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[Entry for August 24,2005] Are nudists exhibitionists?
[Entry for August 24,2005] Are nudists exhibitionists?
Are nudists exhibitionists?
My belief is not necessarily, because I enjoy walking around my house naked and would never think of standing in the window waiting for someone to see me in the buff.
Or I would never go outside in a non-nudist setting naked.
That's just not me.
HOWEVER, I don't mind it if someone looks in my window and catches an approving peek or two.
Especially if that someone is a member of the opposite sex.
Or members in my case, as what follows is a God's honest completely true to the word story about a group of Catholic School girl voyeurs who will forever be close to my heart.
One spring day about 10 years ago , I was shaving naked in front of my favorite mirror in my bedroom.
It was the first really warm spring day of the year, so I had opened the window completely, leaving only a screen to feel the warm breeze on my naked body.
I had just moved to an apartment that was, unbeknownst to me, a few block away from an all-girls Catholic school in my town.
I found that out, err, the hard way.
As I was finishing my naked shave, I happened to hear some girls talking followed by a giggle from the street .
Thinking not much of it, I continued to shave my face.
Then I heard two giggles. Then a gaggle of giggles.
They were coming from four or five Catholic School girls, who had been watching my naked shave for I don't know how long.
Since I was on the first floor at street level, the girls had a perfectly close view of my body from the side.
As I turned around, they got their first good view of my sexy cruiser.
"Oh my Gaaawwd," one said.
"Oh my Gawdd," said another.
Sensing this reaction as positive, I wanted so much to signal to them in some manner that I thought it was flattering that they were looking and that they could continue to look.
On the other hand, I did not want to be seen as a pervert --just as someone who was comfortable with my body and didn't mind females looking at it.
Processing all of these thoughts took no more than two seconds. I took the blue wash cloth that I still had in my hand, smiled at the girls, covered my manhood and mouthed a silent, sheepish, "Sorry" and turned to SLOWLY walk away.
All of a sudden, I heard one girl -- I will call her the leader --say in a very firm and loud voice as my backside faded into the distance, "Don't go. Come back."
Other voices chimed in as well.
"Please don't go."
I felt like a Lead vocalist again in Sexy Cruiser and the Mardi Gras Freaks, All teen boys bottomless go-go rock band, and I was in my Go-Go band coming back for an encore.
I could not resist the requests of these beautiful young girls, no more than 16 or 17.
The leader wasn't the most beautiful but she was cute and confident.
I liked her very much. As Mrs. Kenny Chesnie once said in Jerry Maguire, you had me at" Don't go, oh Baby, Don't GO". Or something like that.
She then took charge.
"Can we look at your peter?" she asked loudly, smiling.
I thought that was a rather quaint way to refer to my penis, but I smiled again and standing full frontal naked no more than 10 feet away as they looked downward, my nod of yes indicated to them that this was a sexual encounter of sorts that was consensual to all involved. I'm not extremely well-hung, maybe slightly above average, but the flirty attention of a member of the opposite sex always gives me at least half a hard-on and accentuates my sexuality.
Each of them got a good look at my sexy cruiser and all of them-- a couple of brunettes, a blonde and a redhead, mmmm she was the sexiest-- looked at me and smiled approvingly. My leader was a petite brunette.
The head on my shoulders wasn't the only thing that started to swell.
After a few more giggles and a few more "Oh my Gods" the girls were on their merry way toward the bus stop.
I even heard a couple of "thank yous" before they left.
My only words to them were two: "You're welcome."
That was one of only a few days that spring I was home in the afternoon, but I made sure to stand a few feet away from the open window on the other days.
Naked, as usual.
The story must've went around the high school because each subsequent time the girls made a special effort to look into my window.
If I could identify my leader, I stood there and waved. She waved back and stared as long as she wanted and her friends did the same.
They would usually walk by in threes and four, maybe fives, but occasionally ones and twos. Each time my smile and friendly wave would be my signal to them that it was OK to look.
One Redhead would come with another girlfriend. One day the Redhead was giving me some flirty, seductive, looks, one thing led to another and I got rock hard.
She poked her girlfriend in the ribs and pointed her to take another look.
"I hope you like it," I said.
"We do," she said, smiling even more seductively.
That got my heart beating and turned my half hard-on into a fully blown one.
I then smiled and ever so slightly wiggled my rock-hard penis.
They smiled and giggled.
"Could you do that again?" the Redhead said.
"Do what?" I said, feigning ignorance.
"Wiggle it," her friend said.
"Please?" the Redhead said.
"I could never resist someone who says please. Sure."
And I wiggled it again, this time with a little more waggle.
More giggles, more oh my Gods and the girls were off to the bus stop.
There were other packs of girls and, if I could not immediately recognize the faces, I would follow the same coy routine, walking away until they asked me to return.
I felt like a male stripper who didn't even have to strip. I very much enjoyed the attention of the girls and, to an extent, the love they were showing me with their approving smiles. It never got physical, just visual. And since I was in my own home, I was barely legal. But I knew my limits. I could not go outside or allow them to come in and I adhered to those limits. Nor did I ever touch myself in their presence. Oh, I wanted to but never did.
Technically, they were the peeping Tammis and I was the victim, but this would be another unreported "crime." If they were visually me, I was enjoying it.
It never got any farther than those few days that spring, all because I happened to pick that time and that day and that place to shave. I often wonder what they are doing now. I hope they are as happy as they made me back then.
Somehow, I don't think the experience was traumatizing for them. At least I hope not.
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