used to flash
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Flashing is an elusive topic. Outwardly it is straightforward enough, yet it seems to confound any attempt to label it, categorise it and define it. Below is one of the best accounts I’ve ever run across, of what it means to be a flasher…it is taken from DickFlash.com
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Ever since I stopped flashing I’ve thought a lot about what it meant to me, and what it was like, to actually be a real habitual flasher.
By “flasher” I mean a person who intentionally and unexpectedly exposes his or her sexually aroused genitals (or, if a female, exposes her tits when being in a sexually aroused state) in front of strangers, in order to achieve sexual gratification from their surprised reactions. What is more, he or she does this on a regular basis. It’s a real habit, or a “hobby”, it takes time and planning, and its only purpose is sexual excitement. The urge to expose oneself like this is an inescapable and important part of one’s sexual identity.
Real flashers pursue their hobby in places where one doesn’t normally encounter such nakedness: in parks, shops, libraries, trains, buses, streets, non-nude beaches. In other words: flashers are, by most standards, abnormal as far as the expression of their sexuality is concerned. In common parlance they’re “perverts”.
One more thing: real flashers never have any wish whatsoever to do anything else than expose themselves. That’s a very important part of the “perversity” of it, often difficult to understand (at least in relation to male flashers) for other people, who think that sexual enjoyment has to involve physical contact. Real flashers never ever want physical contact, flashing is the actual opposite of rape for example. I actually felt very vulnerable when flashing, this was an important part of the excitement I felt, and on some occasions the flashees actually made moves to molest me, just for the fun of it, thinking that I was a legimate prey. And I was, of course. I was offering myself to their attentions.
Consensual exposure satisfies the exhibitionistic urge, too, but not in the same radical way as flashing in the above sense. Bulge flashing, which I did a lot as well, is like regular flashing if it’s blatant enough and satisfies the other criteria.
I would be very interested to know how many of you agree with this description.
A few times I was asked by flashees: “Why d’you do it?” I used to answer something ike “You’re so sexy” (which was usually true) or “It feels so good when you look at it” (which it did, especially if they felt at ease to ask me things). But of course the real answer is much more complicated and obscure.
I never entertained the illusion that my flashees “liked” what they got to see. What I wanted was to have them to look at my cock, that’s all. The idea was to feel their eyes on my erection. Some undoubtedly were excited or at least very intrigued or interested, and that was extremely gratifying of course, but any visible reaction excited me, except fear or obvious anxiety. Various degrees of disgust was a fairly common reaction. I liked that. Luckily my flashing very seldom seemed to cause any anxiety and never even once anger. I think that was because I never did anything but made myself visible, at a sufficient distance. I only masturbated in front of girls if they showed obvious interest. I never spoke to them unless they spoke to me first. I kept to myself, making it clear that I was harmless and passive in my lusty display, and they were quite free to react as they pleased. Not seldom girls ridiculed me. I liked that too. Sometimes flashees were openly contemptuous, telling me to put it away and things like that, which was usually exciting too, depending on which other reactions were displayed.
So, to be a flasher meant that I was an object of shock, involuntary or voluntary fascination, strange smiles, giggling, derisive or shocked laughter, disgust, ridicule or contempt, among hard to describe mixtures of various incongruous feelings. This palette of possible emotions on the part of flashees was what kept flashing interesting. It was what made me want to do it again and again and again. Half the excitement was: what will the reaction be this time?
To be a flasher was to live in almost constant anticipation when eyeing attractive females and planning the next outing. I can still feel a similar rush when masturbating and thinking about it. To be a flasher is to be addicted to a certain kind of sexual excitement not obtainable in any other way. To anyone who is or has been a dedicated flasher this makes it quite hard to desist from doing it. (I’ve told the story of how I managed to stop in another post.)
