Exhibitionism is one thing, but he has taken me to a whole new place.

Wearing a short skirt with no knickers to the concert was a giggle, knowing it could flick up had my pulse racing and my heart beating.

It was his hand at first, feeling me, parting me and bending me a little.

From behind he pushed into me, the feel of his jeans on my bare legs, the bottom of his zip hitting my clit with each thrust. His hand at the front, grinding my skirt against me.

“Lets get naked!” people say.

“Why?” I now ask.