Oz Beach Boy Nudes Up for Neighbors

NOTES: This is a CFNM story featuring male masturbation but no male/female sexual activity. Though there are schoolgirl characters mentioned in the story, they are all senior students over the age of eighteen. This story takes place just after my recent holiday-themed stories. Though parts of this story actually happened, it is essentially a complete work of fiction. It is also a shameless ploy to direct readers back to some of my previous stories, which they may not have read.

-----------------------------------

It was a balmy summer's night in Sydney, Australia. It was early January, and there was an undeniable post-Christmas, post-New Year's Eve party atmosphere in the air.

Like myself, most people were on holidays from work; there were international travellers everywhere; and the weather was delightfully warm.

I'd just gotten home from a rousing night out drinking with friends in the city. I'd downed more than my fair share of beers, and I had a very nice buzz going.

I'd wandered around town for a little while after saying goodbye to my friends, hoping that I might stumble into some naughty fun, but unfortunately, nothing had panned out.

I'm a 25-year-old sex addicted exhibitionist, and I enjoy getting my gear off for happy, willing women whenever I can.

I love all sorts of ladies, and I'm up for pretty much any kind of hetero sex. I'm in great shape, and I'm very, very well hung, so many saucy opportunities have presented themselves over the years.

When I'm especially horny, I often wander the streets at night in the busier parts of the city, hoping to come across groups of drunken women ready for a laugh, or women in pairs after an evening out who might be up for a last-minute late night threesome.

My first move is usually to take off my shirt and show off my heavily muscled body in an effort to get the ladies interested.

I only do this with groups or pairs of women, and never ladies on their own. I never want to unsettle anyone with my exhibitionist behaviour.

I've occasionally been successful in these after-dark street trawls. I've been invited home by a couple of particularly keen ladies, resulting in some highly enjoyable sex.

I've also been felt up right there on the street. A group of rowdy young women out on a hen's night had taken great, noisy delight in rubbing my bare torso and groping my cock and butt through my jeans while loudly laughing and clapping.

"See girls, I told you we didn't need to shell out for a stripper," one girl howled while rubbing my shaft through my pants.

"We should dack him," one giggled. "Let's get him naked and have a look at his willy!"

"Gross," shrieked the bride-to-be. "Not here in the street! We're not that desperate! Anyway, I wanna dance! Let's get to the club!"

Disappointingly, the bride-to-be won out, and the ladies all walked off giggling, though a few paused to get in a final grope of my butt.

"See ya, sexy," one laughed, and gave my cock a hearty squeeze.

More frequently, however, the situations I've ended up in have remained even more disappointingly PG-rated, though still entertaining.

For instance, on several delightful occasions, I've happily had my photo taken with groups of drunken girls amused and excited to see a muscular guy walking around at night without his shirt on.

I also look out for groups of women chatting, laughing and drinking on apartment block balconies.

Their natural distance and thus inherent sense of safety tends to make the women more confident, which has occasionally worked out well for me. It's certainly yielded a few amusing opportunities.

In a street not far from my home one night, I noticed three women talking loudly and giggling on the garden terrace of a fancy town house.

I slowed down, and saw that they were older women, most likely in their forties, and all attractive.

I stopped on the street down below, and slowly peeled off my t-shirt to reveal my bare torso.

My now exposed muscular body soon got the ladies' attention, and they all giggled and looked directly at me.

"Getting a bit hot, mate?" one of the women asked. "Working up a sweat?"

"Yeah, it's a warm night," I replied. "The pants might have to come off next!"

"Well, don't wait until you get to the end of the street," the woman laughed.

There was nobody else around, and with that kind of encouragement, I didn't hesitate for a second.

I quickly dropped my shorts to my ankles and stood in the street in just my Calvin Klein fitted trunks.

The three women whistled, laughed and clapped, so I decided to take it to the next level.

But as I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my Calvins and prepared to reveal all, the women suddenly got all shy and hesitant. One even started to wave her hands wildly from side to side.

"Whoa, that's enough," she said in a still friendly but slightly more commanding tone. "That'll do, mate. You run along now, okay? That's enough..."

