A true erotic story
A true tale of a teenage nude self-dare
One of a number of true-life stripping off and running around stories!
This is a true story from when I was in my late teens and still discovering myself — not that this journey is complete yet! This is one of a number of true-life stripping off and running around stories that I could share if people are interested. It was brought to mind by a recent conversation, so I thought I’d write it up, post it, and see what people have to say — and if they are interested in more!
I’m an attractive girl and got hit on a fair bit when I was around 18, when this all happened, but the whole dating and relationship thing was a tad beyond me back then. I’m a tiny bit on the Asperger’s spectrum (not a lot, and I didn’t know it then, but now that I do I can see a number of traits), and I never quite seemed to be on the same wavelength as the guys that wanted me.
However, I was still a teen and had needs. I thought about what might physically happen in those relationships as I touched myself in secret, and that was great, but my bedroom wasn’t always totally private (parents eh!), and so I started going for walks. There were some woods nearby that I’d go to spend time in, taking a book to read. And I did.
However, I also had some ‘me time’ while there. Eventually, that led to naked ‘me time’ and I also got used to small self-dares in the nude. If people reply positively to this story then maybe I’ll write up one or two (with special thoughts of one in particular) and post them as well. This isn’t that story though.
A male relative of mine used to do something called wargaming. This was using small metal figurines to fight battles with an opponent. This could be from any period of history and might be Ancient Greeks vs Romans, World War 2 and Allies vs Axis — or even futuristic Star Trek type ship battles. The rules for all of this were pretty tortuous to calculate each unit’s combat abilities and how they were doing on the battlefield. However, I was a bit of a stats nerd — and still am — and so got involved.
Although even then you could do similar things online, a group met each Saturday afternoon in a local community centre and set up their brilliantly miniature painted model armies to do battle. I’d go to watch and learn, and eventually to help judge disputes as I knew the rules as well as they did and so could act as arbiter if needed.
My family thought this was a little odd for a girl, as there were not many females involved but, as it got me out of the house, and into a social activity at that, this was seen as a good thing. I’d turn up right at the start, help set out the tables, and stay on to the end of the afternoon and deal with closing back up again.
One day I went to the toilets and was feeling a bit on edge for some reason. I started touching myself down below, as a sort of relaxation method, and it wasn’t long before I was having a great orgasm. This became a weekly event, with my visiting the far cubicle in the row of four each time. I found myself loving being able to go back into the main hall with this secret. Dealing with the normal people in there after having done something they would all be shocked at.
As with my outdoor adventures though, the routine began to pale. I was still getting myself off, but something was lacking. Outside I found an element of danger — the possibility of getting caught — made a difference, even if it was only a very small one. Which it was at first.
Here, in the community centre, I started leaving the door to the cubicle open as I went about my business. There were maybe fifty men, and three or four women involved in the club so there were strong odds against any of those coming in at the same time as me, but it wasn’t exactly an impossibility. The thought of one of them quietly walking into the toilet area and finding me brought me nicely over the edge. For a while.
From the entrance of the main building there was a corridor running lengthways. First off that on the left-hand side was the main hall, and to the right a small corridor with the toilets blocks. Men’s on the left, ladies on the right, and an oversized disabled one straight ahead. Along the main corridor were some offices, a small kitchen with servery, and then around the corner, a smaller hall.
I started coming out of my cubicle while naked. At first I’d go to the washbasins and look at myself in the mirror while I did filthy things to my body. As the doors to the main toilet entrances were both permanently open I needed to pick the mirror furthest from them as people passing by (basically heading into the men’s loos as there was nowhere else to go) would see me otherwise.
I’d hear footsteps and run back into the cubicle with my clothing in, just in case it was one of the other females, but it never was. Knowing that blokes were moving around just out of sight was one heck of a turn on though, and I started not hiding as I heard them approach. Any lady coming in would have seen me standing there, leaning back against the sinks, frigging myself off. If I waited until the footsteps were at the door I would be caught, no doubt about it, but, although I made myself not move away, that didn’t happen.
And so I moved on to the next stage. Standing at the sink nearest the open door and facing out into the corridor. Looking at the sinks in the male section opposite. Naked. Stark naked and not hiding that fact — until I heard movement and then I’d move swiftly out of the way! I was fully aware that if there was already a bloke in their toilets, and he came suddenly around that door, then I was caught. I had a hard time caring.
Once I’m in what I call ‘horny’ mode, then my normally clear thinking goes out of the window to a large degree. (And it still does today, a good number of years later!) In that condition I’m needing my fix, my thrill ending in orgasm, and it is only once I’ve had it that the fog clears and I get almost numb with how stupid I’ve been and what could have happened. Nothing ‘terrible’ ever has, but that still covers a number of very, very, uncomfortable situations!
