Chapter 11 - What Now?

Kate's Exhibitionist Journey

Chapter 11 - What Now?

In which post-holiday Kate makes some missteps as she tries to find a new avenue to explore her exhibitionist needs.

What now?

It was a perfectly valid question. As valid as any of the questions I had asked myself at various times on this journey of mine. And it was one that had been plaguing me for several days now.

It had been the first thing I'd thought of on the farewell morning at the villa. I woke to find myself lying nude in bed, with a still-dressed Ange snoring gently next to me. After gorging herself on my pussy for a second night in a row, she hadn't made it back to her own bed. And for the first time in my life, I woke up post-coitally next to a woman, rather than a man. True, in keeping with my other sexual experiences on my trip, the coitus had been entirely one-way. She had eagerly used my body and I had gleefully embraced the feeling, but she had asked for nothing in return. Just like Nicole, when she had pleasured me with her fingers. Or even Maria, when she had so domineeringly ordered me to play with myself on that beach. It had all been to do with my body, my pleasure, my shame, my nudity, my everything. If nothing else, it was enough to make a girl feel wanted.

Maybe that was the answer to my question. Maybe, after all my holiday experiences, it was time to admit that I clearly liked women as well as men. To stop merely allowing them to touch me, and to start reciprocating. It doesn't matter what label you want to give yourself, Kate. Just embrace it. You might like it? No, that didn't seem like the answer, somehow. At least, not the entire answer. So, if not that, then...what now?

I continued to contemplate the question in my final few hours at the villa. Ange had woken up and looked a little sheepish about what she had gotten up to again, to say nothing of the fact that she'd spent the night in bed with a naked woman, and she had scurried off to get ready. I had jumped in the shower myself, and then reluctantly gotten dressed for the first time in a long while. After breakfast, we had driven back to the airport and I had said goodbye to Nicole, Ange and Maria, resolving to see Nicole back in London after work one night, and wondering if I would ever see the other two again. I hoped I would.

Then, I had found myself at a loose end. Because while they had a convenient afternoon flight home, my budget-conscious approach meant that I was stuck on a significantly less convenient late night departure. I spent hours mooching around the airport, dozing, snacking, browsing duty free shops. And considering that question.

On the one hand, the answer seemed rather simple. If I'd still been confused by this new side to me before I'd arrived in Spain, everything was a lot clearer now. I was undoubtedly an exhibitionist. I had spent almost three full days here completely nude, showing off my body to three women (to say nothing of the four strangers on the beach yesterday) while I had sunbathed, brought them drinks, served them food, danced with them and played games. I had eagerly allowed them to fondle my breasts, to rub lotion into or to repeatedly spank my bare bottom, and ultimately...to pleasure me. Pretty much every aspect of my trip had been a display of exhibitionism, of one sort or another.

Yet, things still seemed so complicated. My experiences on holiday had run the spectrum of emotions. From deep submissive humiliation at the hands of Nicole out on the sun deck, or Maria on the beach, to far stronger, more commanding displays in my performance on the second day as I'd seized control of the situation, or in my bedroom with Ange. What did that say about me? Why was I so all over the place? Did I want to have complete control of my nudity, to proudly show off my body on my own terms? Or did I like to be controlled, to be pushed outside of my comfort zone by a strong, clothed tormentor? Could I like both?

And, perhaps most importantly, I kept wondering as I finally boarded my cramped flight home, how was I going to explore all of this further now my holiday was over? Short of winning the lottery, buying my own secluded villa on the Mediterranean coast somewhere, and finding a group of clothed people willing to share my little nude empire with me, where could I go from here on my journey?

What now?!

*****

"Excuse me?"

Was this daring enough? Was this exciting me? I tried to ignore those questions for the time being as I peered out from behind the door to the changing area, thrusting out an arm and waving a patterned dress at the shop assistant a little further down the corridor.

The middle-aged woman looked at me in confusion for a moment, wondering exactly what I was after. I persisted with my request.

"Sorry, I'm shopping here by myself, and...is there any chance you could fetch me the next size down? This one's a bit too big."

