Message-ID: <41586asstr$1049249403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@google.com> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: tonyreeno@yahoo.com (Tony Reeno) X-Original-Message-ID: <8ef5f260.0304011653.288e4b79@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 2 Apr 2003 00:53:56 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 1 Apr 2003 16:53:55 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} FLIRTING WITH EXHIBITIONISM AND INCEST (Revised and Expanded) Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2003 21:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/41586> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: Vulpine, hecate FLIRTING WITH EXHIBITIONISM AND INCEST (Revised and Expanded) by Tony Reeno DISCLAIMER: Of course this is a work of fiction. Of course the characters do not exist. Of course this is solely borne out of the twisted mind of the author, Tony Reeno. And of course you should not try this at home, under any circumstances. These are trained professionals. You have been warned! Finally, of course you should not read this if you are under 18 years of age and/or living in a place that deems erotic fiction (and by extension, pornography) illegal. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a revised and expanded version of a story I posted several years ago. I received a flood of email when I initially posted the story and I'm surprised (and flattered) that I still receive the occasional letter concerning the story, which has led to some terrific discussions about similar situations experienced by others. I hope you enjoy this revised version of FLIRTING WITH EXHIBITIONISM AND INCEST. Also, if I receive a fresh wave of positive responses, I'll be posting the sequel, CARLA THE SHOWOFF, very soon. As always, comments, questions and your own stories are most welcome. Contact me at: tonyreeno@yahoo.com . Thanks for reading! Tony CHAPTER ONE I'm sitting at the keyboard and the white screen disappears and I'm looking back a good twelve years, to the time when I still lived at home while making my way through college. I'm an educator now, but at the time, I used to work late nights at a convenience store. My story is based on actual events, so there is no explosive sex to be found here. On the other hand, I think that those of you who are turned on by the sensuous nature of nudity and nudism will find this story stimulating. The same goes for readers who love the thrill of exhibitionism, especially those who relish the thrill of complete nudity, especially when the showoff is the only person nude in front of others. Finally, voyeurs are also sure to be stimulated by the events in the story, thanks to my mother's increasing desire to see me nude and be in my presence while I lounged around in the buff. In the end, I believe my erotic life during this period of time was borne out of a healthy and honest enjoyment of nudism, then slid slowly into exhibitionist territory. Finally, did my behavior increasingly push the taboo envelope? Did the evolving relationship with my mother flirt with incest without crossing the ultimate line? I would say so. Now, read on and decide for yourself. I've always enjoyed being nude and, while nudism wasn't practiced openly in my house, I was always given a fair amount of privacy. My room, I was told, was my own, and nobody would bother me there without a knock on my door. I've always believed this to be extremely fair behavior on the part of my mom and dad. Judging from my friends' stories about their lack of space and privacy, I now see how rare a situation my home life was, for a number of reasons. For one thing, I was able to enjoy being completely nude 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 kids 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 "nudity equals eroticism" 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 family (father, mother and younger sister) 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, "Sorry!" 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, "Fine, go ahead." 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 sleep, 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 family 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 miss my smokes, so, completely nude, I strolled out of my room, down the hallway, and headed to the living room. There, my cigarettes awaited me, along with a surprise guest. My mom worked part-time as a receptionist and records-keeper for a pediatrician. That day, her job had pulled a switch and she spent the morning at home. If she'd had the TV on, I would have been alerted to her presence, but she was curled up on the couch, reading a book. In I strolled and the first thing out of my mouth was "Sorry!" and the first thing out of hers, was "Deja vu!" "What?" I stammered. "Flashback! Remember? Two or three years ago?" She cracked a lopsided smile. "Didn't we run through this scene back then?" We laughed about it and I grabbed my ciggies and started to leave. I told her I'd be more careful. The next thing she said surprised me once again: "Listen, I know you like to be naked in your room, Tony, and to be honest, I don't care what you do or don't wear around me." "No, Mom, really. I'll be more careful." "I'm serious," she said. "You can run around in as little or as much as you wish when it's just you and me at home. Just watch yourself around Lisa [my little sis] and don't you dare let your dad catch you streaking around the place." Well, I certainly didn't abuse the privilege after that incident, but I was definitely more casual about walking around the house in the buff when it was just Mom and I at home. And because the ice had been broken, I noted that my mother was also more casual about coming into my room to "sit and visit" with me during the day, if I happened to be home. I even noticed that when she left my room on these occasions, she'd leave my bedroom door open. I didn't want to make Mom feel uncomfortable in any way, so I still tried to stick close to my room, but with her visits to my room, I got the sense that she was basically telling me that my nudity was really okay with her. And she reinforced her message by inviting me into the family room to watch a TV program we were both going to watch in separate rooms, etc. Once, I donned my jogging shorts before going out to join her, but when she asked me why I bothered, I got the hint. A few afternoons later, we were going to watch a movie on cable together and I strolled into the living room stark naked and lay face down on the couch. I eventually turned over and watched the whole movie nude, my penis resting across my thigh, my balls clearly in view from time to time. Mother wasn't fazed by it, so that was the last time I covered up for her when we were alone at home. CHAPTER TWO As time went on and my nudity around my mother became more common when my sis and dad weren't around, I started to notice that mom would seem to seek me out more often and go out of her way to let me know I didn't have to "live like a hermit" (as she put it) in my room, just because I wanted to enjoy being nude. To reiterate, little by little, I got over my apprehensiveness and began to take her up on her offers to watch TV with her while in the nude, or just join her for afternoon "chats" if she happened to be home. In time, the bathroom became another place for us to "sit and visit," especially on those days when I opted to take a bath instead of a shower. On the afternoons when she happened to be home, she seldom failed to come around and ask me, "Bath or shower?" and if I replied with "Bath," she began to draw a tub of water for me. Then she would join me in the bathroom while I scrubbed down. She'd sit on the toilet or the sink counter and we'd chatter away. It was around this time, about two or three months into my full nudity around her, that I began to wonder if my mom was being tolerant of my nudity simply because she wanted me to feel comfortable around the house. I began to suspect that she might be getting a thrill out of my exhibitions. While I believe that we never crossed overt incest boundaries, I also think that slowly but surely, sexual innuendo and veiled eroticism began to creep into our relationship. (Of course, the fact that my mother was - and remains - a good-looking woman didn't hurt things, either. She's tall and voluptuously built. She isn't fat in the least, but she'll never be mistaken for an anorexic super-model. Mom's a redhead, with a good 36D chest, flaring hips and very round buttocks. The classic Coca-Cola bottle figure comes to mind when I'm looking for a quick description.) Again, while full-blown taboo boundaries weren't transgressed, we certainly began to move into new and questionable territory. For example, one day when my mom drew my bath, I was in my room, furiously typing away at a term paper that was due. Mom came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders and told me I better hurry or my bath water was going to get cold. I leaned back and told her that her shoulder massage felt great after a couple of hours of typing. When I muttered that maybe I was too lazy to bathe after all, she came around to face me, took my hands, pulled me out of the chair and told me to quit being a baby and march into the bathroom. I jested with her and asked if she wanted to bathe me and she said that she'd done enough of that when I was a kid. We shared a laugh, but as I passed her, she swatted me on my bare left buttock. That surprised me. Up to now, she'd seldom touched me while I was nude. I half turned and joked to her, "You missed one." She quickly caught up to me halfway down the hallway and swatted my right butt cheek, open palmed. "Not anymore," she said, following me into the bathroom, where she took up her usual place on the counter while I bathed. About a week later, I was back in the bathroom, bathing again. Mom started out by sitting on the toilet, but eventually she got up and perched herself atop the long bathroom counter, right next to the sink. More and more, this was her preferred spot. I wondered if it was because she had a total view of me in the bathtub from that vantage point. On this day, the water was a little warmer than usual and it actually made my circumcised penis grow to a semi-hard state. I became just a little self-conscious about it, but it was below the surface of the water. Still, when I moved around a couple of times, its thick round head and several inches bobbed into view, then sank, then did it again. Mom giggled. I asked what was so funny. She shocked the hell out of me by asking if there was a submarine in the tub with me. I asked her what she meant, and she said she thought she detected a periscope. I must've blushed ninety-nine shades of deep crimson! In the past, Mother had never mentioned any specific part of my nude body when she was around me. This was crossing a new boundary. I tried to get over my embarrassment by making light of the situation and forcing myself to play along with her. I slouched a bit lower in the tub and my half-hard erection bobbed high above the water line and I said, "Up periscope! Mom, you're right! There IS a sub in here with me!" We both died laughing and I was