The girls I flashed absolutely had to be sexually developed. But I preferred teens, 16-19 year olds. Their reactions were invariably the most open and uninhibited, although I frequently flashed 20-25 year old girls too, and often got very satisfying reactions. I don’t think I ever flashed anyone over 30.
To be a dedicated flasher meant to be able to look yourself in the mirror, see a “pervert”, and have no serious problem with it. It must be very hard to be a flasher and feel constantly ashamed or regretful, when the excitement has subsided. Sure, I could have bouts of shame after some some particularly blatant and messy (cum) flashes, with flashees reacting with what seemed like nausea, but it wasn’t a constant problem. And I was perverted enough to still be excited by that kind of reaction. And the same kind of flashes, on other occasions, got me quite different reactions, like gleeful laughter and wide-eyed, fascinated interest.
Nowadays I actually feel a more general shame sometimes, when I think about my uninihibited flashing days. It’s difficult not to imagine what other people might think about me having been an habitual flasher, if they ever got to know about it. And I certainly keep very silent about it, except to my wife who knows everything. (I told her before we got married.) But when all is said and done I can’t say that I seriously regret anything. It was just the way of things for me and, as I said, I never even came close to molesting anyone. But still, as a flasher one can never escape feeling dirty sometimes, even though the dirtiness, the “pornography” of it, is the whole point as well. There’s an inescapable ambiguity about it all, at least if you’re male. My way of handling this was to set up strict rules about how I flashed. I could always be accused of being indecent, but never of anything more than that, and whether this kind of indecency is abominable or not really lies in the eyes of the beholder, not in any absolute moral standard. I was never concerned about the fact that flashing is formally illegal, I was never busted and most probably never reported either.
Being a flasher means having a very secret sex life which, paradoxically, is also quite public. It means a constant risk of being recognized in the wrong circumstances. In my case, I never even hinted to anyone I knew about my secret sex addiction. Still, untold hundreds of young women got to see me expose myself in a very unequivocal manner, and their number was constantly increasing until I stopped. No girl who saw me with my erection sticking out of my pants in some public place could be in any doubt. “He’s a flasher alright”.
In my school days, the last year in junior high and in high school, I was often recognized by various teen girls who had seen me flash, or heard about me from friends, and I had to bear their derision and taunting, not to mention worrying about who else they might tell. Eventually I realized that at least two girls in my class were well aware of my recurring flashing habits, and joked about it among themselves. This was in the seventies and all it meant was that I was regarded as somewhat freakish, but no one bothered to do anything about it, other than giggling and gossiping in small groups in the corridors. Once I got used to this it was quite exciting.
I wonder what it would be like to be a frequent teenage (male) flasher today. Very different and much more risky I imagine.
It seems that I was lucky to have been a flasher during a period when that particular kind of pervert wasn’t maligned, but tolerated within certain bounds, even being a subject of some interest, at least if he was young, fairly good looking and had a really big cock. I was certainly perceived as ridiculous/fascinating rather than threatening. Among the girls at school no one told me I was “sick”, but I was labeled a “sex maniac” in various fun-making ways. Overhearing gossiping girls I heard myself referred to as “the flasher boy” or “the wanker”, among other not exactly flattering things. Later I moved to a larger city and was almost never recognized as being a flasher, only on two rare occasions.
The experience of being an active flasher today is probably very different. Is it? You tell me. The times seem to have changed a lot since the seventies, eighties and even the early nineties, when I stopped doing it.
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2 Responses to Private: used to flash…
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andrew says:
thanks jesus
you show some of the inner turmoil that many (but not all) flashers face.
I think there is no easy answer and different people will come up with different solutions.
Best of luck!
I read your experience and i felt very identified. With de difference that I’m gay. I’m from mexico and I’m 26. I decided to stop because I think, if the police caught me, my whole life will be ruined. I will lost my job, my family its gonna think I’m a pervert and wont let me spent time with my nepew, everyone will know me as the “pervert who shows his dick”. But I have to addmit that was fun