Prologue: This is the story behind my bubble bath video that I posted (and is linked here). I hesitated to put this part next because it is my third consecutive story related to water. I enjoy being wet, and how it has played in my adventures, but it is not as common a theme for me as these recent stories may suggest. But the order is important for the reader to make certain connections, so I beg you forgive the redundant theme.



(Mid 1990s) After I recorded my sexy little fashion show for Mark and Brandon (Part 2), Brandon asked if I would be interested in making more videos. He offered his services as camera man. I didn’t hesitate. I had left my husband in large part because I could not be myself in that relationship. When I tried to express my exhibitionist nature, he was not into it. It upset him. I went years being the wife he wanted and not able to even discuss by desires. Returning to who I am was goal number one for me.

Thanks to their kindness, I was now using Brandon and Mark’s office as my apartment, while going through my divorce. When I answered Brandon’s request to film me, I just said (albeit excitedly), “That would be fun.” But we did not make a plan, and several days went by without him bringing it up. So, I stepped up my naughtiness when he was around, hoping he would get out his camera. I went around barely dressed, and sometimes completely nude, thinking this would get his attention. It did. He and Mark both responded well to my shenanigans. This was quite rewarding for me, but still no mention of filming.

One afternoon, while Brandon was at his desk editing a video, it started to rain. This was one of those intense Florida afternoon showers. I had a game I liked to play sometimes when it rained. We had a laundry room in the office/apartment, but there were no machines. The guys had made it into a booth for recording audio for their projects. So, I had to use the community laundry room of the apartment complex. It was several buildings away.

I love to frolic in the rain, and it is always more fun when naked. But I didn’t think it would be good to do this in front of my apartment. So, I would put on a long tee shirt with nothing else except the laundry room key that was on a bright stretchy band I wore around my wrist. Then I would go out to dance and play in the rain.

There was a neighboring apartment complex next to some large open fields. This is mostly where I would play while wondering who may be watching me from the apartments. The wet revealing tee shirt felt wonderful against my otherwise naked body, like a refreshingly cool and saturated hug from Mother Nature. This, and all the sensations from the rain, often inspired me to be more daring, encouraging cartwheels and I would even attempt handstands. When doing so, the wet shirt would sometimes stick enough to keep me covered, and sometimes it wouldn’t. These and other games brought me wonderful thrills and joy.

After I became tired and drenched, I would usually make my way to the laundry room back at my complex. These walks to the room were amazing. As no one was usually out in the rain, I could take my time to really appreciate all the sensations of the water and splash in the puddles while knowing that the wet tee shirt was exposing me to any who may be watching from their windows. I loved how I could do this while still feeling somewhat innocent because I was just a girl caught in the rain.

Entering the laundry room, I would feel that exhilarating rush of endorphins as I knew I would soon dare to wait naked while my shirt was in the dryer. Sometimes I could not bring myself to go through with it, but often I did. I thought it was fairly safe, as I could see out the windows to watch for anyone coming. I hoped, if the right person came along, I might let myself get caught. And I knew I could quickly retrieve my shirt, if I thought I should. This was such an exciting game for me.

These afternoon Florida showers were usually less than an hour. So, it was rare that anyone would come to the laundry room while it was raining. But I did get caught a couple of times. The first time, I should have known better. When I got to the laundry room, I found that someone had clothes in one of the washing machines. I still decided to put my shirt in the dryer. Just as I did, I saw a guy running across the parking lot toward me. I panicked and went for my shirt. But if you have ever tried to untangle and put on a wet shirt, you know the trouble. I had no chance. He was at the door before I made any progress. I still struggled with the shirt but knew I was caught. Most of the door was glass, and the room was very shallow. I was only a few feet in front of him. No doubt he had seen me already. As I finally worked my head through the shirt, I realized he was leaving. A key was needed to enter, so I wondered if he had forgotten his key, or if after seeing me he thought it best to leave. I didn’t know. As soon as I was done struggling with my shirt, I ran for my apartment. One would think that would have deterred me from playing this game again. But I found the experience so arousing, I could hardly wait for the next rain.

The other time I was caught, my shirt had been in the dryer for only a minute when a car pulled up out front. I immediately grabbed my shirt and struggled into it. I had some time because the car just sat there for a while. I wondered if it was the police, as I had been frolicking in the rain, with and without my shirt, for about an hour. And the small room had large uncovered windows, with a door that was mostly glass. I thought no one could see in very well in the day time, unless they were close to the building. But now, watching this car, I thought I might be wrong. Perhaps someone in one of the apartments across the lot saw me and I was now in trouble.

I started working on the story I would give to the police as a well-dressed middle-aged man got out of the car and came up to the door. He looked through the window and knocked. I let him in, convinced I was caught. He only then realized this was the laundry room and explained that he thought it was the complex office. I told him where the office was, and he asked if he could wait inside until the rain passed.

I knew I looked as if I were in the middle of a wet tee shirt contest. He pointed out that I was drenched and looked me over while I explained that I had come in here to dry off. But it was obvious that I was up to something, standing there in nothing but a tee shirt, dripping wet, with none of the dryers running. I first thought to excuse myself and leave, but I didn’t want him to see what apartment I went to.

He made small talk with me, and I grew more comfortable. Whatever he thought about my doings, it seemed he was amused. Realizing this was just the kind of encounter for which I seek, I relaxed a bit, and even started to flirt. After a while I hopped up on a dryer to sit. I began to swing my legs and tried to look adorable while wondering if he could see that I wasn’t wearing panties.

We continued to chat well after the rain slowed. He was interested in me and I found it easy to share. I admitted to him that I had been out playing in the rain and went on about how much I loved that. He was quite entertained. I enjoyed confessing so much that I debated telling him what I was really doing in the laundry room, and even wondered if I could dare show him what I was doing in the laundry room. I took such pleasure from the sexual tension between us, and imagined how liberatingly free, sexy, and bold I would feel doing something so absolutely wild. I pictured myself later thrilling my friends with the story. I decided to go for it.

