CFNM Village Discussion Forum

Cfnm aside for the moment, was the doctor’s diagnosis and “prescription” an easy fix? Hopefully?

it was more than 30 years ago but as far as i remember inflammation was the diagnosis. left testicle was swollen, very hard and painful. antibiotics for some2-3 weeks solved the issue.

I've had a lot of CFNM experiences but I would say the first one that lasted a decent amount of time, ie. more than a couple of minutes, was the first time I modelled for a hen party. It was quite tame, looking back!
As the hen party got into full swing, I arrived. I was nervous but excited as I stood outside the living room door, wearing only an apron. When I stepped in, the women burst into cheers and giggles. The bride-to-be blushed but had a big smile on her face. They took turns painting on my bare skin, drawing everything from butterflies to funny little messages. At first, I felt awkward, but soon I started to relax and enjoy the playful atmosphere. By the end of the night, I was covered in colourful artwork, and the bride and her friends seemed to have had a great time.

One experience I had was when I had just come home from work. A neighbor lady that had some friendly acquaintance with and had helped her with some yard called me, saying she had seen me arrive and needed help in getting a weed-whacker running. I told her that I was going to get a shower and she could bring it over as she liked. I’d just finished showering when I heard the door bell. I wear a Velcro towel wrap when I’m not able to run around nude. I answered the door and said I’d just finished and wasn’t dressed yet, only wearing a towel wrap. She smiled and said no problem while she eased the door open. As she entered she said, “No problem!”

She came in carrying her weed whacker. I said, “Well, let’s take it out to the shop I have in the garage. She stood right next to me as I layed it on the bench, just happily talking about nothing much. I did apologize for the minimal towel wrap and she again said it’s fine, again with a smile.

Now, the problem with my towel wrap is that I don’t wear it very tight and it hangs open a bit. The gap at the seem gaps open some and can let my cock peak out a bit. I was paying attention to the tool and didn’t think about the gap until I noticed she was smiling wider and glancing down from time to time, maybe looking a bit embarrassed.

I realized what she was seeing and told her that I should probably go get some clothes on. Without hesitation she said that she didn’t care what I did or didn’t wear, and she added “at all!” I laughed and told her that I ran around the house in the buff, and in secluded places in yard was often nude, as well. I added that I had no problem with wearing nothing around people. She looked at me and said, “Then take it off!” Again, with a big smile. So, I did. Boy, did she perk up and stare!

Her staring made my cock perk up, too. I continued to work and fixed her tool problem. We carried it back into the house and I offered her a cold drink. She said she’d love a beer. She seemed to really enjoy watching me walk around nude and was really yakking about stuff in general. As I came back and handed her the beer, she brushed close to my body “accidentally” touching my semi-erect cock - only making it harder.

It was like she may have been testing me with how far she could go with me. Without any discouragement from me, she petted me from time to time. As she finished her drink, she appreciated my help, thanked me for the beer, and said she had to run to complete an errand, saying she like how I was “not dressed.”

After this fairly casual episode, she found reasons to come over more often, spending time in the house and yard, always with me nude. She loved it! I loved it. Probably, more stories for a future entry.

"[i]After this fairly casual episode, she found reasons to come over more often, spending time in the house and yard, always with me nude. She loved it! I loved it. Probably, more stories for a future entry.[/i]"

Thanks for the story. I enjoyed it. One of the blessings of being an "oldnakedman," (as I am as well) is that you have a few stories behind you to tell to those who would appreciate it:). Again, your piece reminded me of a situation that was somewhat similar, though not with a neighbor or a tool involved to bring it out. This is another true CFNM incident. It happened two years ago. I have done some things to it to make it a bit of a story out of it, but it is real, including the aftermath.




It was the perfect ambush, one that a West Point general would have been proud of. It had been planned with meticulous detail, down to the last detail, that got lost in an unexpected twist. It also fulfilled a fantasy of mine and, at least one other person involved in the incident.

The scene also helped it. It happened on a beach underneath that lunar glow of a full moon. The beach was in a bowl of mountains by a state owned reservoir so there were no suburban developements of second homes around the shoreline. With the moonlight, the night was almost like day time, but still night. It felt like being inside middle earth, somewhere between past and present, lost in the millennia.

