"[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.
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