I wasn't sure if she'd even bother to come over. After all, I was treating her like we were in some high-end establishment and she was my personal shopper, rather than the reality of us being in a high street department store and her being a tired and put-upon employee tasked with staffing the changing rooms. But then, really and truly, it didn't matter too much if she went with it or not. The important thing was that I'd opened the door and got her attention.

And that unbeknownst to her, behind the door, I was completely nude.

I still wasn't sure if this was daring or not. It certainly felt like it, as I tried to keep my body out of view behind the door, the shop assistant staring at me, the sound of dozens of other shoppers browsing the racks of clothing on sale just a short distance away. This definitely felt like an escalation in my usual 'nude in a changing room' routine. And whether it was truly daring or not, it did at least represent my latest slightly lame attempt to answer the question that had been plaguing me since my trip to Spain.

What now?

In the couple of weeks since I had arrived back in London, I had still struggled for an answer. After the incredible highs and lows of my nude holiday, I had returned to an entirely more mundane life. And, outside of my traditional nude breakfasts in my apartment, my exhibitionist streak had largely been forced to remain bottled up inside me.

Eventually, the frustration had gotten too much. As the delicious memories of my time in Spain began to fade, as I tired of naughtily pleasuring myself to images of my bottom being playfully lotioned, of Ange and Maria's clothed bodies pressing against my skin as we had danced together, of having seven sets of eyes drinking in my nude form on the beach, and of every powerful, body-shaking orgasm I'd been treated to, I craved more.

And so, on a lazy Saturday, I'd gone shopping. In the past, I'd contented myself with heading for the changing rooms and then simply stripping my clothes off for a while. But today, I'd wanted to take an extra step. I'd already opted for a more daring approach wardrobe-wise, stepping out the house on this warm late summer day wearing nothing but a knee-length dress and a pair of slip-on shoes. Eek! Once I'd gotten inside the cubicle under the pretence of trying on the similar dress I'd picked out in the store, I'd been able to get nude in seconds. And now, after a few moments to prepare myself, I'd unlocked the door, peered outside and was beckoning the tired shop assistant over.

I was delighted to see that she eventually began to head my way, allowing myself a little smile at the fact that she had no idea she was approaching a completely nude woman. Or at least, I hoped she didn't.

As she took the dress on the hangar from my hand with a slight sigh, she paused and glared at me. I froze on the spot, with only my head and arm outside the door, but I wondered how much of my bare shoulder was also visible. Oops! Could she see enough to conclude that I wasn't wearing a bra? No, I told myself. Even if she can't see a strap, I could be wearing a strapless one. And even if she thought I was wearing nothing on top, I'm sure she assumed I was at least wearing panties. Although, of course, I wasn't. Naughty Kate!

After a moment, she sighed again and walked off to carry out my slightly presumptuous request. I allowed myself the extra tiny thrill of leaving the door open for a few additional seconds, feeling the breeze of the air conditioning overhead gently caressing my bare skin, then closed the door with a smile.

Was this enough? I wondered. Was the memory of this going to satisfy my fantasies at home in my bed later? No, I knew it wasn't. It was a bit of harmless fun, no doubt about that. And it was a step up from simply standing in a cubicle like this, looking at my body in the mirror. Which had started to feel more like narcissism than exhibitionism, anyway. But equally, it was a long way off being anywhere close to the sort of thrills I'd experienced on my holiday.

As I regarded my naked body for a moment or two, I contemplated what else to do. I'd revisited my list of European nudist resorts since I'd returned, but I knew for a fact that it would be a while before I could afford another holiday, even with the savings that Nicole had generously allowed me to make. I'd again looked into the possibility of modelling for a life drawing class, but I still didn't like the idea of having to stand still for that long. I'd even, thanks to the quirks of the google algorithm, found a bunch of salacious newspaper articles about a specialist cleaning service that was looking to recruit women willing to work as nude cleaners for a very competitive hourly rate. But to be frank, I found cleaning my own apartment to be boring enough, even when I did it in the nude. And without meaning to pre-judge anyone, I also wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be alone without any clothes on with the sort of person I imagined would want to use such a service.

