Trying Not To Stare


“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.”

Read the rest of Dressed In Tattoos, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

Exhibitionist Diary – Friday 25th October 2019


Nothing much to report today except a little catch-up meeting with Jo. I asked her how her date went and she gushed over how nice it was, and now I feel even more jealous! I can’t believe that when she split from her partner I seemed to be getting settled with Kieran and my life looked organised and hers looked like it was falling apart. Now she’s on the up (and I’m happy for her), but I seem to have gone backwards.

Exhibitionist Diary – Thursday 24th October 2019


Just as I was wondering what to do at the weekend a message from Ellie appeared. She suggested going out on the town somewhere, because she was feeling a bit wild. That sounds like fun! And then when I agreed she reminded me that it was my turn to do a dare, and now I’m wondering what she has lined up. She’s not letting on either. She’d suggested Friday night, but now I’m so worried about upsetting Mel by skipping the Park Run again I said Saturday, because running with a hangover is no fun at all.

Exhibitionist Diary – Wednesday 23rd October 2019


I had regular Pilates this evening, and comparing it to Mel’s session is just making it seem worse and worse! Because I know I’ll ache tomorrow and, frankly, I don’t want to have to wear leggings, knickers, top and a sports bra any more than I have to.

I had lunch with Ha today and she teased me a bit about Friday night and Saturday morning. She said she’d be really happy if I wanted to move into the spare room because having a naked woman around was so much fun. I wouldn’t even have to pay rent, she said, as long as I was happy to cook and clean for them. I told her that she should be so lucky, and she said maybe I could skip cooking, for two days a week. I threatened her with a slap, but it was all in good fun. But still it also feels very flirty.

Posing The Question


When Mia opened her eyes I returned to my questioning. “Artists have often worked with nudes,” I said, “So, why don’t you hire a model rather than doing all this yourself?”

She seemed to welcome the question. “Partly, honestly, it’s money. How much is it going to cost to hire a model for days on end, with no idea of whether anything of worth will come out of it? And then, once I started, I realised the insight I had I couldn’t gain any other way. I had to experience the art as well as creating it.”

“And your compositions,” I continued, “There are other artists that work with nude individuals and groups. But in your pieces, there’s only ever one nude: you.”

It seemed another topic Mia was prepared for. “We are doing very different things and, in my work, I think the juxtaposition is much sharper if there is only a single nude. I think many nudes can be very visually appealing, but a single nude poses more questions; it forces the viewer to interact with the representation of an individual.”

Hearing a noise, I looked around. An elderly man was barely twenty feet away from us along the path. I started to reach for the raincoat, and then realised the futility of it. He smiled as he came alongside us, waved his hand and said something in Spanish. Mia replied with a grin and tilted her head towards me. His eyes followed her direction and we exchanged a smile. I looked at her, wanting to know what had happened.

Read the rest of Interview With An Artist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

Exhibitionist Diary – Tuesday 22nd October 2019


I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t believe it happened. Also, when I saw Ha today, I can’t believe how dirty I feel, not just because I spent last night masturbating naked on the floor in front of a near stranger, but because I still haven’t mentioned any of this to her. Not even the park runs.

I guess it’s not really her business, but then I feel like we nearly shared something on Friday night too. I wonder if she’d feel the same way about me if she knew. But then, she’s in a relationship, so why should it matter?

Why is everything so complicated.

Exhibitionist Diary – Monday 21st October 2019


It was another night of firsts.

For one, I realised that because I was heading to Mel’s this was the second working day in a row that I was leaving the office in nothing but a coat and boots! At least this time nobody tried to drag me out for a drink first.

When I got there she buzzed me in and I went up to the seventh floor, stood outside her door, took my coat off and knocked. At least I was getting used to waiting outside in the nude by now, but it still felt like an age before she opened the door and let me in. I’m hyper-sensitive to every sound from the lift shaft or stairs while I’m waiting.

Mel was wearing a black cat suit that almost looked like it had been painted on, so sculpted was her figure, and somehow I felt incredibly frumpy as I followed her into her apartment, put my coat and back to one side and awkwardly took my boots off. It was only when I made it inside and stood opposite Mel, feeling very powerless in my nakedness, that I realised she was wearing a pair of ankle boots. They were black and polished with about an inch of tiny stiletto heel and she absolutely towered above me.