We were there at night. It was my birthday and I was turning that age when, in America at least, you are fully vested with social security. In other words, I was becoming an official old man and that was the theme of the party.

Amy, Joyce, and I were friends. We were all paddlers. We liked to go out together at night after work. This was no problem since I managed the beach and could let them out of the locked gate. We had met at the beach a couple years before.

We were an unlikely triumvirate. Amy and Joyce were best friends. Both were corporate women. Amy is in sales; Joyce was in finance. They were in their late forties and early fifties. Both were married; Amy had a couple kids. Joyce had none and her husband was away a lot on business. They had the big houses and fine cars, and the toys that to reflect their corporate status. They were active, took care of themselves. I was in my late sixties and was a working type guy. Yet, we transcended this and became paddling friends.

I met Joyce first. We met over an argument where I did not back down and that must have impressed her. Once we surmounted that, we started going out on the water together when her husband was away. We always had fun, talking about this and that. Nothing ever happened between us.

Joyce was the more adventurous of the two. She was older. She liked doing different things and she was a woman who was not afraid of doing them, remarkable in this violent age of regression where women often have to fear for their lives. She proved this to me once.

I had told her about a secret of mine on one of our paddling forays. This was about that full moon. I am seventy now and have seen many full moons in many places in those seven decades, but that scene is so breathtaking that I can see it a thousand times and still be as awed as I was the first time I saw it.

One full moon night I had gone out alone. I came back, put my kayak away, and decided to go in for a dunk. It was a warm night; the water was flat and tranquil, reflecting the beauty of the moon. I loved going ino the water in the au natural. It brought pleasant memories of a moonlit night a long time ago. These were CFNM memories, though the acronym was not around when me and Peter were being shot by our respective girlfriends, Mona and Peggy. We were couples that hung out together, where the girls took the pictures and we guys posed for them. On that night they were dressed; we were naked. It happened fifty years ago, and I still thought of it.

Then I saw something moving in the darkness. It was a human figure and I quickly desisted from my little adventure and its memories. Then a feminine voice called out: it was Joyce. She had parked her car at the gate, which was locked, and had walked in with her paddle board to go out and see for herself what I was talking about.

We often laughed about that night afterwards. When I got to know her better, I confided to her how close she had come to catching me in a compromised situation.

"Shit," she said, "five minutes later and I would have had you."

We never talked about it again. It was just something to laugh over once and then on we went to other things. While the CFNM in me secretly wished she had caught me, I kept that a secret. I did not want to dwell on it for fear of giving her the wrong idea about my intentions and probably frightening her off.

The night of my birthday to officially enter old age conveniently happened on the night of a brilliant full moon as if to usher me in. Amy, who had accompanied us on many trips when she could, Joyce and I went out together to see the moon rise over the mountains behind the beach.

It did not rise. We came in and had the cake and candles, sang the songs, and they both filmed and shot me as I was trying to blow out the candles. I noticed something here. Joyce was taking pictures like she meant it. She was clicking away with her smartphone, snapping off a few pictures for one scene. My years as the NM half of the CFNM equation had taught me to recognize this, when the photographers would have me hold a pose while they zipped off dozens of shots. I had not seen this in Joyce before. She, of course, did not know of that hidden side of me.

They sprung their ambush.

"We are going swimming," they said in unison, "and we're going to catch you."

It was my decision. I could accept or feign embarrassment and shyness and not do it. I was too old a CFNM hand to refuse a gift like this. It was also one of those fantasies that had never let go of me, being naked by myself for two women to use me according to their whims. They waded into the tranquil water, bathing suits on, and I saw their heads above the blackness of the water. What I didn't see was that they had their phones with them in waterproof cases.

Then the delinquent moon decided to mount its stage. It climbed up and over the mountains. It put me right in a lunar spotlight. I was on stage.

As a veteran cfnmer I knew how to strip for women. I was not good at it, I never did it as a profession, but I had done it for fun and knew how to do that. If I had been younger, I might have been embarassed by the situation, nervous and scared by the awesome power of two women. But I was not and now it was my turn to ambush them.

I gave them a show. I had to appear nonchalant about it as the moon lit up our stage. I took as long as I could, made sure to show them each angle, each side, front and back, and do it as thought it seemed unconscious.

