Begging To Be Touched

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©Szymon Brodziak

Mrs Cooper unfolded her sketchbook and sat opposite me and, almost as if I was being interviewed for something, as she drew she began to ask questions about what I had been doing at university. Her pencil seemed to move very quickly, and she spent a lot of time staring at me. I liked that part: her eyes scanning my body. I don’t know if her models usually had erections or not, but there was nothing I could do about it.

She turned the page, shifted position, and I did the same. I tried to look relaxed but I doubt very much that I managed it. The only good thing was that while she was sketching I was able to study her as much as she was studying me.

I wondered how her dress would feel against my skin. The wool looked so soft; my skin tingled at the thought and my cock waved. Mrs Cooper’s eyes were attracted by the movement and suppressed a smile. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks but all I could think about was my desire to hold her against me.

It would only take a minute, I was sure, maybe less, if just one of those delicate soft fingers deigned to touch me. It would be so little effort for her, but mean so much to me. I wondered if the thought even occurred to her as she continued to draw. I watched as her tongue moistened her full red lips. She looked up from beneath her dark lashes as my cock waved again. This was insufferable, and I began to wonder if it was possible to ejaculate without being touched at all. It would be humiliating, but it would be an end to this torture.

Read the rest of the story in The Undergraduate

After You Were Stripped, What Happened Next?

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Judith pulled up her knees and twisted around on her seat. She put an arm around the back of Christina’s neck and rested her fingers lightly on her bare shoulder. Christina shuddered as she touched her, and then again as their legs brushed against each other, the sensation of sheer tights rubbing against sensitive, naked skin.

“Although if anyone picked Christina up, they’d have brains and beauty, isn’t that right?” Judith said.

Christina was barely able to control herself, let alone respond in any coherent way. She sat stock still, her breathing deep and her heart racing.

“Absolutely,” Elaine agreed, “But I still think it’s a shame that you’re not turned on by other women.”

The four girls around Christina laughed: they laughed because it was pretty clear that Christina was very turned on right now. But she was too busy focusing on controlling her arousal to hear what was being said.

“What was it you said your boyfriend did after he’d stripped you naked, Christina?” Judith asked her, not expecting a reply, “Oh, yes, I remember. You said all he did was to touch your breast gently.” She paused for a second. “Like this?”

Read the rest of Amongst Friends, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

A Bare Leg, And More

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“Shall I let you in on a secret?” Miss Ashdown whispered conspiratorially, and then continued without waiting for an answer. “Underneath that evening dress, I had nothing else on.” Jessica’s eyes went wide at the revelation. “Every time I leant over the piano I wondered how much the audience could see down that dress. It was such a turn-on. I channelled all of that energy into my playing.”

Jessica looked back at the photo with fresh eyes, at the low neckline, and the long exposed leg, ending with a delicate foot that she had only just noticed was also bare whilst a pair of small stilettos stood next to the piano. She had never thought of Miss Ashdown as anything but her slightly stuffy teacher. Suddenly she had to readjust to the idea of her as a young woman revelling in taking risks on a public stage.

“I think if I could have played naked I would have done,” Miss Ashdown continued wistfully, not noticing Jessica’s blushes. “I used to practice playing naked, whenever I could. It was just so… free, and raw.” Jessica could feel the intense heat in her cheeks. “You know, so many people love the guitar, because of the way you hold it and close your arms around it, or the cello, because of its sexuality and the power it delivers from right between your legs. But really, there’s sexuality in every instrument, or almost every instrument, and the less that sexuality is given to you by the physical shape of the object, the more it has to come from the musician.”

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

I Wish I Hadn’t Noticed The Handcuffs

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I nodded as she rolled my jeans down my legs. I sat my bare buttocks on her sofa and lifted both my legs as she tugged at my underwear and jeans, pulling them off my feet and dropping them onto the back of a chair.

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 Need To Imagine Me Nude

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“But to those who see you…,” I said, “If you don’t mind me saying, you have an amazing body, and you wear sexy red shoes, bright red lipstick and dark eye make-up and, for most men, the only time they see a naked – sorry, nude – woman who looks like you do is only in pornography.”

Mia waved a finger at me as if she were about to contradict me. “Yes! Exactly! But you are wearing lipstick, are you not? And eye make-up? And dainty high heels too?”

“Well, yes, but I’m… I’m not naked.”

Mia smiled the smile that I was beginning to learn meant that the discussion was going exactly the way she planned it. “And what do you think clothes are for, eh? To keep warm, yes. Maybe in Finland. And in the UK too, no? But in Spain? Spain is so often too hot. No, clothes are not for warmth. We wear clothes to make ourselves look more attractive. I look at you in your trousers and your blouse and I can imagine the curve of your hips and your narrow waist and your soft yet pert breasts with their small pink nipples. Or maybe brown. I have no idea whether you have those things or not, but what my mind does not do is fill in these missing details with sagging and folds of fat. No, it paints a very pretty picture, imagining what you might look like naked.”

She waved her finger at me again before continuing.

“No. Clothes are not for concealing what we are because it’s shameful, but to force the imagination to fill in the gaps, to imagine perfection beneath them. I could put my coat back on, but then it’s just as easy to imagine me naked underneath, isn’t it? And is that not more titillating?”

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

I Used To Play Naked Too

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Jessica looked back at the photo with fresh eyes, at the low neckline, and the long exposed leg, ending with a delicate foot that she had only just noticed was also bare whilst a pair of small stilettos stood next to the piano. She had never thought of Miss Ashdown as anything but her slightly stuffy teacher. Suddenly she had to readjust to the idea of her as a young woman revelling in taking risks on a public stage.

“I think if I could have played naked I would have done,” Miss Ashdown continued wistfully, not noticing Jessica’s blushes. “I used to practice playing naked, whenever I could. It was just so… free, and raw.” Jessica could feel the intense heat in her cheeks. “You know, so many people love the guitar, because of the way you hold it and close your arms around it, or the cello, because of its sexuality and the power it delivers from right between your legs. But really, there’s sexuality in every instrument, or almost every instrument, and the less that sexuality is given to you by the physical shape of the object, the more it has to come from the musician.”

Miss Ashdown re-focussed her gaze on the reflection of Jessica. “So, yes, I know exactly what’s going on inside that body of yours, and how mixed up it all is, but also just how powerful it all is.” She judged that now was the time for the direct approach. “Tell me, do you masturbate?”

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

Undressing From The Inside Out

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She opened the door, turned and exchanged a last smile with Marian, before stepping out onto the pavement and into the mass of normal, fully clothed people.

It was mid-afternoon now, and a relatively warm spring day. Most people would take their coats off on a day like this, she thought, but why not undress from the inside out like she had instead? It made perfect sense, or at least it seemed to at the moment.

A gentle wind blew. It was not enough to disturb the careful arrangement of Susan’s coat, but she could feel it move between her legs, and if she stood just so the cool air would find its way into her coat and drift across her breasts. It felt marvellous.

Read the rest of the story in Changing Rooms