surprised once again when mom asked me -- several times -- to do it again, please, just one more time. I finally complied. In retrospect, I think that was the first time (but not the last) that I got an erotic charge out of being totally naked in front of my mother, and it was mainly her comments that did it. I remember actually grabbing my penis at the base, near my balls, and giving it a good squeeze underneath the soapy water. Still gripping it tightly, it grew thicker but not fully erect, and then I slouched even lower in the tub, lifted my phallus almost completely above the water mark and yelled "Up periscope!" then left it exposed for a good five seconds, moving it around a bit before splashing it back out of sight. That did it. Neither mom nor I could stop our giggles after that, and from then on, "periscope" became a running joke word between us that was guaranteed to send us into hysterics at the weirdest times. CHAPTER THREE To repeat, the incident in the bathtub involving my "periscope" really crossed a line for me -- and for my mother. We had never been candid about my exposure before. In the past, she seemed to take my nudity very much in stride; but the fact that she had actually joked about my half-hard penis and I had sustained the joke, was new territory for us. I began to wonder how much of a sexual relationship my mother and father had, at this point in their marriage. As I mentioned earlier, my mother was (and is) a good-looking woman: a pretty redhead with a voluptuous body -- nice round breasts and a fantastic round butt. I was around 20 or 21 when these events started, which meant that Mom would've been around 39 or 40 at the time. My parents seemed to enjoy each other's company, but my father was an inspector who was based at home for a week, then on the road for four or five days at a stretch. Sometimes he'd be home three or four days, then gone for a week. I think that my mother started taking a greater interest in me because she was lacking various vital components in the marriage - namely, companionship and sex. Again, things weren't bad between my mom and father when he was around, but he was not an overly romantic person and once I started looking for it, I detected an absence of affection and attention that may have been there at one time, that was now missing, and that Mom seemed hungry to experience. I wish I could say we lived in an isolated neighborhood, but we didn't. Nothing fancy; just middle-class Americana, to be honest. So I didn't have a huge private yard or woods in which to roam around naked. On the other hand, our backyard was spacious. Mom loved to work on it and she had several lovely flowerbeds which she tended diligently. There was a fragrant gravel path that stretched in serpentine fashion from one cluster of flowers to another. In the far corner of the yard, a massive oak tree provided plenty of shade in the summer. Underneath it, a wrought iron bench awaited lawn trekkers. Closer to the house, my parents had long ago built a screened cement patio. One night in summer, I was out of school and wasn't scheduled to go into the convenience store until 10:30 or so. My father was on a three-day business trip and my baby sis Lisa (who, in actuality, wasn't all that much of a baby at 14) was sleeping at a friend's house. I was in my room, nude, when my mom stopped by and asked if I wanted to come out back and enjoy the evening breeze. I said sure and moved to put on some shorts, but she said, "Why bother? We'll keep the porch light off." A thrill shot through me but I tried to maintain a poker face. "You sure?" "Why? Are you chicken?" she giggled. "Is that a dare, mom?" "Yup!" Then she laughed and said, "If you and your periscope are up to it!" "Well," I said, feeling myself blush again, "I accept your challenge, Mom, periscope and all!" About two minutes later, we were both sitting outside in the dark, sipping ice-cold glasses of lemonade. The lawn chair wasn't very comfortable on my bare body, but to be honest, I didn't care. I was absolutely amazed to be outside in the nude. Call me sheltered or geeky, but I'd never done the adolescent outdoor streaking routine. I think things would have played out very differently if our home had a rural setting, but it didn't. I had never done this before, and I was feeling an exhilarating head rush. And of course, there's another major piece to the equation that bears mentioning: I think the fact that my mother became my audience -- and an increasingly interested and participatory audience, as time went on -- did something to my casual nudity. Slowly but surely, I came to enjoy being naked not just for comfort, but for the thrill of being on display. It's very strange, but that's the best way I can describe it. "Congratulations, Tony" Mom said, smiling at me. "You win the dare. You're stark naked outside. How does it feel?" "Incredible," I said. "You ought to try it sometime, Mom." She laughed and shook her head. "No way. I'm just glad you can be so open with me and do whatever you wish." "Well, that's thanks to you," I reminded her. "You're the one who put me at ease with being naked around you. If it weren't for your tolerance, I'd be holed up in my room right now." She leaned over and squeezed my thigh and pecked my cheek. "Oh, you hermit, you! We don't want that." "Thanks, mom," I said. "You're the best." I stood up and I remember it was the bathtub incident all over again: I deliberately went out of my way to expose myself fully to my mother. We had kept the patio lights off, but there was enough light filtering out through the sliding glass door for me to be splashed by the orange glow of the lamplight from within the house. I was beginning to realize that there is casual nudity and there is erotic exposure and exhibitionism. The two aren't the same. You can be nude but not exposing yourself. I say this because I don't think I was so much exposed to my mother when we were both sitting side by side, but what I did next -- and some of the things I did later on -- moved me from being nude to the realm of being exposed and playing the exhibitionist. My mother was still sitting down and I stood right in front of her, with my crotch at her face level, just inches away from her eyes. Only then did I ask if she wanted a lemonade re-fill. She accepted and thanked me. When I returned with the filled glasses, I made it a point to stand right in front of her and hold the glass practically in front of my crotch. Mom thanked me and I watched her hand come within inches of my phallus. Her eyes stole a long glance before I moved away. Eventually, we called it an evening and went back inside. I was still riding an incredible erotic rush and I made it a point to come up behind Mom and give her a long bear hug as she was rinsing out the glasses at the sink. "My goodness, thank you, but what was that for?" she asked. When she turned around, I could tell she was a little flustered. She was also gazing down at my bobbing penis and balls. "For being the very best," I said. "You really don't have to be so open, but I feel so at ease with you. Thanks again. I'll see you later." "I see you now," she joked. I was thrilled by her comment! It was the same kind of line that she'd given me in the bathroom, subtly calling attention to my phallus. I cupped my hands around my privates, but made sure to leave my penis partially exposed through my fingers. "No you don't!" "I sure do!" I pretended to be agitated and actually grabbed my member and pulled it upward and pretended to conceal it around my arm. Of course, the head and part of the thickening shaft flopped around my wrist to peek at her. "Can't see me now, can you?" Mom laughed. "More than ever!" When I took my hands away, my phallus flopped down but it felt thicker and heavier. "Mom, I'm shocked!" She was still staring at my growing girth, then she gave me a sly smile. "You're something alright, you bozo, but I don't know if 'shocked' is the right word. Now hurry or you'll be late for work." To be honest, she dismissed me just in time. By the time I got to my bedroom, my phallus was a lot longer and very thick as it slapped against my thighs. CHAPTER FOUR At the start of the fall semester, I met an incredibly cool young woman. Very soon, we were spending almost all of our spare time together, and then some! Carla was super sweet and sexy, a brunette with shoulder-length hair and a slim and trim body with just a little extra in the hips and buns department. She had a great smile and a crystalline, infectious laugh. She was also the most erotic and sex-hungry woman I've ever met. Even now, about eight years after our break-up, Carla is still tops on my list when it comes to insatiable and daredevil women. I have always had a pretty high sex drive and with Carla, it simply grew out of control for a while. The girl simply didn't know the meaning of the word "no." We were at each other's bodies constantly - at motels, which put nasty dents on our paltry budgets, at those great hot tub/spa rental places that you used to be able to find and lease by the hour (do such places even exist anymore? I'm not talking whorehouses, but great private rooms with low lighting, music, their own hot-tub and shower, etc). When circumstances allowed and both of Carla's parents were away for a part of the day or weekend, we would take advantage of her bedroom at home. And of course, there was my bedroom. Eventually, our love sessions led to another phase in my home exhibitionism, and Carla became a most willing accomplice. As time passed, I seriously thought about getting my own place and inviting Carla to go halfers on an apartment with me, or contribute what she could to the monthly expenses. I finally decided to wait a few more months, to be on the safe side, but already it seemed like a silly idea. I knew we'd be okay living together. After all, it wasn't just great sex that attracted us to each other. Carla and I liked the same movies, some of the same music, a lot of the same foods; I pleasure-read more than she did, but that didn't seem like a big issue. We certainly were off to a fine start. There was no mistake that Carla and I found a sexual equal in each other. We were constantly pushing each other to the limit. Initially, I was very leery of messing around with Carla when ANYONE was at home, but as with my nudity in the presence of my mother, I started to get a heightened sexual charge from fooling around with Carla when my mother was also in the house. We began to have more frequent steamy lovemaking sessions in my bedroom. We kept the door closed, of course, but I started getting louder and louder, much to Carla's initial dismay and near panic. I told her to lighten up, that we were just doing what came naturally, but she was a bit taken aback by my cavalier attitude for quite some time. Ever so slowly, she began to take a more permissive, carefree attitude about our at-home sexplay. Actually, I could tell that as the days progressed, Carla began to enjoy the risk-taking almost as much as I got into it. After a few weeks of our loud lovemaking, I felt the need to push the envelope yet again to get a more powerful erotic charge out of our antics. One day, we had an especially intense rutting session