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Running Skirt (2)

I’d been running with the same mixed group for about 4 months and once happy with the company rarely bothered with underwear since I was enjoying the freedom of not worrying about chaffing. A couple of the other women in the group had adopted my choice of attire, though they had went for versions with Lycra shorts under the skirt. The occasional glance between other runners when it was a bit windy let me know I’d flashed a few people, though they would likely have assumed I was wearing a thong.

On one particular hot day we had completed a 6 mile hill sprint and everyone was lying around on the grass exhausted, I was in truth regretting my attire for the first time since it pretty much restricted me to standing in the shade. The group invited me to join them a few times but I politely declined and continued talking while lying back against a tree, it was clear word had got around and they were trying to peek. Clearly having being unsuccessful an enterprising woman in the group suggested we head cross country for the return leg and I did not think much of this until we reached the first stile.

It was quite low and I was near the front so I hopped over it quite quickly without showing anything to those behind me… and thought I was quite clever until we reached the next one which had steps that ended as high as my chest. Several members of the group were coincidentally taking a little breather on the other side so I quickly clambered up but jumped down rather than climbing down backwards preserving my modestly for at least a little longer.

We passed several Stile’s in this fashion and I was getting a little suspicious that the group was suddenly managing to keep up… it was only when I saw the next stile I realised why. It was as tall as my head and you would pretty much have to step through sideways at the top, to make matters worse someone said “There’s a steep drop after this one” as I hid in the middle of the group. While I tried to sneak to the back of the pack it was not working, so reluctantly when the time came I climbed up to the top and the person next up to the stile laughed as she looked upwards. It was too steep for me to just jump down so reluctantly I turned around and quickly climbed down backwards, though I kept my legs together I think about half the group had confirmation I was not wearing anything under my skirt.

I pretended not to notice and there were no further flashing incidents on the run, though it’s odd how we now go cross country whenever I wear the skirt.

Adventures of an Exhibitionist