At the start of the day, if someone had suggested that I’d complete the car journey home naked then I would have thought they were mad, but sometimes a situation just presents itself. In truth, I think if it hadn’t happened that day then it would have happened soon enough.
As I sat there, my hands behind the headrest, my back arched away from the seat, and with my eyes closed as I enjoyed the sensations washing over my body, I felt Tony’s hand slide further between my legs. I parted them slightly by way of invitation. Bringing a gasp, his finger touch my clitoris. I let out a sigh and hoped that he’d read my body language as an indication not to stop. Thankfully he read the sign correctly and his hand pressed more firmly, rubbing gently up and down, seemingly absent-mindedly as he concentrated on the road ahead.
I pushed my pelvis up and into his hand as much as I was able to and with each stroke I was becoming more removed from the world and more focussed on Tony’s hand and the pleasure I felt. I wondered if I should ask him to stop, but that was not what I wanted and, with faster and faster movements, I found myself groaning, and then panting frantically as I reached a climax. His hand stayed firmly on me as I pushed myself up and down against him, no longer able to control my own movements.
Finally, with a long shudder, I collapsed down and back into the seat. My eyes were still closed, and I felt Tony’s hand move back up to the top of my thigh. After a minute I opened my eyes and Tony looked over and smiled. I pulled at the seatbelt and leant over to kiss him on the cheek.
Read the rest of Cruising, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF
“Thank you,” I said with a smile, and she appeared to relax a little. “Now, you know what we’re here to talk about, and this is a qualitative study, meaning I won’t be asking for statistics or taking tests, I just want to know about your experiences.” She nodded again. What I’d said wasn’t entirely true as some aspects of my study would be measurable, but I wasn’t going to be running tests on Melissa.
“Now, to cut to the chase,” I continued, feeling that momentum was on my side, “You’re here because you… you enjoy the sensation of being naked. In front of people.”
She tilted her head as if she was thinking about the answer. I wasn’t sure why: it was the only reason she was here in the first place. But I knew that hearing your most personal secret put into words for the first time was not an easy thing to process.
“Well, I…” Melissa started. I nodded to urge her to continue. “Well, I guess, yes.”
She took a deep breath, as if somehow the admission was a major step forward. Personally, I felt no judgement towards her, neither good nor bad; I’d been studying this and similar subjects for long enough that they had become quite commonplace to me.
On cue Cassandra grabs the bottom of her t-shirt and pulls it swiftly and smoothly over her head. She’s not wearing a bra underneath and I stare for a second at her perfect, small breasts. Her long hair falls over her bare shoulders and it occurs to me that if the café business ever fails she could easily turn to modelling. She’s almost impossibly thin and the denim shorts cover so little she’s as close to being naked as she can be, and still be legal. I’m suddenly insanely jealous of the combination of brains, beauty and youth.
I turn back to the camera.
“Well,” I say, “I’m sure you’re anxious to find out a lot more of how this very unique business runs. So, without further ado, I’m going to put on my uniform and join Cassandra for ‘A Working Day’ at the ‘Naked Women in Shorts Café’”
I try to look confident as I fumble at the top button of my blouse with my free hand. I pop it open, and then the second, before Jim takes the camera off of his shoulder and I stop. He only has eyes for Cassandra, of course.
“That was great Cassandra,” I tell her, meaning it. Cassandra’s smile widens further. “Now, is there somewhere I can get changed?” I was only unbuttoning the blouse for show, of course, and I had no intention of working topless for the day. But with that intro I doubt there’d be a single viewer changing channel when this went out on air.
The Reverend Mother awoke early as usual. She had come to a decision in the night: Sister Sarah had seemed thoroughly submissive the previous day and, although she wanted to break her spirit, she didn’t want to destroy her entirely. As a reward for her good behaviour, she would end her punishment a day early.
She took Sarah’s habit from the locked cupboard and marched towards her room. If she arrived before the alarm went then Sarah could re-join her Sisters in wearing the habit from now on, assuming she continued to behave herself.
She lifted the latch to Sarah’s room and pushed the door open, and then dropped the item of clothing to the floor when she saw the two young nuns, still sleeping, one naked and one in a nightdress, their limbs intertwined on the narrow bed.
I was inspired by the video below to write a little story about being stripped whilst crowd surfing. Now, before you get your hopes up, the girl in this video doesn’t get anything taken off, but it’s pretty hot all the same.