Suddenly, a burst of light popped over me. It was Joyce with her smartphone in a waterproof case. I did not recoil from it. I let it spread over me. I loved cameras. I love being on the front side of them with a woman behind the lens, directing me for her photo pleasure. I had learned how to use them. Amy and Joyce, of course, did not know this. It was something, of course, that I could not have told them. None of my female or, for that matter, male, friends would ever suspect me of it. To them, I was always camera shy and that's what Joyce had originally suspected when she thought she'd play a trick on me. She later said she was surprised at how comfortable I seemed to be with it.

We went on for what seemed like hours after those various tensions involved in a situation of this kind, they went to work on me as I worked them. Two lenses going off at me together or at random was like joining that middle earth that the moon made of the landscape. I still cannot describe adequately, the feelings coursing through me like atomic energy.


We went from the water to the beach. We played there, me naked and them dressed, until, as that old saying goes, all good things must end. The ladies had to return to their "other lives." They reluctantly put their smart phones away, gave me big hugs and kisses, and then drove off into the night.

They thanked me and we have stayed friends ever since. A year later, Joyce and I repeated that night, though the full moon was not there. It was Joyce's idea. Amy couldn't make it. I was naked and she was dressed and it was her iphone aimed at me as we sang happy birthday and I had to blow out the candles.

We're all still friends, but when they look at me, we three know what they're seeing beneath that look. I love that:). I think they do too.

Thanks for your story as well. How many situations I’ve been involved in, I can’t remember. But, much like yours, they’re pleasant memories and exciting, too. I can identify with your story and am happy that my account brought about a nice recollection.

"Thanks for your story as well. How many situations I’ve been involved in, I can’t remember. But, much like yours, they’re pleasant memories and exciting, too. I can identify with your story and am happy that my account brought about a nice recollection."


Thanks much. At my age now, I can't remember all of the numerous CFNM situations I have been involved in either. Like yourself, I've been in quite a few over the years and you giggled the memory of those. That last story was quite recent and is true. I'm still friends with the ladies involved in it. A year later, one of the women and I did it again, though we didn't do the pictures part of it. I was bumming, but she did not want to for reason It's always fun when she wants to do it:).

It's fun to talk about these experiences to those who understand them:) You can't do that in real life:(:( LOL.

Hope you got some more stories..lol...

Although this is not a first CFNM, it is a first for me so I thought it would be appropriate here. This one happened a couple months ago. It came completely out of the blue, as if the fates had arranged it and were merely waiting all this time to spring it on me. It merged past and present into one and I'm still trying to recover from it:)

My experience with this mode of life that the digital age coined a name, CFNM, has largely consisted of being on camera as a model. I am not sure why this happened as I was always known as camera shy, but I got "discovered" in college. This was back during the age of Gloria Steinem and the women's revolution that also brought Playgirl magazine, the first magazine, or at least commercial one (to my knowledge) where naked guys composed the centerfolds instead of women. The girls treated this as a liberation. It was not uncommon, for example, to go into a lady's apartment or dorm room to see it wallpapered with Playgirl centerfolds -- hunky guys smiling into the camera and completely naked.

The first woman who found me was a photographer named Ellen. We were in college. I was a couple years younger than her. She said that she liked me eyes. It was probably a good excuse anyway. She put me in front of her camera and started asking me to assume various positions for it. It was not long that we both discovered that I liked being in front of the camera, that I had an affinity for it like we had been waiting for each other. A camera was a camera in those days, not like now where they are all smartphones and I was captivated by that lens staring at me, focusing in on it, with the female eyes behind it. Ellen and I explored this discovery until she graduated that year. Ellen passed me off to Jane, another female photographer. Jane in turn gave me to Lori when she graduated a year or so ahead of me. Lori and I played with this as lovers, living together where I was all but a constant subject for her Nikon.

It persisted into life after college. There was Brenda, Jean, Julie, and Sue. Jean and Sue put me before a camcorder as well. They, too, said I was "a natural" at this, that it almost seemed a part of me like the things I was born with.

