiting for an unsuspecting gent to walk up the aisle. They would usually be following their wife and would be totally brain dead from shopping. As they approached, I would reach down to a bag beside me or perhaps pick up my shopping list, which I had casually dropped to the floor.
I would often ‘gush’ as the man caught sight of the view up my skirt. I would hold the pose for a couple of seconds before straightening up. I would never look directly at them, but once I had completed my little act, I would make sure our eyes met and would often smile politely. Sometimes, when feeling extremely daring, I would pop into the ladies before shopping and remove my knickers. I would be lubricating during my shop and see if I could ‘show’ somewhere down an aisle. Once finished, I’d be quite wet and in need of attention. I would take a cup of coffee to my usual seat and see if I could be ‘caught’ by someone. Sometimes, a woman would see my charms and I often imagined that they would go all wet below and would have to dash off to the ladies and see to themselves.
I shopped at this supermarket for several years and began to notice that a couple there on a certain day of the week; Wednesday afternoons I think. They were in their early 60s and looked very presentable. The chap would follow his wife up and down the aisles, as if on a lead. Every now and then he would be given an instruction and would dash off to get something, returning to his position behind her once the task was completed. The wife and I would always exchange a ‘good afternoon’ if we passed in an aisle and I would always get a pleasant smile from the husband. I was sitting at my usual seat in the coffee shop one afternoon when this couple made their way up the aisle in front of me. I began to have second thoughts as I some way knew this couple and felt a little awkward. They were around 5 meters away when the wife stopped and started to examine some Pyrex dishes. The chap stood there and glanced down the aisle towards the coffee shop. At that moment, I reached for my coffee cup and knocked my shopping list off the table. Instinctively, I reached down to my side to pick it up off of the floor, intentionally allowing my knees to part and my legs to open. The look on this chap’s face was a picture. I look of shock came over him and he held his stare up between my parted thighs for what seemed like ages, but was perhaps only a few seconds. I daren’t look his way and by the time I’d sat back and brought my coffee cup to my lips for a sip, he and his wife had reached the end of the aisle and had turned just in front of me.
I wouldn’t do this every time I shopped there, only when I felt like it. I happen to ‘catch’ this chap several times after that and being that we were usually in the store at the same time each week, it wasn’t unusual to find him strolling down the aisle behind his wife or even there on his own! I think he must have seen up my skirt five or six times over the course of a few years and each time, like all the other times I’d flashed, it would leave me moist. I would usually put my shopping in the car and dash back home. However, on some occasions i would return to the supermarket and use the ladies there or walk a little way through the town to public loos and pop into a cubicle to see to myself. Masturbation would usually be swift. There wasn’t the time and it wasn’t an ideal place for an extended session. Having had an orgasm, I’d pull my knicks up (if I was wearing any) and get back home to finish the job.
Flashing has always been a way of flirting for me and as long as it doesn’t cause offence and gives people pleasure (especially me!), I would continue to do it. It’s a form of exhibitionism, reverse voyeurism if you like.
Just to finish, I mentioned that a few females had caught sight of my charms and this has been so over the years. Be it the beach, changing rooms at the pool or the shops, in the supermarket or getting out of a low chair, women have caught an eyeful. I know that some have shown more interest than others. How do I know this? Well, I am more than interested in spotting a knicker-clad crutch or a woman’s bare sex or bottom!
15 years ago