No, I sighed. None of that would do. But if not that, then...

what now?

I was shaken from my latest musings by a sudden knock at the door. I stepped back over and unlocked it, peering out to see the assistant standing patiently on the other side.

It was time to pretend to try on another dress I didn't want.

*****

When I got back to my apartment, my frustrations were still evident. So I opted for another means of relieving them. I grabbed my laptop, flopped onto my bed and quickly began searching for my favourite videos. One of those beautiful naked European women, gleefully exposing themselves in public to dozens of strangers.

And then I stumbled into something new. Some smutty online videos that were based around a similar theme, but still slightly, and thrillingly, different.

These ones weren't professionally made. There was clearly no camera crew, or organised shoot going on. And there weren't dozens of passers by in the background, gazing at the nude woman as she slinked past. No, these were all entirely home made. Most of them shot on a GoPro or a camera phone. And in these, women took on the job of filming themselves taking their clothes off in a variety of different locations, from outdoors in their garden or in the woods, to quiet suburban streets, to public libraries or cinemas.

A lot of them quickly descended into the woman in question finding a secluded spot and then touching themselves for the camera, which made sense in terms of the sort of site I was on, but which I felt a bit weird about watching, especially as they tended to stare straight at the camera as they were doing it. But many of the videos I found focused far more on the public nudity over the public masturbation, and those began to utterly captivate me.

One woman in particular, an especially daring and giggly brunette who seemed to live somewhere deep in the rural United States, had a whole series of videos where she would drive out into the middle of some parkland or forest near her house, and then film herself walking along deserted trails in various states of undress.

I became obsessed with following her own journey, which she had documented for everyone in glorious detail online. In the earliest videos, she would walk fully clothed for the most part, but would occasionally pluck up the courage to lift her top up, or drop her trousers, or both, and flash the camera for a few seconds, biting her lip and blushing at the naughtiness of what she was doing out in the open. That then escalated to her heading out wearing nothing but walking boots and a long coat, which she would almost instantly unzip and leave open when she started walking, gleefully showing herself off to the camera even more, before a voice or a sound nearby would spook her enough to pull the coat back tightly around her with an embarrassed giggle. And then she bravely progressed even further, to the point that she began to take the coat off entirely and walk for minutes at a time with it draped over her arm, face reddened but smiling widely, her nude body displayed to the world.

I adored everything about it. Perhaps more so than the European ones I'd found because, while all those women had looked like vaguely artificial supermodels, without a single blemish on their perfect bodies, this thrill-seeking woman looked wonderfully real. She was still beautiful, more so than the more fake-looking models, to my eyes. But her body had the odd crease, or wrinkle, or little imperfection. Her boobs sagged slightly. She had a birthmark on her shoulder. She was so magnificently, gloriously real. Not an unattainably perfect Czech model, but a real woman, showing off every inch of her incredible body, and loving every second of it. I was in love. With, um, her attitude, I mean. Not, um, with her.

Her latest video actually made me gasp with excitement. This time, she didn't only take off the coat, but she left it behind completely, hidden behind some bushes! And she had headed off like that, completely naked save for her walking boots. She looked so cute and nervous as she had set off, glancing behind her every now and again as the bush hiding her coat faded from view and she set off into the wilderness in the nude, the hand holding the camera visibly shaking as she stepped further away from her clothing. At one point, she thought she heard voices, and went scurrying off into the undergrowth for cover, her body quivering and her breathing heightened as she fearfully checked whether the coast was clear. Then, when she was sure that she was alone again, she raced back down the trail to the safety of her coat, giggling all the way even as the camera caught her face flushing crimson.

That was it. My fantasies had been given the shot in the arm that my changing room trip had so completely failed to do. I ripped off my dress and began working my pussy with vigour, closing my eyes and seeing myself in her place, nervously leaving my clothes behind and walking off into the woods, my bare body at one with nature. I shuddered to a climax as I pictured myself being discovered by a couple of hikers, a husband and wife, shocked yet delighted to find themselves confronted with my naked form, and ultimately walking with me on either side. Two dignified, clothed hikers surrounding the gloriously nude me.