When I reached my sixties and then into becoming a senior citizen there was Amy, Joyce, and, finally Lauri. I was in my late sixties when I moved into an apartment building that is largely for senior citizens where I live now. Laurie lived down the hall, was a couple years older than me, was a widow, and, by the sheer luck of my CFNM life, was also a photographer. It took us a long time to find out that we were an almost perfect match for our respective sides of the smartphone's camera -- she as director and me as the subject. It was not something that I could just admit to her for obvious reasons, but we slowly learned it over time. For one, Lauri had never known a male who would let her direct him as she positioned him for various snaps. We had to work our way into it.

We slowly worked our way into CFNM. It was not the CFNM we both would have known in our youths, as our hair was either gray or going that way, but we were having fun. Who would have thought that our senior years would see this? We seemed to enjoy our respective roles even more because we were senior citizens.

One night Laurie was in an especially creative mood. She took me out around our city. She posed me here and there as the pedestrians and traffic went by and watched us. I enjoyed her molding and shaping me into various positions. She posed me on a bridge railing and I saw a shadow watching us from an upstairs window. Laurie was shouting directions at me over the traffic noise. We adjourned to her apartment where I knew it would be photography as I had known it back in my young CFNM days. I sometimes thought of those centerfolds in the apartments and dorms as she honed in on me as I modeled on the bed or the couch, raising my legs, positioning my arms, arching my back, giving the lens some solid eye contact, as the flashes popped out at me.

Ellen and I had found each other on facebook several years before I met Laurie. She had told me that she still had some of the pictures from our sessions together. She laughed in the Internet way when I told her about my CFNM trajectory after college and up into my senior years. Ellen lived in the Midwest. A week before that last session, Ellen notified me that she would be in the area where I lived, in northern New England, for some convention. Could we hook up?

"Of course," I said.

The day after that last shoot with Laurie, Ellen and I found a private spot where we could practice what we did as youths. Ellen had not lost her touch; she commented many times that I had only improved mine. It was CFNM soon enough, even though it was a far cry from our old days. It was surreal. Was in the real world or the fantasy one? Yesterday I was before Laurie; today I was in front of Ellen as the flashes covered me like in the old days. I had never done this before.

Ellen and Laurie met the next day. I thought I was off on the other side of the rainbow. The first and, quite probably, the last woman of my CFNM life meeting each other with me in the middle. It was another first and no doubt will be the only one. I had posed for two or more women on the Internet, but never in real life. It was real now. I cannot describe how intense the electricity was flowing through me then as each woman worked me for the other, the smartphones never ceasing their activity. To say it was incredible is to understate it, but I can't find any better words. Both women said that I was "a natural," at this and that fueled it even more. Sometimes we did not talk, except as command and acceptance or clarification. I lost track of time. It was dark before the session ran out of gas.

That was two months ago. How I didn't have a heart attack through it I don't know, but I survived it and the clothed females said that I was "admirable." My feet still seem unable to find the ground. Laurie and I go our for our adventures in photo shoots (two senior citizens acting like we were young but why not) whenever we can, and then adjourn into her apartment for the inevitable CFNM, which we both enjoy and laugh about considering our ages. Ellen and Laurie are still in touch with each other and Laurie tries out their suggestions on me.

Who knows how long it will last, but I never would have thought it back when I was just starting out in CFNM.

I have to go back a good number of years for this but my first CFNM experience was of the medical variety.

One evening while showering I found a small lump near one of my testicles that was not there previously. I was in my very early 20s and not very wise regarding the ways of the world time and got pretty freaked out. With some very grim scenarios drifting through my mind, I made an appointment to see my doctor ASAP. Arriving for my appointment my doctor took the situation in hand so-to-speak and after a quick exam said it did not seem serious but wanted me to get an ultrasound done of the area before he made a final diagnosis. The ultrasound was scheduled for the next day.

The next morning, I arrived at the imaging office and after some paperwork was shown to the changing room. There I instructed to get undressed and put on one of those ridiculous hospital gowns that don’t do much of a job covering any up. I was then walked down the hall to the ultrasound exam room and told to lie down on the table and use the sheet on the table to cover up with. I guess I misinterpreted the nurse’s meaning, but I took off the gown and laid down on the table with the sheet covering my bottom half. I thought I knew how the exam would go, but when the door opened and the tech walked in all my assumptions went out the window.

