Breezy and The Seven Year Itch

Call me Breezy. I’m a 22 year old girl, single. Until the age of fifteen I had never masturbated, had only a classroom sex-ed understanding of sexuality. That changed in a hurry when I saw Marilyn Monroe in the 1955 film The Seven Year Itch. In case you don’t recognize the reference, this is the one where Monroe is wearing a white dress, stands on a street grate as air blows up through the grate, and the air blast catches and blows her dress upwards. I saw it on TV with my older brother and his male friend. They obsessed over the scene, pausing it, replaying it, making comments. They were clearly aroused by the scene. I was aroused by their reactions to it. I was quiet, but felt a hot rush. I masturbated for the first time that night. I pictured myself like that, guys watching as a wind gust lifted my dress.

Since that day I’ve fantasized about that scene. I’ve also played around with wearing skirts in situations where there was some risk of exposure. Windy days on the street. Open stairs. Riding glass-sided escalators and glass-walled elevators. A few years ago I was walking on the street at the corner of an office building when the wind gusted just right, lifting my skirt just like in the movie. Thrill! I ran home and masturbated furiously.

I returned the next windy day to that street corner. I found that it hadn’t been just chance. The buildings there guided the wind just right, creating a reliable updraft. I was ready. Wearing a wind-friendly skirt and skimpy panties, I went to my corner and boom! It wasn’t a direct uplift, but pretty close. I walked away, turned around and did it again. No gust that pass, but I tried again and again. Several times the wind caught and lifted my skirt. Yes! I walked around there until some guys stopped to watch, then ran home to play with myself.

After a few more visits to that street corner I started seeing the same faces and I didn’t like being recognized.

This might not seem that daring, but in my mind it was. I loved setting up little accidents. It always had to be an oops, out of my control. I would never deliberately flash.

More exploring and experimentation. New spots. Sometimes I’d go without underwear, although that was really edgy for me.

The wind doesn’t always blow. I couldn’t lift my skirt, It had to happen to me.  I was on the lookout for risky spots. This takes me to a week ago when I found a new place to try.

It was a park with a playground. It had a kid’s obstacle course with a section of hanging car tires. From an overhead beam, five tires hang in a line with a gap of about a foot between each tire. Three chains support each tire, attaching to the tire sidewalls so that each tire hangs horizontally, tread to the outside, a hole down the middle. They’re about four feet off the ground. At each end of the beam there are stairs.

The kid’s obstacle: Climb up to the level of the tires, hold the chains to maintain balance, walk across the tires, climb down the other side. I was excited thinking about walking across that in a skirt. The need to hold onto the chains for balance. My hands would be busy. A gust of wind might lift my skirt before I could react.

The next day I went to the park in a frilly mid-thigh skirt, pink panties, white blouse, ankle booties. I wanted to go without the underwear, but this was a first visit. Maybe I could slip them off somewhere if everything felt right. I had a fresh landing-strip bikini wax, racy and naughty for me.

I arrived at the park. I was going to walk across those tires! It was too busy with kids when I arrived, so I strolled around waiting for them to clear out. Hardly any breeze.  Needing more of a kick, I went to a ladies’ room and slipped the panties off. There we go, that got me revved up! I rolled the panties up, stuck them in the trash. Walking away (un)dressed like that gave me that hot feeling that I craved.

Circling around, still too busy. Two young adult men watching their kids on the tires, one of the guys with a video camera. Circling again. I was getting impatient. Finally the kids were off the obstacles. The men were still there, but I wasn’t letting that stop me. I wanted risk, there’s some risk! I approached, feeling an increasing excitement the closer I got. The kids cooperated in staying away, the young dads cooperated with admiring looks from a distance.

Just a light breeze, not much there. If any real wind kicked up I’d have backed out, but this felt just safe enough, just risky enough. The men I wanted watching me were interested, but staying put. Perfect! I climbed the stairs, grabbed the chains at mid-chest level. I put my left foot on the first tire. It quickly swung to the side. This was going to be a challenge! I pulled back, got the tire in front of me again and leaned forward before putting all my weight on it. There we go! I was on the tire. I stepped across and placed my right foot on the far side.

The two gents were smiling, amused. This was intense! The first tire was moving only slightly under me.  I faced the second tire, my audience off to my left. The guy with the camera pointed it at me. A light breeze flapped my skirt a bit, which jazzed me to no end. I loved it! I steeled myself for the next step. I grabbed the second tire’s nearest chain, shifted my weight to my right foot. More breeze! I stepped across with my left foot, feeling really wonky now with one foot on each tire.  I switched my grips so I was holding the chains of the second tire with both hands. I shifted my weight to my left foot on the second tire. Woah! Off-balance. OK, under control. I got myself centered, got my right foot on the second tire. Whew.

I was shaking a bit as I stood on the second tire, partly from the difficulty with balance, partly from my sexual excitement. It swiveled a bit under my weight, turning to the left so I was now directly facing my new friends. I repositioned my feet so both feet pointed inwards. Did I mention the Booties? Stylish, leather soles, hard heels, not the best for traction. I had a good grip, wiggled my hips trying to turn the tire to the right, and both of my feet slipped at the same time! They went to the inside of the tire and I started to fall through the opening. With good grips on the chain I stopped myself, but was now hanging by my hand-holds. Arms straight out above, thighs and butt inside the tire, legs below, my feet searching for the ground. My skirt was spread out on top of the tire. The tire protected me from lower hips to upper thighs, but I was only a few inches’ drop from giving my fans a full view of my naked twat!

I had a good grip. I tried to pull myself back up through the tire, hoping to get seated on the tire sidewall. I wasn’t strong enough. I raised up a few inches, my butt at the sidewall, but I was centered. I couldn’t get a butt-cheek on the tire and slid back down. My grips started slipping. Aack! I tried again, slid down again. I wasn’t sure of it yet, but I wasn’t getting out of this.

Trapped! My grip wasn’t going to last. My trimmed bush peeked out below. Try again! NOW! I couldn’t lift up enough to matter. I was going to be exposed and couldn’t do a thing about it. I should have let go then, but wasn’t thinking straight. My grip slipped bit by bit. I slowly went down through the tire. I stretched out with my legs, feeling for the ground with my toes. The tire was at my hips. Above my hips. At my waist. Legs out straight, feeling with my toes. My freshly waxed beaver in full view of my two buddies, saved for posterity on video.

Finally I let go. I fell to a standing position, now naked from ankle to belly button, the tire holding my skirt up and blocking my arms so I couldn’t cover myself. I could finally turn with my feet on the ground. The crowd of two ran toward me. I turned, dropped the rest of the way through the tire and went to the ground.  I got up as they approached and ran without saying a word. I looked back a few times. They just stood there, watching as I scampered away.

This was a week ago, and it’s been on my mind constantly since. I’m red and sore from all the times I’ve gotten myself off.  Every gust of wind makes me want to cum.

What’s next? I don’t know for sure, but after seven years I still have an itch to scratch. If you see an early 20’s blonde in a short skirt wandering around on a windy day, stick around for a show!