Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Sunday in the park, engorged

Expose yourself to the worldSome lucky folks live in climates so warm that they can routinely stay naked much or all of the year. But if you're like me, living in a northern and cooler climate, you spend much of the winter longing for warmer days and warmer places. During those times, it helps to relive the good times, the summer days when one could be comfortably naked in the great outdoors.

And if you're like me, you can recall not just being naked outside, but naked in public. One of my most recent adventures in urban nudism took place last summer, when I strolled unashamed, nude from head to toe, through one of Seattle's most famous parks with a full view of the city — while giving the city a full view of me.

In some ways, this was more brazen than some of my other daylight dares: Unlike my day of nudity in Gas Works Park, there was no Bohemian public event to sanctioni such exposure. And unlike my naked walk through Seattle's arboretum, I wasn't lurking near a notorious gay cruising zone. Instead, I was balls out in a large, leash-free dog-walking park with a major biking and hiking trail running through it. The area also boasts one of the most scenic views of Seattle's skyline, making it a popular destination for photographers as well.

Fortunately, my photographer Andrew Adam Caldwell and I managed to steer clear of most park goers, though a couple of guys did walk by us, paying little attention. Luck and daring, not location or time of day, allowed me to be myself and make yet another statement about the value of being clothes free wherever and whenever you like.

If you'd care to share my nostalgia, check out the latest addition to the Nakedism photo gallery, Sunday in the park, engorged. Then drop me a line and let me know where you have been naked lately.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Chains of command

Face down and nakedMy delightfully huge bed (minus the current mattress) was acquired some years ago second hand from a neighbor who was an aficionado of BDSM. To each corner of the heavy wooden frame, he had attached sturdy eyelets for the purpose of anchoring restraints. Not long after becoming single, I attached chains to the top two corners, thinking they might come in useful now and then. But for the most part, they have served little purpose.

That all changed one Friday night in the summer of 2010.

I met M, a Canadian citizen from Vancouver, through Facebook about a year before and had been casually flirting with him on and off ever since. At some point he started showing more interest in meeting me, and as he needed a vacation, he took some time off work to visit. We talked on the phone several times, and I decided it was worth the risk to offer him lodging at my home for a couple of days.

When he arrived Friday night, I was pleasantly surprised. He looked at least as attractive and sexy as his photos, if not more so. Something of a bearded muscle boy clone, M stands 5 feet 8 inches tall, with broad muscular shoulders, shaved head, strong jaw, and furry tattooed pecs.

I picked him up from the bus station and, after an unexceptional meal at a neighborhood restaurant and a quick visit to a dance bar, we came back to my place and settled into some foreplay.

From the start, it was clear that one goal of his visit was serious sex play. I sometimes feel a little intimidated by situations where sexual performance is expected even before we meet. I tried to lower expectations with a few comments here and there, but I also knew that I was in for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. And I do mean pound.

M and I were already naked and going at it on my bed with the usual touching, kissing, and oral service when he mentioned that he liked to be restrained.

I took
a perverse
amusement in his
discomfort, knowing that
it also indicated a
kind of twisted
pleasure for

"Oh really?" I asked. This would be interesting.

Before long, each of M's arms were chained to the bed corners, his legs free to curl up and back while my cock found his willing hole. Despite earlier concerns and the desensitizing aspect of condoms, my cock remained hard as I entered and repeated slammed into his ass. With every thrust, M screamed in pain and delight.

After a while, I told him I wanted to flip him over. He was able to do so, crossing his arms, without my releasing the chains. He bit the pillow and continued to scream as I pummeled his ass in this face-down position.

Every butt is different. With M, I was getting enough sensation to stay hard but not enough to approach orgasm. But we persisted just the same, fucking for a good hour, his screams getting louder by the minute. The chains having put me in complete control, I took a perverse amusement in his discomfort, knowing that it also indicated a kind of twisted pleasure for him.

By this time, it was quite late at night, and I can only wonder what thoughts were occurring my housemates in the room below. But no matter. I was on a mission.

Back in missionary position, M's ankles on my shoulders, I resumed fucking him, finally coming to a deeply satisfying orgasm. As I pulled out, he spontaneously asked me to empty the contents of the condom into his mouth. I did so, working the cum deeper into his mouth with my cock as he jacked himself into a screaming orgasm of his own.

We were both grinning — and panting — from gratified exhaustion when I released M from his bonds. We quickly readied for sleep, turned out the lights, and curled up like spoons for some well deserved rest.

Come here often?

Jacking in the car washFor those who are looking for a public naked dare but are concerned about the risk, a good starter dare is to take off all your clothes, hop in your car, and drive through the nearest automated car wash. Some of these are now so automatic, you don't even have to talk to an attendant at all. But of course it's more fun if there is at least some chance of someone seeing you.

