1. FLIRTING WITH EXHIBITIONISM AND i****t


    Date: 7/28/2015, Categories: Taboo, Voyeur, Author: hard_for_yu, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    in my bedroom, in a non-nudist home. For another, I had a parent who eventually came to accept my nudity and actually enjoy it. I usually spent a great deal of time in my bedroom. Sure, I was out and playing with the neighborhood k**s some of the time, but I also loved to read and I would often come in from outside playing at a friend's, strip off and spend the rest of the evening naked and lounging in my bedroom. I loved to read. TV has also been a lifetime love, so I asked for a small set one Christmas. It was perfect for my bedroom. Of course, when I was left alone in the house, my nudity extended beyond the bedroom. It was during these excursions, casually walking around the living room, kitchen and other rooms while totally nude, that I got my first taste of eroticism being linked to nudity. My nudity in the bedroom wasn't something that I found to be overtly erotic. But taking nudity outside of the bedroom and into the rest of the house: that seemed to be daring, thrilling, somehow taboo. Mind you, these were extremely low-grade and confusing feelings and thoughts at the time. However, as the years passed, this &#034nudity equals eroticism&#034 equation grew significantly exponentiated. In time, I grew almost resentful of having to keep clothes on while in my own home. I remember making mad dashes to the kitchen in the wee hours. Sometimes I'd rush to the living room and hallway table to retrieve a book or homework notes. No big deal. Somehow or another, I managed to ...
    avoid being caught by the rest of the f****y (father, mother and younger s****r) until my late teens. Then one summer morning when I thought I had the house to myself, I sauntered into the kitchen in the nude, only to find mom coming into the kitchen from the adjacent laundry room. We both froze and then I said, &#034Sorry!&#034 and was about to turn tail (literally!) and run, when she stopped me and told me it was okay. She asked what I was up to. I told her I was just grabbing toast and juice for breakfast and she said, &#034Fine, go ahead.&#034 This incident completely blew me away. I knew that my parents had always given me privacy in my bedroom, but here was Mom practicing extreme tolerance. I was still pretty embarrassed, so I hurried through my routine and left, promising it wouldn't happen again. And it didn't. At least not for another few years. Because I decided to go to a local university, I continued to live at home to save on bills. I worked graveyard shift at the convenience store, went to school in the morning, crashed through the afternoon and woke up early evenings to start the routine again. One morning, an off-morning for me in terms of not having to rush off to school, I couldn't sl**p, so I got up and decided to get my studying out of the way, then try to crash again. I'd forgotten my cigarettes in the f****y room (I know, I know: smoking's a filthy habit, but hey, it's a habit I took up and enjoyed for many years, so there). As soon as I got up, I began to ...
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