My new book is coming out next week, but in the meantime here’s another excerpt to whet your appetite.
She took my hand and we swung our arms as we walked. We were still drawing attention, but for different reasons: me, for being still partially dressed, and Kathy because she just looked amazing.
Kathy barely missed a step as we passed a fully-clothed couple walking in the opposite direction, but the smirk on her lips told me all that I needed to know: she was enjoying this. So was I.
We continued to walk in silence and every now and then I glanced over at Kathy, strolling confidently naked, barefoot, and as happy as I’d seen her in a long time. Nobody else came our way, but an unfamiliar sound from behind us caught my attention and it took a few seconds before I registered what it was: horses hooves on sand. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed they were a couple, their horses walking side by side along the path between the dunes.
“It would be a lovely place to ride a horse,” Kathy said as we stepped off the path to let them by. I was just imagining Kathy riding here, still naked, when one of the riders called out.
After a very long dry spell, I finally have a new novel almost ready to release. It’s called The Naked Girl I Met In The Woods and is about an advertising executive, named Phillip, who is out walking his dog, Samuel, when he encounters a young woman, Alison, sitting naked in a clearing with a sketchbook across her knees.
This proves to be the first of many encounters, with Alison in many various states of undress, and although Phillip always wants to spend more time with Alison, it’s the effect on his marriage that is more surprising as he pushes his wife Kathy to increasingly daring heights.
Here’s how it starts anyway:
Samuel always found somewhere new in the forest. No matter how many times I’d walked these paths, or how sure I was that I’d seen every single clearing or lakes or pond to be found, there was always a new sight to be discovered. He might not have the strength of the legendary Samuel, since my Samuel was quite a small dog, but Samuel the Spaniel had a very good nose, and on long Sunday afternoon walkies he would take me roaming far and wide.
Today, however, Samuel led me to something very special indeed. And if I’d seen her earlier, or if I hadn’t been with Samuel, I probably would have turned around and pretended I hadn’t. But Samuel was already making friends, nuzzling her as she looked around anxiously, a sketchpad on her knees, a collection of pencils beside her, green wellington boots on her feet and not a stitch of clothing. She obviously hadn’t brought much with her either as just a green army surplus jacket separated her buttocks from the rough bark of a fallen tree.
As she saw me she put one arm across her breasts, a pencil still between her fingers, and stroked Samuel’s head with her free hand. Her knees were pressed together and the sketchpad across her lap offered at least a modicum of modesty.
“Sorry,” I called over, pretending not to be fazed by her nakedness, “He really likes making new friends.”
“Me too,” she said, smiling at the eager Spaniel, “But I have to admit I thought I was far enough from the path not to meet anyone else right now.”
She looked suddenly sheepish, the ridiculousness of a forty-something man stumbling across a pretty twenty-something naked girl in the middle of the woods starting to get the better of both of us. I tried not to stare, but she was so pretty, and so vulnerable, and as she smiled and her blue eyes shone it was as if a ray of light had found its way through the canopy to light her and only her. Or only her and Samuel, perhaps.
I know, I know… I haven’t written anything for a long time. There has been a pandemic on, you know?
It’s actually not true that I haven’t written anything, but I certainly haven’t published anything. You’ve got me there.
I’ve also been rather lax about sending out passwords to my exclusive stories, so instead of catching up with the backlog I’ve removed the password field entirely.
Yup – now you can read everything on this site without having to type in that pesky password. That’s nearly 20 bits of writing you can now get at without doing anything more than clicking the link.
So it’s not quite the same as a beautiful naked lady on your desk, but if reading my words on your screen do anything for you then I hope it tides you over until that beautiful naked lady does arrive. Or at least until I get around to finishing one of my works-in-progress, whichever arrives first.
Georgia twisted herself around to face Lisa. Lisa sighed as Georgia’s skirt rubbed against her bare thigh.
“So, this dream,” Georgia started. Lis turned coy again. “You were naked.”
“I was wearing socks,” Lisa corrected. Georgia looked down at Lisa’s feet and smiled.
“And that was enough to make you cum?” Lisa blushed.
“No,” she said, and squirmed a little in the seat, “We were sitting in a bar.”
Nhu looked over at Georgia: this was one hot story, and she’d never have imagined she’d be hearing it from Lisa.
“And, for some reason, I was holding hands with you two,” Lisa continued.
Georgia took Lisa’s right hand in her left. “Like this?” she said, with a smile. Nhu held Lisa’s left hand. Even to her delicate touch it felt soft and tender.
“Yes…” Lisa said nervously. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was just like in her dream, with her hands being held on either side of her.
“Then what?” Nhu prompted. She had to hear the rest of this.
