The Pleasure of Being Bare, Part 1
I've decided to rewrite a story that I've previously shared. These experiences are based on real-life events, but some have been combined and certain details embellished for storytelling purposes. However, they are not purely fictional - there's something appealing about realism.
Firstly, let's clarify what this "CMNF" phrase means. It's "clothed male naked female," and while it's not a very catchy title, the concept is interesting. Other names for it are "one-sided nudity" or "asymmetrical nudity." I prefer the latter, as the focus is primarily on the naked female. However, this is not the main topic of discussion.
Before we begin, let me clarify that Rob has seen me naked before, but I don't consider those experiences as true "CMNF." If he unexpectedly sees me naked while we're getting ready for bed or in the shower, it doesn't count. If I strip for him or if we strip each other during passionate encounters, those situations don't fit the description. While they're both emotionally fulfilling, they're not exactly what this is about.
Now, onto the story. I've never been overly fond of birthdays - for myself or others. It's challenging to determine if it's a celebration for surviving another year or a way to add some enchantment for the upcoming one. Regardless, on my birthday a few months into our relationship, I could tell Rob wanted to do something special. We didn't enjoy parties, fancy restaurants were out of our budget, and weekend getaways weren't practical. So I suggested we order a gourmet meal, delivered to our doorstep.
(We opted for this route because neither of us could cook, and I'm infamous for creating inedible meals. There's even a story about a dinner guest who believed my kitchen-transformed creations were toxic waste.)
Rob and I have varying opinions on this evening. He, being a sweet guy, believes I was trying to atone for my previous transgressions. Let me clarify.
We first met in a university physics department, where we were both working on research projects. Despite being the same age, I progressed more rapidly in my studies, earning ranks and sometimes supervising him. This arrangement can be challenging for a partner to accept, as it meant Rob had to take orders from me.
Rob is a well-adjusted man, but there's an inherent masculine vanity that leads him to think a woman finds fulfillment in pleasing her man. And since I'm outspoken and easily agitated, I've earned a reputation for my assertiveness. I have a petite frame, decent curves, nice legs, and an appealing pixie-like face. My hair is a limp straw-blond, often cut into a carefree shaggy style. My choice in clothing has contributed to my awkward and juvenile appearance, to the dismay of my sophisticated mother. And my high-pitched voice ascends to a squeaky pitch when exited or agitated. But despite my flaws, some bars still request identification, thinking I'm underage.
The dynamic of our relationship is fascinating. Since Rob has always been a nurturing soul, he wants to protect me, possibly due to my combative nature and how that might alienate others. Although I'm attractive in my own way, I like to think of myself as spicy, feisty - a unique catch. He was initially attracted to my feisty side, instead of being intimidated by it.
And now, the night in question. Rob always considered our relationship pre-emptive reparations for past errors. However, my take on the situation is quite different.
Rob and I met at the university where we were both working on research. Our ages were similar, but due to my work ethics and dedication, I progressed more rapidly. I was his superior in terms of status but never quite his boss. Occasionally, I'd need to give him instructions, and he didn't have any serious self-esteem issues with it. When we started dating, I was already known for my assertiveness and was quite vocal.
On our second date, I got upset with Rob for paying for dinner without discussing it beforehand. Similarly, on the third, I had an argument with the restaurant manager. Despite these instances, Rob was enthralled by his little shrew.
Since I'm quite spirited and occasionally fiery, he has always been protective. It's comforting that he looks out for me, but it's tricky as sometimes it makes me feel like I need to be tamed. I enjoy my figure - it's petite, with decent curves and nice legs. My face is endearingly pixie-like, and my hair is a shock of disheveled straw-blond. My aimless sartorial choices add to the perception of my immaturity, much to my mother's disapproval. But the one thing that always stands out is my voice, which pitches high and squeaks when I'm excited.
I had just started to calm Rob's protective attitude towards me when I fell ill with a serious case of bronchitis. The blame for this lies squarely on my shoulders, as I am part of that quirky group in society known as the overachievers. This illness was a result of my relentless work habit. Rob took on the role of caretaker, but his treatment of me was much worse than that of a sick little sister, which annoyed me. In order to reclaim my status as a fully functioning girlfriend, I decided to take action.
While I may not necessarily see myself as overtly sexualized, I've always made an effort to please my boyfriend in and outside the bedroom. I am not one to dress up lavishly, preferring jeans and sneakers to fancy dresses and heels. However, I do have room in my wardrobe for both styles. My makeup is simple, and my hair is usually unkempt. Nonetheless, I enjoy the occasional girly moment. I maintain my body through regular exercise and a healthy diet. I've been told that I look good in a bikini (and I hope that means what I think it does). When people admire my body, I appreciate the attention. I'm happy to be perceived as desirable, but I will not allow myself to be objectified. I am fully conscious of my independence and make my own choices without interference.