I was never sure what would happen if I was caught, and of the few things I came up with what was the best outcome for me? If an average man finds a naked, attractive, teen girl masturbating in a semi-public area does he raise the alarm and bring everyone’s attention to this? Does he walk away? Does he give her a warning and tell her not to be so stupid in future? Or… And it was that ‘or’ that fuelled my thoughts for some time.
Two scenarios then ran through my head. One was of a man just taking advantage of me, overpowering me. Roughly forcing me to have sex with him — or at the least to give him oral sex. Neither of which I’d done before. I could try and shout out and get help, but that might bring others that would all want a turn as well. I knew what a gangbang was, but didn’t want to be the main participant in one.
The other scenario was of my getting blackmailed. My family would never understand this situation if the alarm was raised and it got out — as would be bound to happen. This guy would say that he’d call for others and reveal me to the world if I didn’t comply. That would mean my willingly surrendering to him. In my thoughts this was probably to the point of giving him a blowjob, but it could mean more. And, of course, if he used his mobile phone and took pictures of me then I might have to do this on a regular basis, until he said otherwise, as there would be the continued threat of exposure.
I didn’t want to have sex with any of the guys in the centre, and doubly so if I wasn’t going to get a choice in the picking of who it would be, leaving that to random chance as to who found me. Having that maybe last for a longer period of time as well made me weak at the knees with terror. The humiliation. The shame. The embarrassment. The heat in my loins as I contemplated the complications. The biggest orgasm I’d had for ages when thinking about it. Horny mode had a lot to answer for!
At the community centre, I now started by stripping off in the cubicle and then moving into the open doorway of the lady’s toilets. I’d peep round the corner while inserting fingers in myself, and playing with my boobs. Again, if anyone had already been in the gents then I was done for. From here I could watch the main hall and see if anyone was coming out of those doors. I could also see them carry on with the gaming at the tables while I played a game of my own.
The next step was to deny myself access to my clothing. There was a small gap under the doors to the stalls, but it was only six inches or so and, small framed as I was, I still didn’t fit. I was aware of the sight I’d have made while trying though. Naked and writhing on the floor as I tried to get under. And if a guy heard a noise and came to investigate… then I’d be in a perfect position for him to take advantage of the situation!
It was a solidly built place, and the partitions between the cubicles were made of brick, or something like it, with plaster and paint over the top. I’m only a little over five feet tall, and these must have been seven-foot plus. What my brain told me was sensible to do was to lock the door, stand on the lid of the loo, step onto the cistern (carefully the first few times to make sure it took my weight), and then clamber up onto the top of the partition wall.
This wasn’t easy, as it was still high for me, but there was at least a foot between it and the roof, so I could swing myself up lengthways, lie on the top to switch my grip, and then lower myself down until my foot connected with the cistern of the neighbouring toilet. Simple really!
The building was generally pretty clean, but clearly the ledge up there was well out of sight and had never been touched. The first time over the top I was filthy, but at least it was mainly dry residue and I could brush much of it off. I’d already got myself a little sweaty though, through touching myself in the build-up to this, so I needed to wash off in the basins.
The first couple of times I was covered in powdery grime so, once I realised that it was going to become a regular weekly routine, I took paper towels from the dispensers, dampened them, and then wiped off as far along as I could reach. After that, it was only my legs that got much on them, and it wasn’t long before I brushed most of that from the surfaces as well. What the cleaners thought was going on in there to cause such a mess on the floor, when they came in next, I don’t know!
The result of all of this was a slightly soiled, naked, eighteen-year-old girl who could retreat to one of the other three stalls if she needed to and wait out any situation, but there was no way I could get to my clothing without making a racket and being obvious about it. Mind you, no one else could get in there either so it was left safely enough.
I masturbated, watching the main hall and already knowing that this wasn’t going to be enough in the long run. It was fine for a couple of weeks, but there was a part of me — somewhere in the back of my head — that was already trying to come up with a way to up the ante. Repetition breeds boredom I guess, or so it goes for me anyway.
Two weeks later I came up with an answer. It was a stupid answer, but it was an answer. Masturbate in the men’s toilets. Obvious really. When I got to the community centre that day I made what I now realise was a really daft decision. What I should have done, if I was going through with this plan, was to wait until the gent’s toilet area was empty then nip inside as quickly as possible and into one of the stalls. Isn’t hindsight wonderful!
What I did was go through my now-familiar routine. Touch myself while getting undressed in the end stall of the lady’s bathroom and getting myself to peak horny stupidity, clamber over the top, and come to the doorway. All I had to do now was go across the corridor and into the other bathroom area. Simple really.
I had enough of my brain in operating to wait for a couple of minutes before doing anything further. I was listening closely and trying to figure out if there was anyone in there already. If so, then I needed them out before I arrived. If they were at the urinal it shouldn’t take them long, if using the toilet it might be a little longer before they exited.