in which I banged into Carla repeatedly from behind as she backed up against me, on the bed, on all fours. It was a session that left us drenched with sweat, our bodies drained of energy and in much need of re-energizing. Carla slipped into one of my T-shirts. On her cute figure, it came down just past her butt and fit her like a ridiculously short mini-skirt. She made a quick bathroom jaunt to freshen up, then I did the same, but I didn't bother to put anything on when I went into the hallway. "Tony!" Carla hissed. "Your mother might be around!" "She's home, alright. I think she's up front, watching TV." "But what if she comes down the hall?" I shrugged, then grabbed my penis (still thick and long from our recent session) close to the balls and wagged it up and down a few times. "Hi, Mommy!" I said, then winked at Carla. She was laughing her head off as I headed to the bathroom. Once there, I used it, cleaned myself up a bit, then - still totally naked - I returned to my bedroom. Carla was still giggling on the bed, shaking her head at me. "You perverted daredevil!" "Let's go get something to drink," I said, then stepped back into the hallway. "You're not going out to the main part of the house like that, are you?" "Like I said earlier, Carla, my dad's away for the weekend and my sister's over at her friend's house for the night." "But your mom --" "My mom is used to seeing me like this," I said. Carla's eyes grew so round I thought they would out of their sockets. "You have GOT to be kidding!" "Not at all." "You mean she saw you nude when you were a baby, right?" "Right," I smiled, "and many days of the week since then, up through a few days ago and including this morning." Carla gave me her sideways, cut-the-bullshit stare. "Why don't you just walk to the kitchen with me and see for yourself?" My girlfriend's smirk turned into a mischievous smile. "I think I will!" Hand in hand, we strolled down the hallway and into the living room, heading for the kitchen. I remember my heart pounding in my chest as we walked and I literally felt dizzy with excitement. (Have you experienced the high of taking your exhibitionism to greater extremes? This is the incredible rush I was feeling at this moment.) At the hallway, rather than cutting toward the kitchen, I strolled into the living room. Mom was in her favorite large plush chair. I looked at her and then at Carla and then shot a quick glance down at my nude body and time seemed to have stopped for a moment and the scene seemed nothing less than surreal. Thankfully, Mom broke the ice by flashing us both a wide smile. She seemed completely unaffected by my nudity and had decided to play right along! "Hi, guys!" she said. "How's it going, Mom?" "Pretty good, now that I'm off work." She uncoiled her bare legs from the couch and stretched them before her. I watched her flex her pretty toes. "Been home long?" I pretended we hadn't heard her come in (maybe Carla really hadn't, but I had heard some noises in the houses while we were playing in my bedroom). "Not that long," she said. "Grab something cool! It looks like you both need it!" No doubt about it: Carla was in wide-eyed shock at the sight of my walking around completely naked in full view of my mother. She tried very hard to act casual about the situation, but I could see red rising in her cheeks and a laugh threatening to spill out of the corners of her mouth. The dizzying head rush that I had savored during this latest act of exposure began to subside in me, but I still marveled over how far things had progressed in the past few months: from my being nude in my room, to being nude in front of my mother around the house, to jokes laced with sexual innuendo, and now this: showing off in front of my mother, with someone else -- my own girlfriend -- present! Now, we could've just resumed our trip to the kitchen and gotten our drinks, but I was having too much fun to let it end so soon. Instead, I walked over to the couch and asked Mother what she was watching. To be honest, she hadn't watched the set since we came in. She was too busy ogling me! She finally said it was some nature show on the Discovery Channel. I pretended to be interested in it and sat on the couch and asked Carla to get me my cigarettes from the bedroom. "And I'll get us all some snacks," my mother said. Carla returned before mom. She still had the roundest eyes. As she plopped down on the couch next to me, she started giggling. "What?" I said. She stroked my upper thigh and then grabbed my not quite flaccid phallus and shook it. "This is WHAT! You are so fucking shameless!" "Hey, I just like to be naked, that's all." "Right," she said, giving me a lopsided sneer-smile. "You just like to show off." "No, honestly, it's more for comfort than showing." "Whatever," she said, squeezing my penis and then tugging it hard at the base, near my balls, before releasing me. "But don't stop on my account, lover boy. I'm enjoying the show, and judging from the way your mom was staring at you, I think she likes it too!" Mom came back into the room and placed a tray of assorted chips and dips before us. I asked where she was going. She said back to her armchair. I told her not to be so anti-social and sit on the couch with us. Mom's quite witty. She asked, "Isn't three a crowd?" "Never!" I said. So she took a seat to my right. Carla was on my left and I lit a cigarette and we watched the show. Or tried to. I think the sexual tension was pretty high in the room. I sat with my legs in front of me, crossed at the ankles, feet on the coffee table. My penis and balls made a very prominent and visible pile in front of us. I started to feel a fresh wave of that virtually indescribable head-rush that comes from major showoff sessions. I had never felt so exposed. When I finished my second cigarette, I stood up for a moment to put the ashtray as far away from my feet as I could, on the pretext that I didn't want to knock it over. In reality, I knew I was giving Carla and my mother a close-up view of my ass. I even spread my legs a bit to show them my phallus and testicles from behind, along with a fleeting glimpse of my asshole when I bent over slightly, then I snapped my fingers as though I were remembering something and headed out of the living room. I called Carla from the hallway. I said I'd forgotten to show her something in my bedroom. She came around the corner and if her eyes had been bug-round before, this time, they nearly fell out of her face. Why? Because she found me in the hallway, lazily stroking a massive erection. "You are out of control," she whispered. "Maybe I am," I said. "But you still love me, right?" "More than ever!" And with that, Carla took over. She didn't have to be told what I wanted. She came up to me, pushed my hand away, started fondling me, then, after a quick peek over her shoulder toward the living room, she knelt down and slid me into her warm moist mouth. I could hear the TV droning on and on as I came closer and closer to orgasm. I looked down and saw Carla's legs spread wide and asked her to rub herself. She readily complied and hiked up the T-shirt and got to work on her clit. I watched her mouth suck my penis deeply, then let it slide out, in and out, in and out and I grew thicker and harder. Below her mouth, I watched her fingers dance quickly over her clit and pussy and it was a beautiful show. As I felt my orgasm draw ever closer, I grabbed the sides of Carla's head and started thrusting my erection roughly in and out of her mouth. "Don't take this as an insult, baby," I told her, "but you're my little fuckhead - literally - and I'm about to cum." "Then cum, lover boy," she warbled between my thickness and in between sucks and slurps, then she couldn't say anymore because I grabbed her hair and thrust deeper and quicker and shot my load into her throat. I saw some of her fingers dig into her pussy and others dance over her clit and then she was coming too and it was one of the most powerful and daring and erotic sex sessions of my entire life. I've tried hard to recreate it here but I'm not sure I've succeeded at capturing the intensity of the moment. We shared several sloppy kisses then decided to head back into the living room. I was going to go clean up a bit in the restroom, but Carla stopped me. "Do me a favor, okay?" she said. "Leave it. Please?" I looked down at myself. I was pretty flaccid now, but not completely back to normal. I was still semi-long and thick. Also, my penis looked shiny with residue from Carla's saliva and my own cum. Moreover, we both reeked of sex. "Just go out there, like this?" I asked. She nodded. "Please, lover boy?" "It would turn you on?" She actually blushed, then cast her eyes down and she smiled and nodded. "You know," I said, "this is why I think I've found the perfect girlfriend." She laughed and we returned to the living room. Mom was still sitting on the couch where we'd left her. We resumed our previous positions. I leaned forward for my cigarettes and grabbed one out of the pack. Mom beat me to the lighter though. As she reached for it, her hand came within inches of my penis, now lying thick and slick on my leg. My heart practically jumped when I saw a very small bead of post-cum on the tip. I wondered if my mother saw it. She probably did, but then, I was too lost in eroticism to dwell on it. Mom lit my cigarette and put the lighter back down while I put my head back on the couch and took a deep drag of my smoke. I kept my head back, both to let the smoke stream upward and to let my audience glimpse as much of me as they cared to. Sure enough, when I looked towards the tube a drag later, I caught my mom's eyes fixed more on my penis than the TV. I pretended to have an itch on my left thigh, so with my free hand, I moved my phallus from one thigh to the other and scratched. It was still fairly long and thick after cumming and it made a slapping sound as it landed heavily on my upper right thigh. After scratching my thigh, I scooped my fingers underneath it and moved it back. It fell atop my left thigh with the same slapping sound. CHAPTER FIVE As you can tell, if you're reading this story in sequence, things had progressed from the tame and erotic to the much more highly charged sexuality that Carla and I came to enjoy. The incident in which Carla gave me a blowjob and masturbated herself literally around the corner from my mother fueled all kinds of perverse fires within and between us. Watching afternoon and evening TV with Mom became a fairly regular pass-time that fall. Sure, I used to engage in this activity before Carla joined mother and me that afternoon, but my girlfriend's regular presence added a new dimension to the fun that fall. Once we broke this new ground, we didn't even try to rent a hotel or one of the hot tub spas. My parents' home became our new playground. If we were alone, we went completely crazy, all over the house. I remember turning up the heat one cold afternoon and mounting Carla on the kitchen table. I stood and she lay back, naked and spread legged, as I pounded into her bald pussy. We were much more careful if my dad and sister were around, but if my mom was the only one home, we certainly didn't restrain the volume of our activity in my