Obviously, in my story things go a little further… It’s intended as a bit of fun and some pure escapism. I’m sure if it ever happened it would be nothing short of terrifying, but as a fantasy it’s quite exquisite.
Have you ever been out with someone who’s just a bit too much of a gentleman? Yes, I know that’s a rarity and I should thank my lucky stars, but the problem with Martin was that even after three dates he still didn’t seem to realise that I fancied him like crazy.
“Thanks for bringing me, Martin,” I said, looking away from the stage for a second and smiling at him. He had lovely grey-blue eyes and an odd mixture of confidence and shyness. He wasn’t at all like the guys I used to date; the big dumb blonds, as I thought of them now. I just wished he had a little of their, shall we say, forthrightness? With them, if I escaped a first date without a hand on my boob I considered myself fortunate. With Martin I was lucky if I saw even the idea of a goodnight kiss flash across his face before nerves got the better of him.
It was my first music festival, and a beautiful summer’s day with it. I wished we’d bought tickets for the whole weekend, and if Martin had any sense he’d have suggested sharing a tent. I’d even have said yes to sharing a sleeping bag, but I doubt he’d ever be so bold as to ask.
And before you ask, I wasn’t just desperate to sleep with him because I’d had a couple of beers; at the start of the day I’d already decided that, one way or another, I was going to find out if he actually found me attractive or not. I’d even planned to start the day with a not-so-accidental towel drop, but when I’d told Martin I wasn’t ready he’d waited out on the street. I just hoped that skinny jeans and a sleeveless top was sexy enough for him, and I guess I’ll have to find another way to get naked before the day was out. I’ve even deployed the wireless pullover bra in case Martin had no idea how to undo a clasp.
My train of fantasy was interrupted by two guys lifting a young woman into the air in front of me. I was about to complain about blocking the view to the band when she fell back towards us and I automatically lifted my hands to stop her.
More hands joined, and the next I knew it we were pushing her over our heads as she stretched her arms above her. She seemed to glide effortlessly over the tops of the crowd, sometimes twisting and rolling, progressing slowly on a meandering path across the park.
Hands grabbed at her and she let out a shriek. She moved her arms to her side and gripped her t-shirt as someone became over-enthusiastic about the presence of a young woman’s body and tried to lift her top.
“Woah!” I said involuntarily. Martin had seen it too and his eyes were wide.
As I looked back at the girl her arms were above her head again, and more hands had pushed her t-shirt high enough to expose her stomach. She didn’t seem to mind, having found a level of exposure that she was comfortable with. Other hands tugged at her jeans and she shrieked again and grabbed her belt.
“I love your, er,” I said as I looked her up and down, desperate to pay a compliment in return. “I love your tattoos.” Natasha had a magnificent set of multi-coloured tattoos: on her arms, on her shoulders, on the tops of her feet and her ankles, spiralling up her leg and thigh and across her stomach. Oh yes, now I remember the important part of describing Natasha, and why I was surprised, or even shocked, at meeting her. I’m able to describe Natasha’s tattoos in such detail because Natasha was entirely naked.
“Why, thank you,” she said, looking down at herself. I joined her in staring at the young naked body in front of me and wondered whether I was dreaming. “I’ve been collecting them for years. I started with a few small ones like this.” She twisted around and pointed to an owl tattooed on her shoulder before turning back quickly as I tried to tear my eyes away from the way her tiny breasts wobbled as she spun around. “And this was next,” she said as she twisted her leg outwards and pointed to a small butterfly at the top of her inner thigh, although all I could think of was that I was staring directly at her immaculately shaved vagina. “That one was for an old boyfriend, who wanted something that only he would see.” She shrugged and her breasts wobbled again. “I guess everyone gets to see it now.”
She put her hands on my hips to raise herself up again. I jumped at the sensation of her warm hands on my bare skin. It was such a contrast to the still cold steel around my ankles and wrists.
“Now,” she said, “How does that feel.”
Her eyes were sparkling and I felt as if she had admitted me into some kind of inner circle. I wasn’t used to being so… accepted and it made me feel warm inside, but my skin was tingling at the realisation that I was nude and helpless, for the moment at least.
“Even… odder,” I said, “I feel… I feel so naked.”
Lisa smiled as if that was exactly what she wanted.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “You are naked.”
We both laughed and I took another nervous sip from my glass.
“Here,” she said, and with one hand firmly on the small of my back and another more gently touching my stomach she pushed me gently backwards and I let myself sink down onto the sofa.
Kara Bryn 