Bowling for Clothes

My name is Claire, and to look at me you would just think that I was a normal, regular young woman. Shoulder length blonde hair, sporty physique, casual dress sense. I'm the type of girl that goes to the gym, drinks wine with friends, works in an office in the big city, goes on dates with guys I meet on Tinder... nothing remarkable about me at all. But behind my façade of normality is one very big and surprising secret – I have a really specific kink which fuels my sexual fantasies.

My kink is all built around public exposure of my body. Basically, I get off on the idea of being seen naked, ideally in a public place and by people – friends or strangers – who have no business seeing me with my clothes off.

I fantasised about this a lot all through my teenage years, when I was discovering my sexuality and learning to masturbate. I would lie in bed most nights once my family were all asleep, imagining scenarios in which I would find myself naked in public, and I'd never fail to get myself off.

As I got older I began to understand that what I was planning out in my head wasn't enough: eventually, I knew, I would need to make my fantasy a reality, or I would never be fulfilled.

I pushed myself to the very limits of my bravery. I'd occasionally go out without knickers on and flash randomly, and on one or two occasions I'd find myself somewhere that I could get up enough courage to take all of my clothes off and wander about in the anticipation I might be seen naked. But while these were undoubtedly exciting things to do for a young woman, I felt strangely unfulfilled, because what I was doing to try and bring about my fantasy was never the same as what I had pictured in my head.

By flashing or stripping in places which weren't private, I was exposing my private parts, or my whole body, to others. But there was no ambiguity about what I was doing. I was showing myself, being an exhibitionist, true – but it was something I was clearly doing of my own free will, fully aware of the message I was giving.

But in my fantasies, public nudity and public exposure was never a matter of conscious choice for me – rather, it was always at someone else's urging. In my fantasies, I would be losing strip games (I didn't know the rules of poker but that somehow worked out in my fantasy, as I would imagine naively losing every round of a game of strip poker and winding up sitting there naked while every other player kept their full complement of clothes on!), forced to complete dares, coerced into skinny-dipping (with my clothes being stolen for good measure) and sometimes even subjected to humiliating forfeits.

I came to understand that for me, the thrill lay in the perception of being humiliated or doing something embarrassing. I didn't know if I would actually find public nudity to be humiliating or not, and I didn't actually feel like I needed to be humiliated – I just needed the other people, the people seeing me, to think that I was being humiliated, to look at me and feel I was doing something embarrassing that I wouldn't normally choose to do. If I flashed someone, or took off my clothes and walked around, I was being a "show off" – but that didn't feel like me. I wanted to be the person I was, the person in my fantasy – an innocent out of her depth, giving up control over my own body and what was covering it to other people, people who might find it funny or arousing or even appalling, but nevertheless were the ones in control. I needed to be naked because someone else made me take off my clothes, if possible with them even believing I was doing it against my will, or at least better judgement.

Unfortunately, while many teenagers find themselves getting involved in the sort of games where girls end up being coerced into stripping, none of my friends ever suggested them! We were all too good, or too shy, or too geeky, to get involved in such shenanigans, and on the rare occasions when I would be brave enough to suggest some sort of dare or forfeit-based game, nobody would ever dare me (or anyone else) to remove my clothes. The awkwardness and the frustration around dares with my friends wasn't enjoyable to me, and I soon gave up on the prospect of that happening any time soon. If I wanted to experience in reality what I thought about when I masturbated, I would need to get some new friends.

Fortunately, I did eventually finish my A-levels and go off to university, and in my second year there, when I was 20, I finally, finally got to live out my fantasy – and it was every bit as good as I had hoped it would be.

My best friends at university were two girls (Emma and Siobhan) and four boys (Mark, Josh, Kenroy and Greg).

Emma, Siobhan and I became friends during our first year, when we lived in student halls. All freshers lived in halls – the idea was that by the mid-point of your first year, you would have made some friends and you would be able to move into rented student housing with them. So it was with the three of us girls – we hit it off straight away, becoming study and drinking buddies, and when the time came to house-hunt there was no question that we wouldn't be living together in our sophomore and final years.

