A Very Skimpy Outfit

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Over moscow by Vavaca

I’d worn a few fairly skimpy outfits in the office before, although nothing unprofessional, but sitting nude in my chair was an entirely different experience. But still, as I turned on my laptop and started to look through my e-mails, it began to feel almost natural.

There seemed to be nothing more urgent than usual so I stood up and walked to the kitchen to get myself some coffee. A hush fell over the room as heads turned towards me and I realised that, somehow, without even knowing what was going on, I had the upper hand.

Feeling especially mischievous I took a diversion towards Kieran’s desk. He was sitting with his back to me so I touched his shoulder to get his attention. He turned around and stared straight at my breasts, and then down, and then, as the day before, to somewhere far over the top of my head.

“Morning, Kieran,” I said with a smile, and then, seeing the colour rising in his cheeks, I turned myself side-on and leant back against his desk with one leg crossed over the other.

“Erm, hi, Jennifer.” The poor boy could hardly speak.

“That Mitchum case? We have a meeting to talk it through at eleven.” He nodded. I think we would have nodded no matter what I said. “Any chance we could move it forward to ten thirty? My morning’s clear but I know it won’t stay that way for long.”

“Erm, sure. Ten thirty.”

I smiled. “Great! I’ll update the meeting invite so you don’t forget me.” He wasn’t going to be forgetting me in a hurry. “You look a bit distracted this morning. Is everything okay?”

His mouth opened and closed and then a mumbled “Erm, fine, I’m fine,” came out.

“That’s good. But let me know if you’re coming down with something, okay? We’ve got to get back to the client tomorrow and I can always get someone to cover for you.” As I spoke I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Well, it would be reassuring, but as my left nipple was now only a foot away from him it was turning him into a nervous wreck instead. I loved every minute of it.

Read the rest of The Naked Office, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

Strip And Play

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Miss Ashdown finished unzipping Jessica’s skirt and, sliding her hands between the fabric and Jessica’s hips, she pushed downwards and Jessica saw the skirt fall to the floor and pool around her feet. Miss Ashdown knelt down and put a hand around first one ankle and then the other to lift it to move the skirt out of the way. She tossed it to one side with Jessica’s shoes and socks.

The teacher stood up and put her hands around Jessica’s waist again to manoeuvre her to the piano stool. Jessica felt somewhat odd, standing with her bare legs and feet, but Miss Ashdown continued as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

She moved to the opposite side of the piano stool. “Okay, first your right leg.” Jessica swung her foot up onto the stool. “It needs to be straight,” Miss Ashdown said, and again Jessica nearly jumped as she felt hands around her foot as her teacher pulled her heel deeper onto the stool.

“Now, as I did, from standing, hands on your thigh.” Jessica put her hands on her bare thigh. “And then slide downwards slowly.” Jessica did as she was instructed, and was surprised at being able to reach her ankles, albeit not her feet as Miss Ashdown had done.

“That’s good! Considering,” Miss Ashdown said, still holding Jessica’s foot in both hands.

Read the rest of The Pianist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

What am I going to be wearing?

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I’d honestly never felt so self-conscious, sat there, suddenly nude. Lisa sat back beside me in her PVC dress and boots.

“What…” I began, “What am I going to be wearing?”

Lisa looked thoughtful for a second. “Do you know Tina?” she asked me. I nodded, although I only barely knew the girl she was talking about.

“She has something for you to put on,” she told me.

“And where’s Tina?”

“She’s on her way. Or at least she said she’d get her early.”

I looked wistfully at my clothes crumpled on the chair: I’d have preferred to have gotten undressed after my outfit had arrived, not before. Then I glanced up at the table across the room, laid out with drinks and empty glasses. I noticed what looked like a pair of handcuffs on the far corner and then averted my eyes in embarrassment. I don’t know why.

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

No More Hiding

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Maritza Veer • by Warwick Saint

Lucia suddenly tensed and Helena realised she had gone too far too quickly. Pareia gently blew onto the bare skin of the slender redhead and Lucia was carried back under the spell. Her head fell back and she rubbed her neck with her delicate fingers. If it weren’t for their magic, Helena thought, every head in the bar would be watching Lucia now.

“One thing at a time,” Pareia said gently, both to Helena and to Lucia. She ran her finger along Lucia’s slender collarbone and was rewarded by a wriggle of the shoulders.

Then the finger slid down Lucia’s chest, over the soft flesh of her breast, and then stroked the thick red lace that covered her nipples. Lucia trembled in her seat.

“No more hiding,” Pareia whispered to Lucia.

“No more hiding,” Lucia replied out loud, and she put her hands behind her back and unfastened her bra. With a smooth, rapid motion she shrugged it off of her shoulders and dropped it onto her jeans.

“She has a beautiful figure,” Helena said, and Pareia nodded in agreement.

“This is like a dream,” Lucia said quietly to herself, and Helena felt herself overwhelmed by the images of fantasies and dreams that Lucia had kept to herself for all these years.

“You’re almost free,” Pareia whispered to her.

“Almost,” Lucia agreed, and she slid her hands into her underwear and pushed downwards. She needed only a small lift in her seat as she pushed her last item of clothing down her thighs and then let it drop down her legs and onto the floor.

She wriggled contentedly in her seat: who would have thought that the night would end with her sitting naked in the bar? She was glad she had ordered that extra drink now and she emptied her glass.

Read the rest of Pareia and Helena, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

Nothing But A Smile

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Wearing nothing but a confident smile and the same white stilettos as the previous day, I stepped out from the screen holding my box of clothes. The researcher grinned. I felt more naked than I’d ever felt before as I handed everything over.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “Everyone’s nervous, and you look amazing.” I already knew that, but it was kind of her to try to reassure me.

The assistant pushed the door open for me and I walked through. It closed gently behind me and I heard the lock click.

Taking a deep breath, sucking my stomach in and pushing my chest out I took the last couple of steps into the main room of the office. My head was spinning and then, as I looked around, I thought I must be hallucinating or dreaming: why was everyone else fully dressed?

I’ve had this dream a hundred times before and I wondered if I was about to wake up. Heads began to turn towards me and I felt their eyes on my naked body. I froze and was about to turn and run for the door, but I remembered I’d just heard it lock behind me.

David, one of the senior partners, walked past me carrying a box file. I saw his eyes glance down at my breasts. “Hey, you’re looking good today Jen. Have you done your hair?” He kept walking and I saw a smirk on one of the legal secretary’s faces. My fight or flight mode was kicking in, and flight wasn’t an option.

Read the rest of The Naked Office, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

I Could Describe Ever Detail

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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