Maybe that was the answer. Nude hiking. I could even record myself on my phone, like that woman had been doing. No, Kate, I reminded myself. No videos, no photos. Nothing like that.

Still, as I lay in my post-climax afterglow, the nude hiking idea still stuck in my mind. I could easily drive out from London to the surrounding countryside. Find a nice safe trail somewhere and...strip off completely.

Could I...?

I wasn't sure. It suddenly felt a little bit scary when I put it like that. My loving admiration for the blushing, giggling woman I'd been watching online, and her own daring escalation, grew even further. Still, I had to do more than just annoy sales staff in department stores.

I was interrupted by a message arriving on my phone. And as soon as I checked it, I smiled in renewed satisfaction. It was from Nicole, asking if I wanted to meet up for a drink after work next week. It would be the first time we'd met up since the holiday.

All of a sudden, the cogs in my brain began to turn and I forgot all about any hiking plans, as I saw a far less scary chance for some nude fun presenting itself...

*****

All it had taken was a few little white lies. There was no harm in that, right?

I mean, they were barely even lies. I had told Nicole that I was free on Thursday night, and I was. True, I was free on nearly every other night of the week as well, thanks to the rather tragic current state of my social life, but she didn't need to know that. And, oh, would you believe it? I was supposed to be working from home on Thursday. So, I told her, it would be more convenient for me if she came over for a drink and a takeaway, rather than us meeting up in the middle of the city. And the unspoken fact I didn't bother texting her, that if we were at my apartment, I could be in the nude? Well, that was just a happy, innocent coincidence.

Unaware of my happy coincidence, Nicole had agreed to my plan. And from that point on, Thursday couldn't come quickly enough. I thought back to those late nights in the villa, when we had all sat up talking and finishing our wine, with me remaining gloriously nude throughout. This wouldn't quite be the same, but it would still be fun.

My plans hit a late wrinkle when, on Wednesday evening, my boss had emailed to ask me to come into the office after all for a team meeting. I had silently cursed my luck, having hoped to spend my entire WFH day undressed in preparation for Nicole's arrival, and spent the entire day at work watching the clock, desperately counting down the minutes. As soon as it hit 5pm, I was out of the door like a shot.

Through the annoyingly long Tube ride home, I felt butterflies in my stomach. As soon as I got through my front door, I rushed to my bedroom and stripped nude, then scurried to the kitchen to open the bottle of wine I'd bought the day before. I even double checked that my favourite Thai restaurant was available for delivery, and naughtily wondered whether I'd finally be brave enough to greet a delivery man like this if I had Nicole here with me. Everything was perfectly set. We could sit and chat and drink, just like we would have done in whatever fancy London bar Nicole would have picked for us. Except here, I could be happily naked for the whole evening.

I didn't give a thought to the suggestion that I might be doing anything weird. In Spain, I'd become so used to being nude around Nicole that I allowed myself to get carried along on a giddy wave of excitement. Besides, it wasn't like I was expecting...anything to happen, as it had between us on holiday. As she had made clear, what happened in Spain stays in Spain. But even with that said, Nicole was the only person who knew (almost!) everything about what I was doing. And she had promised that she'd help me to explore whatever was going on with me. So, here I was. Ready to explore my nudity with her for another evening.

As the doorbell rang, I almost squealed in glee. Two weeks of solo nude breakfasts and random changing room trips faded into a disappointing memory as I rushed to the door and spied Nicole through the peephole. It was only when I excitedly flung open the door to greet her, body entirely bared, that I realised I might have miscalculated something.

As the door opened and Nicole was confronted by me standing in the doorway, completely nude, her face dropped.

"Jesus Christ, Kate!" she gasped, quickly stepping inside and dragging me back with her arm to get me safely inside before anyone else in my building walked past.

I giggled slightly at this reaction, as if she was the one that was being silly, but when she closed the door and I saw the serious look on her face, I suddenly stopped myself. In an instant, I stopped feeling like a happy pioneering exhibitionist, proudly showing herself off to the world yet again. And I started feeling a little more like a stupid little girl, inexplicably standing in front of one of her best friends with no clothes on.