I asked if he would mind if I threw my shirt in the dryer. I could see him searching for what to say as I slid off the machine and onto my feet, hoping for the courage to pull my shirt off over my head in front of this man I only just met. He answered, but I caught none of it as I saw a young couple at the door. We froze, I think both feeling guilty of something, as the couple entered and saw us blushing - he in a suit, and me in nothing but a wet shirt. The couple, holding their laundry, apologized as we all felt very awkward. I rushed out past them, with a quick goodbye to my new friend, who followed close behind. I wondered with great amusement what the couple thought was going on as I ran off in the waning rain and he drove away.

It was not long after these experiences that I was alone with Brandon in the office/apartment when the rain began. I put on my tee shirt and tried to get his attention, announcing I was going out to play in the rain. He noticed me in my tee shirt and smiled. As I went out the door, I flashed him my bare bottom to be sure he knew I wore nothing under the shirt - but I didn’t know if he saw. This time I splashed and danced around just outside the door, hoping he would get his camera. But no luck.

After a few minutes, I went back inside and continued to push for his attention. I could hear how obvious and silly I sounded as I made statements about how wet I was, and how much I love to frolic in the rain. He watched from his desk as I pulled off my shirt in the kitchen and wrung it out over the sink. But to my nudity he offered nothing more than an approving smirk before returning to his project.

I went in the bathroom to pout while drying and fixing my hair. But as I did, I became frustrated with myself for my ridiculous behavior. I had the courage to parade around naked in front of my friends, even making them a sexy video in which I pleasured myself, but I could not just say what I wanted. I became determined. Dropping my hairbrush in the sink, I marched out to the office, slammed my hands down on his desk, leaned in such to push my boobs together for full effect, and said, “I’m going to take a bubble bath… Do you want to make a video?”

This was the first video we made together. Going in, I knew that I would love the attention. But soon I realized so many more wonderful aspects to his filming me. He made me feel like a real model. Instead of my just coming up with things to do for the camera as I took a bath, Brandon worked out the lighting and other elements to help the setting and atmosphere. He lit a candle and gave me a glass of wine and a cigarette for props. I didn’t smoke, but I did feel sexy pretending. Brandon offered great suggestions and gave me real direction. I felt so desired and important. It was a different experience to have someone give me such help and attention. Sometimes he would pose me himself. I was already overstimulated by my sexy posturing in the soapy water while imagining how many people may one day see the video. So, when his hand would incidentally caress me as he moved the bubbles around to cover or reveal, I became dizzy with titillation. I knew I was at the point that I would do anything he asked, and I started to fantasize about what that could be. But soon we were interrupted. We heard Mark enter the office. Brandon and I were both a little embarrassed as Mark was clearly amused by having caught us making a video in the bath. Mark began making jokes. But I followed Brandon’s lead, and we kept recording as Mark went to his desk.

When we finished, I wanted to watch the tape, but Brandon said he would edit it and add music. I well knew the pleasure of being seen, but being filmed took things to another level. I was elated by my thoughts of having a tape, cut to the better parts, that was made with the approval and care of someone else, while not knowing how many would see it over what could be many years.

At one point while I was posing in the bath, I did think about my husband and the fact that I was officially still married. This made what I was doing feel a little wrong. I learned something more about myself then, as those thoughts got me so much more excited and aroused. I had no idea what I would do next, but for the moment, I felt as sexy and free as ever.
-

(Mid 1980s) It was the summer before I left for college. I was at my parents’ house on Hilton Head Island, lying in bed, naked, revving myself up while waiting to hear my parents leave for work. Mornings like this were when the little voice in my head is most vocal with the naughtiest suggestions. She is always full of ideas for various wild escapades in which she thinks I should engage. Most of her ideas are far too wild for me, but on this morning she touched on something with which I had been fascinated for years.

We had an outdoor shower at the side of our house, next to the utility yard. It was uncovered because it was intended to be used by people in swimsuits rinsing off the sand when returning from the beach (common in resort communities like ours). For years I fantasized about having a proper shower outdoors. That morning my naughty little voice was insisting that I finally go for it.

By the time both my parents had gone, I was so worked up that I knew, unlike many of the suggestions from my naughty little voice, I was going to go through with this. I got out of bed, grabbed the soap and shampoo from the bathroom and boldly walked right out the back door. After rebounding from my experience at the hotel (Part 3), I was in a special mood, brimming with confidence. I did not bring a towel, or even peek out the windows first to be sure the coast was clear. Completely naked, I just bravely walked out with purpose.

As I turned the corner to the side of the house where the shower was located, I did look up to assess how well I could be seen from the street or neighbors. But not so much because I was afraid to be seen. I wanted to be seen. In that moment I fantasized about continuing out and doing cartwheels in my front yard. I so wanted to just go for it. But I knew I could not. My parents would surely be told if I were caught like that, and I could not possibly begin to tell them of my intense erotic desires to be so exposed. But having a shower at the side of the house would be easier to explain – or so I convinced myself. I imagined telling my mom that I had so much sand in my bathing suit that I had to take it off, and I thought I would be safe with the reasonably private shower.

The shower could not easily be seen by the neighbors for the trees, and was mostly blocked from the street because of the walls around our utility yard. That is where the trash cans were hidden behind little walls to keep the resort community looking nice. My being caught was unlikely, but enough of a possibility to keep me intensely aroused.

I started the shower and found the noise of the running water helped isolate me from my surroundings in a most relaxing way. Although I took great pleasure from the idea of being discovered, I was still quite nervous. Closing my eyes and stepping under the water, now unable to see or hear if anyone was coming, allowed me to completely surrender to the experience and release any remaining worry for the risks.

The shower was a strange combination - relaxing and exhilarating. I could have stayed out there all day if it wasn’t for the extremely cold water. I was soon shivering uncontrollably and had to cut my otherwise thrilling experience short.

Shortly after dripping my way back into the house, I heard the garbage truck. My heart raced. I had given no thought to that it was trash day. We were not allowed to put the cans out near the street. The garbage men had to retrieve the trash from everyone’s utility yard. If I had taken my shower a bit later, the garbage men would have walked right up beside me. I wondered if I would have heard the truck over the running water.