Lisa trembled. “You said,” she paused, “You said to Judy: ‘Does she like having her breasts touched’.”
Nhu grinned and turned to Judy. “Well, does she?” she asked her.
Judy nodded. “Very much so.”
Nhu reached her left hand over her and placed it on Lisa’s bare breast. The nipple pressed into her palm. Lisa gasped and panted a few times. Georgia’s hand pressed onto her other breast. It was wonderfully soft and cool.
As I said before, I’m up for anything, but I was surprised that everyone else was too. Anyone who really objected could take the week off and, to break us in gently, the first day was just going to be down to underwear.
Now, there was a fairly new cute guy in the office, Kieran, who I’d been making eyes at for a while, but he was so shy that he just blushed. All the secretaries flirted with him, but I think I was the only junior partner who did as well. I suppose I was the only female partner anywhere near his age, but he didn’t seem to know how to react to the attention from a senior. I was having quite a lot of fun with him.
So I had an easy challenge for day one of filming: to see if I could make his boxer shorts bulge. Because I knew that, shy boy that he was, he would be wearing the biggest piece of underwear he could find. Actually, why hadn’t he just ducked out of the whole thing? I would have put money on him skipping the week, but there you go.
Monday came around and I went all-out: white lace bra, knickers, stockings and suspenders, some fantastic delicate white heels, and then a simple skirt and blouse over the top for the journey into work. I arrived at the office and was disappointed to see the receptionist was fully dressed. A young woman holding a clipboard came over to meet me.
“You must be Jennifer,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. How did she know my name?
She smiled. “We’ve been reviewing the other program you were in. I recognised you from that.”
I smiled back: so she knew who she was dealing with.
“How come the receptionists are all dressed up?” I asked her.
“Oh, that’s how we always do things,” she said, “We can’t have people wandering in from outside and being met by girls in their underwear.” She giggled. I couldn’t see why we couldn’t have that, but that was me. “And then when you get into the office we lock the door behind you. Just in case someone tries to wander in.” I shrugged; it made no difference to me either way. She continued to explain the setup.
“We have a few screens around here for you to undress, and I’ll keep your outer clothes until the end of the day.” She showed me around the corner to couple of temporary screens in the corner of the room. “Put your things in here,” she told me and handed over a cardboard box with my name on the top.
I went behind the screen, took off my skirt and my blouse and put them in the box. Holding the box in my hands I stepped out. I saw her eyes go wide as she looked my stockings and lace underwear up and down. There are no two ways about it: I looked absolutely stunning.
Read the rest of The Naked Office, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts
“We’re in room 1418,” I told her. “I need to settle the bar tab. You go to the room and wait for me.”
“But…” her eyes went wide, “Like this?” She looked down at herself. I smiled. “Naked?”
I shook my head. “Of course not,” I said, and she relaxed a little, “I’ll let you keep your boots on.”
“No way!” she said.
I shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ll carry your boots too.”
She tensed up again and glared across the table at me. I had a feeling that I had taken things as far as I could. Actually, I was surprised that things had gone this far at all.
“You owe me,” Katherine said, and then suddenly she was sliding herself out of the booth. “Room 1418?” she asked. I nodded.
She stood by the side of the table with the keycard in her hand. I stared at her tall, thin, golden, perfect body. Her nipples stood on end. I couldn’t wait to feel them in my mouth.
She turned and walked towards the elevators. I shuffled to the end of the seat and watched her retreating figure. And then, I looked around, and saw the remaining twenty or so people in the restaurant, and both barmen, all doing the same. Her hips swayed slightly as each boot struck the floor and I marvelled at the presence of mind she had to maintain such a dignified walk.
Jessica sat back on the piano stool and started playing. She genuinely could feel the freedom as her shoulders swayed with the movement of the piece. She felt as if the piano were leading her through the music rather than the other way around, and she was so lost in playing that she forgot that she was sitting in her underwear.
Miss Ashdown let Jessica play all the way through the sonata, and finally Jessica stopped with her fingers resting gently on the keys, her eyes closed, savouring the moment.
“You see what you can do?” she heard Miss Ashdown whisper. Jessica nodded and smiled.
“Now,” Miss Ashdown continued, “We know you can play with more freedom, but you need to play with more passion. I know it’s in you; it must be at your age. Come. I’ll show you something.”
Miss Ashdown took Jessica’s hand and she allowed herself to be led across the room.
“Look at this,” Miss Ashdown said, pointing at a framed black and white photo on the wall. It showed a young woman in a loose but low-cut evening dress with a plunging neckline and a long slit up one side. She was sitting at a piano and playing in front of what must have been hundreds of people inside a concert hall.