We picked an unremarkable student house in a terraced street with a 90% student population, and moved in (with the help of our families) in time for the new term to start in the September. The four boys, sporty lads who played (between them) rugby, hockey and football, were our neighbours, and we met them straight away. As a house of four guys, they were very happy to have three attractive female second-years as neighbours (and in the interests of fairness I should say we were quite happy to be living next door to four fit lads – between us, Emma, Siobhan and I slept with all four guys at different times during our uni days, although those hook ups all took place in times after the story I am telling now).

We all hit it off easily and quickly and would often pop round to each other's houses for food, drinks and chat, hold raucous parties across both properties and generally go around all together, all great mates.

Of course like a lot of students we spent a lot of time when we weren't studying in pubs and nightclubs, but we also developed a fun group hobby for when we had a bit of down time and wanted to chill out – we became regular visitors to the local bowling alley to play each other at ten-pin bowling.

Bowling was fun for the lads because they were naturally quite competitive – and good at it – and it gave them a chance to show off in front of us. We girls liked it because it was fun and pretty low-cost, and didn't involve a lot of heavy drinking and feeling like death the next day.

Well, in theory it wasn't supposed to involve heavy drinking... but the bowling alley did also boast a fully-stocked bar, and so on bowling nights the alcohol did sometimes flow.

As is the nature of such things, if you get competition and alcohol together, someone will find a way to make a drinking game out of it. So it was with bowling nights.

The rules were simple. Each of us would put in £5, which would be used to go to the bar and buy 10 shots (vodka or schnapps or something like that). These would be put in a line on the table behind the seating area of the alley.

Then, we'd bowl. Whoever scored the lowest in each frame would have to take a shot. If two people scored the same low score, whoever of those had the lowest overall score would do the shot. If they were even on that too, we'd flip a coin.

Of course, what this meant usually was that one of us three girls would end up drinking up to ten shots in a very short space of time, and having to go home! The problem was that it was tricky once you'd done one or two shots to stay as co-ordinated as you needed to be to avoid having to drink any more – and the more shots you drank, the worse your bowling skills became. This was fine for the boys, who were pretty good at bowling, so usually avoided drinking any more than one or two shots, and never ended up with the first drink. But for us girls, who weren't exactly stellar bowlers to start with, would end up "winning" all the shots and once one of us was the more worse for wear than the others, she was pretty much doomed!

So we would at times change up the rules – the player scoring the most in a frame would be the one doing the shot. This was actually a great leveller as the boys wound up having to do several shots early on, and as they got more drunk us girls would catch up and occasionally even overtake! But we still often played the "traditional" way, especially if we were setting up for a night out on the town.

"You know," I said one day apropos of nothing as we were in the middle of the drinking game, "you could really easily make a strip version of this."

I instantly clapped my hand over my mouth – I hadn't meant to say that! I had been thinking it, but I hadn't meant to say it out loud. None of my friends were aware of my kinky fantasies, they didn't know my youthful obsession with wanting to be forced into nudity by strip games and my frustrations at trying to get them to happen. I'd had no intention of sharing my inner thoughts with them, and after a moment I realised that my embarrassed reaction to my own statement might be saying more than just the statement itself.

Fortunately, none of them had noticed, as they were too busy laughingly agreeing with my suggestion!

"Yeah, totally," said Mark.

"What, you'd have to take one item of clothing off each frame, instead of a shot?" said Kenroy

"Yeah, or do both!" Gregg laughed.

"No way, then the loser would end up drunk and naked!" Emma chided.

"Oh, so it's one or the other for you is it Em?" joked Mark. Emma elbowed him in response.

"Wouldn't work," Gregg said knowledgeably. "You could just wear like 15 different things."

"How would you wear 15 different things?" Kenroy asked incredulously.

"7 pairs of socks?" Mark suggested.

"Nah, you'd need to know in advance you were gonna be playing," argued Kenroy. "Nobody wears 7 pairs of socks..."

So it went on. We didn't actually adopt a strip version of the game then and there – we just joked about doing it. But there was an easiness and a lack of embarrassment about the conversation which was a marked contrast to how my friends back home had behaved around similar subjects. It was fuel for thought to me – good thoughts. Thoughts so good they stayed with me for several weeks and made me run out several sets of batteries on my 'Rabbit'!