I debated if I could bring myself to run back out to the shower before they get to my house. The notion hit me physically. I felt lightheaded and tingly, having to drop to my knees at the front window as I watched for the truck and tried to build my courage to go for it. But I couldn’t do it. Although I had been so excited thinking that people could be watching me shower, my nerves were abated by my knowing it is unlikely I was seen. Leaving everything to chance adds to the thrill, and also makes committing to such risks easier. Knowing I would be caught for sure by running out now and having a naked outdoor shower just a few feet from the garbage men would take a level of daring I only wish I had.

I watched from our dining room, still on my knees, but with my upper half exposed through the window. As the garbage truck stopped out front, I bolstered my courage to remain there, unsure how well anyone could see in the window in the daylight. Two men came from the truck and went around the side of the house, never looking my way. By the time they brought out the cans and emptied them, I was feeling my disappointment growing. This was the kind of opportunity about which I endlessly fantasized, and I just knelt there watching them go by.

As the men returned the cans, I became determined to make something of it. I stood to now have my whole body completely exposed at the window. Their backs were to me as they returned to their truck, but my resolve for their attention woke my naughty little voice.

“Run out onto the front porch and wave goodbye.” She urged.

Her suggestions were always the most fun, but there was no way I could run naked out my front door and wave at the garbage men. But such thoughts dramatically increased my arousal, and I now desperately wanted the men to see me at the window. I began slapping my palm on the glass to get their attention, but they didn’t hear me over the sound of the truck. As they moved on to the neighbors, I collapsed on the carpet and lamented that it would be a full week before they returned.

Over the next days, I could not stop thinking about the shower, and the garbage men. As was common that summer, I spent most of my time at home finding sexy fun. My standards were naked chores, sunbathing, endless and varied pleasuring, and playing in the backyard. But now I was taking increasing risks and going more around the side and front of the house, in view of the street and neighbors, to satiate my urges for intensified thrills. I played in the outdoor shower a few more times, always imagining I’m being watched. It was there under the cold water, while looking at the utility yard entrance just a few feet away, that I heard my little voice again. This time I knew she was right. I just had to do it.

I was so impatient for the next trash collection day. My excitement was building every minute. This would be my first time completely nude in front of strangers while close enough to touch. I was titillated and terrified for all the possibilities. I wondered if the men would report me, but doubted that would happen. And if they did, I was convinced that the experience would be worth it, even if I had to tell my sandy bathing suit fib to my mother.

Knowing I would be just around the corner from the trash cans, right next to the men, while naked and soapy wet, got me dizzy with excitement. As brazen as this was, I knew I would go through with it. Not even the cold water would deter me. I planned to pretend I could not hear them because of the running water and would just keep showering. My fantasy was to be seen – watched. But I knew, and worried, that it was very possible they would quickly duck away with embarrassment when they discovered me.

The day finally arrived, and I ran outside the minute my parents had both left the house. I placed the shampoo bottle on the ground next to the shower, because I wanted to be soapy for the encounter. Then I went inside to the front window and waited nervously, sometimes dancing to shake off all my nervous energy.

After what seemed like forever, I heard the truck. As it made its way down our street, I ran out the back door and around the side of the house to the shower. Turning on the water, I began to work the shampoo up into lively suds while in such a state that I don’t even remember the water being cold. I showered for quite a while, waiting for the men to arrive at our house. I didn’t want to look, thinking it would be better if they thought I didn’t know they discovered me. So, I tried catching sly glimpses in the direction of the utility yard, but saw no sign of them.

After a while, I decided it had been too long. I feared they may have turned back when they heard the shower. So, I started to look up and caught sight of a pair of boots near the door to the utility yard. They were pointed right at me. He was so close. Quickly looking way, I was hit with a pounding pressure in my head and great tingling through my body. I thought I was going to burst. I kept showering but was so nervous I stopped breathing and had to focus just to catch my breath. It was incredibly intense. With no doubt he had seen me, I was overwhelmed with erotic stimulation. It was far more powerful than I had imagined. I felt close to orgasm, and truly feared I would pass out.

Soon I heard the cans being moved. The pressure slightly ebbed. They had caught me, and were just continuing with their job. I began to catch my breath, but my head was still pounding. I thought to peek up a bit more to see them taking the cans to their truck, but as I started to look, I could see he was still there watching me. Thrilling for sure, he was only a few feet away, but this was when I realized things could go much different than I had planned. What if he enjoyed my show too much and decided to do something about it? Is that what I wanted? I was filled with so many conflicting emotions.

I kept showering, pretending I had not seen him, while wondering what to do now. I began rinsing the shampoo from my hair, turning this way and that, hoping to appear sexy, but also to turn my head for another peek in his direction. As I did, I realized he was gone. I looked up more, thinking they were leaving, but saw no one. This was my chance to retreat… but I couldn’t. The overwhelming satisfaction overtook my fear. I could not end it.

I stood on my tippy toes to see over the little wall of the utility yard and saw one of them looking right at me. Locking eyes with him, I let out a little involuntary screech and covered my mouth. He looked off to the side and put both his hands up, as if I had a gun. Neither of us moved for a moment. He seemed more scared than I. His partner was coming up the walk toward us, returning the cans.

They could not see much of me now as I was tucked up tight to the little wall I was peeking over. Not knowing what to do next, I just smiled at them. The one in front of me smiled back with eyebrows raised, but kept his hands up. The partner just kept looking down and shook his head while replacing the cans. I could tell they were afraid. This is not exactly what I wanted, or imagined would happen, but it relaxed me. They seemed harmless, allowing me to feel empowered, yet wonderfully vulnerable, caught naked and wet by these strangers.

“Thank you.” I said in my most coquettish way, wanting them to know everything was okay.

They both backed away while waving their hands – not in the way of goodbye, but more as if to shoo me away. I think they were trying to gesture away any guilt on their part, or were perhaps suggesting I should not be out here naked. They said nothing, although their expressions told me that they found this a confusing but enlivening encounter.