bedroom. And there was always after, when Carla insisted that we go have some of our special fun. "Come on, Baby. Let's go show your mommy how much you've grown," she laughed. Carla surprised me. I knew she had an unabashed, daredevilish, vivacious nature, but the more we indulged in our exhibitionist games, the more she egged me to get more brazen. She loved to push the envelope, even more than I did at times. (This will grow even clearer if you read my follow-up to "Flirting with Exhibitionism and Incest," which focuses sharply on Carla's erotic odyssey. CARLA THE SHOWOFF details Carla's slow and steady slide into a kind of depravity that eclipsed my own). I'll give you an example that will underscore the kind of eye-opening behavior Carla engaged in around my mother and me. This particular incident underscores the fact that Carla became an increasing participant in my showoff activities. In many ways, her antics made my nudity seem tame. I know that's an incredible statement, but judge for yourself. I remember one night when we were watching the tube. Carla and I were on the couch and mom was in her favorite lounge chair, legs stretched out on the ottoman in front of her. I was nude, Carla was in a short black T-shirt that she'd borrowed from me after another one of our sex-romps, and Mom was in a nightgown and robe. The lights were out in the living room, but enough light shone from the TV to splash us all in a swirl of ever-changing hues. During a commercial break, Carla and my mother started to talk about some aspect of the show we were watching. As they did, Carla ran her hand lazily and nonchalantly up and down my thigh. Little by little, her pretty, red-finger-nail-polished hand came closer and closer to my flaccid member, lying lazily on my upper thigh. Finally, her fingers made contact with my phallus and Carla cupped it gingerly and wiggled it back and forth, back and forth, never missing a single word of the sentence she was vocalizing. I was amazed. My mother didn't seem to take notice, but in retrospect, I'm sure that she did because she loved to stare at me when I was in the nude (which was most of the time, as long as my father was away on his once-weekly out of town trips, and my sister Lisa made herself scarce). Carla treated my phallus like a conversation piece she'd idly picked up off a coffee table. She seemed to absent-mindedly fondle my ember. She pretended it was the most natural thing in the world to be fondling me, moving her fingers up and down my semi-hard shaft, entwining it in and out of and between her splayed fingers and jiggling it into a longer and thicker state, all this while holding a conversation with my mother who was just a few short feet away! Luckily, the show started again and my mother's eyes returned to the television. I tried to push Carla's hand away, but she just nudged me in the ribs and smirked at me. I eventually managed to push her away and settle myself down. Later, back in my bedroom, I tried to scold Carla and tell her she may have been taking things a bit too far, but she just brushed me off. When I tried to protest some more, she silenced me with her expert lips and tongue, not on my mouth, but on my penis. "You were saying," she mumbled between sucks, never completely letting my engorged phallus slip out of her mouth or off her lips. "I just think that sometimes --" But then I felt Carla's right hand cups my balls and her left one circle around my buttocks and suddenly a wet finger probed deeply into my anus and wiggled around even as Carla swallowed me deeper from the front, all the time gazing up at me with arched eyebrows and round unblinking eyes, her lips stretched snugly around my hardness. Well, that was the end of my protesting for a while. Another more troubling incident occurred a few nights later. The night was chilly, even with the heat on (this may have been late October because we all decided to watch a horror movie that night), but I still liked the feeling of going around nude -- and yes, the feeling of exposing myself to Carla and Mom. Carla used the cool temps as the perfect excuse to drag a "blankie" (her term) from my bedroom and to the couch when we joined mom in the living room for the video. She covered us up with it as we sprawled close to one another on the couch. Mom was close by, in her usual lounger. It wasn't long before I felt Carla's exploring fingers all over my shaft, and, not surprisingly, it wasn't long before I started to grow around and between those fingers, springing out and away from Carla's hand from time to time. The lights were dim again and I didn't think there was much danger in allowing her to fondle me under the quilt, but then I saw the undulations her fingers were making on the blanket's surface and the way it tented up occasionally, and I knew that if my mother glanced over, she would know exactly what my girlfriend was doing to me underneath the blanket. I quickly readjusted the blanket and, as best I could, covered up the movements produced by Carla's fingers. Needless to say, she kept me in a state of perpetual anxiety for the next couple of hours, pumping my phallus to hardness as she casually conversed with my mother or laughed or feigned being scared or commented on the film. Then her pumping would ease off and she would allow me to return to a semi-hard state, only to begin a furious pump-job that had me close to cumming within a minute. She was uncanny! She seemed to know exactly when to stop her ministrations and when to start them again. And then, as the movie reached its climax, Carla made sure I reached mine, pumping with a passion until I jetted rope after rope of warm sperm all over my stomach and chest. She then proceeded to swab me down with it, all in the presence of my mother, all but a few of her actions concealed by our "blankie." Of course, I don't think it would have mattered to Mother if we had decided to let the blanket drop and let her see the masturbation show. After all, it wasn't more than a week or two later that my mother caught me in the act -- literally -- of pleasuring myself and this time, there was no way to disguise my actions as playful gestures or anything else. I was caught with my hard-on in my hand, stroking away and just seconds away from bringing myself to orgasm. And that put an entirely new spin on matters. CHAPTER SIX The semester progressed. At school, Carla and I got closer to the end of another successful term. At home, we continued to have incredibly torrid sex. At the time, I lived in a part of the country where it never got too cold in the winter, and even if it had, the house was kept nice and toasty, thanks to central heating. One night, before the evening temps got too brisk, I remember Carla and I had just made love when she suggested we go outside and join my mother in the back patio, and so we did. Carla wore one of my many black T-shirts that fit her like a daring mini-skirt. I stepped outside completely naked, as I had once before in the summer, with my mother for company. Mom was out there already and the three of us sat around, Carla and Mother in lounge chairs, I on one of the patio benches near the wooden picnic table. The three of us engaged in casual conversation. I'll confess that the breeze was laced with a hint of autumn chill, but I pretended not to notice. I was too busy enjoying myself, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world to be sitting outside in the twilight while wearing my birthday suit, talking to my girlfriend and mother. My home exposure continued, with and without Carla. That's what it had become too, more than comfort: exposure. I remember actually finding excuses to walk out and be naked in my mom's presence. And I was now constantly cupping and clutching myself around her. She took it all in stride. More than that, she was enjoying the show. This is a certainty. It grew obvious. If I didn't seek her out, she made it a point to come and find me. My mother's eagerness only pushed me further. Every now and then, while watching a show on television, I'd groan at the appearance of a hottie and openly run my hands over my penis and testicles. On one occasion, a woman appeared in a g-string and I muttered an "Oh my God!" and cupped myself more overtly than ever before, way down near my balls. This thickened my penis and pointed it, fat and semi-erect, toward my mother. She giggled and, never taking her eyes away from my slow squeezes, said she was going to tell Carla that I was being unfaithful with a bunch of electronic cuties. "She probably wouldn't care, Mom," I said. In fact, I told Carla about my increasingly crazy behavior and mounting desire to expose myself and she grew wild with lust at each of my stories. She also urged me to take things even further, to grab myself more frequently and overtly in front of my home audience. I seldom finished one of my stories, on the phone or in person, without Carla fingering herself urgently to orgasm. I suppose that given my hyperactive libido, what happened next was quite inevitable. As I recall, it was right around Christmas break because Carla and I had both wrapped up the fall semester, leaving us with even more time than usual to devote to our hedonistic diversions. Ah, youth. Even though Carla and I had just had a wonderful romp, I felt myself harden a few hours later, when she'd gone home. You'd think I hadn't had sex in days! I lay back on the bed and reached down and began to work on myself. It didn't take long before I had seven hard and thick inches to stroke. I could hear the distant sounds of the TV so I knew Mom was still up, but I was feeling too lazy and too horny to do anything about my open door. In fact, I was so engrossed in stroking away that I didn't hear my mother approaching my bedroom and didn't even see her until she was through the door! Mom stopped dead in her tracks and I stopped what I was doing in mid-stroke. I felt myself start to shrink as she backed up toward the door, stammered an "Excuse me," and left the room. For the next few days, we ignored the situation. Actually, we avoided each other. I think each of us didn't know how to react, given the circumstances. Once again, we had crossed a boundary -- the most overtly sexual boundary yet. In the past, it had all been implied. Not this time. My mother had seen me stroking away at myself, my objective: to achieve orgasm. Finally, on the third day of awkward silence, Mom knocked on the door and I covered up before letting her in. She raised an eyebrow at my shorts, then walked into the room. I asked her to sit on the bed and she did. "What's up?" I asked. "Don't play dumb," she said. "Give me credit for breaking the ice." "You're right." Silence filled the space between us. Finally, I continued. "About the other day: I'm sorry! I really am. I should've closed my door." "Maybe you should have," she sighed, "but you didn't and it's done and the way we've been behaving is silly." I nodded. "I agree completely." "I miss my buddy," she said, reaching over onto the bed and hugging me where I sat. I hugged her back. "Even though you spend a lot of time with Carla now, we've always found time to spend with each other, even with your girlfriend. I don't want us to remain confused about