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Message-ID: <41586asstr$1049249403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: tonyreeno@yahoo.com (Tony Reeno)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 2 Apr 2003 00:53:56 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} FLIRTING WITH EXHIBITIONISM AND INCEST (Revised and Expanded)
Date: Tue,  1 Apr 2003 21:10:03 -0500
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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.
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