After they turned and moved farther down the walk, I realized all had gone better than I hoped. I did not want it to end. Before they reached their truck, I stepped out from behind the wall, in case they looked back one more time. They did. I struck a cute pose and gave a little wave. The more engaging one raised his hand to his forehead and continued to his truck.

I jumped up and down with excitement, turned off the water and scurried around the corner into the house. From the front window I watched the truck continue down the street. Then I dropped to the floor and rolled around on my mother’s soft white carpet, overwhelmed with excitement and pleasure. It could not have gone better.

I immediately began plotting to do it again next week. That thought lasted for a few days, but I eventually decided not to push my luck. Probably best they thought it was an accident. Although, I knew there was plenty more teasing in my future. And when lying in bed each morning, I would still kick off the covers and fantasize about being discovered there by the boys I liked, or Tom Selleck – or now, sometimes, a couple of shy sanitation workers…

It is rare to have all go as well or better than planned. And even though I would go on to much more daring and intense adventures, this remains one of my most stimulating experiences ever.

-

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(Mid 1990s) Early in our relationship I learned that my first husband was not open to my exhibitionist escapades. So, I downplayed my activities of the past and spent the years with him trying to be a good wife. I would avoid situations where I knew I would get myself in trouble or do something to upset him. Occasionally I would take advantage of the times he was not around, although mostly it was a period that I did very little in this way. But my desires were still intense, and this hiatus caused my yearnings to spiral. Eventually I reached a breaking point.

In the months before I left my husband, I was working on a small independent film project with a few friends from work. It was not long until I found myself growing close to this group. We all had real jobs, most of us working together at theme parks in Central Florida, which were full of want-to-be actresses, actors, filmmakers, singers, etc. Many of us took on special projects, like this film, with the hope of building a career. My husband didn’t like that I was spending my time this way, but he gave me no real problem about it. I think because he was a writer, who hadn’t sold anything in years. So, I was the only one bringing in money. He knew he couldn’t complain much that I had an unpaid job on the film.

This group of filmmakers included my future landlord, and eventual best friend, Brandon. Although, I hardly knew him at the time. I was closer to our mutual friends who were more interested in partying and hanging out together than working on the films.

One night I was asked to come over to Eric’s apartment for a read through of the script. Eric was a friend from work, and a major contributor to the projects. He was very funny and helped write many of their scripts. Eric lived in the same apartment complex as Brandon and a few of our other friends that worked at theme parks and on the films. There were about 10 or so people at this read through, including an instigator named Ben. I didn’t like Ben very much, but he became key to me returning to my exhibitionist exploits. Ben was the loudest member of the group. He worked on the films and helped produce them with money he inherited from his grandfather, but he never worked very hard. He was only in it for fun.

Different mixtures from our large circle of friends from the parks would hang out almost every night. If we weren’t at some bar for darts, pool, or karaoke, then we were at somebody’s house party, which seemed to happen every few days. Ben could be found at most of these parties trying to convince the girls to get naked. His approach was to volunteer to go first. I kind of admired him for this. He was straightforward and daring. But I was quite aware that he could be real trouble for me. Anyway, we all knew that if you stayed at a party long enough, particularly if there was a pool, you would be treated to a show of Ben and whichever girls gave in. For my efforts to be a good wife, I left most of these parties early.

At our read through, Ben was at it again. While most of us were trying to get through the script, he was working to convince everyone to go to the pool. Eventually some people, including Brandon, had to leave and the meeting wound down. I was in no hurry to get home and found myself with Ben, Eric, and three other male members of the group (John, Randy, and Matthew). All were now up for going to the pool. No one had yet suggested skinny dipping, but with Ben leading things, I knew where this was going. After years of avoiding this kind of fun, I finally broke and decided to go to the pool and just see what happens.

I brought up the fact that I did not have a swimsuit and a couple of the guys said they were just going to swim in their underwear. So, I had to confess that I was not wearing underwear. Eric gave me a shirt that was quite large for me but would work as something of a swimming dress. I changed in his bedroom, and we all went to the complex’s pool.

I noticed two important factors as soon as we got to the pool. Although the gate was not locked, the sign stated that the pool should be closed at this hour. And it was closely surrounded by several apartment buildings. There must have been 40 or 50 windows with a good view of the pool. I questioned this and the guys reassured me that they often swam at night with no trouble.

As soon as I got into the water, I saw Ben was already naked, and noticed the shirt I was given, now wet, was not leaving much to the imagination. I very much enjoyed these friendships, and did not want to ruin that. But I was aroused by the idea of playing with the guys, who I sensed were already trying to figure out how far I would go. I wasn’t sure about this myself.

Ben started in with his suggestions. He was campaigning for me to take off the shirt. I didn’t have a chance to respond before a couple of the others came to my defense. They thought Ben was making me uncomfortable. As they argued, I eventually interrupted with an offer that I would take off the shirt only after all of them got naked.

I had quickly come to realize that deep down I wanted this to happen, but it just seemed best that I not make it easy. I thought it was unlikely all of them would be willing to get naked - particularly Matthew. Although a very talented contributor to the films, he was always more serious and a bit shy. But I was wrong about him at that moment. They all removed their shorts and tossed them out of the pool. Now I felt it. The intense conflicting feelings that were common in my early years. I was craving this, but equally anxious. In some ways I had them at my mercy, but in some ways, they had me at theirs.

I sunk down low and removed the shirt, keeping it near me while I stayed chin level in the water. Ben grabbed the shirt and threw it far. I heard it hit the fence with a soggy thud. The guys were like sharks treading around me as they thought of silly things to say while trying to get a better look. But I was doing the same.

I considered myself to be good at determining the shape and size of a guy’s penis by his general frame and features. I still do this with most guys, even if I know I will never see his penis. But with the movement of the water, and that they would not stop touching themselves, I could only see distortions and hands. At the time, I thought they were touching themselves because I excited them. But I later understood that they were trying to overcome the effect of the cold water.