“That was me,” Miss Ashdown told her, “when I was only a few years older than you are now.”
Jessica looked at Miss Ashdown. She was used to thinking of her teacher as, well, a teacher. She might have said that she was attractive, if she was asked, but she had never even thought of it before. She looked back at the photo; she could see the passion on the young woman’s face, in the way her body was arched over the piano keys and by the graceful line of her calf as her foot just touched a pedal. It was an incredibly beautiful image, but also somehow an intensely sexual one.
“I was making love to the keys that night,” Miss Ashdown said, momentarily lost in memory, “And there wasn’t a man in the house that didn’t wish he was the one to escort me home to see where my energy would find an outlet next. And maybe a few women there did too.” Jessica looked up at Miss Ashdown who gave her a mischievous wink.
“How do you do it?” I asked her, “How do you feel so comfortable just being naked all the time?”
She shrugged again. “It’s just the way I am. It’s what I’m used to now. And it’s so warm here all year around, it just feels good, looking out at the heat, but feeling the air moving over me. It doesn’t even seem hot.” She stretched her arms up above her and her back arched away from the sun lounger. She was a beautiful sight lying there, lithe, supple and completely at ease with herself.
I had to admit I envied her. Even with just the bathrobe wrapped around me I was feeling too hot, and I’ve always liked warm weather.
“You should try it,” Natasha said earnestly, “But be warned: you won’t want to go back to clothes.”
I felt myself blush; the very idea was something my mind wanted to run from. Natasha’s eyes stayed fixed on me and I realised she was serious. Not only that, but I realised I was seriously considering it. Then, for no reason I can put my finger on, my mind just said “what the hell”.
“Okay. Shut your eyes,” I told Natasha. She laughed.
“You English are so funny. You have noticed that I’m naked already, haven’t you?”
I didn’t say anything but nodded my head, but I still wanted her to close her eyes.
“Allright, I’ll shut my eyes,” and she theatrically screwed her eyes shut and held her chin the air as if in wait for a surprise gift.
In a dreamlike state I swung my legs off of the sun lounger and stood up. Before I could change my mind I pulled the cord of the bathrobe, slid it off my shoulders and dropped it to one side. As it hit the ground Natasha opened her eyes.
“Done?” she asked.
“Hey!” I said. She merely smiled, gave me an almost imperceptible glance up and down, and fixed a satisfied look on her face.
“Okay,” she said, “Now: Stark or Bruce Banner?”
“What?” I asked.
“Who would you rather have here now, since you’re naked. Tony Stark or Bruce Banner?”
I smiled and lay myself back on the lounger, one arm behind my head and with my legs crossed at the ankle. My breasts fell outwards as I lay there, but I didn’t care because Natasha didn’t. Natasha was right about how much cooler it felt. The air was warm, but it was much more comfortable than being wrapped in the bathrobe.
The funny thing was, the more I flirted, and the more I gave her what I thought she wanted, the more shy and embarrassed she became. And the more shy and embarrassed she got, the cuter she got and the easier it was to flirt. It was a vicious, delicious cycle.
I moved my hand away from the back of the sofa and gently stroked her gorgeous red hair. It made her even more uncomfortable, and I smiled half in amusement and half in pleasure. I’d never tried seducing a woman before and it was a whole lot of fun, but boy did it take a lot longer than seducing a guy.
I found myself, as if by accident, leaning much closer to her, and then the mixture of fear and expectation in her eyes drew me into the next logical step and I kept leaning, closing my eyes at the last moment as my lips touched hers.
She didn’t really do much in terms of returning the kiss, but her lips were lovely and soft against mine. That was two women in one day I’d kissed now. It truly was a voyage of discovery.
I pulled my head away a couple of inches and she leant back a little and giggled.
“Oh my god,” she said, “I thought you were straight?”
I shrugged: I am, I thought, or I thought I was.
Her face began to glow. “I’m all embarrassed now,” she said.
“How come?”
“Everyone’s watching us, I’m sure,” she said, “They’ve never seen me with anyone before… and you’re naked. It’s pretty hot.”
I’ve written my first (very) short story for a few months, and it’s up in the Exclusive Stories section of my website. It’s called Seriously Sexy Secret Santa and… well, it’s only short so I don’t want to spoil it. But imagine a world where office parties can still happen, it’s your last day, and you want to leave an impression.
And what else might Santa wear beneath his costume? Nobody knows for sure that he isn’t in white stockings with red bows around the tops, but within the next five minutes everybody I’ve worked with for the past three years will know that that’s exactly what Seriously Sexy Secret Santa wears.
Kara Bryn 