If that's too tame, kick it up a notch by stroking off while your car is getting washed off. Try to have an orgasm before the car wash is over. True, that can make things a little rushed, but hey it's a dare. It's more about the challenge than about edging.

I have done this particular dare at least four times. My favorite was when I met a handsome young man online to join me. We drove naked through heavy traffic to get to our destination. The attendant could tell we were obviously shirtless. I have no way of knowing if he could tell we were fully naked, but he seemed to have a mischievous smile on his face as he took our money and sent is through the roaring brushes, clothes, squirting soap, and spraying water. We were too preoccupied with the novelty of it all to get all the way to orgasm, but we knew we could always take care of that later.

Fortunately, I recorded one of my solo trips through the car wash at a later date. If you want to see the cleanup job and the happy ending, head over to our Naked Dare Theatre and enjoy a screening of Pressure Wash & Spit Polish.


As many gay iPhone users know, Grindr is an application that, via the magic of GPS, displays the profiles of men in your immediate vicinity. Given that Chicago's Hyatt Regency was entirely reserved for gay men, Grindr of course was an instant hit for attendees of the recent Memorial Day International Mr. Leather gathering. Every profile displayed on my phone was a gay man staying in my hotel.

But here's my problem. At almost any time of the day, I could catch an elevator down to the lobby bar and find it filled with hunky gay men. Live and in person. So why would I resort to trying to meet people using one or two tiny photos on a phone!?

And yet, I appear to be in the minority in this thinking. I did chat with a few new people in the bar. But mostly they were people I already knew from other places (or even previous online encounters). I didn't experience any actual in-person flirting or propositions with new acquaintances at any time in the hotel.

Not so with Grindr. A number of guys hit on me via the electronic medium. But I was not interested in jumping guys based on so little real world information. So I never hooked up that way while I was there. I did offer to meet one guy for a drink but our schedules never synced up.

Even my hotel roommates seemed sucked into this thinking. Rather than roam the hotel looking for fun as I tried to do, they spent a surprising amount of time in the room, surfing, of all things. WTF!? There are plenty of men right outside the door!

Some of this behavior is just habitual, I'm sure. But in many cases, something else is going on. It would be easy to expound on how the Internet has turned sex into a commodity and amplified the way gay men objectify each other.

But I think it also just comes down to basic shyness. Somehow, it's easier to hit on someone by typing a few words than approaching them face to face and looking them in the eye.

Whatever the explanation, it's clearly not an ideal trend for human relations.

Perhaps it was my own reticence that kept me from getting laid for the first couple of days I was there. (Not counting an aborted blowjob in the hotel restroom.) Fortunately, I did end up getting a little bit of action on the remaining part of my trip. In almost every case, they were men I met through mutual acquaintances or had previously known.
I was lucky
enough to meet an
absolutely godlike man —
think Colt's Tony Ganz
without the body
For example, my abstinence was first broken with a local Chicago cub I met through my hotel roomies (who were in the next bed while I fucked the guy). The second was an existing friend I had met in another city. I also got a great blowjob in one of the hotel ladies rooms (since all restrooms were marked unisex for the event) from a guy I had met previously via an online nudist club. And we had flirted in person in the bar before consummating our mutual interest.

The only stranger sex I had was on an outing with friends to Chicago's Steamworks bathhouse. That place is an amazing temple to sex and sensuality. I got a room and was lucky enough to meet an absolutely godlike man right away. With veined muscular arms, big hairy pecs, eight-pack abs, sexy stubble, and a gleaming smile, he could easily be a porn star if he wanted to. (Think Colt's Tony Ganz without the body shaving.) I spent most of the time in my room with him in conversation, foreplay, and serious oral service and hot buttsex.

Afterward, I stumbled out of my room in a dreamy state of bliss. The swirling colors of the softly glowing (backlit) jacuzzi eased me through my afterglow. The showers continued the dreamlike feel with individual spotlights over each shower head that lit up the water streams like the rays of sun in an Egyptian frieze. It was a little slice of heaven.

Just try getting that from a phone.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

The rust of the story

Naked outside the factorySitting atop a piece of land jutting into Seattle's Lake Union stands the remains of an Edwardian gasification plant, in operation for roughly the first half of the twentieth century. Today, as the centerpiece of Gas Works Park, it is part of the National Register of Historic Places, and the final destination of the hundreds of naked revelers that lead the annual Solstice parade.

As such, Gas Works stands as one of the few parks in the United States where, once a year at least, one can stroll around in broad daylight as naked as the day you were born.

But beyond the pleasures of simple nudism or even public exhibitionism, the experience of stripping naked in front of these ancient, rusting monoliths brings to mind fantasies of steampunk eroticism. Might a parallel world offer a Victorian factory of naked slaves? Is our naked wanderer the last survivor of a pandemic that brought technology to its knees while conveniently also eradicating textiles? Has a technological singularity created a mechanical intelligence that uses total nudity to keep its human subjects in line? Or is it merely the familiar dream — or nightmare — of find yourself at your job completely naked?