this or grow distant with each other, as a result of it." "Mom, you're the best! I can't believe the way you've managed to phrase it all. It's what I've been feeling, but I was too mortified to approach you to iron things out." "Well, it's over, okay?" She smiled and stood before me. "Now, as a sign of good faith, get comfy." "I am comfy," I said, but I felt a little charge at her words. She smirked. "I mean get really comfy, Tony. Put on what you usually wear around the house when we're alone. Or when Carla's here." I stood up and in one swift motion pulled off my jogging shorts and stood nude before her. "You mean my birthday suit, Mom?" She grinned wider. "That's the one. Now let's go see what's on TV this afternoon." Together, we strolled into the living room. Mom was wearing a pale blue T-shirt and cut-off jeans shorts. She was barefoot and she crossed her bare legs when she sat on the couch. I decided to be bold, so I grabbed them and placed her calves atop my knees, when I sat down next to her. Then, with my left hand, I began a slow massage of her feet. In the middle of the movie (a boring B-grade action-flick), I couldn't resist and leaned over and hugged her legs tightly. "You're terrific, you know?" She laughed. "So I've been told." "Well, whoever told you before I did is right. You fixed things up and you did it better than I ever could." "I thought about it," she said, "and it's not like I didn't see you do anything I didn't already know you did anyway. Quite frankly -- and this should make you feel better -- I do it myself. But I'll be honest," her right foot nudged me in the ribs playfully, "I didn't expect you to be doing that anymore, with Carla in the picture." "Well, you know what they say, Mom: too much of a good thing is never enough." She frowned. "Who says that?" "I do!" We laughed and turned our attention to the movie, but I could tell that Mom had more to say. Eventually, she started talking again. "Didn't you and Carla do things --" "Things, Mom?" I grinned at her and she actually blushed. "You know. Didn't you two go at each other hot n heavy the afternoon I caught you taking care of yourself?" "Come to think of it, I think we did." She adjusted the throw pillow beneath her mane of flaming hair, then lay back against the opposite arm rest. "But you wanted more?" I shrugged and lay back against the opposite end of the couch. I was quite thrilled with the conversation and I let my legs fall open and curve, bent at my knees. In this position, lying on one end of the couch, my mother at the other, I knew I was giving her a clear shot of my flaccid penis and balls and part of my ass. I reached down and cupped myself, trying to make the motion seem absentminded and innocent, as I'd seen Carla do to me in my mother's presence in the past. "Sometimes I can't get enough, Mom." "I see," she said softly, watching me pull my growing penis off my stomach and flop it idly in my hand. It was then that I knew I'd soon be in trouble if I didn't hide myself soon. So I casually got up and walked to my room. I shut my door, lay back on my bed, cupped myself again and started stroking away. Very soon, my member grew harder in my hand and I reached down with my other hand and cupped my balls and stroked in earnest and continued to do so until I heard the knock on my door. "Yes?" "It's me." Mom. "Can I come in?" Silence. I didn't know what to do or say. Unlike the time she had caught me, however, I didn't feel myself start to shrink. I actually got a thrill from knowing that only a door separated my mother from gazing upon my now fully erect phallus, my hand clenched around its thickness, my other hand lower still, one wet finger working its way into my anus. I started stroking again. "I'm a little -- busy right now, Mom." I heard my voice tremble from my motions and excitement. "I think I know what you're doing." And with that, she opened the door. I froze as she entered the room and approached the bed, pink washcloth in her hand. "I brought you something," she said. "I thought this would make for an easier clean-up." Once again, silence filled the bedroom. Then she spoke one word: "Continue." And I did. I started working my erection again, then slouched lower and made sure she could see my own finger sinking deeper into my asshole. "You knew exactly what I was coming in here to do, right?" Mother's eyes were riveted to my groin area. "I knew, and I came in here because -- I'm doing this because I hate closed doors between us anymore, Tony. Hate them." She sat on the bed and this time our eyes locked. "I want you to be comfortable to do whatever you want around me. Please." I could have called her bluff then. I could have said that there was now definitely more than an accommodating motive for my mother's behavior. I could have pointed out that the same held true for my own growing exposure around her, that it was more than simply my wanting to be comfortable that made me spend so much time around her in the buff. But I didn't. I knew that she didn't really mean to overlook the truth. I think she was simply articulating that which she believed to be the truth, the only part of the current situation to which she would allow herself to admit. I knew better, but I reflected on the incredible sexual titillation I was enjoying by having her as an audience the past few months. If my mother wanted to justify her own voyeuristic desires with a bogus motive in order to ease her conscience, I decided that she was entitled to do so. What we were doing was, in many respects, harmless and highly erotically charged fun between consenting adults. At the same time, the taboo factor was also moving into the red zone. I decided to continue the fun and let it carry us to new highs in the relationship. With that settled in my head, I stared at her, muttered a thanks and told her that she was really too kind. I continued masturbating in earnest and watched mom's eyes grow rooted once again to my member and my stroking hand. Every now and then, she'd watch my finger sink in and out of my asshole. "You're very big," she said. "Bigger than many you've seen?" I asked. She smiled. "A hell of a lot bigger. Bigger than your father, that's for sure." "I can make it even bigger," I said, hearing a slight tremor in my voice from being so turned on. Her eyes widened, then met mine. "Prove it." So I did. I gripped myself at the very base of my member and squeezed it until it bobbed like a thick baton and turned a deep shade of crimson. The circumcised head was a fat mauve helmet and I jerked it and waved it at her. My mother was, quite simply, mesmerized. Her eyes were at half-mast, her mouth twisted in a lusty grin/sneer. I was shocked. I had never seen her in this state. To be frank, she looked drunk, and, in a sense, she was. Drunk with lust. I could tell that she was enjoying the show every bit as much as I was enjoying providing it. I sank my index finger completely into my ass, stroked myself harder and faster and knew I'd reached the point of no return. "I'm gonna cum now, Mom," I whispered. "Go for it," she muttered. "Do it, Tony. Cum for me." Then it happened: a torrent of semen shot of out of my erection and jetted up my chest, followed by another thick rope and another, each propelled with incredible force as I continued to stroke myself. Eventually, I stopped and collapsed back onto the bed, completely spent. I lay there, eyes closed, until I felt something cool and moist rubbing my chest and stomach. I opened my eyes and watched my mother wiping me clean with the washcloth. After a moment she moved the cloth and her hands lower. She cast me a questioning look and I nodded. Then she took my still hard phallus in her hands and wiped me clean. I flinched when she swiped the cloth around the head. We both laughed at my spasm. "Still sensitive?" she asked. I nodded. This night marked the advent of a new phase in our ever-changing relationship. CHAPTER SEVEN There's often talk about the awkward moments that occur "the morning after." Well, my mother and I had such a moment - two or three, in truth -- the morning after she watched me openly masturbate (with her encouragement) in front of her for the first time. I was still on break between semesters and Mom had taken some time off from her part-time receptionist job. Since she only worked about twenty hours a week and knew the doctor well, she could come and go as she pleased, if she gave the office enough notice. Since the Christmas holidays were upon us, she had requested the month off. Carla came over the next day and I revealed all to her. She was in a frenzy of lust and we made wonderful, passionate love for most of the afternoon. Then Carla broke the news: her parents had decided to travel out of state to her grandparents' house for the holidays. It would only be for a couple of weeks, but we'd been virtually inseparable during our spare time during the past few months and we both felt a touch of withdrawal syndrome setting in prematurely. "I want you to promise me something, before I go," Carla said that afternoon. "What's that?" "I want you to keep doing what you did in front of your mom," she said. "Don't stop it. She's opened doors. Take advantage of them." "But why?" I asked. "You make me happy." "I know, but knowing that you're doing what you're doing, makes ME happy." I stared at her in the soft violet light of late winter afternoon. "You're a mystery, Carla. I always considered myself an oversexed daredevil in the sexual arena, but you take the crown." She giggled and thanked me, then slithered her still moist body atop me, cupped me below and stroked me to hardness, then impaled herself on my erection. That last screw before Carla took off was as sweet as any we'd shared, and far more tender, with her on top, grinding her hips into ME for a change. I cupped her generous asscheeks in my hands and squeezed them as her pussy walls squeezed me from within and her fingers fluttered over her clit and we came together, for the second during our session. Believe it or not, for the first week of Carla's two-week absence, nothing -- and I mean nothing -- remotely erotic occurred. My sister became a semi-permanent fixture in the house (she was on public school vacation), and my father, who regularly made three-nights-a-week treks out of town, stayed much closer to home during the holiday break. Then we got over the Christmas and New Year's hurdle (Carla and I spoke on the phone on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and had a wonderful mutual masturbation session in the wee hours of New Year's morning). At that point, my sis Lisa grew restless and started spending more and more times at her friends' houses. And on the Tuesday morning of the new week, my father left on a four-day trip that wouldn't put him back home until late Saturday afternoon. That Tuesday evening, Mom and I had the house to ourselves. Rather than my usual graveyard shift, I was moved to days at the convenience store, to cover for a fulltime vacationing employee. It was our first night alone in a week and it was the first time I actually dined somewhere other than my bedroom while totally nude. Mom fixed a terrific spaghetti dinner for us. She came to my door and knocked softly