One evening, I left work early and hurried home, feeling dejected after an exhausting day of lectures on scalar, vector, and tensor fields to restless physics students. I planned a special night for Rob, unbeknownst to him.
He was taken aback when I greeted him at the door wearing a sheer, black negligee, lacy and frilly. I wore it as a way to convey my ongoing determination to win my independence. I instructed Rob to change into his only suit while I set the mood by pouring wine and selecting appropriate background music. At first, he seemed uncomfortable in his new attire, but I quickly put him at ease with some sensual twirling performances in the living room. My black negligee's chiffon material provided a gentle, sensual experience when it brushed against my legs.
When the food arrived, I felt frisky enough to answer the door wearing my lingerie. However, Rob hurried me out of sight. He may have been slightly miffed by the cost of these preparations but hid his feelings well.
Located in our backyard was a small patio, partially hidden by a tall fence and lush greenery. This arrangement provided us with privacy. Here, I had prepared a table adorned with an ornate lamp, a tasteful flower arrangement, and luxurious silverware, fine china, and crystal glasses. I'd even gone as far as to create a menu.
We were fortunate that the rain had stopped, allowing us to dine under cover; yet, the air was cool and humid. I requested that Rob remain seated while I served as the hostess. I presented the meal, still wearing my negligee. Rob's expression hinted at the question, "Whose birthday is this?" But when I sat and displayed my bare shoulders, he relaxed and enjoyed the seared scallops, spicy dumplings, and spicy view. And this display was only the start.
Once I placed the main course, I impulsively removed my panties and pulled my negligee down my legs, sitting on the chair with my bare backside exposed. The chair was unexpectedly cold, and the heat from my body dissipated faster than anticipated, causing me to shudder slightly and let out an "Ooh!" Rob smiled as he understood that this was a birthday treat designed by me exclusively for him.
I had a wonderful night, enhanced by the soothing air blowing over the rooftops, passing through the patio, playing with the candles' flames and stimulating my skin. My nipples reacted, turned on by the cool breeze and the gentle brushing feeling of the floating fabric. Severely aroused, I decided to pull my nightgown down to my waist. I started to shiver, not simply from the chill. It was a peculiar feeling, like if it was the first time Rob was seeing me naked. He might've felt the same way, since he moved his hand away from his beef bourguignon to fondle my breasts. He lingered, enjoying the warm touch until I moaned with pleasure.
He hesitated, saying:
"What were you doing?" I asked spitefully.
"My food is getting cold," he responded.
"I'm getting warm," I quipped.
"You already are," he said.
After finishing our steak, I bravely attempted to carry my dishes to the kitchen with my panties on one foot while covering my private parts with the other. After dislodging them and leaving them there, I entered the dining area again. The dessert menu was divided into sweet and sour dishes. The first course was made of candied ginger, mint chocolate mousse, and lime-infused tea. The second dish: me naked. I put away the last of my clothing while taking out the bowls. Standing with just goosebumps for protection, I shivered a bit and started to cough. Rob seemed worried. He was clearly feeling guilty for his comfortable state and not being exposed to others. He offered we move inside, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I preferred the embrace of the night's temperature to be as luscious as the dessert.
Surprisingly, I can't remember much about my nude meal. It was a mix of surreal sensations and arousing feelings. My state of mind was bizarre, combining a fantasy-like atmosphere and a potent intensity. My most intense memory is of the aromas - the gentle perfume of the candles, the scent of the blossoming flowers, the delightful essence of the wine, and the tantalizing smells from the food. This happens because, as science reveals, olfactory feelings provoke the most vibrant memories and sensations.
Rob tried to act natural. We conversed normally, discussing mundane matters while trying to be playful at times. I especially attempted to increase the heat by being more sensual and stimulating. Most of the time, though, I felt self-conscious, promiscuous, and even a bit self-conscious. For it was more than just nudity - it was the unbalanced display: him wearing a suit and tie, me completely bare and laid bare to his tender gaze and to the enchanting evening breeze. This evening, one of the most delightful experiences of my life, left my lips quivering, my nipples swollen, my skin aroused. I felt the familiar tickling sensation under my stomach and let out a wet moan mixed with a rhythmic grunt.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart" Rob said as he lifted me up and carried me to the bed. "We'll sort out things in the morning."