"Okay, no worries," I said, and pulled up my shorts. "Have a great night, ladies."

"Yeah, you too, you naughty boy," said another of the women. "Off you go..."

I quickly pulled up my shorts and then hurriedly walked off while the three women laughed in obvious exasperation at my audacity.

In my experience, I'd found this was pretty typical of women -- while many were happy to have a laugh and make comments while perving at me in my underpants, they often baulked completely when it came to possible nudity.

This obviously represented a major crossing of the line, and I only went nude if women really seemed to be up for it.

That said, these late-night walks and wanders around Sydney's beaches and popular party areas had certainly offered up some strange and very sexual experiences over the years.

Just a couple of weeks previously on Christmas Eve, I had even stripped totally nude and then jerked off in an alley for the entertainment of a desperate homeless woman [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy Strip For Homeless Gal"], which was pretty much as low as I'd ever gone in my sex addicted life.

On this balmy night, however, I'd come up disappointingly empty. I'd chatted to two young women who asked me for ten dollars so they could get a taxi home, but the situation never escalated.

I gave them the cash, and they both kissed me on the cheek to say thanks, but it never got sexier than that.

I also took off my shirt and slyly flexed my considerable muscles when I walked past a group of drunken women, but again, outside of a few whistles and cat-calls, the ladies didn't really engage with me enough to get anything going.

In case my escapades resulted in me losing my clothes (always a possibility), I had buried a spare set of keys in one of the garden areas of my apartment complex.

I hadn't had to access the stashed keys yet, but I felt much safer knowing that I would always be able to get back into my apartment if anything happened.

On this night, I was extremely horny -- as I pretty much always was -- and bitterly disappointed that I hadn't seen any action.

By the time I got home to my apartment, it was three o'clock in the morning. I drank a big glass of water at my kitchen sink, and looked out the window at the apartment building directly across from mine.

All of the lights in the apartments were out, and it appeared everyone had gone to bed a long time ago.

Though the windows were shrouded in darkness, I thought I saw some movement in one of the apartments a few levels up from mine.

I tried to be subtle, but I kept my eyes on the window, and noticed the slight movement again.

The apartment block was designed identically to mine, so I knew that the movement was happening in one of the apartment's bedrooms.

As I took another gulp of my water, I noticed the movement again. I then saw a very brief and very small glint in the darkness, as if a light from somewhere outside was reflecting off something in the apartment.

My tendency to fantasise about all things sexual then started to ramp up. Was someone watching me? Was that light reflecting off someone's spectacles? Or, even better, was that light reflecting off a pair of binoculars or a telescope?

My mind was excitingly racing, and I instantly went to the sleaziest, sexiest place possible. Another exciting thought then popped into my head.

When you live directly across from another apartment block, you get to know who lives in which unit from seeing people sitting on their balconies or standing at their kitchen windows preparing their dinner.

Apartment windows can sometimes give you a direct, voyeuristic view into other people's lives.

I knew that this particular apartment was occupied by a woman who looked to be in her late forties. She was quite attractive, and she lived with her equally attractive teenage daughter.

The girl was no longer at school, and I'd presumed her to be about nineteen or so. From what I'd been able to gauge, there were no husbands or boyfriends on the scene.

I'd seen the mother and daughter down at the outdoor swimming pool shared by our neighbouring apartment buildings.

The daughter had long brown hair and an incredible body, which she liked to show off in a variety of revealing bikinis. She was tall and slim with long legs, big tits, and a wonderfully curvy butt.

The mother, meanwhile, looked damn fine too. She was carrying a few extra kilos, which I, of course, had absolutely no problem with. I love women of all shapes, sizes and ages.

She had a slightly bloated look, particularly around her mid-section. She always wore a modest one-piece swimsuit at the pool.

The mother's big tits were bravely battling age and gravity, and her butt was loose and wobbly. The backs of her upper thighs were ravaged by cellulite.

She looked like a woman her age should: slightly battered by the years, but still earthy and sexy. She looked great.

The mother had long brown hair like her daughter's, which she nearly always wore in a modest ponytail.