I don’t recall what it was that I actually expected. I was somewhat stunned when I saw that the technician was a rather cute young woman in her mid-20s. She greeted me with a pleasant smile and introduced herself. I don’t recall her name but will refer to her as Rachel. She looked at me momentarily, then said that I could have kept the gown on but it really didn’t matter. Rachel then explained the process in detail. I told her I understood and had no questions. In reality, I was dreading being a total wonk and getting an erection halfway through the process.

Before she started, she asked if I was agreeable to having a couple of imaging trainees come in to observe the ultrasound process. I must have agreed since a moment later in walked not a couple but four trainees – all female and a bit younger than Rachel and all rather cute. That my heart was racing goes without saying. Rachel explained to the trainees what the procedure would entail then drew the sheet down to the foot of the exam table leaving me nude (I think I still had my socks on – what a look that must have been) and surrounded by curious young women in scrubs looking me over. This is when things took another unexpected turn and Rachel began to describe the male anatomy in detail to the trainees with me as the model.
.
I was fortunate to be in pretty good shape at the time, standing six feet and change tall and weighing a bit over 180 pounds. I even sported a hint of a six-pack. While not hung like a mule I have always felt more than adequate below the belt so at the bare minimum I felt what trainees were observing was not unpleasant. Rachel pointed out that I was circumcised, pointing out the light brown scar on the shaft of my cock and the exposed nature of my glans. I did have an inward smile to myself when Rachel nonchalantly described my cock as a bit on the larger size of average. She then lifted my cock to the side with her gloved hand and exposed my sack. One of the trainees asked if it was normal for one testicle to hang lower than the other. Rachel confirmed this. Rachel then told the trainees that I had found a lump near one of my testicles and asked me to locate the lump which I did. She then slipped her left hand under my scrotum, lifting it and felt the area with two fingers of her right hand to pinpoint the lump's position. While still gently supporting my sack with her hand she allowed each trainee to feel it. While they were taking turns, I uttered what must have been my only adlibbed utterance when I smiled a bit and said “Be gentle.”

I do remember that while they were feeling my “anomaly” two of the young trainees made direct eye contact with me while doing it. It felt very unclinical at the time but now looking back all these years later is a rather nice memory.

Rachel then proceeded to the exam itself. My scrotum was slathered in lubricating gel and the ultrasound wand pressed into and run across my sack seven ways from Sunday. Rachel described what was being seen on the ultrasound screen to the trainees. As she finished up the trainees left the room, and she handed me a towel to clean the gel off with. I then put that stupid hospital robe back on and went back to the changing room, got dressed, and left.

The lump turned out to be a benign nothing but the experience it generated has stayed with me all these years. I was not aware of it at the time. but very soon afterwards I began to realize just how much I enjoyed the experience of being totally nude (socks notwithstanding) in a room otherwise occupied with fully clothed women. The term CFNM did not exist at the time so I had no name to describe a situation that left me feeling both very vulnerable and remarkably confident at the same time.

I had come to stay with my aunt while visiting her city. Dinner had been delightful; we shared stories, laughter, and a bit too much wine. With a warm buzz, we both retired to our separate rooms for the night.

Nandita, my aunt, had been single for a long time. She enjoyed her independence but occasionally missed the intimacy of another's presence. I, on the other hand, was a 30-year-old man not entirely comfortable in my own skin. I had a peculiar love for nudity, feeling the most myself when unclothed, though it was a secret I usually kept to myself.

In the stillness of the night, I woke up feeling parched. Unthinking, as was my habit when alone, I got out of bed entirely nude and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. The cool air of the apartment brushed against my bare skin, causing a slight shiver as I moved quietly through the darkened hall.

Meanwhile, my aunt also found herself unable to sleep, the effects of the alcohol or perhaps the novelty of having a guest in her home keeping her awake. She decided to head to the kitchen for a glass of water herself, hoping it might help her settle back into sleep.

As I stood in the dim light of the kitchen, gulping down water, I heard soft footsteps approaching. Before I could react, aunt entered the room, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw me standing there, completely nude. She was in her nightgown, her hair slightly tousled from bed.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. I felt a rush of embarrassment, my face flushing as I stood exposed before her.
“Aarav… I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I… I’m sorry, Aunt,” I stammered, reaching for a nearby dish towel to cover myself. “I didn’t think anyone would be up.”

She smiled gently, her surprise giving way to a warm amusement. “It’s okay, really. You just startled me, that’s all.”