and announced that dinner was ready. I was sprawled out on my stomach on the bed, reading a book, stark naked. I asked if she wanted me to dress for dinner, but she said, "Don't be silly," so I didn't. Afterward, we settled on the couch and watched some television. We debated going out to rent some videos, but both of us were too comfortable and lazy after the great meal. Besides, we were more than halfway through a bottle of Merlot and contemplating pulling the cork on another. So we channel surfed. Nothing was appealing to me until Mom clicked onto a station hosting a sports magazine's bikini issue documentary. I asked Mom to back it up and she suffered through my watching the babes on the channel. As I watched, I felt my member start to throb and grow on my thigh, then off of it. Mom giggled. "I think you miss your girlfriend." I looked down at myself and grinned. I wasn't completely hard, but I was thick and growing. "I guess it's pretty obvious, right?" I continued to watch the gals. There were many shots of legs and barely there thongs and such, which drove me crazy. I'm an unabashed butt man and several of the lovelies on the tube had the round flesh globes I so love to fondle and massage. I suddenly became aware of my hand cupping and tugging at my erection -- and it was indeed an all-out erection now. I stopped and apologized. "Don't," my mother corrected. "Don't apologize and don't stop. Remember our talk? Do whatever makes you comfortable." I grabbed my erection at the base and gave it a long, slow stroke. "You're sure?" "Positive." She smiled, leaned back and watched me as I watched the TV. Every now and again she'd look at the tube and ask me about the models. "Which one's your favorite?" I'd tell her. "Why?" I told her of my love of buns and legs and feet. "Feet?" Mom laughed and I felt myself grow warm in the face. Then I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, literally naked and masturbating in front of my mother, and what threw me into embarrassment? Not my actions but a confession of attraction to pretty legs and feet. Mom nudged me playfully with one of her feet. "So, are my peds pretty?" I grabbed it and examined her smooth arches. My mother's body was very youthful looking, and that included her feet. I ran my fingers over her plump toes and inspected her perfectly pedicured, crimson-painted toenails. Then I brought the sole of her foot down on my hard phallus. "Absolutely." We were both very silent. Somehow, despite the fact that she had seen me masturbate before and encouraged me to do so and even wiped me clean afterwards, our actions seemed to cross yet another hurdle this evening. "You know," my mother said, "I would have never guessed I had such a kinky and oversexed son." "Oversexed is right," I said, rubbing my penis harder against her sole. "Sometimes I feel like I'm thoroughly addicted to sex and cumming. Sorry for being so candid, but your tolerant nature brings that out in me. Besides, it's true." My mother's eyes were half-lidded. Her face was taking on that lust-consumed, drunk look. She wasn't looking at me, but at her foot resting atop my throbbing member. Very gently, she pressed down on it and I felt myself squeezed between her soft sole and my lower abdomen. Then I fixated on her pretty wiggling toes and I knew that I would soon be in trouble if this continued. On the other hand, Mom seemed to have no intention of stopping. I grabbed her other foot and kissed each toe, examining the shimmering maroon polish christening each toenail. Then, as she continued to press her right sole into my member, I slid her left big toe and second toe into my mouth and sucked them. She laughed and tried to pull away but I held firm to her ankle. "What are you up to?" she cried. I slid my lips up and down her toes. "Same thing you are," I mumbled. She arched her eyebrows and stared quizzically. "I'm giving you a toe job." We both giggled but she never completely stopped her rubbing and my erection was massive by now. I grabbed it and slid it between her toes and she squeezed it hard between her first and second digits and the head shone crimson between them. "I'm going to explode soon," I said. "Do it, Tony," she said. "Go for it! No, wait a second!" Mom hoisted herself up and turned around, in a kneeling position. Her T-shirt rose higher and I saw her round asscheeks exposed between a thin thong. And underneath her ass, her two feet were pressed firmly together. Then she looked over her left shoulder with that lop-sided sneer-smile. "Okay, now." She wiggled her pretty toes at me. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but what the hell: I've made you a cum tray. Now use it." Hearing my mother speak like that pushed me over the edge. I reached below me, fondled my anus, then knelt above Mom's feet. I looked at her and our eyes locked. "Do it," she whispered. I did. I came and came all over her pretty feet, drenching them and her toes. Afterward, she carefully twisted herself around, lifted her feet and trapped my still throbbing and sensitive phallus between her soles and my stomach and rubbed the underside of my shaft. "Just making sure we got every drop of that therapeutic lotion out of the dispenser," she said. That set us off in a fit of laughter. But I didn't laugh as I watched Mother use her hands to rub my cum all over her feet, as though it really was lotion. Incredibly, I felt myself stir with desire once again. But as they say, the spirit was most definitely willing, but my flesh was ultimately weak. For the moment. CHAPTER EIGHT Writing this glimpse into my sexual past has allowed me to better understand the sexual dynamics at the heart of my home life. It's also helped me come to terms with my love of exposure. The more I look back, the more I truly understand that my love of being unclothed as well as my overactive libido were manifested themselves very early, certainly from the onset of puberty, onward. As I sit here reminiscing about my erotic odyssey, a flood of memories is charging to the forefront of consciousness. While I don't wish to drift too far from the focus of this narrative - the erotic dynamics of exhibitionism and nudity in my everyday home life and the influence of same by and on my mother and my girlfriend, I would like to share at least one peripheral memory with you. I do so because it underscores the fact that the impulses that manifested themselves in my main story were already affecting me at an early age. I've always been thrilled by simply being nude, but I guess there has always been that extra element that made my nudity seem more enticing when I was also exposing myself to others. For example, I remember as a kid of eleven and twelve and then even older, having a male cousin sleep over from time to time. I was a compulsive nudist in my room during the evenings, and even with my cousin around, I didn't make an exception. Mind you, I was not and am not gay, but it's now clear to me, that even as a kid, I got a charge out of being stark naked in front of somebody else. The first couple of times my cousin slept over one summer, I waited until we were going to hit the sack to strip, but as he spent more and more nights over, I started stripping earlier and earlier. After awhile, I was totally naked in front of him from the early evening until the time we left my room the next morning. If I had to make a bathroom run during the night, I'd make it just that: a run to the bathroom, still nude. We both got a laugh out of my daredevil antics. Then, in the wee hours, we also made forays into the kitchen for more snacks. I remember making the kitchen trips in the nude too, and getting excited at the prospect of getting caught, at being nude in front of my cousin, at the whole element surrounding the idea of being totally nude in front of somebody else. As we both got a bit older, I showed my cousin some PLAYBOYS that I kept hidden. We'd thumb through them and I saw his pajamas tent up. I, on the other hand, had no clothes to tent. My rock-hard erection was in full-view, bobbing and throbbing with my excitement. The older I got, the less hesitant I was to stroke away at my hard-ons, even in his presence. He was younger by several years, and he was amazed at my passion for masturbation (my hormones kicked into full-throttle at an early age and I very quickly grew addicted to stroking off; remember the endless feelings of hyper-sensation and "dry cums"? I had plenty of those before the real climaxes arrived in future years). I told him it felt fantastic. As I got into my teens, my porno collection grew (as did my trouble with hiding it) and I was able to ejaculate. After awhile, it became a nightly ritual, even when my cousin was around. In fact, he knew when it was time because I'd get quiet, lay back on the bed and start stroking myself. Eventually, it was he who would head for the closet and pull out my latest stash of magazines and bring them over to the bed and open them for me and turn the pages as I fondled myself. I'd say, "Go," and he'd turn the page to another picture spread, and another and another. When we ran out, he'd grab another magazine and do it again and again at my signal, until I shot all over myself, on my stomach and thighs, or into a tissue. We stopped doing this when my cousin reached puberty. He didn't seem to be as comfortable or open as I was. But it was good clean fun, as far as I can remember it. Other than my cousin, I tried to be nude and exposed in front of a couple of friends. One of them got very antsy, I could tell. I think he thought I might be coming on to him by being nude around him so much of the time. That wasn't the case! I was literally just enjoying the comfort of being naked and the rush of exposing myself. Another friend of mine used to hang out with me and sometimes spend the night. Sometimes we'd sprawl out on the beds or the floor playing a board game and of course, I'd be stark naked. He didn't seem to care and just laughed about it and call me a "nudie fiend." I laughed with him, but at the same time, I was experiencing that special high that being nude in front of someone else gave me. I remember I used to like to lie on my stomach, on the carpeted floor, or on the bed. This way, I could grind my phallus onto the floor and make myself extremely hard. Then I had to concentrate to make myself go down a little. When I finally rolled onto my side, I would be semi-hard and thick. Neither one of us would mention it, but I'm sure my friend noticed. Eventually, I would excuse myself and go to the bathroom and masturbate. Of course, the biggest thrill of those early days was with my very accepting cousin, who actually helped me with my sessions by holding my magazines and turning the pages. CHAPTER NINE Of course, I haven't tried to relate every single incident that occurred in this wild ride. As I sit here winding this piece to its conclusion, myriad memories are rushing forward: I'm remembering countless other incidents that occurred in the course of day-to-day living and showing off. However, what is included in this memoir is more than sufficient, in my estimation. Instead of giving you an every-single-day chronicle, I've tried to highlight the most relevant incidents that together