She had very attractive features with a slightly Eastern European feel. I loved older women (and younger ones too, and women my own age as well), and she was unquestionably hot.

I was never certain, but I'd always thought I'd seen the two women slyly checking me out and giggling to each other when we happened to be down at the pool together.

I had also noticed them listening intently to my conversations if I happened to be chatting with some other neighbours at the pool while they were there.

Outside of a polite hello, however, we'd never spoken to each other. I'd never hit on a mother and daughter duo before, so I'd always hesitated about trying to chat them up and get something going, though I would certainly have liked to.

Half-drunk, tired and horny, I'd now set up this entire sexual scenario in my decidedly hazy head: a sexy mother-and-daughter team of salacious voyeurs were sitting in the dark with a pair of binoculars watching my every move.

Was it true? Most likely not, but my wild and highly optimistic imagination had provided me with enough lurid ammunition to get myself even more aroused and sexually turned on.

The apartment occupied by my imagined mother-and-daughter voyeur team also had a direct view into my bedroom, which provided me with another sleazy opportunity in this most likely ridiculous sexual fantasy that I'd desperately concocted.

If there was even a tiny, utterly remote chance that two women were watching me, I had only one course of action: this horny, sex addicted, 25-year-old male exhibitionist had to put on a show.

In my heart of hearts, I knew that I most likely wasn't really being watched, but there was enough hope in the situation to get my blood pumping, my libido steaming, and my highly creative sexual mind racing.

I double checked to see that no other lights were on in any of the other apartments in the opposite building, and then moved quickly into my bedroom.

I stopped in the bathroom on the way to grab my large-size pump pack of moisturising cream.

If these women were indeed watching me, they were about to get a sexy, highly revealing show they'd never forget.

I'd briefly and cheekily stripped nude at my window before for an appreciative group of women drinking and partying on their balcony, but this time, I intended to take it further.

My window's blind was already rolled up. One flick of the light switch, and it was game on.

My cleanly decorated bedroom was suddenly filled with light, and I stepped into the middle of the space to make sure I was clearly visible. I felt like I was stepping onto a stage.

I put the moisturiser down on my bedside table, and pushed my longish brown hair back off my face.

I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks, and then threw them into my wardrobe.

Then, with deliberate purpose, I slowly, teasingly undid the buttons of my shirt. I wanted to make this entertaining, but I also didn't want it to appear completely obvious that I was shamelessly posing and putting on a show.

I tried desperately to make everything look slightly casual, natural, relaxed, and as relatively normal as possible.

Once all the buttons of my shirt were undone, the fabric separated, offering what I hoped was a quick, tantalising view of my muscled chest and abs.

I pretended to look for something in my wardrobe with my shirt loosely flapping at my waist.

I then roughly slid the button-up off my shoulders, and hung it in my wardrobe, doing my best to look calm and casual, even while I trembled with excitement.

My bare torso glistened, its rigid muscles and waxed skin slicked with sweat from all the prior walking that I'd been doing that night.

I clenched my fists at my sides to make the muscles in my arms and chest flex and tighten.

I held my arms out a little from my sides, and made my biceps bulge impressively. I felt nervous sweat dripping down my face.

I then quickly stretched out my torso and raised my arms behind my head, flexing my biceps again by pumping my fists.

I turned around as if to look for something, and then tightened the muscles in my back. I tried to make them pop as much as possible.

Facing the window, I undid my belt, and slipped it out of the loops on my jeans. I dropped it gently on my bed.

I slowly pulled open the button of my jeans, and then slid the zipper down at a ridiculous, almost glacial pace.

I imagined my two female voyeurs covering their mouths and giggling with joy at the sexy show unfolding.

I slid my jeans down slowly over my thighs, let them drop to my ankles, and then quickly pulled them off over my bare feet. I folded them and then hung them up in my wardrobe.

With the blind up and the light on, I boldly and cheekily stood in the middle of my bedroom in nothing but my fitted Calvin Klein trunks.

I stood still for a few moments, hoping that the women were getting increasingly excited with every item of clothing that I removed.

I moved over to the bedside table, and squirted a big wad of moisturiser into my right hand, which I then proceeded to rub gently but provocatively into my chest and abdomen.

