The Pleasure of Being Bare, Part 5
"Unveiling on hiking trails." (Barefoot Exploration blog)
We had only walked a short distance and were approaching a large dune to reach the seashore when Olivia signaled for us to stop. None of us spoke, but my lover gave me a wink and a nod, which acted as our communication. With a shrug and a flirtatious pout, I removed my shorts and top and handed them to my man, who placed them in my backpack. I began to feel annoyed with Rob for telling me to undress while he remained clothed, but I had to admit that walking on the sand in just my sunny yellow bikini felt nice. The temperature was rising, the sun was getting hotter by the minute, and any breeze that had been present at the start of the day had vanished.
We resumed walking, and it didn't take long before the next stage began. We had re-entered the dune field and were navigating a slim, winding path through sedge and spinifex grasses. Olivia came to a halt once more. She took a sip from her water bottle, and then discarded her shirt. I was amazed by the ease with which she removed her top while keeping her backpack on and without assistance from James. Next, she took off her thong.
I mimicked her actions without any prompting from my man. I had to unhook my own pack to remove my top. I then hesitated, hesitant to go further, but Olivia's action motivated me to follow suit. There was no fanfare; we simply got naked. It seemed so natural, except that James and Rob were still wearing their clothes. When we continued walking, I felt uplifted by the feeling of being naked.
My pack was not heavy. It contained my discarded clothes along with a water bottle, a phone, a tube of sunscreen, and other essentials. We had distributed our lunch items amongst us. The pack's shoulder straps were well-padded, as with all quality gear, so this wasn't an issue for my uncovered shoulders. Carrying my pack with my naked body, however, presented some challenges. Itching and abrasion from the "airmesh" lining on the back could have been problematic, but fortunately, the pack also included a cushioned foam frame. On the other hand, the hip belt caused some discomfort as it dug into my flesh, but I resolved this by slipping my gloves between the belt and my skin. (I carry these in my pack for when I'm using trekking poles.) As for the chest strap, I had always worn it under my breasts, for no specific reason, but never directly against bare skin. However, my breasts were now uncovered. I decided it was unnecessary for this leisurely hike, so I untied the buckle; and my breasts felt free to move!
Hiking is generally low-impact, but unsupported breasts don't stay put over rocky terrain. However, the sensation of my breasts bouncing and jiggling to the rhythm of my strides was stimulating. Even though my backpack's shoulder straps slightly impeded their motion, they also compressed my breasts, which resulted in a pleasantly natural-looking enhancement. Olivia's chest was already perfect, but we all enjoyed the display of her wiggling, bare bottom. Despite my best efforts to mimic her movements, I appeared rather tipsy, but I never ceased to admire her enjoyment of nudity. Her nipples were erect the entire time we hiked. This was a reminder that the nudist experience doesn't have to grow stale.
For the next six hours, I hiked wearing only a cap and hiking boots. (No mention of my pack.)
The hike itself was uncomplicated. We skirted the dry sand where we could, avoiding large rock formations that were difficult to climb. At various times, to avoid treacherous, steep, and slippery rocks, we ventured inland onto a path that crossed grassy dunes covered in tall, fragile plants. This area was a stunning array of colorful vegetation, including scarlet epacris, pink boronia, and white-blossomed myrtle; green and gold acacia and banksia; and blue-green eucalyptus. It's a delicate ecosystem, but the plants are hardy, with prickly leaves. In the dense areas, stray branches and fronds occasionally brushed against my naked skin, creating minor scratches - more annoying than painful.
Feeling vulnerable and exposed to the surroundings was an exhilarating and addictive experience for me. I halted to apply extra layers of insect repellent and sunscreen on my most sensitive areas. Despite the perspiration, it didn't bother me much. The absence of fabric allowed my skin to dry and cool faster. It felt peculiar when sweat trickled down my abdomen and into the creases between my thighs, forming minute silver beads on my pubic hair.
I confess that I'm somewhat vain. I generally maintain my pubes, especially where the hair is darker compared to my head, but I've never been a fan of complete baldness. Olivia's hair was thicker, but it didn't show much because of her fair complexion. Nevertheless, with the good vibes I was feeling, I hoped we wouldn't encounter any other hikers or beachgoers. The roughly 10-mile stretch of coastline was remote for the first few hours, ensuring our privacy. However, we eventually came across people on the trail, and I was grateful that I had tidied up the vegetation.
We savored a picnic lunch in the dunes. Our meal consisted of pita bread, cheese, black bean and hummus dips, fruit, mixed nuts, and a bottle of wine. The boys sat on a log, but its rough texture prevented Olivia and me from joining them. To make it more comfortable for us, Olivia suggested we sit on the sandy ground instead. My friends accommodated us, and we all enjoyed the warm, gritty sensation on our bare bottoms and thighs. This felt incredibly sensuous and arousing.
Apart from the intellectual pleasure of being naked, exposure to sunlight and a gentle, cool breeze on previously uncovered body parts creates a thrilling, unrestrained sensual delight. I couldn't help but feel bad for the men. Although they could have stripped down as well, their commitment to partial nudity kept them covered.
This inspired me to imagine a scenario.
As a teenager, I used to be mesmerized by nineteenth-century French impressionist art. One particular painting fascinated me - EĢdouard Manet's Luncheon on the Grass. It portrays two dapper gentlemen having a meal in an idyllic clearing with a nude woman. Despite the one-sided nudity, she displayed equality with her male counterparts due to her boldness. The woman's gaze confronted the viewer, either challenging their presence or welcoming it.
That painting was hung in my bedroom, and I'd often fantasized about featuring as the nude model in it. And there I was, living out that dream. However, I felt slightly uncomfortable since we could be disturbed at any moment.
For the time being, though, we were the only ones on the beach and its surrounding area. It was only in the early afternoon that we encountered other people. We were about to embark on our inland journey when we crossed paths with half a dozen young men and women. We stopped to chat, and all of them were surprised at our nudity and how casually we dealt with it, in addition to the fact that our husbands were fully clothed. The women seemed slightly self-conscious... yet excited.
To be truthful, I had to suppress my hands from straying towards my crotch. Olivia, on the other hand, was quite at ease with her nudity. She wasn't shy or hesitant. In contrast, she wore her nakedness confidently and flaunted it as an exquisite form of fashion. She stuck out her chest and buttocks, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she looked like an adult model for nakedness. She commandingly presented her body in all its glory.
I experienced a blend of emotions. But I was relieved that Rob and James weren't joining in our nudity. Otherwise, we would just be a bunch of nudists strolling along the beach. The CMNF (Clothed Males, Naked Females) was intended to symbolize my femininity and express my pride. I felt goosebumps rising over my skin and a sense of arousal originating in my core. My nipples hardened and stood erect. The slight embarrassment at my reaction made me even more aroused. It was a self-reinforcing cycle of stimulation.
When we bid farewell, the young men exchanged furtive glances, and I wondered how long it would take for their girlfriends to catch on. Later, as we neared the end of our hike, we met an elderly couple. Upon exchanging pleasantries, it struck me that surprisingly, Olivia's nakedness didn't shock them.
After successfully completing a full day's hike while being naked, Olivia and I were back home. The sun was starting to set low in the sky. We decided to continue with our naked state throughout the night.
The very next day, we embarked on an even more adventurous journey. About an hour's drive from Olivia's house is a small, rural community known for its "alternative" culture. This town was once upon a time considered a haven for drop-outs, drugs, and dreadlocks. However, over the years the reputation of this place has changed due to its diverse crowd consisting of hippies, grungies, goths, punks, freaks, ferals, stoners, utopians, escapists, anarchists, trendsetters, new-agers, sea-changers, tree-huggers, and backpackers. This town organizes a weekly event called Microcosm, which is a combination of a country fair, carnival, and arts-music festival. It takes pride in its non-conformist approach and boasts a rather pretentious name and a somewhat mocking motto reading, "Escape reality, leave attitude behind." Regardless, this event is a fun-filled gathering showcasing the strange and unconventional ideas, philosophies, and lifestyles of the people who live there. One can find art and craft exhibitions and workshops, performance and visual arts shows, food and drink stands, fruit and vegetable markets.
A special feature of this event is held once a month when it is strictly for adults. This is where the focus is on pleasure and erotica. It's not a full-on anything-goes affair but rather caters to the permissive and transgressive themes. We happened to visit the town on exactly the right weekend, and I believe it wasn't a coincidence.
We set out at eight in the morning, with Olivia driving as usual. There was no need for any inhibitions or reservations. This time, both of us were completely naked except for sandals and Olivia's pink choker. The sensation of the car's upholstery against your skin is hard to describe. It's not just the physical feeling that's so enticing. There's a sense of danger, a worry that your journey may be interrupted, and you might be caught in the nude by the roadside. This is something men don't have to experience since they're always covered in clothes.
Upon reaching the event site, I was struck by the sheer number of naked people, more often female, but some males too. Most women were either topless or completely naked, while very few men were shirtless. There were barely any visible male genitals. This female dominance didn't seem to upset anyone because it's an event where people can be just as they are.
There were also some unspoken guidelines for this gathering. Behaviors were kept consensual, and no one indulged in any overt lewdness. No one intruded upon personal spaces, nor were photos taken without permission.
Various other forms of entertainment were on display, like a young woman fire dancer juggling torches while topless. She didn't lose her rhythm even once.
We spent most of our time in the flea market stalls, browsing rather than buying. James and Rob dutifully followed their female companions as they shopped. Rob never understood the appeal of window-shopping. I would tell him it's like browsing through brochures, catalogs, or websites, but with the added benefit of physical activity. It's sightseeing, relaxation, escapism, and dreaming. It's gathering information and inspiration without the burden of actual buying.
Olivia and I were browsing the stalls naked, wearing only our sandals and accessories. (Olivia was also wearing a pink choker) I noticed that people looked at us, mostly through stealthy glances. Olivia seemed to draw more attention, nodding or conversing with some people. I had no objection to her being the center of attention.
We didn't buy anything, but we got to appreciate the artistic and cultural diversity of the town while mingling with the locals. It was a day well-spent. [Paraphrased]
Almost forgetting my nakedness, I was shocked to find an entire section of the marketplace dedicated to fetish-related displays and merchandise. James seemed to know exactly where he was going when he entered one of the alleys and stopped in front of a booth showcasing various bondage accessories. He picked out a thin, black leather collar with a buckle at the back and a ring on the front connected to a braided leather strap. While Olivia paid the vendor, James handed the collar over to Rob. Without saying a word, I turned my back on my husband. James gently pushed my hair aside as he placed the collar around my neck, fastening it tightly. He then softly stroked my shoulders before spinning me around to face him once more. The leash dangled to my knees, and Rob took hold of the end, which had been shaped into a hand loop. Playfully tugging on the leash, I glared at him silently.
In contrast, James found a similar strap for Olivia, which she purchased as well. However, instead of attaching it to her collar, he attached it to the small gold rings piercing her labia. Watching him with ease, it was clear that this wasn't the first time he had done this.
Our husbands then led us around the grounds on our leashes, receiving some stares, especially from Olivia. Though I had experienced bondage before, even before meeting Rob, being naked with one's partner clothed, and having them in control through a leash, was rather humiliating. However, the feeling of arousal that caused my nipples to raise and the challenge of trying to discretely conceal my embarrassment only added to the excitement.
Feeling a bit of discomfort as our leashes pulled us from one stand to the next, I found myself caught between arousal and shame in this liberated, sexualized environment. I preferred the anonymity of being fully clothed, but I was becoming more turned on as the day progressed.
Besides, I couldn't help but notice that Rob was quite playful with my collar, teasing me with a gentle tug or two. Despite my attempts to pull away, he simply continued that playful banter. In return, I couldn't help but feel that surge of excitement as I fought back my gag reflex.
