If I have any fans out there who are interested in the more personal side of my life, and not just of my fantasies, I have a small gift for you. I thought I would treat you to a true little story. In my dreams I often go much further than I would ever accept in real life; or at least, further than I would go at this stage in my life. But how far do I go in my real life? This will show you! I am sorry about the limited dialogue, which I am aware a writer is supposed to put into these stories, but this is really just a description of an evening out, and not a real story with dialogue, plot and so on.

Well, Paul and I have always had this thing that our wedding anniversary is a night as daring as we have the nerve to make it. The story about our trip to Tivoli, which I wrote after last years anniversary, also started out based upon the actual situation, which in itself is rather arousing - at least I think so.

This year, however, I will not elaborate on the real story. No dreams or fantasies - just the "naked" truth.

For many years we have gone to Tivoli for our wedding anniversary, but it is becoming a bit stale. It is limited what you can do in Tivoli, it being very crowded, so this year we decided to go to Bakken instead. Bakken is the alternative amusement park in Copenhagen; it claims to be the oldest amusement park in the world. It started, I believe, some 850 years ago when a spring of clear water was found in an area about 15 kilometres north of Copenhagen. At that time, Copenhagen was a very unhealthy place, and the drinking water was not very clean. People came out from the city to enjoy the invigorating clean spring water. As it was quite a journey, people would stay for the whole day. Artists soon found that they had an audience with the people spending the day at the spring, and soon there was an established amusement park. At present it is a somewhat "rougher" place than the Tivoli; Bakken is the place the Copenhageners go when they want to have fun, Tivoli is the place to go with visiting friends or business associates.

I had been to Bakken the previous weekend with the children and taken the opportunity to check out the places where Poul and I could have some fun (our kind of fun). There were several amusement attractions, where it might be exciting to play a little, and some at which I knew Poul would find it great fun to play with me, but which were beyond my capabilities as an exhibitionist. I knew I would have a fight avoiding those.

Bakken is situated in the old royal hunting grounds in the middle of the forest, so there are lots of dark forest areas around where you can hide and make love; I believe that has happened at lot over the centuries. We had made love in forests before, but that wasn't really exciting enough for our wedding anniversary. I had looked at an area at the back where the lights of the amusement park were still reasonably strong, so that you got the feeling of being seen without it being very obvious, and as the night drew nearer, I found myself getting quite aroused by the thought of what the evening might bring.

It was a good thing that I was already getting excited, as Poul, not only didn't want me to wear a bra, he also didn't want me to wear any panties either. Had I not been excited already, I probably wouldn't have accepted going knickerless. Last year, on the way home in the taxi, I had been so horny, that I had let Poul put his hands down my panties on the back seat of the taxi. He was now hoping for something similar, but without the hindrance of panties.

It was warm enough to wear one of my thin summer outfits, consisting of a loose, wide-pleated, knee-length skirt and a matching jacket. The jacket only had two buttons, the top one quite far down, which made it gape open in the front. It was also very short so there was a bare midriff area showing my bellybutton. With two-thirds length arms, if I wasn't careful, the jacket would lift when I raised my arms, showing the bottom of my breasts. Poul insisted on this outfit, because it was so easy to unbutton and so clearly show my bouncing breasts. These days none of the young girls go braless like they did when I was younger. Years ago, people would look casually at you, but as everybody did it, it wasn't a big thing. Going braless these days really had people staring at you.

The food at Bakken isn't usually very good, and as we didn't want to arrive until it was a bit darker, we had decided to eat at one of the restaurants along the coast, but first we had a few drinks before we left. Fortunately the children were at my parents, because in front of them I would have felt funny dressed like this.

I had feared that Poul was going to start things in the taxi, but he must also have found it a bit too light and early, so were arrived still decent at the very nice restaurant, and enjoyed a good dinner. Other guests and waiters looked at me, which was kind of nice, but not all that exciting. I was aware that my jacket lifted away from my breasts when I leant forward eating, but there wasn't anybody watching, and, most disappointingly, the waiter was a lady.

We arrived slightly tipsy at Bakken at about 10:00 p.m. while it was still quite light, as it is at this latitude at this time of the year. This taxi ride had been a bit more exciting as the taxi was a minibus. The taxi driver had helped me in; the seats were alongside, and as I got in I had to bend as I turned round to sit in the seat across from the sliding door. Even if I had wanted to, I don't think I could have prevented the driver from looking right down my front. I am sure he had a good look, because he was out of his door and around helping me out when we arrived at Bakken at a speed I have rarely seen from a taxi driver. It was actually more fun than arousing, but at least the night of fun had begun.