I worked it into my skin, and moved my hands slowly and erotically over my upper body. I also rubbed a little of the moisturiser into my forearms and hands.

Once I was done erotically applying the cream, I paused for effect, and then slowly slid my underpants down over my hips, first revealing my small, sandy brown patch of man-scaped pubic hair.

The base of my cock was then revealed, and then more and more of its shaft as my Calvins continued to drop.

I slowly pushed them down further, but my cock still hadn't appeared in its thick, heavily veined entirety.

Finally, when my underwear was down near my knees, my cock slung out from where it was tucked between my legs, flopping out completely.

My phallus comically jiggled around as my Calvins slipped over it. I let my underpants drop to my ankles, stepped out of them, and then casually flicked them with my foot into a corner of the bedroom.

I finally stood there completely and utterly naked, with my enormous 23cm flaccid cock now totally out on show...if, of course, this was even a show at all.

But I went with my fantasy, and easily pictured the mother-and-daughter sitting at the bedroom window, sharing the binoculars and quietly giggling with their hands down their pants.

I did a quick turn, showing these imagined voyeurs my body from the side, and in the process, accentuated my outsized cock and balls even more.

Turning my back completely, I pumped another wad of moisturiser into my hand from the container on my bedside table, hopefully providing a good, long look at my butt. I flexed and tensed my glutes.

I turned back around, and then slowly reclined on my bed, making sure that I would still be visible through the bedroom window.

I stretched out on my back, and then slowly opened my legs rudely, obscenely wide to provide the best view possible of my enormous cock and balls.

I slowly, deliberately rubbed the moisturiser all over my soft, flopping cock. Once it was sufficiently greased up, I grabbed my flaccid cock with my right hand, and got a good, firm grip on it.

I started to leisurely pump it up and down, taking my time and accentuating the movement.

If there were indeed two women watching me, I wanted to provide them with a few moments to process the profoundly lurid act they were about to witness.

I continued to play with myself. I gradually picked up speed, gliding back and forth. In a few strokes, I had a raging erection, and my massive cock was now extended to its full-bore length of 31cm.

I was getting hotter and hornier with every subtle movement of my hand. My mind raced and my skin tingled.

I usually like to drool over images of naked women when I jerk off, but I thought it would look silly and unsexy for my imagined audience if I grabbed my phone and did a Google Image search for, say, "Kate Upton nude."

I wanted to keep the show going, so I instead got myself hot by narcissistically imagining the two women thirstily drinking in the sight of my naked, muscular body as I pounded away on my huge cock.

My mind also helpfully drifted back to a few recent sexual experiences that I'd enjoyed.

My marble-hard cock got even firmer when I recalled the two sexy BBWs who had naughtily sandwiched me in a massive Sydney Harbour crowd a few days previously on New Year's Eve.

I fucked one girl from behind while fingering the other one in back of me. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy New Year's Eve Bang"]

It was an amazing public threesome, and the memories flooded erotically back. I could almost smell the girls' perfume and perspiration.

I could practically feel the soft sponginess of their huge tits and the pneumatic wonders of their wobbling butts as I continued to enthusiastically jerk my cock back and forth. I got hotter and hotter.

I got even more aroused when I recalled the only famous -- or actually semi-famous, at best -- person that I'd ever fucked.

Former CNN journalist Anjali Rao was briefly one of the cast members on the trashy Australian reality TV show "The Real Housewives Of Melbourne", and I'd engaged in an amazing pool-side threesome with her and my gorgeous friend, Montana Makepeace. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy's Anjali Rao Threesome"]

I feverishly stroked my cock while bringing up the amazing mental image of fucking the beautiful 47-year-old bisexual Anjali Rao from behind while she gleefully bent down and hungrily licked the pussy of my 25-year-old TV producer friend.

Pre-cum dribbled liberally out of my stiff cock and mixed in with the greasy moisturiser that I'd lubed up with. I moaned quietly.

With my left hand, I theatrically fondled my pecs and rubbed my nipples. I tweaked them and plucked at them while softly groaning to myself.