My name’s Shelby, I’m 27, and I have a decent job writing marketing copy for websites. I love German food, bike on the weekends, and obsess over horror movies. Oh, and I have an awful, uncontrollable exhibitionistic streak.
I try to keep it under control, but I simply lack the power to deny myself, and it’s only gotten worse and worse over time. The first time I REALLY knew I was in trouble was about a year ago, when I had a spare day off. I didn’t feel very aroused or energetic that morning, so I thought it’d be safe to go out. It was a nice day, and there was a little café I’d always been meaning to try.
I walked in and flagged down a friendly-looking blond waitress with a name tag reading “Lisa”. She found me a seat quickly- the place wasn’t too crowded but it was pretty small.
"Thank you! You know, I heard about this place from one of my friends, but I’ve never been here," I said to her. "What do you recommend?"
"Hmm, well, most people love our caramel macchiato," Lisa replied. "Or if you prefer something stronger, we have a good selection of Italian espresso."
"I'll try the caramel macchiato then," I responded.
"Alright, I'll get that for you then,” Lisa said, but as she walked off, I started to feel hot. This was an old place, with no air conditioning, and it was a sunny day. And that, my friends, was the beginning of the end. Without even thinking about it, I kicked off my shoes.
"If you like sweets, you should really try the brownie sundae," Lisa called from the bar. “It’s amazing.”
"I'll pass, but thanks for the recommendation," I said, but my focus was already split. The urges were coming fast and furious. I was in a new place, a place that made me feel comfortable yet alert. Cringing, I peeled my socks off my feet. By now I was starting to feel…hot…a lot. I pressed my bare, sweaty feet against the cold metal of the table, but that only helped for a second.
Lisa returned, bringing my drink. I remember drinking it all, but to this day, I have no idea what it tasted like. "I love your earrings,” Lisa said. I brushed my earlobes, remembering I had put in my multicolored stars.
"Thank you,” I managed to respond.
"You're welcome," Lisa said. She began walking away to attend to another customer, and my primal brain compelled me to be less dressed when she returned. I unbuttoned the top four buttons of my shirt, just enough to expose all my cleavage and the top of my bra cups.
Suddenly, I froze, wondering if anyone had noticed. My sanity had returned, however temporarily. I quickly buttoned my shirt back up. Why would I do that? I’m a good girl, a shy girl. I wear one-piece swimsuits, and never go clubbing. I could get thrown out of this place if I kept it up.
But my urges didn’t care about any of that.
As I drank my coffee, my heart began to pound faster, and my fingers crept down to the button of my jeans. These were a tight pair to begin with. I could barely get them closed that morning. Now, in the heat of the room and the heat of my mind, they felt like they were pieces of scratchy cardboard glued to my thighs with sweat. I never hated my pants more.
Trying to distract myself some way, any way, I rubbed my forehead, ran my fingers through my hair, counted spots on the wallpaper. I avoided eye contact with anyone in the café. I was losing the battle quickly, though.
Despite how badly my hands were trembling, I managed to unbutton my jeans. Screaming silently, I clenched my legs together, forcing my fingers back to my waistband. Just then, Lisa walked back to my table.
I felt my face burning up. I knew I looked like a fool sitting here red as a tomato, desperate for someone to see me for some ungodly reason. Lisa, that poor sap, was still ignorant, and just gave me one of those customer service smiles.
"Hi there," she said, waving to get my attention and giggling slightly. "Would you like anything else?" At first I just stared at those sweet cowlike brown eyes. She was waiting for me to open my stupid mouth and say something, anything. Eventually, I snapped out of it.
"Um, yes! Could you get me a croissant?" I blurted out.
"Ah, popular choice today. We’ve got a fresh batch baking," she replies. "It'll be a few minutes."
Once again, she was gone, and once again, the urges seized control.
They didn’t want to give up. Despite the rising risk, I unzipped my jeans, leaving them only on my body thanks to physics. The zipper sounded so loud to me at the moment, like a firecracker going off. I felt sure I was going to get kicked out of there if anyone from the café noticed. Of course, I’m sure it was completely fucking inaudible to everyone else in hindsight.
I lifted my shirt up just enough so that I could pull my jeans down. It was still a real struggle, thanks to how tight and sweaty they were, but I kept going because it was such a relief to feel the air touch my bare legs. Finally, I sat back, feeling the fabric of my panties rubbing against my chair.
After a moment to gather my courage, I looked down. I couldn’t help but gape when I saw my pants around my ankles. It was outrageous, and my panties were embarrassing, too. They were dorky full coverage panties; sea green with little white anchors and life preservers printed all over them. I normally thought they were so fucking cute, but they looked so dumb in the situation. Anytime you’re sitting in a public place, showing off your panties is a bad idea, but it’s even worse when they’re cutesy, comfy ones.
I once again glanced around desperately, seeing if anyone had noticed. The only people in the café, besides me and Lisa, were a family with little kids, and a couple sitting all alone. Everyone else had their full attention on their food, or their phones. Feeling emboldened, I unbuttoned my shirt again, this time all the way.
Lisa walked back to my table with a large hot croissant on a plate. "Here you go," she said. "Sorry, it took so long." Suddenly, she realized my shirt was completely unbuttoned. Her face turned almost as red as mine. "Um, hi there!" she said awkwardly. "Did you know your bra is out?"
"What?" I replied, playing very dumb.
"Your shirt is unbuttoned completely," she said.