We were all suggesting different games we should play. Most of the guy’s suggestions would result in me getting out of the water. I eventually agreed to play chicken. But none of them would put another guy on their shoulders. After much debate, I interjected, telling them that I understood the real goal. If they lined up on the steps, above the water where I could see them, I would then do the same. Most of them agreed immediately. But it took several minutes to convince Matthew, then another few minutes of stroking and stalling as they prepared. But, eventually, they all went through with it.

Other than Ben, who I had seen before, my penis predictions were not very accurate this time. It was really something to see the 5 of them lined up in this way just for me. I felt as though I had a certain control over them. I loved it. Ben enjoyed being on display, but I think the others were only going through with it so they could see me.

When it became my turn, I felt a level of nervous excitement I had not in years. I waded toward the steps, and knew I was in serious trouble. The sensations were so intense. As I raised up out of the water and turned to stand exposed to the men, and the many windows of the surrounding apartment buildings, I felt the overwhelming erotic pleasure that I had obsessively sought through all my years before marriage. I wanted nothing more than to completely surrender and indulge all my desires. The endorphins passed through me like a drug that I could not refuse. I both relished and feared that there would be no turning back.

I stood naked and wet in the cool night air appreciating the gaze of my admirers and scanning the windows for more onlookers. I wanted to keep going, and to escalate, so I stayed above the water striking every pose I thought sexy. But soon Ben moved close and submerged, coming up under me to carry me on his shoulders.

For the next half hour or so, I let them take turns carrying me around on their shoulders while I teased and flirted. All the physical contact between us made me giddy with excitement. Being handled and admired by the guys as they each picked me up, sometimes with help from the others, brought me pleasures I had long craved. We all had great fun laughing, wrestling, and splashing around, but I knew they couldn’t possibly know the level sexual arousal I was experiencing.

The whole time I was aware that we were being quite loud, and I couldn’t stop wondering how many people may be watching from the windows. This exceedingly elevated the experience for me. Several times I asked the guys if they thought anyone was watching. They told me not to worry about it, and that everything was fine – wrongly assuming that I didn’t want others to see me. But I still enjoyed hearing them try to convince me to keep frolicking with them.

Matthew was the only one who seemed concerned about how exposed we were. He kept telling us to quiet down. Although my laughter and playful screams were sometime involuntary, I could have tried to be quieter. I just didn’t want to. This was the first time since college that I had done anything like this. I was going to make the most of it. I was elated to be so free and daring, and I wanted everyone to know. But when I looked out from the pool and saw someone at the fence, I screamed - before I realized it was Brandon. He was just returning home. This was the first time he saw me naked. I was above the water on Eric’s shoulders. At the time, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him seeing me like this. Brandon was the motivated leader of our group and the film projects. I wanted him to respect me, but I was lost in my joy and wasn’t about to stop now. I waved and called for Brandon to join us. He answered that he would be out in a minute, and I watched him look back at me approvingly as he went into his apartment, which was right beside the pool.

Before Brandon returned, I saw Matthew jump out of the water and run for his clothes. I knew that was not good. Then someone announced they saw a cop. I turned to see a police officer at the fence, trying to find the gate. I dropped into the water and watched as all the guys rushed for their clothes and ran out through the adjoining laundry room. I sank down in the water, not sure what to do. I thought I might try to run if the police followed the guys. But two male officers came in through the gate and up to the edge of the pool. They ordered me out of the water. I told them I didn’t know where my clothes were, and pointed in the direction I thought, asking if they could retrieve my shirt. One of them shined his light around and found the shirt but didn’t pick it up. He told me to get out of the pool.

For as much as I had been enjoying the thoughts of others catching us at our little skinny-dipping party, this is not what I had imagined. I was so much more afraid than excited knowing I would have to parade completely naked in front of the police. I hesitated, but their demands for me to get out and get dressed became more aggressive.

I first tried to get out at the edge of the pool closest to my shirt, but after some struggling to pull myself up, I had to wade down to the stairs and walk all the way around while they shined their lights on me. I had never felt more vulnerable. The whole time I thought I would be arrested and imagined all the trouble this would bring.

What will it be like in jail?

Will I go there in just a wet shirt?

Will I make it to work tomorrow?

What would I tell my husband?!

But as the officers kept their lights on me and watched as I untangled the wet shirt, the tone had changed. They started to make small talk.

“You’ve been havin’ some fun tonight?” One of the officers asked, seemingly amused, if not delighted.

I started to think that I may not be going to jail, and that they could possibly get in trouble for this. Making me stand naked in their lights while struggling to get dressed. They could have kicked the shirt over to me while I was in the water, and not have me walking around like this in front of them and whoever may be watching from the windows.

I began to take my time with the shirt, hoping to extend the incident of their ogling to something they would not want to have to explain. Even though I was cold and scared, I enjoyed the sensations that washed over me as I appreciated the contrasts of their powerful authority in crisp uniforms with their large chests and arms looming over my meek, nude, soft, wet, shivering self.

They asked if I lived there, and if I had been drinking. I answered “No” to both questions as I finally worked the uncooperative garment down over my body. Then they told me to go home.

Fearing they would follow me to Eric’s apartment, bringing trouble to the others, I thought to get in my car and drive around until they left. I could not go home to my husband in only some guy’s wet shirt. But before I got to my car, I realized my keys were with my clothes in Eric’s apartment. So, I just aimlessly walked around the apartment complex waiting for the police to leave. A few people had come out to see what was going on. I felt very aware of myself, in nothing but my wet shirt, as I passed them on the sidewalk, wondering how long they had been watching, and if they called the police.

Eventually, I returned to Eric’s apartment and pounded on the door. I was a little mad that they ran off and left me, but I was really just wanting to have some fun with them. I knew what they had done was probably best. The guys would have been much more likely to get arrested, or maybe evicted.

When Eric answered the door, I pretended to be angrier than I was. Only Eric, Ben, and John were still there. I entered the living room shouting at them for leaving me. I dramatically pulled off the shirt and threw the still wet and heavy thing in Eric’s chest before storming into his bedroom to retrieve my clothes. They followed, trying to calm me down. My charade was working, and I wanted to keep it going.

