Okay, I have a confession to make. Back in my early twenties, I had a bit of a thing for nudist beaches. And not just for soaking up the sun - I loved to flirt with the guys and see if I could get them to pop a boner.

It worked almost every time. They would get a hard on, and I would watch as it grew bigger and bigger.

It was a fascinating game, really. When I found a potential target, I would lay my towel out in a strategic spot, one where I could see all the action. I'd flash them a sultry smile and sometimes I would even spread my legs, giving them a clear view of my pussy (gasp!) and watch as their body betrayed their arousal

Sometimes, I would even move closer to get a better view. I wanted to see every detail of their arousal - the veins bulging, the tip becoming more pronounced, the way it twitched with each heartbeat. It was like watching a live anatomy lesson, and I found myself getting more and more turned on with each passing moment. It was like I was conducting some kind of scientific research.

I loved watching as it grew and swelled, taking on a life of its own.

I never took it any further than that, though. I wasn't interested in getting physical with anyone. I just liked the thrill of the chase, the excitement of knowing that I could turn someone on just by looking at them. And I loved watching their reactions, seeing how they would try to hide their arousal, even though it was right there for everyone to see.

Looking back on it now, I know that it wasn't the most ethical thing to do. I was playing with people's emotions and desires, and that's not something to be taken lightly. But at the time, it was just a harmless bit of fun, a way to explore my own sexuality and see what kind of power I had over others.