She still seemed annoyed at me and we went straight into the workout, although instead of Mel sitting cross-legged beside me as usual she pulled up a chair and directed me from on high. It made me feel even vulnerable as she looked down at me, occasionally correcting my position, as she did, with a nudge of a hip here and a tuck of the pelvis there. Every piece of minimal contact felt sent a jolt of electricity through my body and I realised just how much I craved being touched by another human being. Yet Mel was being very meagre with her caresses.

And then came the second first (if you know what I mean).

I was lying on the floor, stretched out with my arms above me and my toes pointing, in a futile effort to reduce the inevitable DOMS (which apparently is delayed onset muscle soreness) that I’d be feeling tomorrow. And as Mel loomed over me, her knees spread wide with her elbows on top and her chin resting on clenched fists, all I could think about was how much I really wanted her to touch my body, as she had so many weeks before.

Instead she said something like: “You haven’t progressed as quickly as I’d hoped.” Which was a blow to my moral to say the least.

Yet I had a one-track mind, and because tension had been the thing that had triggered her close attention last time I said: “Sorry, I just feel like I’ve got a lot of tension in my body this week.”

She looked me up and down, and I really couldn’t tell what she thought of my body, which, it has to be said, will always pale in comparison to her own figure (as well as being distinctly pale in contrast to her beautiful brown), but I also wouldn’t care if she’d just give me what I wanted.

Instead she asked: “Do you masturbate?”

I was a bit flabbergasted by the question, because it’s just not something we English talk about. Instinctively I wanted to say “no”, but we’d both know it was a lie, which begged the question as to why she’d asked. So I just nodded and said “Sometimes”, which I hoped hid just how often I did masturbate.

I was hoping that would be the final trigger for her to do something, but she just said: “Show me.”

I think if I wasn’t flat on the floor already I might have collapsed, because I just didn’t know what to do. I said “What, now?” and she just said “Yes” and continued to stare down at me.

I mumbled something about “well, I,” and drew one hand down from above my head, slid it over my pelvis and between my legs and I can’t really tell if it felt pleasurable because I’ve never been so self-conscious.

I stopped after a token rub and Mel said “Is that it?”

I said: “If I’m in the mood then I don’t need much else.” I could feel my cheeks burning.

She said: “Then carry on, because I can tell from looking at you that you’re in the mood.”

I asked: “Now?” again, and she just said “Yes” and stared at me.

And that in itself was enough of a turn-on to get past the embarrassment. I slipped my fingers back between my legs, and this time it definitely was pleasurable. It really doesn’t take me much and I think I have a very easily accessible clitoris (sorry if that’s too much detail), and without realising it my breathing was already much faster.

Mel just sat there with her head on her chin looking down at me, watching my hands, and usually I’d have my eyes closed, maybe imagining that someone, or more than one person, was watching me, but this time I didn’t have to imagine it.

I put my other hand on my breast and squeezed, and tried to imagine it was Mel’s hands on me rather than my own. But even having her eyes on me were enough and I think it took me maybe two to three minutes before I felt the orgasm coming.

My legs were half parted now, no longer stretched with toes pointing, and I was rubbing faster, stroking my breast with my free hand, and all the while watching Mel as she stared at the hand between my legs, watching my hips pulsing gently against the floor.

I came a few seconds later, and as it happened I couldn’t help but close my eyes, but I knew she was still watching me and that made it even more intense. Then, as it faded, embarrassment took over, and opening my eyes now seemed terrifying, because I feared looking up and seeing a look of disdain at how I had subjugated and demeaned myself so easily.

Finally I did open my eyes and there was even the hint of a smile on Mel’s lips, and I couldn’t have been happier, despite my undignified position on the floor, still breathing deeply and with my legs slightly parted.

“Feel better?” she asked. I nodded.

“Good,” she said, “But just like your Pilates, and your running, I think we’ve got things to work on.”

Now that I’m home I’m still wondering what she meant and what might happen next week.

Exhibitionist Diary – Sunday 20th October 2019


I’ve had a very quiet weekend since leaving Ha’s: shopping, washing, cleaning etc. Although cleaning in the nude does it make it slightly more fun.

Interesting thing, though, was looking across the road this evening I’m sure I saw the guy walking around with nothing on, and I’m also pretty sure he knew I could see. I don’t know whether his partner was in at the same time or not, so maybe that’s something I need to keep an eye on because I don’t want him to think we’re flirting with each other. (Well, not too much anyway.)

I’ve texted Mel to ask if we’re still on for tomorrow evening and she said “of course”. She still sounds annoyed, though.