But I still needed help for my fantasy to become reality. I might have been the one to think of the idea for strip bowling, but I knew in my heart for it to really be my fantasy I couldn't be the one to instigate it. I had to be a coerced, maybe even somewhat unwilling, participant. No matter how much I wanted to be forced to strip off in front of my friends and every other customer in the bowling alley, nobody could know that I wanted it to happen, or the magic wouldn't work and I'd just be being an exhibitionist again.

Fortunately, a few weeks later, fate stepped in.

We had arrived at the bowling alley as usual and after a couple of straight games, we decided to crown the night with a round of the aforementioned "Bowling for Shots". However, we were pretty far from student load pay day, and when it came to pool our money for the 10 shots, we were woefully short the £25. Various suggestions were mooted, from buying a couple of pints of beer instead to just playing without alcohol, but nobody seemed keen on either of those.

Then Mark grinned. "There is one other way we could play," he said cautiously.

"What's that?" Siobhan asked.

He grinned a little more. "Well, you remember a few weeks ago, Claire had that thought..."

Gregg cottoned on. "No!" he laughed. "No, no!"

"What?" Siobhan asked.

"He's talking about playing Strip Bowling," Gregg said, laughing loudly.

"Yeah," Mark continued. "One item of clothing each time you lose a frame. It'll be a laugh."

You could see all four boys brains start to work. They were the best bowlers, much better than any of us girls. That meant none of them were likely to lose a frame, certainly not enough to wind up with all their kit off. That meant that if we agreed to it, we'd end up playing a game where only the girls would remove any clothes – and where one of us might end up completely starkers. At this point, none of us three girls had been in any way intimate with any of the lads, so what we looked like underneath our clothes was still unknown to them – but this way they might get to find out. The concept was evidently quite pleasing, as they all agreed to play.

My heart felt like it was skipping around my body. I might actually get to go from fantasy to reality!

Unfortunately, Emma and Siobhan had also done the same math and realised that they would be signing up to something that might potentially humiliate one of them – or both of them. Unlike me they obviously didn't find the idea of being forced to strip in public to be a turn on! We'd each had a few drinks so they might not be of sound judgement, but I still thought that there was a chance they might not go for it – and I didn't want to miss out. So I decided to take the initiative - and employ a little peer pressure of my own.

"Sure," I said confidently, "I'm in. Let's do this." I turned to my friends and put on a fierce "we can do this" expression.

(It wasn't quite my fantasy – in my fantasy I was reluctantly the last to agree to play the game, but I thought playing the shy ingénue right now would probably scupper the chances of either of my two girlfriends agreeing to play – and besides, there would still be enough of a thrill for me in the irony of the overconfident girl of the group winding up losing her clothes in a humiliating way).

"Atta girl," Mark said. "C'mon ladies, are you in, or out?"

"Well..." Siobhan was clearly considering it! My heart leapt again!

"We'll just get kicked out," Emma pointed out. I took a little consolation from this, though, that her primary concern was not that people might see her body, but that we might not be able to go bowling any more (me, I'd take being banned from a bowling alley to have my wildest sexual fantasy come true!).

"Nah, they'll be cool," Mark replied. "They never care how rowdy we get."

The girls looked round. Quite a few of the lanes were in use but it wasn't crowded – there weren't people right up next to us and the lighting was a little dim. They were obviously working out the risk – and fortunately for me it must have seemed reasonable, as first Siobhan then Emma agreed to play a strip game.

I was giddy with excitement as Mark recapped the rules ("same as Bowling for Shots - lowest scoring in each frame takes off one item of clothing. And that's clothing – no hair bobbles, earrings... if you can wear it in the shower it's not clothing."), but I knew I mustn't let it show. I needed to be showing solidarity with my sisterly housemates, who despite their agreement were not exactly bubbling over with enthusiasm.