Just walking around got me a lot of attention. We were somewhat overdressed for Bakken, having come from a restaurant, where we were almost "underdressed". That on its own made people look at us, but as soon as they realised how easily they could see the movements of my breasts through the thin material, they kept on looking. I was aware of several guys, if not exactly following us, then at least making sure they were in our vicinity most of the time.

We started with the roller coaster, which is a favourite of mine. Not terribly exposing, but the speed usually leaves me aroused, and as Poul had his arm around me and managed to lift my jacket on the way down the slopes, making it look like it was the wind which lifted it, baring at least the bottom part of my breasts; I was loosing my inhibitions quickly.

But not enough to go into the Hurlumhi. This is a place where you have to transverse obstacles of various kinds. It is innocent enough at the beginning, but at one point you go and sit in a room on a bench. The bench is made of round steel bars so it is quite difficult to sit on it without sliding off. The door is closed and it stays dark for some time, providing just enough time to get involved in some heavy petting. All of a sudden the floor drops out and the bench straightens out into an angled slide, dropping you down a chute. You go sprawling down with your skirt around your hips and whatever part of the shirt you still have got on, half ripped off. You land at the end of the chute on a platform and realise that people are lined up around the edge of the room looking at you, whistling and staring at your exposed body. Getting of the platform is difficult. You have to cross a bridge, again made out of rolling steel bars, so you are forced to hold on tight with both hands to get across it. Halfway across a strong jet of compressed air is blown up between the bars, lifting your dress around your head, blowing up or off any lose clothing. You can't even do much to prevent it because you need your hands to hold on to the railing so you don't fall. First time I tried it, I managed to hold my skirt around my legs with one hand, but had my T-shirt blown all the way up around my neck completely baring my breasts. Gripping it to force it back, I let go of the skirt which then blew up revealing my small g-string. I wasn't very old, and felt really silly with all the guys laughing and whistling at me.

Not that I would have minded that too much now; I could have lived with the exposure inside. The problem was that you also had to pass a rocking walkway and a bridge on the outside, both blowing compressed air. On the inside you could stand on the platform and see who was in the room before you ventured out on the bridge. If there was anybody you knew you could either wait, or go back up a stairway to take another slide, or whatever to pass the time until the people were gone. But once you were outside that was it. The thought of any colleagues or the like being outside, as I might expose myself completely going out, was too much for me - even on an anniversary night. As long as I can pretend it happened by chance I am okay, but how do you explain that you willingly had gone in there without panties? Poul was most disappointed.

Soon he forgot that, because he thought it fun to get me on the merry-go-around. Getting onto the giraffe with a skirt and no panties was difficult, but possible. But the only handhold was at the head, which was higher than mine. Once the merry-go-around picked up speed and started to rock, I actually had to hold on tight, and I soon realised that this was exactly the position, where the jacket would ride up and expose the bottom of my breasts. I don't know how much was visible, but I could feel cool air all the way up to my nipples. I just pretended to close my eyes and not notice, but I could tell from the catcalls of the audience that they must have had a good view. I just clung to Poul when we got down feeling slightly dizzy and very aroused.

Next we got on a ghost ride. We didn't know the ride, if we could expect to pass other cars or whether there were any security cameras. It didn't matter. As soon as we were inside, Poul had my buttons undone, and my jacket pulled apart. I put a hand around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, but he wouldn't have that. He pulled the jacket off my shoulders, pinning my arms behind me with one hand, while the other lifted up my skirt, completely baring my pussy. I felt so exposed and so excited I just spread my legs and accepted his fingers as they dug into me. I was soaked already. I had forgotten about cars and cameras, just hoping Poul would keep an eye out for the exit. Suddenly there was a short drop. I gasped and opened my eyes, just in time to see us passing a stretch with a window into the neighbouring gambling hall. I jumped up trying to get my jacket on, but by then we had already gone passed it. Obviously the window was there so people could laugh at those on the ride as they got a fright from the drop. I have no idea if anybody saw the state I was in as we passed the window so fast. But the atmosphere was broken and we were approaching the exit, so we hurriedly got ourselves decent. We walked away in the opposite direction to the gambling hall, in case anybody was looking out for us. Exciting, but also a little embarrassing to be caught out like that.

Now we felt like another drink, so we went into a dance hall. Not my kind of music or clientele, but the area around the dance floor was built up so you could see down on the dance floor and on the table below you. We got seated and Poul went for drinks. I knew people from above us were looking down at me. When Poul arrived, he said the whole table above us was staring at me. It really seemed to get him going. He wanted me to sit at an angle, so that they could look down my jacket when I drank. I did that mostly because I knew it excited him. Getting up to dance, I made sure I bent forward when getting up so they could get a real good view. We went for a couple of dances, but I really don't know how to dance to that kind of music, so we got another drink or two before we left again. I was now getting quite drunk and quite excited.