No one did. My internal clock said that I’d given enough time, and my hand between my legs told me that I couldn’t wait any longer. I looked to the main hall to make sure no one was obviously looking in my direction and then ran the three steps across the corridor into the men’s section. If anyone did see anything it was presumably a blur and not worth investigating. I hoped.
Immediately behind the door was a long, shiny, metal urinal that had a trough with blue squares scattered at the bottom. The whole thing was up a step from the rest of the room, which puzzled me. What I’d not expected was that there were only two cubicles opposite this, both with doors open.
I nipped into the far one out of habit and quickly locked the door behind me. I wasn’t happy though. I’d assumed that there would be the same layout here as in the regular bathroom area. Very few females and four toilets for them, loads of men around and only two for them. I only then realised that with urinals as well they only needed the two sit-down toilets.
At this point, I considered running straight back and dropping this idea. The thing that was spooking me was this. I’d assumed that as there were lots of guys at the club there would be a reasonable amount of traffic to the toilets — and this had been borne out from what I’d seen over the months I’d been coming here. With four stalls to use though, as well as the urinals, I’d thought it unlikely that all of them would be occupied at the same time, and so my being locked away in there doing my thing would be unnoticed.
With just two, however, there seemed a chance of one getting occupied and someone then coming in to use the other. If no one came out of the one I was now using in a reasonable amount of time, would they wonder what the trouble was and ask? I could hardly reply, could I! And if I didn’t, would someone try the door, find it locked, and then look underneath to see if something was jamming it? Or hoick themselves up to look over the partition wall?
Either way, they would find that cute Dianne girl sitting there naked, with her feet up so that they didn’t show on the floor to a casual glance backwards from the urinal area. I’d be then back to the scenarios about what they might do with me if I was caught. Do to me. This time though, it would be far easier to claim that I was ‘asking for it’ seeing as I was naked in their toilets!
I was still contemplating my next move when I heard people talking as they approached, and some men came in. They chatted as they used the facilities and it seemed that one of the games had ended and a break was being had before starting over. Others came in before they left, with one of those closing the stall door next to mine. I was screwed! Or maybe about to be if things continued to go against me!
Why then could I not take my hands away from my pussy and breasts? This was by far my biggest risk to date and, as I was panicking, I hoped that this would get it out of my system for good. Once I’d got to my finishing point of course. I was trying to be as quiet as possible, but I could hear my squelching as I fingered myself. I was grateful for the solid walls between me and the guy presumably doing a dump next door — although still aware of the open top. Regular plywood (or whatever it is) walls would have cut off no sound at all.
It was sheer madness to carry on, but I did. Within a couple of feet of a bunch of men, some of whom I knew a little, I masturbated. What I knew about them gave me no real clue as to what would happen if I was caught. Porn would seem to suggest that I’d be kept in the stall until they were all done with me, using me one at a time. Porn could be wrong though.
During the time I was in there, another man came in and used the other cubicle, and a number of them had been at the urinal. When it came, it was a big orgasm. I was absolutely drenched down there, and even to me it seemed like the whole place was filled with my distinctive smell. I’d held off long enough to have the room to myself, which was a good thing as, for one of the first times, I screamed when I came.
I’d sometimes been loud before, grunting away if I had the distance from others to do so, holding it in as best I could if that was not the case. But, on this occasion, I felt more like that woman in the famous movie, the one where she fakes an orgasm in a restaurant.
Loud, and, at that moment, proud. For the next few minutes it seemed to me that life was perfect. I sat in a state of euphoria, just soaking in the bliss. Then another man came in to use the facilities and it suddenly hit me where I was and what I’d done. My horny brain turned off, my regular one came back to the fore, and something like remorse hit.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! I couldn’t believe I’d got into this sort of situation — it was surely never going to happen again! I’d make certain of that! I made it out of the gent’s toilets with only one false start — I’d looked out into the corridor, seen two men coming, and scooted back to the cubicle I’d just vacated. Second time lucky though, and I sped back to the shelter of the lady’s bathrooms, straight over the wall, and into my home from home.
The following week I was prepared to do it all again.
As it happened, there was a big event on that Saturday, and the wargamers were relegated to the smaller hall near the back. I went to the toilets prepared to carry on as I had been, but the meeting was a mixed one, and there were a lot of ladies about the place. Not only standing talking in the corridors around the building, but bathroom usage was pretty constant, and I couldn’t even leave the door open safely. I jilled off in my booth, but nothing further was possible that week.
After that, the summer break came along, we went on holiday, and when we came back the centre was closed for two months of refurbishment between the academic years. I moved away to university and never made it back inside. I still think of my stall and my stupidity. However, that incident was not top of the stupid list for long.
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