I’ve always been more of a follower, trying to please others, and almost never express anger. Yelling at the guys, while naked and only pretending anger, was surprisingly stimulating. I started throwing my clothes at them instead of getting dressed. But after making a bit more of it, my joy became too obvious, and they knew I was joking.

I told them what happened with the police, and we all enjoyed the excitement and eventual relief of the whole experience - before I had to return home to my restrictive world.

I had already been thinking about leaving my husband. Feeling the negative turn of my mood driving home that night, I started to believe it really could be the right thing to do. I was facilitating my husband’s ability to not work, and for all of our differences I had grown to believe we were just not good for each other. Although unintentional, my friends were reminding me how exciting and wonderful life can be. I felt like this night was the first time in years I had really done what I wanted - reveling in just being me.
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(Mid 1980s) In our lives we all suffer embarrassing moments. Some more than others, and to different extremes. But with each experience I believe there is something we can learn about ourselves and possibly take the opportunity to grow. I venture to say that what I long thought of as my most embarrassing experience eventually became something for which I am grateful.

I turned 18 in February, was accepted to the University of Florida, and started to really feel the excitement for everything new on the horizon. But I still had to finish my senior year of high school, as the preacher’s kid, among my friends and classmates who I thought didn’t really know me.

My whole life to this point I had been known as sweet little innocent Amy. The girl with the braces that, other than her cheerleading uniform, wore only what her mother chose. But recently I had developed quite a bit – although no one seemed to notice. That March, just a couple of months before graduation, I experienced an event that I believe affected the rest of my life.

I was out of town at an away game for my school’s basketball team. It was the boy’s team, for which I was a cheerleader. We were at the hotel. Our group consisted of the team, the cheerleaders, a few chaperones, some family members, and a few hardcore fans from school. I don’t know if we were all housed on the same floor, but it seemed that way. We had our doors propped open and moved around the floor from room to room for hours with that youthful excitement for an out-of-town adventure. At some point, the chaperones, and probably the entire hotel, had had enough of the antics, and we were xxxxxxxxxx to retire to our rooms. The girls were housed four to a room.

Earlier in my story, I told of how I came to always sleep in the nude. It made a significant impression on me when I overheard a boy at school tell his friends that he did this. I was not only intrigued by the act itself, but I wished to also be so bold to tell others of this. Although, other than my family discovering, I had told no one.

I did not come on this trip with any determination to sleep naked. I don’t remember if I packed pajamas or considered these logistics at all. I had a crush on one of the basketball players, and this distraction occupied most of my thoughts.

In the room with my three roommates getting ready for bed, I was confronted with this decision for which I had not prepared. As a burgeoning exhibitionist, I never had a problem in those moments when others would see me changing, etc. In fact, I made the most of such opportunities, although these had been few of late. I had not been invited to a sleepover or anything like that since I started sleeping naked. I was rarely invited to such events - I think because of my “good girl” reputation from my religious upbringing. They probably thought that I would bring the party down. I wanted to show that I was not what everyone assumed.

My first inclination was to strip naked right there in front of my roommates and announce that I always slept nude. I so much wanted to prove how bold and free I really could be. But as I stood watching the others prepare for bed in their night shirts and such, I lost my nerve and walked over to my bed fully clothed.

To this point it had been a great trip. But now I was saddened by what I saw as my failure to be so daring and do as I pleased. I began to consider getting under the covers before undressing. But that seemed weak, and would appear as though I wanted to hide. That was the opposite of how I wanted to be seen. As I thought more about the possible reaction the others might have if I just got naked right there in front of them, I imagined their impressions of me would change. Whispers may spread through the school such to change everyone’s impression of me in the way I had long hoped. So, I did it. I took a deep breath and stripped down completely, right next to the bed, and got in.

My roommates noticed. At first, we all just looked at each other. I started to explain that this is just the way I sleep, hoping they would find it as bold as I had. But that was not the case. I did not think this through with enough consideration for the girl with whom I shared the bed. (Four girls to a room, but only two beds.)

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!” My bedmate demanded an answer as she jumped up.

My explanation was interrupted as the others got involved. I struggled to hang on but had no chance as they pulled the covers away with great force. At first, I couldn’t help but laugh as they seemed playfully excited while they assessed the situation. This was not going as I had hoped, but it was thrilling fun.

I worked to continue to explain myself through my nervous laughter while my friends began a discussion of what they should do with me. The answer was terrifying. My laughter mixed with screams as they pulled me from the bed. I didn’t think any of us knew if they were serious or just being playful. I was overwhelmed with giggles, screams, terror, and titillation as we wrestled.

I was in the best shape of my life, but probably the least athletic cheerleader of all time. Even the burst of energy I gained when I realized they were serious and opened the door to our room was not enough to keep them from dragging me out. With a final shove they broke away and slammed the door shut, leaving me completely naked in the hotel hallway. Immediately other doors began to open and people poured out into the hallway to investigate the commotion.

Now, even at this age, my exhibitionist propensities were intense. Opportunities were regularly sought, even if less frequently carried out. But there is a pattern to these experiences. It starts with an idea that builds to a fantasy. Then a period of anticipation filled with mixed feelings of fear, arousal, daring, pride, shame, confidence, desire, stimulation, titillation, and wonder… to name just a few. The build up to one of these events is as much, if not more, important than the act itself. It is a totally different experience when literally thrust into the situation. I was mortified!

First my pleas to be let in where a shouted whisper accompanied by light but frantic slapping on the door. I huddled up close to try to hide from view. But more and more people came out to investigate. Some started calling to me or for their friends. I began to plead and bang louder. I felt naked in front of the world, and I wanted to run. Our door was in front of the elevator, but this was no good, so I decided on the stairwell. As I turned, I could see the hallway was filling up and the stairway was far. So, I dove back into the little recess of our doorway and pleaded more. I heard someone call for a blanket at the same time I heard the elevator arrive at our floor. I thought it best to run the gauntlet to the stairwell when our door opened, and my roommates pulled me in.

