One of life’s simple joys is sleeping naked. I don’t understand how anybody can sleep clothed. I also don’t understand why everybody thinks that this is some remarkably sexy thing. Sleeping naked is entirely natural. Sleeping clothed is what’s weird. If you feel uncomfortable sleeping naked with your significant other . . . Well . . . I don’t know what to tell you.
It wasn’t always like this for me though. Of course, when I lived with other people I wasn’t having sex with, I wore clothes to bed. I fully started sleeping naked when I lived with Esther. Now that I’m married with kids, I sleep naked every night with very few exceptions. I don’t walk naked around my children. I have a robe to cover me up quickly.
Once, in college, I took a trip with a group of close friends to California to see the beach. I had never been before and they all decided I was culturally deprived. I was terrified of the idea of the ocean. Large bodies of water kinda freak me out. There were five of us. Three women and two guys. None of us were in a relationship with each other, we were just close. The guys were really sweet and I’m 100% certain that they were desperate for a relationship with one of us. Any one of us. It probably didn’t matter. They had that quiet desperation that male returned missionaries have about finding a spouse.
We drove to Pacific Beach, California. The drive was great and I was stunned by how beautiful that part of the world is. It’s like a fantasy land. It’s too beautiful of a place. It makes you wonder if you’ve strayed into some alternate dimension where everything is perfect. I loved my first day at the ocean. I wasn’t scared at all and just loved playing around like a 4-year-old on a playground all day. It was a sweet and innocent time.
At night we stayed up late talking in each other’s rooms, each one of us had our own room which is good because the motel was super small. Real estate is at a premium there I guess and the motel made each room out of a closet I think. Each pair of rooms was adjoining and this made socialization all that easier. After the first night, I was dead tired. Being out in the sun all day and scampering around really wore me out and so I was eager to climb into bed. I had spent all day in my swimsuit and so it was easy to slip out of it and climb between the cool sheets naked.
I slept hard and I had restful dreamless sleep that night. I woke up when I heard the door to the adjoining room close. Whoever closed it did their best to be super quiet, but the click of the knob was just too loud. It woke me from my sleep. Someone had probably come in my room to wake me up. It was only then that I remembered that I had slept naked. Now I was entwined in the sheets, holding them like I was spooning them. This left half of my body exposed. My leg up to my bare bottom, my side, and my arm. One breast was exposed on the side but the front of it was buried in the sheets. Oh no! Someone had just seen more than they had bargained for. The room next to me . . . My mind struggled through the fog of sleep to remember which one of us had that room. It was Brian. Brian just saw me naked. Well, part of me naked. My butt mostly. Had he seen that much? How long had he looked? Oh no!
I was still working through a lot of self-image things. I had been self-conscious the day before, my boobs were by far the largest of the group of women and the two guys, Brian and Jon had had their share of eye candy and staring. Big boob problems. I sat up in the bed and looked down at my naked body. I guess there are worse things to have happen, right? I got up and went into the bathroom and started getting ready for the day. I showered and as the hot water ran over my body I began to think about Brian in a different way. Brian was cute. I had never really thought about him in that way before. He was lean and fit and he’d looked great in his swimsuit the day before. But why was I thinking about him? Just because I thought he may have seen me naked? I noticed a certain sexual tension building up inside me. The area between my legs stayed wet long after I had dried myself off that morning.
We met up as a group for breakfast. Brian acted no differently than he had before. Maybe he’d just tried to open the door and had failed? No matter what had actually happened I found myself looking at Brian with an entirely new set of eyes. I began to notice how cute his mannerisms were. When we swam that day, I noticed how well he filled the front of that swimming suit. I’d had some experience before, but not much. A little experience only makes you want it more. You get a taste and you want the whole pie. There was a time when Brian stood up out of the surf and I could see the outline of his entire shaft. I blushed when I saw it and my heart began to pound. I was being silly.
I admit it, I flirted with him that day. Hard. I was surprised at how naturally it came to me. Brian responded. By the end of the day, there was a great deal of tension between us. We were pairing off and found ourselves speaking alone more than usual. The others noticed, but they didn’t disapprove. They were probably wondering what had taken us so long and it gave them permission to start flirting amongst themselves as well. But, you know, we were good boys and girls and never did anything that we would “be ashamed of”.