provide a clear chronicle of my movement from private nudism to full-blown exhibitionism to taboo territory. After the incident on the couch, in which I openly masturbated in front of my mother and she actually encouraged my actions and finally helped me out with her foot ministrations, I became much bolder about fondling myself in front of her. At the same time, I remember egging myself on to be more brazen in my antics. But how, I thought. How much more exposed can one be if they're standing completely naked in front of their parent? Then, one late night it hit me: a way to up the exposure ante. I put it into practice the very next day. That afternoon, Mom joined me in the bathroom as she so often did when nobody was around. This time, before getting into the bathtub, I moved around my mother and very casually lifted the toilet lid, grabbed my phallus near its base, and took a long piss in front of her. I think that Mom was shocked but she tried to appear nonchalant about it. After that, peeing in front of her became a great thrill. I also took to regularly masturbating in the tub during my bath. "You don't mind, do you?" I'd asked, while soaping up my lengthening hardness. Mom would smile. "Need you ask?" I noticed that Mom would get especially frustrated if my sister were around, which meant that she would have to stay out of the bathroom during my baths. This led to new heights of arousal with risk-taking. One afternoon, I was running late for my shift and my sister was around. Mom came by my room and apologized for not being able to run my bath. I told her no problem, that it was very nice of her to do that a lot of the time, but I certainly didn't expect it. Then my mother peered down the hall and then back into my room and boldly asked me in a very soft voice: "Are you going to --" And she finished by cupping her fist and shaking it slowly up and down three or four times. I shrugged. "I think so. I'm horny and I won't see Carla for a few days because of work and her commitments." Mom literally pouted. "Can't you wait till tonight?" "I guess so," I said. A few minutes later, while sitting in the bathtub, I was shocked to see the door open softly. In stepped my mother, a lewd grin on her face. "Mom!" I hissed. "What the hell?" I asked her about my sister. "She's in her room," my mom said. "But --" "Don't worry about it," said Mom. "She's talking on the phone." "She could hang up," I scolded her. "You know how she is, Tony." Mom sat on the counter-top. "I just wanted to talk a bit before you left for work." "To be honest, Mom," I said, beginning to stroke myself to erection, "I'm not much into talking right now." She grinned and her face looked even more lusty and lewd. "Then I haven't missed the show?" I laughed and waved my erection at her. "It's just starting." I lay back in the tub and started stroking. Mom clicked on the radio that we kept sitting on a shelf above the toilet. Then she came and actually sat on the edge of the bathtub and then placed her bare feet in the water and proceeded to slide them over my erection. "Press down hard," I told her. She trapped my phallus between her sole and my stomach. "Grind on it. Do some accelerator pumps." "Tony! I'm going to hurt you!" "You won't. Do it for me, Mom. Please. I need it." And so she did. Her foot pushed down hard on my penis and made the head, which managed to stick out from beneath her toes, swell to an incredible bulbous shape. Below, my balls bulged, equally distended, thanks to my mother's treatments. Then, using the toes of her other foot, she massaged the head of my penis and its tip. I didn't take long for me to explode. Then it happened: in the midst of my cum, my sister knocked on the door. With a shaky voice, I told her I'd be out soon. Lisa asked if I'd seen Mom. I said she was somewhere in the house. Mom grinned at that, her eyes saucer-round. My sis countered that she couldn't find her. I advised her to try the backyard and patio. Rather than teach her to be more careful, the fact that we'd gotten away with such actions made my mother bolder. She started making it a habit of visiting me in the bathroom, whether my sister was home or not. And once while my father was home, out working in the yard. It became second nature for her to encourage me to masturbate, even when I hadn't intended to. If I told her I was seeing Carla later and wanted to behave until then, my mother would actually pout, and, because I was aroused by the fact that she was so turned on by my shows, I would eventually relent and pleasure myself, sometimes on my own, but more and more often, with Mom's help. Because my mother was egging me on and exhibiting more daring behavior, I too caught on to her moods and grew equally more brazen. One late morning I came into the kitchen. Mother was pouring another cup of coffee, still dressed in one of her oversized sleep-shirts. When she turned around, there I stood, sporting a massive erection. "Well!" Mother smiled. "Good morning to you, too!" I shrugged. "It's a morning boner and it won't go down, Mom." "It must've been hell to pee through it." "Actually," I said, "I haven't been able to go yet." Mom laughed, took my hand and led me out of the kitchen. As we walked, my rock hard member bounced before me. Once or twice, it hit Mom's bronze left thigh. She looked down and smiled and then did something that absolutely blew me away. She grabbed it and tugged it playfully! The next time my penis collided with her thigh, she repeated her gesture, but this time, she kept her handgrip around my erection and led me by the penis until we reached the bathroom off the main hallway. Once again, we had crossed a new line. In the past, my mother had touched my penis to help clean me up. This time, she seemed to be touching it for the sheer joy of touching it. Once inside the bathroom, Mom released me, lifted the toilet lid for me and pointed at the commode. "It's not healthy holding it in," she said. "I mean the yellow stuff. Now just once, try controlling that libido and take your pee!" That cracked me up and pretty soon I was in a semi-hard state, still long and very thick, but soft enough for me to let out a strong stream of piss that fizzed up the toilet. "Wow! How much did you have to drink last night," Mom muttered. She was staring down at my pissing member. I turned my head to look at her. This caused the last short bursts to miss the bowl. Mom playfully spanked my buttocks. "Men!" "Sor-ee!" I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and was about to clean up the bowl when Mom took the paper out of my hands and said, "Let me." As she wiped the bowl's outer rim clean, her oversized sleepshirt crept up enough to reveal the lower round and fleshy globes of her ass. That started my penis climbing back to full force. "Already?" Mom said as she turned around and we took turns at the sink. "Well, mom," I said. "That's what you get for mooning me!" She smiled and now her upper facial cheeks glowed a faint pink. We returned to the kitchen. Mom sat up on one of the kitchen stools by the counter bar separating the dining room from the cooking area. "It looks like you're going to have some work to do BEFORE breakfast." I nodded, sat back on a kitchen chair at the table, and started stroking away. Mom was so engrossed in my show that she probably honestly didn't realize that her sleepshirt was hiked quite high and revealing generous thighs and the bottoms of her ass-cheeks. It didn't take me more than a few minutes. When I confessed to being on the brink of cumming and requested that she bring me some napkins, she shook her head. "No. Come on yourself, then I'll clean you up." "Promise?" I half-blurted. Mom nodded, smiled. Our eyes locked and I held her gaze until I felt myself getting very close. I then reached beneath my balls and sank a finger into my ass. Mom's eyes nearly shut and she moaned. "I love when you do that to yourself." I responded by erupting. Thick ropes of cum shot onto my chest, into my navel, onto my groin area. Mom laughed and clapped once and egged me on, then true to her word, retrieved a warm washcloth and cleaned me up, taking special care to lift my long, thick and still throbbing penis and gently swab it. Another morning, I woke up very horny. Still nude, I walked out into the kitchen. This was becoming more or less a habit, but there was one stark difference this time: I knew that my sister was home. Still, I thought I'd risk a nude stroll. If Lisa catches me, I'll just tell her that I thought I was alone in the house, I reasoned with myself. Even as I ran through a number of excuses that I could run by my sister, however, a part of me was wondering why I was adding more risk to my exposure. Today, I recognize that I needed to increase the possibility of being seen in order to feel the rush I so loved from exposing myself. Mom is the ultimate audience, I thought, but on the other hand, why not give a little free show to Lisa if things work? As I stepped out of my room and started walking completely naked down the hallway, I felt the strongest, headiest surge run through me that I'd felt in quite a while. I literally felt my member start to grow thicker and slap against my thigh as I got closer to my destination. An overstimulated libido is a funny state to be in, especially when it seems to be ever on the increase. And I wasn't the only one who seemed to be throwing caution to the wind, I was soon to learn. Mom's eyes widened when she saw me stroll through the living room and then she got off the couch to follow me. "Good morning," I said casually. "It is now," she said, glancing down the hallway to check on my sis, then following me into the kitchen. "You realize that Lisa is home," she said, watching me pour juice into a glass. "Oh, really?" I said. "I forgot." "Sure you did," Mom smiled and winked at me. "You're getting crazier, you know that." "Yeah, but at least I'm not insane." I see now how radically atypical and unbalanced the power structure of our family dynamic had become. Rather than order me to go into my room and put something on, my mom asked what we were going to do if Lisa showed up. Interesting: it wasn't my problem. "What are we going to do if Lisa shows?" It was our problem. My mother as much as admitted that we were both locked in some exclusive and increasingly reckless behavior. "I know what we can do," I said. "We'll give her a sex lesson!" I grabbed a wooden spoon out of the utensil holder near the stove and used the tip to point to my chest. "Lisa, this is a nude man." Mother laughed as I continued. "There'll be an anatomy quiz immediately following this exhibit, so listen up. This is his head," I pointed to my crown, "and this is his other head." I pointed to my penis. My mother laughed harder. I cupped my member in my hand. "This is the head of the penis, this is the shaft and these -" I lifted my thickening tool straight up so that it smacked my belly. "--are the testicles, otherwise known as gonads, or balls!" Mom actually clapped. "You seem to have this situation well in hand, my dear." "Why, thank you, mam. And this concludes the anatomy lesson." "Oh, no it doesn't!" "It doesn't?" She walked over and took the wooden spoon from me. "Turn around." "Huh?" "Turn