The girls landed in big trouble. I did not complain or pursue any punishment, but that was the last away game for all the cheerleaders. For me, the fallout was complicated. It began that night, after I finally got to bed and lay contemplating how I would face everyone in the morning. My school was very small. Not a private school, but run as such. My graduating class was only 31 people. So, those that saw me completely naked in the hallway represented a significant percentage of my school, and included my crush.

Like most people, I had been caught doing embarrassing things – aside from my intentional activities. I found that if you try to hide, lie, cover up, or otherwise downplay what occurred, it only makes you look worse. People are more likely to think less of you. And usually, the act itself is probably like something most people do in private anyway, so they’ll understand. For example, when caught pleasuring yourself, instead of pretending that is not what happened, or awkwardly avoiding the topic, just own it. Just go out and say “You sure walked in at the wrong time. I was really going at it!” Joke with them, “I didn't even get to finish!”

So, after my episode in the hotel hallway, I owned it. I played it proud. I acted like everyone was lucky to catch the show. I did have a nice body at the time, and up till then, I don’t think anyone knew. I had been the preacher’s daughter in braces and thick sweaters. But my braces had come off recently, and now they saw me without the sweater, to say the least. I started to believe this would be the turning point for me. I would finally gain distance from that “good girl.”

I did get more attention from the boys, but truth is, little changed. And for those that did look at me in a new way, I don’t think it was so much what happened in the hallway. I think it was the confidence with which I emerged from the incident. I took this lesson with me and had many new and wonderful experiences. And looking back, I am no longer embarrassed… it just turns me on.

Not long after this I was set to leave for college. I purposely chose to go far from home, and to a university that none of my classmates would be attending. I was determined to build a whole new persona.
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Preface: This is the story behind “My Little Fashion Show” video that I posted, and is linked here.



(Mid 1990s) I found myself in an unfortunate situation. I married young, and it had not gone well. I could not bring myself to tell my minister father that I was getting a divorce. So, I found myself without a place to stay, and pretty much just the clothes on my back. However, I knew a couple of guys, Brandon and Mark, who were starting a video editing business. It was low budget, so instead of a proper office, they had rented a small cheap apartment to house their business. No one lived there. It was only used as a place where they could edit their projects. So, I asked if I could stay there, just until I got back on my feet. They agreed. I really did not know them very well, so they were quite kind to do such a big favor for me. I think they felt a little obligated because I had once worked for free preforming in one of their videos. I wanted to be an actress. They mostly did cheap corporate and real estate videos, trying to build a media business as the internet was just getting going.

They were very nice to me. At first, I tried to stay out of their way when they were working, but they seemed to enjoy that I was there. One or both usually worked at night. And sometimes we would get to talking. I really started to enjoy their company. I needed this. Considering what I was going through, the attention of nice young ambitious men was wonderful.

They learned a good bit about my situation. After listening to me complain about not being able to get my possessions back from my husband (not even my panties) they surprised me with a gift card to Victoria’s Secret. That was so nice of them. But I thought it may also be a suggestion. I think they had their own ideas of what it would be like to have a girl living in their office.

I was excited by the idea of walking around the apartment while barely dressed, but when I first moved in, I wasn’t sure how this would go over. I would not want one of them, or one of their girlfriends, to be put off and put me out. If it were later in life, I would just ask if it would bother them if I walked around naked. But back then I did not have the audacity.

Not long after I moved in, my desire to tease them was growing uncontrollably. During my upbringing as a preacher’s daughter, everybody thought of me as a ‘good girl’. I hated that. More so, when I did things that surprised or even shocked people, I felt wonderful. It was thrilling. But I tried to not take things too far. I did not want to disappoint my parents. But when I got to college, I went wild. (Stories for another time.) Then, right out of college, I went the other way. I married a conservative man who did not know about, and would not at all like, my exhibitionist desires and tendencies - or the things I did in college. But I eventually could not take this anymore. And now that I had left my husband, I really wanted to break free. I wanted to go wild again. This is how I was feeling when I moved in to Mark and Brandon’s office.

One day, I decided to test them. Around the time I expected one of them would come by, I left my hair brush out on the editing desk, laid naked on the sofa, and watched TV in the main room. When I heard the key in the door, I rushed into the bathroom and turned on the water. I wet my hair, turned the water off, and walked right out to the desk completely nude. It was Mark, and he was alone. When we made eye contact, I feigned surprise. He froze for a second then looked away. I scurried back to the bathroom while apologizing and explaining that I had come out to get my brush which I had on his desk. He apologized and said I could get my brush; he would not look. I came back out as I told him that it would not bother me if he looked. He didn’t.
“I’m not shy.” I said, picking up my hairbrush.
He hesitantly glanced over as I stood there brushing my hair. I felt so much tension but tried to seem casual. After a few awkward moments, I turned and walked slowly back to the bathroom. Although I played it calmly, my heart was pounding.
“Wow.” I heard him whisper while catching my breath in the bathroom.
“Thank you.” I whispered even quieter, unsure if I wanted him to hear.

It took a few days for it not to be at least a little awkward after that. But I started daring myself to do doing little things, to see what I could get away with. While they were working, I would usually find things to do in the kitchen because I knew they could see me from their editing desk. I would do things like go bottomless with a tee shirt that wasn’t quite long enough to cover me well. I started leaving the bedroom and bathroom doors open while I was changing, showering, toweling off, etc. I remember standing at the bedroom mirror for a long while until I finally worked up my courage enough to go grab a snack from the kitchen while topless. I tried to pretend like this was just normal and I didn’t think much of it. But I was always overwhelmed with excitement and titillation when I knew they were watching me.

When they gave me the gift card to Victoria’s Secret, I thought this might be their way of encouraging me. I got the idea to pay them back with a fashion show of some of the underwear I bought. But, I couldn’t figure out a good way to do this live – I just didn’t have the nerve. So, I decided to surprise them with a video. When I was alone, I set up their camera in the corner of the office and put on a little show. It was silly, and not very well done. But it really got me excited. I thought maybe I took it too far. Particularly after my fashion show turned into me playing with myself, and for far too long. I spent a lot of time waffling about this, and I thought I should erase it. But eventually I just committed and went through with it. I put the tape in their machine for them to discover. When Brandon came into work, I said I had somewhere to be and left. I was too nervous to watch him find it. When I returned, no one was there, and the tape was gone.

