Exhibitionist Diary – Thursday 9th January 2020

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I had lunch with Ha today and was so desperate to tell her about Mel, and our arrangement, but I just can’t help but feel it’s too late. Plus it’s kind of embarrassing that I’m taking orders, and not even getting anything in return. But I feel like Mel has a plan and if I don’t follow it through then I’ll ruin it.

I’ve been invited to their place after work on Friday, though, just to hang out with her and Lily and get a takeaway and gossip. It has been a while since we all hung out together, and who knows: maybe I’ll do or say anything to try and seduce them by then?

I was so frustrated last night that when I got in I actually went to the website that Mel wanted me to post the photos on. The only good part was that to see images you had to create an account and log in (which I did), and it was quite a community when I got there. Not like I expected at all, actually, but a few like-minded women and, obviously, lots of men commenting on any pictures. Some people did seem to post photos of themselves either naked or near naked and seemed quite shy about it, but they always got nice responses. Mostly they weren’t even hiding their faces either.

It would be a big step, though, because if I was recognised (and I could be easily recognised from Mel’s photos) it could be a black mark against my career. I’m less worried about any future boyfriend seeing me, because I’d guess that anyone who was looking for those photos was already into that kind of thing, so it’s almost like a pre-screening!

Comfortably Nude

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Ekaterina

When I first met Natasha I believe I experienced the same emotion that everyone does when first meeting her in the comfort of her own home; that emotion being surprise, or possibly shock, depending on one’s disposition.

The party seemed to be going the way that parties often run for me, that of being introduced to new people, not really knowing what to say, and then being rescued by someone (or maybe whoever I was talking to was the one being rescued) and then I’d be introduced to a new unsuspecting victim of inanity. This was no different, although as it was my first visit to the States I was being introduced and rescued even more thoroughly than usual as everyone wanted to meet “the English girl”, and then quickly realised that said meeting wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

But, as I said, this party was following a similar line to many, and I was running out of conversation with the quite charming and far too confident young American man I was talking to as, in the nick of time, I was tapped on the shoulder by my host for the week, Theresa, and a shout in my ear.

“Rupes! How ya doin’ there Rupes!” It wasn’t a question. “You must meet Natasha. You two just have to meet!” I rolled my eyes slightly as soon Natasha would discover, as many had already discovered that evening, that I was not the person anyone “had to meet”.

I turned around, and found myself, rarely for someone of my small height, even in my two inch heels, looking straight into the eyes of Natasha.

Natasha was petite, she was blonde, and she was smiling and offering me her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Natasha,” she said, her eyes fixed on me all the time.

“I’m Rupa. Pleased to meet you,” I replied, taking her delicate hand in my own and trying to appear confident as I shook it.

“Oooh, I love your English accent,” Natasha said with a smile. I had heard that plenty of times tonight already and I wondered if Americans were taught to say that at school.

“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.

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

Exhibitionist Diary – Tuesday 7th January 2020

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Last night I dreamt I was tied up by Mel again. It was early morning in the office, and then she had to go and left me tied at the wrists, knees and ankles in the chair, just like I had been at her place. And then everyone started to arrive, and I couldn’t even move to hide, and then Tim came and started asking me questions about work and Ha said it was very brave of me to finally show my true self in the office.

Then I was called into a meeting but obviously I couldn’t walk there, so Matthew said he’d carry me, so he put his arms underneath my legs and lifted. His shirt was rubbing on my bare skin and then he moved his hand to get a better grip and ended up pressing you-know-where and I made a moaning sound and was about to have an orgasm… and then I woke up, still about to have an orgasm. And not able to do anything about it.

I was horny all day at work and starting to wonder if I could just randomly pick someone up to let my frustration out.

Exhibitionist Diary – Monday 6th January 2020

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Mel is so mean to me!

Firstly, leaving the office was a bit tricky, because I went into the bathroom and undressed, put my coat back on, and then bumped into Tim on the way out who then started asking me about some piece of work that I’ve given him. So I had to go back to his desk and stand beside him explaining it again, all the while paranoid about being close to naked in the middle of the office! I can’t see how anyone would have guessed but it was quite nerve-wracking, but also quite a lot of fun.