Of course, they had no need to worry. I had no intention of letting either of them lose the bowling game – not if I wanted my fantasy to come true. I counted up in my head – I was wearing 6 items of clothing, not counting my bowling shoes, which would have to stay on (house rules!). That meant I would need to lose 6 frames to end up completely naked. We'd be playing 10, so even if one girl lost all the other 4 she'd still only be down to her underwear – only one of us would be fully nude. Of course, in the best case scenario either all the losses would be mine (and I'd end up playing the final four frames completely nude as well – the prospect of which was making me delirious) or the other losses would be spread among all other players and they'd only lose socks or shirts apiece, where I would again be the only one in any sort of nakedness.

So, my plan was to lose, and as quickly as possible, to end up naked as early as I could and prolong the experience of being forced to be naked in public. I was a pretty terrible bowler, but I wasn't always the worst. So if I was going to get my plan to work, I needed to throw the game to make sure I lost – and I needed to do it in a way that made it seem as though I was genuinely playing badly, and not just whipping ball after ball into the gutter in order to deliberately lose my clothes. My fantasy needed everyone around me to believe I was doing this as punishment, not reward!

Fortunately I had one advantage, being the last player to bowl each frame. That meant I could see my friends' scores and try to make sure I came in under them each time.

First frame went by as expected, with the boys all achieving respectable numbers and the two other girls scoring lower. In fact, both Emma and Siobhan were level on 5 apiece, which made it easier for me – I just had to score 4 or less and I was one item of clothing "ahead"!

I stepped up, intending to clip one or two pins to get a score of 4 – but I genuinely completely misjudged and sent my ball spinning into the gutter! A score of 0! Honestly, reader, I didn't do that on purpose – so at least my shock looked genuine. I sheepishly retrieved my ball and adjusted my aim, knocking down 3 pins.

"Claire it is, then!" laughed Kenroy. There was a pregnant pause while everyone waited to see what I would do – until I grasped my jumper by the hem and pulled it off over my head.

The lads cheered, although really I was revealing nothing. I had a t-shirt on under my jumper, all I'd done was the exact same thing I would have done had it gotten warm, and removed my top layer. But I guess I had shown that I, at least, was willing to enter into the spirit of the game, and greatly increased the boys' likelihood of seeing my goodies! My female friends looked relieved, too – perhaps they figured I was on a losing streak and would continue to bowl this badly, sparing them much humiliation.

Next frame went similarly. Everyone but me scored fairly high, I scraped by with a 4. Once again, attention turned to me.

I had a choice now. I was wearing a t-shirt, skirt, black tights, and of course my bra and knickers.

It didn't make sense to take my skirt off next, and I couldn't remove my underwear without removing the clothes on top. So I could either take off my t-shirt and bowl in my bra – but with every item of clothing below my waist still in place. Or, I could whip off my tights and bowl bare-legged. This would be more "natural" – as I was still feigning modesty, people would believe that I would consider myself still "dressed" at that point, in top and skirt with just my legs exposed – although it would cut down on the amount of time I would be exposed in any significant way.

In the end, I decided to go for the tights. I sat down on a stool and began to unlace my shoes, in order to get my tights off.

"Oi!" Mark challenged. "No cheating! Shoes don't count!"

My, he was a stickler for the rules – obviously wanted the best chance to see some flesh! I didn't reply, I just stepped out of my shoes, reached both hands up under my skirt and grasped the waistband of my tights.

There are two ways of taking off tights, if you are a woman. There's a slow, seductive way – alright, maybe not as sexy as taking off stockings, but done right it can be pretty hot – and the quick, practical way. I went for the second, quickly rolling the tights down my bare legs and stretching them to step out of them. I balled them up and chucked them in the vague direction of my jumper, then stepped my bare feet back into the bowling shoes.

I suddenly felt a lot more naked. Even though nothing was exposed – I was only dressed how I would on a hot summer's day – the sudden transition between covered legs and bare legs made my skin tingle and my bare feet inside the bowling shoes were a reminder of how unusual this was becoming. I was acutely aware that there were now only 4 more items of clothing between me and total nudity – and the next round I lost, I would be exposing more of myself than was acceptable in public. Butterflies danced in my stomach, and the anticipation alone was deliciously arousing.