Days went by with no one mentioning the tape. I was getting frazzled and tried to find ways of broaching the topic. Eventually I overheard Brandon telling Mark that he had finished his recent project and turned all the tapes over to the client. I nearly passed out when I realized he must have given my tape to one of his clients. I found that this excited and aroused me, but I was terrified of what I may have done to his business. My panic must have been obvious, as they soon let me off the hook, telling me they had both watched the tape, and had not given it to their client.

The whole situation was still a bit awkward, but my video was well received. So much so Brandon asked me if I would pose for more videos. This led to a whole new, and erotically fun, dynamic in our little apartment/office. Brandon soon became my camera man for many videos around that time, and for years to come.
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Preface: This is the beginning of my story of how I became an exhibitionist. I intend to continue posting about this and some of the many adventures I experienced over the years. I'll include relevant pictures or videos, when I have them. Your feedback is very much appreciated.

(Mid 1980s) I have had exhibitionist tendencies since I was young. In an effort to better understand, I have given much thought to how this developed over the years. My first thoughts are of the time when I was still living in my parent’s house. There was a large window in the upstairs bathroom. It was always uncovered because it was located such that it was not well exposed to the neighbors or street. But, when taking a bath, I would fantasize that whichever boy I liked at the time was out there watching me. I think this was extra thrilling because of how much it was contrary to my world otherwise. My father was a Presbyterian minister. I was, and considered by all to be, a “good girl”. Over time, I grew to hate this. I so much wanted to shed this reputation.

I had once overheard a guy at school telling his friends that he slept in the nude. At first, I was shocked, but also fascinated. I thought about this a lot. How brave and somehow mature. I built up the courage and started sleeping naked myself. Although usually under the covers, it was quite liberating. I was afraid my mom would discover me – and eventually she did. To my surprise, she did not freak out. See did a double take, but generally ignored it. So, this became something normal in my world.

To this day I sleep in the nude, or sometimes in just panties. This is likely connected to my always feeling sexiest in the morning. It is the time I feel the most slim and desirable. I almost always pleasure myself before getting out of bed, and I stay there as long as I can. When I do get up, if I don’t have to go anywhere, I likely won’t get dressed at all. I like to do my chores or find fun activities to do naked. It is not difficult. Just the work of everyday life is more enjoyable in the nude.

Just after I began sleeping naked, I would lie in bed until I knew both my parents had left for work, then I would kick off the covers and lay face down, exposed to anyone who may enter the room, although no one did. But I would fantasize about who this could be. At that time, it was usually Tom Selleck – dressed as a cowboy. My most prevalent fantasy is to be roughly taken, from behind. This intruder having his way with me. That can sound a little scary, but not to a girl in the 80s when the intruder is Tom Selleck.

My routine of naked morning chores, etc. was, and still is fun. But like most things people enjoy doing a lot, it can lose its luster after a while, and you must step it up to keep it exciting. This too happened to me. I started to fantasize more about being seen. But I did not want my parents to find out. And if they did, I knew I would need a good story for how this “accidentally” happened. I became determined to bring this fantasy to life.

My first idea to be seen related to the fact that we lived on a golf course. It was common to have tee shots miss the fairway and land near or in our yard. I decided to do some nude sunbathing. If discovered by my parents, I knew they would be mad, but at least it would make more sense than just running out and flashing someone. So, I laid out a towel in the yard - a long way from the fairway. It took a while to build up my courage. I knew to keep to areas not exposed to the neighbors. Most of the yard was well covered by trees, so I had to move often to stay in the sun and not appear to be a naked girl just napping in the shady woods.

I was so excited and nervous, yet also somehow relaxed with certain parts of my body feeling the sun and air for the first time. When I spotted golfers in the fairway, I actually chickened out, but it was too late. I knew they were more likely to catch me if I jumped up and ran. I tried to cover up with the towel, but the leaves started to rustle. So, I closed my eyes hard and just froze until I was sure they had passed. I had no idea if they saw me, but I don’t think so.

It was weeks until I tried again. I wasn’t even planning on it at the time. I was cleaning the sliding glass door on the back deck. This was a fun chore to do naked, after my parents left for work. While cleaning, I heard the familiar knock of a ball striking a tree in our yard. It just came over me to really go for it. I grabbed a towel and rushed out and pretend to be sunbathing. As it seemed to take forever for the golfers to arrive, the excitement kept building and building, and with it my courage. I picked up my towel and hurried down closer to the course and set up again. I saw three men headed my way. Now I was terrified. I knew they would see me for sure. They would be looking for the ball very close to me. Then, just like before, I chickened out. But this time I did jump up to run back to the house. As I grabbed my towel, I looked right at them looking right at me. I was flooded with emotions as I ran for the house. I did not look back until hidden below my living room window. Peeking out, I could see them still frozen in their tracks. But after a moment or two it became clear they were engaged in happy conversation. I imagine I made their day. And after a few minutes I had calmed down enough to realize it made my day too. I ran around the house, jumped up and down, screamed and danced for some time after.

I knew it was unlikely that the golfers would know me or my family. We lived on Hilton Head Island, a vacation resort that often had many more tourists than locals - but I still feared being recognized. So, although my sunbathing escapades became a regular event, I would usually lay out closer to the house. It wasn't always easy to determine if I was seen, but I still became overwhelmed with sensations every time golfers came through the fairway.

I had other adventures related to the golf course. At night, it was pitch black out there. You could not see more than a few feet. Sometimes I would sneak out and run naked around the course, daring myself to go farther each time. This was a good outlet for me for a couple of years. As far as I know, I was never seen. But I had a few close calls getting in and out of the house, or crossing under lights near the roads to reach other parts of the course.

These were the beginnings of my adventures, that were at first occasional, but quickly escalated to my seeking such thrills nearly every day for the next 40 years.
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