There was an awkward pause, both of us unsure how to proceed.

“You know, Aarav,” she began, her voice a little bolder, “you don’t have to cover up. It’s your comfort zone, right?”

I looked at her, surprised. “How did you…?”

“I could just tell,” she replied, her eyes softening. “It’s not often you see someone so at ease in their own skin, even if it’s a little unexpected.”

I hesitated for a moment, then let the dish towel drop, feeling an unexpected thrill of liberation. My aunt's eyes traveled over my body appreciatively, her own pulse quickening.

“It’s… nice,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I felt a warmth spreading through me, her words giving me a confidence I rarely felt. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “I guess I’ve always been a bit self-conscious.”

She took a step closer, her eyes meeting mine. “You shouldn’t be,” she said softly. “You’re… quite attractive, Aarav.”

The air between us thickened with a charged tension, our previous relationship boundaries blurring in the dim kitchen light. I found myself drawn to her, the mixture of vulnerability and acceptance creating an unexpected connection.

We began to talk, our conversation flowing naturally from casual topics to more intimate ones. She asked me about my love for nudity, and I shared how it made me feel free, unencumbered by the judgments of the world. She listened intently, her own barriers slowly coming down.

I couldn't help but notice her glances towards my groin as she talked. Initially, when she caught me off guard, my penis was shriveled in embarrassment. But as we conversed, I felt a rush of blood through it, and it began to harden, an undeniable response to the charged atmosphere between us.

Her reactions were subtle but unmistakable. At first, she glanced away shyly when she noticed my growing arousal, but as our conversation progressed, her gaze lingered longer, her eyes darkening with desire. It was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, knowing that she was noticing me in such an intimate way.

An hour passed like this, our connection deepening with each word, each shared glance. Eventually, we both felt a contented exhaustion settle over us, the late hour and emotional openness taking their toll.

“We should get some sleep,” she suggested softly, though neither of us wanted the moment to end.

I nodded. As I walked back to my room, still nude but now feeling a new sense of confidence, I couldn’t help but smile. Tonight had been unexpected, but it felt like the start of something new, something wonderful.

As I lay down to sleep, my mind swirled with the possibilities of what the morning might bring, knowing that our relationship had forever changed in the best possible way.

Not the greatest of them, but still exciting to me at least. Being at a nude beach in the north-east of spain, I had already done my research on the nude beaches and possible locations to finally show myself to the world.

It was this small secluded beach with what would be around 30 people I guess? I just set myself up and pulled my pants down getting that nice rush of adrenaline and aggresive need for a boner(Which I luckily contained), started walking around as to have as many women as possible see me, to which I initially did not get much reaction as there were already a few people naked.

To this, I decided purposely on asking these two hot spanish chicks where I could find a shower(Well-knowing there wasn´t any).I still remember how I was standing in front of them, while they were both seated and smiling at the view. Seeing there positive reaction and quite obvious staring through their black sunglasses I would have liked to stay with them for a bit more, but my nerves and excitement of the first time fucked up that possibility

If anyone is interested I got more experiences and will soon go to Barcelona again...

Nice
DTR

Hi,

I divide this post into two parts: My first (and only) real CFNM Experience, and how my interest in CFNM sparked (as a gay men).

My first CFNM Experience.
When I was 18, we still had compulatory military or civil service. Therefore I had to undergo a medical examination (called Musterung). I had to go in different rooms, and in one of them the acutal physical was conducted. In the room there were two females, one doctor and an assistant (I believe, she was just processing papers it seemed). For the most part, I could keep on my underware, but at one point I had to lay on a bench. She did some examinations, and then asked me to remove my underare. She then did the usual 'cough please' while pressing on different parts of my stomach balls. I really don't remember more, and it was quickly over. I was quite relieved when I could put my underware on again. I have to say, that as a gay male, it did nothing for me, I even haven't realised it being CFNM, and I wouldn't consider it as such even if it technically was.