around. Bend over. Hands on table. Spread those legs." Now it was my turn to laugh. "You're not going to spank me, are you?" I flexed my glutes. "No, just helping you with the grand finale," she said. I felt the spoon tip on my ass. "And these, dear daughter, are a man's buttocks." I flexed my glutes again. "Right cheek, left cheek." Tap-tap. "Left cheek." Tap-tap. "And one last thing - Your assistance, Tony. Spread em!" "My legs are spread." "Hands off table and move them back here. Spread those buns!" I was so aroused by this new development that my penis was a thick and hard log wedged between my stomach and the wooden tabletop. I did what I was told. I reached back and spread myself open with both hands." "Perfect," Mother said. "The true grand finale, Lisa, lies between these cheeks." Now I felt the tip of the spoon caress my sphincter, probe it and then the nub of the tip slid in. "This cute little pink rosebud is something we all have, dear daughter. Call it bud, button, sphincter or asshole, it is truly the living end. And now we can declare that this concludes our anatomy lesson." I stood up and Mom and I broke up into more laughs. "You're a very disturbed young man, do you know that?" "Me? Listen to the pot calling the kettle black. You're just as bad, Mom!" She tossed the spoon into the sink and ran her fingers through her loose red tresses. "You may be right." "Well, I guess I really should get back to my room, though, right?" Mom shrugged. "As you like, sir. I can fix you some breakfast and you can eat it here or in your room." I walked over and hugged her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Mom, I love you. You're great, but I don't think you mean that." "But I do, Tony." I hadn't released her yet. As we stood pressed close together, I felt my phallus trapped between my right thigh and my mother's left one. It was an incredible sensation, feeling myself semi-hard and pressed tight into her warmth. "Oh, I most certainly do mean it. As funny as I found your impromptu anatomy lesson, what truly would be the harm in having Lisa go through a slightly more serious experience? Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter, but I also love to have you around as you are, and honestly, isn't it best that she learn what men look like in a safe environment such as our home?" This was tantamount to a blessing on her part to continue our game, under virtually any circumstances. That she had suggested such activity only made me feel more aroused. "Tell you what. You can fix me breakfast while I go take care of a more, um, pressing matter." We both looked down at the same time and saw my long and rock hard erection wedged at an even crazier angle between our thighs. As I stepped away from her, she playfully slapped my butt (she seemed to be doing that quite often these days) and followed me to my bedroom, where I proceeded to masturbate on the bed as she stood with her back to my closed door, her eyes scrutinizing my every move. In no time at all, I got onto my knees, gave myself one last massive tug and proceeded to splash all over my bed. Mom washed the sheets later that day. By mid-March, the weather was warm enough for my mother and I to sit outside in the backyard. One particular sultry night during this period stands out. We were sitting on the lawn chairs in the enclosed patio. Distant flashes and muted rumbles told us it would rain sometime in the night. The evening was darker than usual, due to the cloud cover, and the massive oak that shaded much of the yard made the lawn look even darker this night. Mother and I had been having a lively conversation earlier, but eventually, the talk died down and we listened to nature's stirrings as the wind whipped around us. I was nude and I casually started rubbing myself and making myself grow. Very soon, I was sporting a massive hard-on that needed serious attention. Yes, the night was dark, but not so dark that my actions and erection were concealed. Yet, I didn't even attempt to apologize for my behavior. Mom had given me carte blanche to act and do as I pleased in her presence, and what I wanted now was to cum outside, right here in the backyard. I strolled deeper into the lawn. The feel of the breeze on my skin, on my hardness, was incredible. Mom followed me to the very back of the property, where several flowerbeds and foliage were planted around the massive oak and the wrought-iron bench with wooden slats. I stopped near the flowerbeds and began to stroke in earnest. "Soon?" Mom asked as she watched my face tighten up. I nodded, then felt something that made me immediately start to shoot: my mother had watched me masturbate countless times by this point, and she knew what I liked to do in the process. As I felt my erection grow more taught and the domed head bulge out further, I felt her hand on my buttocks and one wet finger slide deep into my asshole. I erupted, splashing flowers and foliage with ropes of cum. Afterward, my heart still hammering, I collapsed onto the bench. Mom sat next to me and put her arm around me. "Thanks," I said weakly. "Anytime," she replied. "Thanks for the special fertilizer." We laughed and then I told her I was going inside to pee. She asked why I was going to bother going in the house and I laughed some more. She made a lot of sense. "Actually, I'm so strung out from that cum that I don't even feel like moving just yet." The tree hissed above us, as the wind blew through branches and sent shadows flickering across my mother's aroused face. "Then don't bother. Why not do it here?" I smiled. "You mean, just stand, aim and let go?" "Don't even stand. And why aim? Just do it and then we'll go inside and you can clean up." "This could get very messy," I said. "Why don't you aim it for me?" She grinned. "Gladly!" With that, she took my semi-hard member in her hand and held it away from my balls sac and pointed it straight out. I closed my eyes and concentrated and felt my urine start to jet out of my penis. Mom giggled and marveled at the force of my pee and then she started to move my phallus around, arcing the stream from left to right across the lawn. The golden stream eventually died to a dribble over Mom's hand and my stomach. The last three or four spurts caught me in the chest and stomach. Mom shook my penis and gave it up, reluctantly, it seemed. She wiped her hand on her jeans, rose, extended her hand to me, and we went inside. Of course, I kept my girlfriend Carla abreast of the situation at home. Every one of my stories led her to greater states of lust. She started begging me to include my sis in my exposures, but I was reluctant to do so. And then a curious thing started to happen at about this time. For some reason, my own seductive desires started to wane a bit in the exhibitionist department. Having thought long and hard about it, I suspect it's because I knew that I'd reached the absolute height of safe levels with it. Okay, whom am I kidding? I'd moved far beyond safety at this point, but to go any further would mean to tread through dangerous territory that I just wasn't ready to explore. I didn't want to carry things very far with my sister and to do any more with my mother would be to cross over more pronounced taboo lines. Instead, I started getting a massive charge out of THE THOUGHT of watching Carla engage in similar exposure games. We began to engage in enticing "What if you were to -" scenarios in bed, most of them involving my taking things further with my sis Lisa or my Mom or with Carla engaging in the kinds of showoff games that I'd been playing. These fantasies fueled our desire for each other - and a hunger to act them out. Carla confessed that she'd been buying increasingly revealing clothing and wearing it several times a week. I told her that I'd noticed. Finally, Carla confessed all. "I want to do what you're doing, baby! I want to showoff and walk around naked and stuff. I want my own private and not-so-private audience." "I want you to have that, Carla. But how?" I knew that Carla couldn't indulge herself at home. Her parents were Class A prudes. "Unless -" "What, baby?" "Unless we finally bite the bullet and do what we've talking about doing for the past couple of months. Carla, let's move in together. Then you can be a naked and brazen little showoff 24 hours a day, in your very own place!" "Oh, Tony!" Carla flooded me with kisses and her tongue shoved its way into my mouth. "I love you!" It was at this point that I realized that Carla and I were well on the road to becoming complete hedonists and exhibitionists. Even though Carla was still an amateur in exhibitionist territory, she spent a great deal of time begging me to relate my latest home exposure stories and gladly complied, while my sexy girlfriend fingered herself to countless orgasms. More and more often, she preferred to lay sprawled out and naked on my bed, masturbating herself and watching me do the same, rather than have me in her, as I related my latest exposure story to her. Gone was the originally honest reason for my nudity: comfort and freedom. So much is clear to me now. I'd progressed from enjoying nudity for the sake of sensual freedom, to discovering the erotic dimensions that can be culled from exposing oneself to an audience. Eventually, I wanted to be naked at home not so much for comfort, but in order to shock, to show off with my exposure, to dare myself to take things a little further, then a little further still, to have easy access to my penis for my masturbation sessions. In the end, I wanted to see this behavior mimicked by someone else. The notion that my behavior had unleashed similar erotic longings in someone else became the ultimate turn-on for me. And seeing Carla mimic and surpass my behavior would certainly prove to be the ultimate high. I was fortunate enough to have found a partner who was dying to make my dreams a reality. A part of me hated the thought of moving out -- the free room and board were nice while I was in college -- but I also felt that I wanted to explore more offbeat sexual territory with Carla and we'd reached an impasse under our current living conditions. So in the middle of the new spring semester, we moved into a two-bedroom apartment. The second bedroom was hardly more than an elongated closet, but it had just enough room to set up our computer and a small guest bed. Our own bedroom was spacious enough, as was the main living room. The kitchen was fairly small, but the big bonus was a small walled-in patio, which allowed for a multiplicity of exposing situations. Once we moved in, Carla fulfilled our shared desires beyond my wildest expectations. In fact, she surpassed my own crazy obsessions! Eventually, Carla's passions actually moved beyond my own comfort zone, but that is a very long and drawn out story that deserves its own separate "space." If you've enjoyed "Flirting with Exhibitionism and Incest," then please drop me a line (tonyreeno@yahoo.com) and let me know. I'd love hearing from you, whether it's a short greeting or your own tales of exhibitionism and thrill nudity. Also, look for CARLA THE SHOWOFF in this newsgroup. Once again, my sincere thanks for reading. . . Tony Reeno -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+