It meant I was a bit late at Mel’s, and had to apologise even after she made me wait naked in the hallway. She just said I’d have to make it up, led me to her back room (after I’d taken my shoes off), and then she brought out some pieces of very long and very soft red cord. I can tell you it was soft because as I started to open the accounting software on her computer she bound it quickly and very tidily around my ankles, and then around my knees, keeping them tightly closed together, and lastly she made me hold my hands out and bound my wrists together (in front of me). I was pretty much ready to have an orgasm by then and I asked her how I was mean to work like that and she said that was for me to figure out.

It was actually possible to type, but far from ideal. Then she left me while I worked through her accounts. It was incredibly frustrating because I was more horny than I think I’d ever been, and having my legs bound together just made it even worse because it was it felt like a very firm message that nothing was going to happen down there tonight.

I worked for an hour and, to be honest, I’ve done a lot of the setup now so I’m not sure how many more sessions we need. Mel came back in and I walked her through it, which was difficult as I was still tied up. Plus all I could think about was whether she would finally give me some relief at the end of it all.

Mel said I looked quite elegant with my legs bound together and that made me feel nice. Then she went and got her phone, came back and took a photo of me at her desk! It’s not like I could get away either, because there was no way I was going to try to walk with my ankles tied together.

Then Mel made me slide off of the chair and sat me in the middle of the floor and took another couple of photos. I felt so helpless as I don’t think I could even stand without her help, and there she was taking advantage of me!

It all felt like it was building up to something, and then Mel started to untie me. It felt like nothing was going to happen and I wondered if she’d forgotten her insistent on my self-chastity, so I couldn’t help but remind her that it had been over two weeks and I said I’d been tempted to seduce just about anyone at New Year since I wasn’t allowed to touch myself.

Then Mel said she would send me an e-mail with the photos she’d taken attached, and a website address, and that if I posted the photos on there then I’d be allowed to masturbate.

Even though I’m home now and want to touch myself so much I couldn’t possibly go through with that. I feel stuck.

Growing Up

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bodydiscourse:

Photo: Maiku Bokeh
Model: Glass Olive

2015

“Just a sec,” Lisa said, and she picked up my bundle of clothes and left the room with them. That answered the question of putting them back on without even asking it, I guess.

I heard her go upstairs and then a minute later she reappeared with a rectangular cardboard box.

“Here,” she said, “I’ve got these for you.”

She handed me the box. It looked like a shoebox, and I hoped it had more than shoes inside.

I opened the box: it did only have shoes inside. Gorgeous, strappy stilettos; light cream colour with sparkling insets.

“These are for me?” I asked looking at them.

“Just to borrow,” Lisa said as she made us both a gin and tonic, “Do you like them?”

“They’re gorgeous!” I said. And so much more glamourous than anything I owned.

“Here you go,” Lisa said, handing me my gin and tonic. I took a sip and waited for the alcohol to have some effect: hopefully it would help me to get over the discomfort of sitting around naked.

Lisa put her drink on the table beside her and took one of the shoes out of the box.

“Here,” she said, kneeling in front of me. She lifted my ankle with her hand and slipped the shoe onto my foot. I giggled at the tickling sensation as she fastened the thin leather buckle.

“And the other one,” she said, “I didn’t realise you were so ticklish.” Her eyes sparkled and she grabbed my foot with her hand and I almost spilt my gin and tonic as I wriggled in a fit of giggles.

She pushed the other shoe onto my foot and fastened the buckle carefully and then stood in front of me.

“Gorgeous,” she said, looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile, but I felt even more naked now I had the stilettos on.

“Can you stand in them?”

I pushed myself up off of the sofa and Lisa held my wrists while I stood, still trying to avoid spilling my drink. She released my wrists and took a step back looking me up and down. I was a half an inch taller than her now.

“You were made for them,” she said with a grin. I took another nervous sip from my glass; it was helping to quell my nerves a little, but I wished Tina would hurry up with some clothes.

I looked at the table again: there were a lot of glasses, and a lot of drinks. Lisa had mentioned something about expecting twenty or thirty people that evening but we were in no danger of running short of alcohol.

My eyes returned to the handcuffs again and Lisa followed my gaze.

“What are they for?” I couldn’t help but ask, feeling emboldened by the first flush of inebriation.

“We just play around with them,” Lisa said, “Let me show you.”

Read the rest of A Very Grown-Up Party, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF