Caught Naked in Public - For Real

Hi everyone, this will be a much shorter story than usual, because this submission isn't fictional - every word here is true.

I was chatting to some other Literotica authors about story ideas, and we got on to discussing whether or not anyone had ever been involved in a story similar to the ones they write about. As an exclusively exhibitionist and voyeur writer I admitted that yes, I had indeed been somewhat of a quote unquote flasher when I was younger, and when I told my friends about my experience they encouraged me to share it here. And so, because I haven't uploaded in a while and I had an evening to kill, that's what I'm doing.

Back when I was in college I had a reduced timetable with lots of free lessons, something common for students in the UK. This meant that I was often home before my parents or siblings got back from work or school, so I had the odd hour here or there alone in the house. For some reason or other I would often spend that time completely naked, either lounging on the sofa watching TV, revising in the kitchen, or just walking around in the nude.

I definitely wouldn't describe myself as any kind of aspirational nudist or naturist, and I wouldn't say that I found being naked more comfortable, or relaxing, as so many of those people do. Instead I always found the sensation kind of exciting, in a naughty, taboo kind of way, and even when I was just sitting at the table, finishing off some homework, I was always mildly turned on by the fact I was naked. Lots of people on here seem to enjoy the same kind of thing, even if in real life no one seems to talk about it much.

In those days I would have described myself as a thrill seeker, not a full blown exhibitionist. The idea of people seeing my body appealed to me, and that was something I definitely fantasised about, but it wasn't something I ever actively worked towards. I didn't want to force anyone to see me, but I also became increasingly relaxed around my house - initially I would always shut the blinds in the living room when I was naked, but soon I started to leave them wide open, excited by the idea that someone might catch a glimpse of me as they walked past the window.

That was fun for a while, but soon I began to get bored. As any fellow risk seekers know, the issue is that you soon get comfortable and inevitably start searching for a bigger thrill, you get addicted to the danger. For me this manifested itself in naked morning work outs, where I would lift weights, stretch, and skip in my front room, right in front of the windows which looked out on to the street. If anyone ever came too close I would duck down and hide for a second, but if any cars or cyclists flew by then I was happy to risk them seeing me.

My second big escalation came when I ventured outside for the first time. This started innocently enough, when I would take out the recycling to the bins at the end of the garden wearing only a dressing gown. Over time I became more confident and let the dressing gown hang open at the front as I walked, and one cold winter morning I took the plunge by walking out of the back door completely naked.

Our back garden is overlooked by three different sets of neighbours (left side, right side, and one backing on to the end of the garden), but despite this my horny teenage brain decided that the risk was still worth it. I can still remember walking over the wet grass, hauling the bag of recycling into the bin, and then scampering back to the safety of my house, simultaneously scared and turned on to a level I hadn't known was possible. Despite the obvious dangers this soon became a regular habit of mine, and to this day I don't know if somehow none of my neighbours ever saw me, or if they did but just didn't know what to say.

Even being naked in my back garden eventually began to feel too conservative, and so I began to take more and more risks. I'd always really wanted to do one of those naked delivery dares, but could never bring myself to expose my body to a stranger like that - not because I'd have been too shy, but because they might have been offended. So instead I would just go to my front door, open it up, and stand in the doorway, looking up and down the street to see if anyone was coming.

My family live in London, on a back road which is relatively quiet, but still populated on both sides with rows of terraced housing. This meant that there would be periods where there were no cars or pedestrians to be seen, but soon enough someone would appear from somewhere. When they did I would just pull the front door closed, count to twenty, then peek my head out to see if they were gone - it was a fun game to play before I had to get dressed and go to college.

Over time I grew more confident, and would walk down the path which led to the pavement, then stand there with my hands behind my back. Again, looking back this was insane, because any of my neighbours on the opposite side of the road could have looked out of their front windows and seen me, but to my knowledge no one ever did.

The beginning of my downfall probably came when I mustered up the courage to go beyond my front garden, and out to the street. That was the first time I'd ever officially been naked in public, and the feeling was just as incredible as you can imagine. Again, I still wouldn't describe myself as a flasher, as I had to interest in being caught or seen. But at the same time just being naked wasn't the appeal, it was the fact that I was naked and someone might catch me - that was where all the adrenaline and excitement came from. It was a exciting way to challenge and push myself, carrying a very high risk, but also a very high reward.

In the final week before the Christmas holidays started I made it all the way across the street, crossing the road and touching the front gate of the house opposite. This felt like a huge moment, and a huge landmark, but it also felt quite bitter sweet. The issue was that I couldn't think of any way to escalate matters any further - I wanted some way of making my fun new game more extreme, but at the same time I wasn't insane enough to go wandering off down the street.

Things reached what should have been a natural conclusion when one morning I dashed across the road, as I had done a few times before, and then decided to walk up to the crossroads for the first time. We were the penultimate house on the end of our row, just down from the junction where our street met another. I'd never gone near this junction before, because it was so open and exposed, and because to reach it I'd have to stray further up the road than I felt was safe. But that day I was feeling brave enough to try it, so instead of going back across the street to my house I turned and headed along the pavement.

Standing at the edge of the crossroads, keeping my head on a swivel as I tried to keep tabs on four different directions in which people could be approaching, was predictably thrilling. I didn't stay there for long, I just enjoyed the sensation of the crisp December air on my skin, and the excitement of being so daring and bold. As horny and reckless as I obviously was, even I knew that I was really starting to push my luck, so before anything went wrong I decided to turn back and go home.

Only when I turned back did I realise that I had already pushed things too far, as there, eighty meters or so further back down the road, was a woman with a dog on the lead. She was far enough away so that I couldn't see her face, which made me confident she couldn't see mine, but given that I could tell she was wearing a jacket and a pair of jeans, I was sure that she could also tell that I was naked.

With my heart immediately beginning to pound I ran across the street, down the pavement, darted through my front door, and pulled it shut. I'd never been seen naked outside before, and it immediately left me feeling very stressed, and incredibly vulnerable. So I quickly went upstairs, pulled on some clothes, and then went to my parents room at the front of the house. The woman and her dog soon appeared on the other side of the street, and when she turned to cross the road I took a step back from the window, making sure that she couldn't see me.

"Hello?" the woman called, reaching our front gate and peering over the hedge into the front garden. "Are you ok? Do you need help?"

Even though this kindly stranger seemed concerned for me I really needed her to leave, immediately, and I felt sick with tension as I watched her walking up and down in front of my house, calling out to me.

"If you're locked out you can have my coat," she continued, turning to check behind the row of parked cars. "And I can let you call someone on my phone."

Eventually the woman gave up and wandered off, and I was free to breathe a sigh of relief. I thanked God that she'd assumed I'd been locked out naked, and hadn't instead been some weird streaker or flasher who needed to have the police called on them. I took it as a sign that I'd officially pushed my luck too far, taken too many risks, and from that day on I decided to that I would only let myself be naked in the safety of the house.

That did actually work, for a while, because when the Christmas holidays hit my parents and siblings were back at home during the day, and I was forced to put some clothes back on. Soon though I became restless, and I began to miss the rush of venturing outside without anything to wear. This led to my next big adventure, which started one night on an evening run.

I'd become increasingly vain over the last few weeks, and the more I admired my naked reflection in the mirrors around my house, the more I'd wanted to make sure I looked my best. I'd taken up jogging to get myself lean and toned, and I'd built up to being able to run a decent 10k. It was also a good way of getting some fresh air everyday, and getting out of the house.

I like running at night more because I stay so much cooler, and can go much faster. My standard route took me around the perimeter of the park at the far end of my road, which was meant to shut each afternoon at sunset. In reality the council never bothered to lock the gates, so you could go inside it at any time. One night I was on a later run than normal, maybe 9pm or so, and I really wasn't feeling up to it. Halfway through my first lap I decided to give up and head back home, and the quickest way to do that was by cutting through the park.

It was absolutely freezing that night, and so the park was almost deserted at that hour. There were a couple of dog walkers, one or two other committed joggers, but they were few and far between. It suddenly occurred to me that this might be my best chance to get naked in public again, before I had to go home to my family. In the middle of the park there a small flower garden, with a water fountain in the centre, and as I found myself walking past it I decided to head inside.

There were several benches which faced the fountain, and I sat on one to try and decide if I was about to make an awful mistake. The flower garden was normally walled off with thick, bushy hedges, but because it was winter they had no leaves on them, leaving them see through. I sat there for a while, thinking, and only saw one other person run past me in that time. That, combined with the fact that I was starting to freeze, led me to saying 'fuck it', and I started to unlace my trainers. I kept my socks on as I pulled off the rest of my clothes, until I was standing naked in the middle of the park. Even though the ground was icy I decided to lose the socks too, to get the full experience, and then I walked away from my clothes and started to wander around the garden.

I was completely exposed from every possible direction, and if anyone came by I would have no time to make it back to my clothes to cover up, but I didn't care. The thrill, the risk, the exposure, it was all too wonderful to explain, and I was grinning like a lunatic as I stood there squinting into the darkness. I think I'd have gone walking through the whole park if I could, but soon the cold became too much to bear. I went back to my clothes and got dressed again, then walked back to my house, passing by a few more dog walkers who had no idea what I'd just done.

That night had sparked my love of public nudity again, but sadly that love would be short lived. A couple of days later my siblings were out at their friends' houses, and my parents were going to a party. This left me home alone for the first time in a week and a half, and I was determined to make the most of it. My parents headed out at around 7pm, by which time it was already dark. I was naked as soon as the front door was shut, and after watching a film on the living room for half an hour or so, I was restless enough to head out into the night.

I'd never been out in the street in the dark before, and the extra cover gave me a great deal of confidence. I headed over the road, as was tradition, then went back up to the crossroads, where I'd been spotted by the woman two weeks before. It was another freezing but clear night, and there was no one out on the pavement. There were a few cars, but because I was feeling bold I didn't run back indoors whenever they appeared, and instead ducked down behind parked cars as they went by.

My game had reached its peak, and it was insanely fun and exciting to work my way up the street like this, diving for cover whenever a pair of headlights appeared. I felt indestructible, so I headed over the junction and up the road, further than I'd ever gone before. Every house had its front lights on, every living room was occupied, and then there was me, skulking around naked in the dark. I'd made it all the way up to the next junction, which was a good 60 meters or so from my front door by that point, when the worst thing possible happened - someone came around the corner and saw me.

I can still remember it happen like it was yesterday, because it still makes me die inside a little. I was walking up the right hand side of the road when a woman appeared from the left hand side of the crossroads, carrying two bags of shopping. The moment I saw her I ducked down behind a parked car, but unfortunately for me it was too late.

"Hey, what are you doing?" came her call, as I hugged my knees and curled up into a ball. "What's happened?"

My heart froze as I recognised the woman's voice, and realised that this was our neighbour from two doors down. This was the worst possible scenario, being caught by someone who knew me, knew where I lived, and more importantly who knew my parents. I couldn't bring myself to reply, so I just stayed there frozen to the spot, feeling so so naked and so so stupid.

"I'm going to go to my house, and I'm going to get you a towel," my neighbour said from across the road, "so I'll be back in a moment."

I heard her hurrying down the road, and after a few seconds I peered around the side of the car to see her walking back towards her house. I waited there, watching as she crossed the junction and disappeared up her driveway, and then I got up and started to leg it. My brain couldn't really process the horror of what had just happened, or accept that my world had just come crashing in on itself. I still thought that I could get away with this unscathed, that my parents wouldn't find out, and so I threw all caution to the wind as I sprinted down the road, desperate to get back to my house before my neighbour reappeared.

I know that at one point a car drove past behind me but I didn't stop to look, I just kept running until I was in front of my house, then I remember vaulting across the hedge which bordered the garden because it was the quickest, most direct route. I then dashed inside and locked the door, and immediately ran upstairs to my room, where I got into bed and pretended to be asleep. I didn't check to see if my neighbour ever did head back outside with a towel for me, because I was too in denial to even think about her anymore.

I didn't sleep at all that night, but in the morning my parents greeted me like nothing was wrong. I began to think that maybe I had really got away with it again, just like I had with the dog walker woman. Maybe my neighbour hadn't recognised me, or maybe they didn't feel the need to come and tell my parents what had happened.

I think I probably knew deep down that I was kidding myself, and when the front doorbell went off at around 11am I knew in my heart that the game was up. I stayed in my room as I heard voices murmuring away downstairs, then after ten minutes or so the front door was closed shut, and my mum called for me to come to the living room.

She was sitting with my dad on the sofa, and I could tell that they knew. "Darling," my my mum began, with a gentle smile, "that was Janet, from two doors down."

"Oh, yeah?" I replied, feigning ignorance as I took a seat on a chair opposite my parents. My dad was frowning at me, but my mum seemed to be more concerned than angry.

"Yes, and she came by to tell us that she saw you, last night... outside in the street... with no clothes on..." she said, letting the sentence hang in the air.

The 'no clothes on' still makes me cringe to this day, and at the time all I could do was stare at the floor and nod. In truth I don't know what excuse I made up, I've repressed most of that conversation thankfully. I think it was something about the pressure I was facing at college, with exams and university interviews coming up, but I'd be lying if I said I could remember any of the details. I also don't know if it worked, but for whatever reason my mum didn't question me any further. My dad tried to, by asking for more details and specifics, but my mum quietly shut him down.

To this day I don't know what she made of the whole situation, or why she dealt with it so calmly, but thank God she did. The three of us never spoke of it again, as far as I'm aware my siblings were never told what happened, and I've never told this story to another living soul, save for you guys online. Every time I see the neighbour it's still painfully awkward, to the point where I have to immediately pretend to be busy with something on my phone, but they've never said anything to me about it either.

It has just become a strange secret from my past, one that I don't think I'll ever share with anyone in real life, but one that has been a huge part of the reason I write on here. Despite being caught, despite the shame of having my parents find out about that side of my life, I still miss the thrill of being naked in public, and all the time I'm tempted to give it another go. But I think if I got caught again my dad would force me to go to some kind of therapist, so I resist the urge and instead write stories on here, so I can experience that excitement vicariously through my characters.

And so, while this story is a lot tamer than usual, it means a lot to me because it's real, and it's mine. Normal submissions will resume normally, but I hope some of you found this entry interesting, and maybe you have similar stories of your own to share. If you do I'd love to here them, to remind me of a time where I could be a little bit more daring than I am these days.

Getting caught was the most embarrassing day of my life, but those two weeks leading up to that moment were also probably the most fun.