I also couldn't help but compare my emotions with Olivia's. Though we were similarly proud, strong, and assertive, her submission felt more forced, yet she seemed to enjoy it as well. The question of how genuine her submission was weighed heavily on my mind.
While I found the one-sided nudity empowering, I couldn't shake the feeling that others would assume I saw myself as a pet or property. Olivia, on the other hand, found a different sort of pride in her submissiveness - it required strength to submit when submission wasn't part of her nature.
My thoughts raced as we continued discovering the marketplace, constantly shifting between pride and shame.
As lunchtime approached, we decided to get food. Ordering salad baguettes, Rob insisted on paying. We sat at a picnic table, grateful for its availability. I also worried about sitting on rough wood, fearing splinters. As we ate, the combination of excitement and curiosity only intensified.
Mid-afternoon, James guided us back to where we had first been, the bondage area. He talked to Rob and the lady attendant quietly, and I could tell it wasn't good news. I didn't protest when Rob was given two little silver gadgets, and then he crouched in front of me near the counter to place them on my lady parts. I couldn't see his head, but I sensed his fingers spreading my folds apart and playing with my vagina. An unpleasant sensation came over me as Rob clamped these things onto my labia. He then asked me to unhook the strap from my collar and give him the clip. My undercarriage felt even more tense.
When Rob stood up, I saw what I suspected was going on - on each side of my genitals was a miniature spring clamp, connected by a ring, and attached to the ring was my leash. Rob tugged gently, and we realized that yanking too hard wouldn't hurt me; rather, the clamps would detach. It was a funny sensual feeling, with the leather moving slightly back and forth. I felt a sort of stirring when I walked, and soon I experienced a wave of excitement.
James and Rob wandered off to the beer tent at the other corner of the market. Olivia and I received more stares as we had gotten shorter leashes. Thankfully, the no-picture rule was being honored for now. Old Olivia seemed irritated. Rob connected my leash to the post next to the fence. We had enough slack to move around a bit.
James grabbed drinks for himself and Rob - beers for the guys, wine for the ladies in tiny cups. They talked about something and didn't notice the two handsome young cowboy types who approached Olivia and me. They wore fancy Stetsons and big belt buckles, never to be worn in real life. Pretending the men with us didn't exist, these cowboys tried talking to us. Finally, Rob noticed, and we watched them walk away with an exciting story about hitting on nude girls tied to a fence.
I grew sick of my accessory. The clips kept slipping off, thanks to sweat and various fluids. The ring stimulated my bladder, so I had to go to the toilet twice, reattaching my leash and the clamps by myself each time until one fell off. If you follow me, we had to search for it in the grass.
Meanwhile, James was upgrading Olivia's appearance. He put a black satin bandana on her head so she couldn't see, making her rely only on her pussy leash and occasional verbal warnings to get through the crowd. She didn't have much difficulty, so her experience with this must've been before.
Rob never attempted to cover my eyes, but I considered the idea.
We left the event at about three in the afternoon. James asked Rob to keep my collar, leash, and labia clamps (which Olivia had bought). We have since employed them, but I'm saving that for another time. Olivia drove us all back to the city, and we secluded ourselves in the front seat. While wearing clothes, we pulled our underwear down to just above our knees to relish a kind of pretend nakedness. We were all tangled up in the back seat.
That extraordinary weekend will never happen again. Shortly after, Olivia got a job at a different university, and she and James moved to a different state. This was quite a letdown for me. I would've loved to investigate their lifestyle more, relish in more shared experiences. I believe we'll cross paths again; until then, I'll fondly recall being exposed in the dunes and exposed at the market. (Yes, that was a shameless attempt at witty wordplay. I'll accept any criticisms - figuratively speaking.)
Read also:
- Is It Worth the Risk?
- Courtney Cuckolds: Gentle Seductions
- Brenna at The Academy Chapter 2
- Chapter 4: Text Analysis and Processing
Source: www.nice-escort.de