My night of ecstasy wasn't over, nor was my CMNF journey.
Rob and I made CMNF dinners a routine ritual. We never got tired of the one-sided nudity, but I wanted to elevate this experience even more. It was another dining feast on the patio. Once again, it rained, but it was a warm autumn evening, so my exposure to the elements was an invitation rather than a test.
I had carefully prepared the entire meal, including desert, on the table. It was all part of my plan. Just before we sat, I handed Rob my purple scarf. He stared at it in bewilderment until I turned away from him. He understood my message and tied the silk around my head, covering my eyes. He cinched the knot tightly and, when I tugged, he apologized. I massaged his right thigh and, even though he wanted to apologize further, he kissed my neck. His hands went up my torso and embraced my breasts, and I kept my arms at my side and tugged at his pants' material. Cotton twill had never felt so sexy. I slid my hips back until my naked backside fit comfortably in his lap. The close contact of skin and clothing aroused me so much that I began to breathe heavily and loudly.
Unfortunately, I lost control prematurely, and Rob pulled away.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He inquired.
"My food is cold," I retorted.
"I'm burning up," I shot back.
"You're already hot," he responded.
I remained silent and turned to him, moving until my nipples touched his shirt. I felt his breath on my hair through the blindfold. I didn't move any closer for a hug since I knew that if I gave in to my desires, the pea and mint soup and pasta alfredo covered in baked camembert would become cold. So I pulled back and used one hand to locate the edge of the table. Knowing how easily his loved one could be clumsy, Rob took hold of my arms to guide me to my chair. I wriggled my way into it. The moisture from the outside had seeped onto the chair seat. It was chilly and damp on my bottom and thighs. It felt good.
Rob didn't immediately sit down either. I heard a swishing sound and realized he was wiping the dampness from his seat.
"Chicken," I muttered to myself. But that was being unfair. Damp trousers are less comfortable than wet skin. Anyhow, the wind had died down, and the rainfall had turned into a light drizzle, so neither became an issue.
It wasn't the first time I had dined sans vue or, if you prefer, dans le noir ("sightless", or "in the dark", in either case, the French makes it more romantic and sensual). In actuality, I was the one blindfolded during each of these dining experiences. However, tonight's special treat was to be both sightless and naked. In fact, the only article of clothing I had on from top to toe during our meal was the scarf that covered my eyes.
I tried to feed myself but ended up making a mess of the appetizer, dripping the soup onto myself. As a result, Rob stepped in and fed me all three courses, helping me drink the wine as well after my hand nearly shattered the glass. (cough) And by the way, I'm clumsy.
Dining blindfolded is an exotic gastronomic experience and can be quite a sensual one as well. Without your visual cues, your taste and olfactory senses are heightened, increasing your awareness and appreciation of flavors, scents, and textures. Furthermore, when your food is served by your sighted partner, you don't know exactly what reaches your mouth until you taste it. Thus, the cuisine is gradually revealed by smells and on your tongue. Each bite is an exploration, each sip an adventure. Our dessert consisted of chocolate-covered strawberries, and I had no idea if each one would be creamy white or ruby-like, sweet or bitter-sweet, or spicy.
Therefore, rather than limiting your experience, not being able to see and relying on your partner increases it. And the additional factor of being naked as well increased my sensory arousal and my reliance on him, adding to the intimacy. Teasing, tantalizing, and tickling me, Rob passed the wine glass under my nose to smell the bouquet, licking a piece of food sensually against my lips. We created more mess together than if I had been left to my own devices; I couldn't see, but a lot must have gathered on my nipples.
We conversed throughout the meal, but this posed its own challenges. Visual cues and hints, as well as facial expressions and so-called body language, hit you harder than spoken words. The blindfold doesn't have to be an obstacle; it can bring you closer together. In the dark, you feel cut off from the world outside your reach, and the distance between the two of you vanishes.
However, it's the one-sided nudity that changes the way you engage. Think of a magnet - my nakedness is the negative pole, Rob's clothes are the positive pole; opposites attract and complement each other. While it's not a perfect analogy, it's the best one I can come up with for now.
I didn't expect to find such a heightened sense of awareness and appreciation for the sensations of eating while blindfolded, but I was pleasantly surprised. If you're planning on trying it yourself, make sure your partner gives you a helping hand. Literally and figuratively.
Read also:
- In Vietnam, $20 Can Purchase... Part 1
- Nudist Treasure Hunt: Chapter 5 by Furga
- Stories from Chastity Island
- Trekking through Springs part 3.
Source: www.nice-escort.de