I couldn’t believe it when I just nodded like a moron. "Yes, it's, uh.... hot in here."
Lisa looked away quickly. "Yeah...."
"Anyway," I said, "thanks for the bread."
"Uh.... of course,” she finished, awkwardly shuffling off to wipe down the nearby tables. I felt so ashamed that I forced myself to halfheartedly button my bottom shirt button. At least she didn't seem to notice my pants were off- at the time, anyway.
Part of me wanted to pay and get out of there before I could do anything else. The other parts, the part the urges control, had me glued to my seat. I nibbled on the croissant like a cartoon rabbit, hoping it would distract my brain. Lisa kept staring at me but trying to hide it, playing it off like she was scanning the diner. Probably wondering what was wrong with this woman.
Taking it almost as a challenge, my primal brain took over and forced me to undo that last button. I then yawned, stretching my arms over my head. As I pulled them back, I let my shirt slip onto my shoulders, completely exposing my dark gray bra with a little bow between my boobs.
Lisa involuntarily sucked in a breath, looking away. For some reason, her embarrassment just propelled me on, and I felt myself calling out to her. "Could you get me another croissant, please?"
"Sure," she replied, turning her back to me. I could see her shoulders shaking nervously, though. By now, the family with little kids had noticed me. The mom was giving me a weird look, and the dad was glaring at Lisa. When she noticed, she just hid behind the cash register.
Then I heard the dad mutter under his breath, "Whore."
That word. That filled me with goosebumps, and took away my last bit of control. I couldn’t help it. I felt my nipples get hard as fuck, and I pulled feet out of my jeans, taking them completely off. My shirt then followed, landing on the floor beside my pants.
My cheeks were as red as the apples in the farmer's market. Inside, I felt absolutely humiliated, thinking: “You are in a public café dressed in nothing but your bra and panties. What kind of girl am I?”
Those poor little kids stared at me, wide-eyed. Their mom wrapped her arm around her little ones, hiding me from their curious eyes. “This is horrifying!” she shrieked, taking the kids by the hand and leading them outside. The father curtly threw a 20 on the table and stormed out after. The couple just stared on in shock, their jaws low enough to scrape the floor.
I managed to weakly stammer "I-I'm sorry..." but the family was long gone.
Just as I said those words, Lisa appeared in front of me, a croissant in her hands.
"Here," she said nervously. "I-I'm so sorry. But I have to ask you to leave."
I was more than ready. But- you guessed it- my urges weren’t quite finished. I nodded, then said, "Can you just get me a coffee to go?"
Lisa thought about it, wiping her brow. "Fine, but then you have to go or I'll get in trouble," she said, firmly. With the promise secured, my urges knew it was safe. Fighting every instinct I had, I reached behind my back to unclip my bra.
Poor Lisa stared at me in shock. "What--?"
"I-I just want some coffee..." was all I could think to say. I was drooling. I was delirious. I was a pure untamed hormone creature.
Everyone in the café regarded me with the disgust I deserved. But by then, shame couldn’t restrain me. I still peeled my bra off my sweaty chest, exposing my heavy breasts. They slid down my body, finally at freedom.
Lisa squeaked, a heavy sound in the quiet café. Covering her mouth in shock, she ran to make my last coffee. Meanwhile, I stared, almost unbelieving, at my bare boobs.
That’s the strangest thing about these weird urges of mine. I don’t like my body very much at all. I’m very self-conscious, and I’m no model. My boobs don’t hang down to my waist, but they are very heavy and droopy for a 27-year old. Plus I have this big wide pink areolas, and long pointy nipples when they get hard like that day. I could put your eye out with these beasts.
Despite their best efforts to hide it, I could hear the couple whispering and giggling about my body: "Wow, those are some saggy tits," "They're so big," "Looks like she likes being naked, the freak!”
I gasped as I realized how much their mocking turned me on. I felt my clit swelling up.
I felt dirty. I felt like a whore. But- I had to leave before someone called the cops.
I slammed a fistful of cash on the table and stood up to leave as Lisa brought my coffee. I reached out to grab it, but my hand was so sweaty that I spilled some of it on myself. Lisa may have been to blame too, since she couldn’t stop staring at my naked tits and silly panties while she handed the coffee over. I picked up my clothes and started walking for the exit, hoping that if I could just make it to the door, I would at least keep my underwear on.
But if you’ve gone too far, why not go all the way? Not caring anymore, I slid my panties down my legs and handed them to Lisa. They were damp. "That's your tip," I said shakily.
Lisa just froze, trying and failing to say something in response.
I was already at the door, my boobs jiggling with every step. I felt very, very glad my pubes were so bushy that day, because at least my state of arousal could be somewhat hidden from the watching public. Once I got outside, I finally took control of myself and dashed into a nearby alley. I pulled on my remaining clothes, on the verge of hyperventilating.
No one else saw me that day. And once a day or two had passed without the cops banging down my door, I realized I wasn’t getting caught. But regardless, my troubles were far from over.
Here is the cover for my third book, which is up for pre-order now!
https://www.draft2digital.com/book/1825717
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBZZWQWH
It'll release on the 16th, featuring five ENF stories, four of them never seen before. I know every author says this, but I truly believe they're among my best ever. I really tried to do some new things while sticking to the meat of ENF and I believe I succeeded.
The illustrator is the inimitable Melty_Candle, who I had a great time working with! Highly recommend.