That night, Brian lingered in my room after the others went off to theirs. “Don’t you two go and fornicate now!” our friends laughingly chided us as they left. Fornication wasn’t on my list of things to do that night, but there was a tension between us and making out certainly could have been. “I have something to confess,” Brian said with a sly smile. I had an idea that he would confess to the things he saw that morning, but I didn’t want to bring it up. After all, he might just confess to having a crush on me, or that this day was the greatest day of his life, etc. You know, normal things that happen to normal people.
“Oh really?” I said in my best flirtatious voice. “Go on then.”
“This morning I came in here to find my iPod charger.” Ah, good. It was that then. That meant we could freely talk about it now.
“I heard you,” I admitted. “That means you saw me naked.”
“Only for a little bit!” He defended himself, “and I didn’t really look. I mean, I saw a lot of skin and I . . . well . . .” His protestation trailed off. He was blushing furiously.
“I was dead asleep,” I said, “had I known . . .”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” He looked down, ashamed.
“No, let me finish.” I looked him directly in the eyes and said, “Had I known, I would have let you look as long as you wanted.” I meant it too. In my mind, there was nothing wrong with looking. There was a big difference between looking and touching. We made out that night. Our kisses were sloppy and passionate. Neither one of us knowing what exactly we were doing. Each one wanting to go farther, but scared of what might happen. The restraint of our guilt was strong. I wanted to bare myself for him. This man who had only been a friend a day before. And it wasn’t really him that I wanted to bare myself for. It was just to be made an object of desire. I have eyes roam over my body to be seen in a way that up until then I’d never really been seen before. To have someone unashamedly look at me instead of slyly stealing glances at me like I was a shameful object.
Nothing more happened that night. Brian went off to his room and we kissed each other goodnight. As I slipped between my sheets in the darkness, I touched myself. I was so very wet. I plunged two fingers deep into my warm and wet vagina. I pressed against my g spot and thrust them in, over and over again. I was making wet noises with my hand, normally something I’d be embarrassed by. When I’d had enough of that, I found my hard clit and gently rubbed it. I consistently rubbed it in a smooth, clockwise motion until I had my orgasm. Not once, but three times that night. I had tiny streams of juices flowing down my bottom onto the sheets.
When I awoke, I was fully under the covers. No exposure today. I got up and looked for my phone. I had left it in Brian’s room. I took a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around myself like a toga. I cracked open the door to his room and peeked in. Brian wasn’t in his bed and I could hear the shower going in his room. I opened the door and hurried in. I found my phone quickly and raced back towards my room. The door to the bathroom was cracked and I could hear Brian singing in the shower. He was a great singer. My vagina was still puffy and tender from my previous night’s abuse and it surged at the thought of Brian in the shower.
I sneaked over to the door and tried to see if I could peer in. The room was steamy and the mirror was completely clouded. Apparently, Brian enjoyed his long showers. No sooner had I looked in than Brian turned off the water and flung the shower curtain back. The hair on his chest and body was streaked downward with the wetness of the shower. He rubbed the water from his eyes and for that moment I could see him naked. It was my turn to peer.
Looking back, Brian had a normal sized penis but back then each one I saw was a novelty. He dried himself vigorously and his I was lost in a trance at the sight of him drying off. It was only then that I realized he was looking at me. I panicked and ran away.
“Meredith,” I head him call. “Come back.” So I did. I clutched my sheet toga and walked slowly back. He was standing there, fully exposed to me. “If I’d known you were looking . . .”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I would let you.” I dropped my toga and we stood there. Naked as the day we were born. Looking at each other. He soon hardened to an impressive size and I slowly walked closer. We kissed again. His hard penis pressing against me just above my bush. We were touching. And touching is different than looking. We didn’t seem to care though. I wanted him in me, though at that time I was still a virgin. I grabbed his hardness with my hand and pressed him downward toward my slit. It was wet and I was willing. I realized that that’s not how it went in, but I just wanted it near me. I pressed it down and straddled it like a bike seat. It felt so good and so hard. It wasn’t long before I felt hot spurts shooting down the inside of my thighs. Brian grunted in pleasure.
It was wonderful. For me. Brian was eaten up by guilt and our budding relationship failed before it could really flower. That’s when I began to change inside. When I began to question what I’d be taught. I discovered that guilt isn’t a feeling you feel when you’ve done something wrong, it’s when you’ve done something you’ve been taught is wrong.
Sleep naked my friends.
Excellent story! Very erotic and more importantly a very true point. I personally believe that guilt is one of the most useless feelings we experience. And seldom does anything good come of it.