Let these and other fantasies fill your mind as you enjoy photographer Andrew Adam Caldwell's 2014 photo essay that we call Dream Factory, now showing in the Nakedism gallery of undraped art.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Barefoot nakedism

Barefoot, naked, and hardAlthough activities involving public nudity are always welcome to us nakedists, many of the participants are not technically naked. Cyclists in the World Naked Bike Ride events, runners in naked races, and even streakers very often wear some clothing, especially shoes. And of course you can't blame them for wanting to protect their feet from sharp terrain or rough bike pedals.

Still, to go out in public with nothing, not even shoes, is not only more brave and daring — it is also just more naked.

I learned this myself many years ago when attending a men's naked dance in my home town of Seattle. It was great fun hanging out with other naked men and letting our bare bodies sway to the music. But it wasn't until I took off my shoes and felt the hard dance floor on the soles of my bare feet, that I really felt connected to my nakedness and to my environment in a totally exposed and vulnerable way.

Indeed, I would venture to say that any nakedist activity — stripping games, nudism, CMNM, CFNM, naked dares, forced nudity, and more — becomes more intense and erotic when the naked individual is not only nude but barefoot.

For example, I'll never forget how my voyeuristic interest was peaked when, while riding my bike (nearly) naked at the Solstice Parade, I saw one man running alongside the many cyclists totally nude from head to toe. He didn't even have a bicycle on which to make an escape. But there he was, jogging along the hard pavement, his feet as bare as the rest of him. It was a hot sight to see.

Any nakedist
activity becomes
more intense and erotic
when the naked individual
is not only nude but

Fellow nakedist EB, who wrote an amazing account of his walking miles from his clothes stark naked, has voiced a similar sentiment. In a comment on that story, he wrote, "A few weeks after I did this walk I repeated the first part of it on a slightly different route but this time barefoot as well. Adds to the rush knowing I could not easily run."

I had a similar experience once when visiting Southern California. On a dare, four of us walked around the block naked, except for our shoes. It was a warm night, and almost too easy. So, after a couple of them had left, my remaining friend and I decided to do it again, this time in bare feet. It was much more satisfying, not only because of the elevated risk, but also because I felt more engrossed in the experience, feeling my bare skin touching the sidewalk every step of the way.

Finally, there are, of course, those foot fetishists who enjoy bare feet just for their own sake. Several years ago, as favor to one such friend, I took some naked selfies in a way that featured my feet prominently. In the spirit of barefoot nudism, I'm sharing them here on Nakedism for the first time, in a gallery call Feet First. Check it out, and the next time you decide to strip down outside, be sure that you also remove your shoes.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Daylight exposure

Jacking off in the parkThere are at least two kinds of naked dares. In the traditional dare, someone, be it friend or stranger, challenges you to get out of your comfort zone — and your clothes — and do something naked in an unusual and possibly risky place.

Then there is the self-dare, in which the nakedist determines his own naked behavior at a time and place of his own choosing.

On the face of it, the self-dare seems, well, less daring. After all, if you can choose your own risk level, why get naked anywhere but in a safe place?

That reasoning is suspect to be sure. Some people are so into naked dares that they might actually talk themselves into doing something even more daring than an outsider might ask.

Moreover, the self-dare allows a certain element that regular dares do not: spontaneity. One can be out about one's business with no thought of stripping in mind, when suddenly an opportunity presents itself. It may seem just safe enough to strip off on a moment's notice. But there is still risk involved as one can never control who may come along and spot you, naked, in a public place.

Such was the situation I found myself last summer when I was out for a daylight photo shoot with photographer Andrew Adam Caldwell. The plan was to get naked in the Washington State Arboretum, a public park, underneath some freeway on ramps. The area was known to be a gay cruising ground, and therefore relatively safe for nude photos.

But when I saw how quiet the park was — at the moment anyway — I chose to stroll away from the "safe" cruising area and walk underneath the freeway ramps, in full view of the portions of the park where people walk their dogs and boaters paddle by. And so I did, my semierect cock bouncing along, and bare feet padding along rocky ground that would have made it difficult to run for cover. Finally I completed the dare with a full-on public masturbation session.

Was I seen? Yes, but I'll never be sure by how many. We saw a canoe go by, and more than one person walked past us not very far away. At least one person (apparently quite interested) hung around the whole time watching me do my cock walk.

Fortunately for us all, the self-dare was caught on video and is now available for your viewing pleasure in our Naked Dare Theater. So go ahead, check out Bare assed in the park. And then drop us a line and let us know of your wildest self-dare.