Interest in CFNM:
When I got my first PC and internet (I feel old writing that), as a hormone driven young boy, I immediately started looking for porn, and at that time I didn't even realised that I was gay. I just knew that I was more interested in male anatomy than the female's one. At the time it wasn't that easy to find free and unrestricted porn. I remember that I stumbled upon a kind of promo site for cfnm.net. It showed the beginning of one of their stories, were a group of female co-workers sitting around a kitchen table, introducing themselfs and explaining that they are waiting for Billy, their male co-worker for a poker night. And they explained that they plan to make it more 'interesting' by suggesting to play a game of rigged strip-poker. Manipulated cards would make sure that only Billy would loose. He showed up and the story ended when he was shirtless. The story is still available at cfnm.net and is called "Jackie's Strip Poker Party" for those who know it or are interested. At that time I wasn't able to join the site, but I bookmarked the site and I've jerked off so many times just to that shirtless Billy... Guess what, as soon as I had a credit card I joined that site (the very first porn site I ever joined) because I wanted to watch the rest of the story so badly. And I wasn't dissapointed. I'm still a member of that site (also it has declined in quality so much and they are not providing new stories anymore), just for sentimentality. And I sometimes still jerk off to the good old Jackie's Strip Poker Party

That's it for now.

When I joined the US Navy back in the early 90s, I processed through MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) in Ohio. Like all enlistees and officer candidates, I underwent a head-to-toe medical. Part of it was in a group and part was in private.

My group had to do all sorts of bends & stretches and duck walk wearing only our skivvies in a big hall in a group (okay no big deal, right?). Afterward, we lined up in a really cold corridor outside a doctor’s office then waited, for what seemed like an eternity, until each of us were called in for our individual medical assessment. When my turn came, I entered & was immediately ordered to remove my boxers.

Now I’ll stop here for some exposition: If one is willing to give their life for the nation, they must be confident enough to give up body modesty and other civilian accoutrements. Here is where I remember my 1st introduction to following orders in the military.

So there I was, standing barefoot, bare-chested, and bare butt in front of not one—but TWO— medical professionals who would determine my fitness & worthiness for wearing the Navy uniform. The doctor was a woman! (old as dirt LOL) and had a female RN with her. Being a young man with a woman peering, prodding, and poking me in my b-day suit while another woman observed & made notations was really awkward. Not many civilians know what it’s like standing bare for 5 mins while two docs look you over, pepper you with questions, tell you to cough, show your butt, and basically check everything all the while wearing nothing but a nervous look. Being a young male, my hormones kinda got the best of me & despite the chilliness of the exam room, my little wiener decided to… well, you know… do the opposite of shrivel LMAO! Talk about em-bare-ass-ing

Totally embarrassed at the time but looking back, it’s funny. I know most enlisted guys & gals have had to deal with I too. I suppose this was before the DOD mandated same-sex chaperones. Most of the guys enlisting with me that day were Army and they told me they got the same treatment. One dude looked like he really enjoyed it though. We teased him about wanting to get back in line and go through a 2nd time LOL I

Prostate exam from a female doctor when I was around 18.

When I was very young, I once almost lost my shorts in a big wave at the beach. It didn't register as a sensual experience at the time, but I thought about it often. I was shaking and had a pit in my stomach (I now realize the thought of it might have given me some sort of low-level anxiety attack). I just kept thinking about it for many years, and here I am now.

My very first time was when I was 19 back in 1974-1975 I got picked up by a girl in a subway train in Boston, Massachusetts. I was on my way to an entrance ramp on Highway 93 to begin a hitchhiking odyssey up north to visit a lady friend. This girl knew what she was doing. I have not forgotten her. She caught me as I was getting off the subway and deftly maneuvered me back to her apartment in the back bay of Boston. How she saw it in my is something that still mystifies me, but she had scented that I might be more amendable to her designs than most guys. Once she got me into her apartment, she went to work undressing me and there I was, naked in front of her, and she would not let me try to render her into the same state of nature. It was odd, one-sided, but I also unexpectedly found it thrilling and I did not protest the situation. I was nervous, scared, but I was also wildly excited and it showed. She had me walk around the apartment for her, while she watched me with the air of a connoisseur, admiring her handiwork, commenting on it, and so on. I was the sex symbol so-to-speak. She was my first CFNM woman, long before there was such a term for it.

Some fifty years later, when two female friends of mine gave me a very surprising CFNM birthday party to celebrate that I had survived to reach the age of social security, I employed some of the lessons I had learned from Robin. While nervous, of course, I was a veteran by this time and they were new to it. How I enjoyed that situation, a reversal of the first time.