Mrs. Lawson headed out the front door, I assumed to greet her daughter, Daphne, who had just arrived at their house. I hadn't seen Daphne in more than five years. She was a pretty girl built a lot like her mother: long legs, fairly large breasts (C-cup or so), and a tight ass kept toned by years on various swim teams. Or, at least that's how she had looked her senior year of high school. Since I was two years her junior she had typically failed to acknowledge me when I saw her in the halls between classes. I had a strong hunch she would notice me now.
It was difficult to imagine her missing me. I remained exactly where her mother had commanded me to stay, and was in the exact position I had been instructed to remain in. And I was in the same outfit that I had been in for nearly all of the past six hours: nothing. No shoes, no socks, no shirt, no pants, no underwear... no anything. I was completely and totally stark naked. For about five seconds sometime about an hour or so ago I had been allowed to put on a bathing suit--allowed that brief bit of covering--but that too had been stripped off of me, solely for the purpose of making me feel even more exposed. And now I was under the bright lights of the Lawsons' kitchen, standing with only my hands covering me. It seemed silly that Mrs. Lawson would have me attempt to retain even that shred of modesty, since undoubtedly I would be exposing myself again soon for her and Daphne's enjoyment. Mrs. Lawson was relishing having me as a naked guest this evening, and unfortunately I had to do everything possible to remain in her good graces. But I was really, really tired of being naked, especially since Mrs. Lawson had remained very clothed the entire time I had been with her and since she really loved reminding me of my nakedness. And unless Daphne walked through the front door naked as well, I was about to be alone and very, very naked with two very, very dressed females. The image of a naked Daphne (only a dream image, since I had never seen her in anything less than a one-piece racing suit) was also not helping at that moment, as I felt my erection throb quickly under my hands.
The kitchen was slightly to the side of the front door, so from my vantage point I could only hear the door open rather than see the two women come through it. However, as they came through I could hear no conversation until one party stopped her walking and said "Really?" That was clearly Daphne. And her mother's response: "Go see for yourself."
My heart was racing as Daphne had clearly begun to walk again. Two seconds later she made her way into the kitchen, holding a bag of groceries. And then she did the one thing that actually could have made the situation worse: She started laughing. And laughing. And there I was, standing in her kitchen in my birthday suit, my hands covering my erection, my embarrassment at the highest level it had been at all day (which was really saying something), while Daphne had broken into such uncontrollable laughter that she had to put down her bag of groceries for fear of dropping and breaking something. After a couple good minutes, Daphne brought herself under control, although she could not wipe the smile off of her face. She was in a short-sleeved blouse and a pair of black capri pants, with flip-flops on her feet. Her good-size breasts were shaking as she did, her shoulder-length brown hair held back in a pony-tail, her toned body still spasming as she had seconds of uncontrolled giggling..
"Omigod, John," she sputtered, still giggling a bit. "I mean, holy cow. You're... in my kitchen... your hands, they... and you're totally naked." And she started to laugh again. Stopping, a second time, she asked, "So where are your clothes, John?"
Her mother responded before I could answer her. Mrs. Lawson had been standing just behind and to the side of her daughter, as to not interrupt Daphne's view (and to ensure that Daphne did not interrupt hers). "Would you believe I found him this way? I heard the doorbell ring, John identified himself when I asked who it was, and when I opened the door, he was standing there exactly as you see him now.
"I was sure I was imagining something. I kept speaking to him on the front porch, thinking that I would figure it out. I would realize that his shirt was just transparent under our porch light, or he was just wearing flesh-colored shorts. But even after waiting for ten minutes for the mirage to disappear, I had to accept it: Here was John--the young man we watched grow up across the street--and he had no shirt, no shoes, no pants, no underwear even. He was totally and completely nude on our front porch. Totally nude, not a stitch on... and no clothes in sight. His hands were his only covering--they were positioned then exactly as you see them now. Think about it: Any car driving down our block at that moment would have seen me talking to a totally nude man, whose bare-ass was pointing straight at the street. Turn around John, so that Daphne can appreciate what view a car driving by would have had."
I did not react quickly enough so Mrs. Lawson sternly repeated my name. I started moving my feet and quickly I had turned 180-degrees, so Daphne was now looking at my very bare-ass. I thought in some ways this was better, since I didn't have to see her looking at me, but a fresh round of giggles (more controlled than the first two sets) had now begun behind my back.
"You can laugh now," Mrs. Lawson said. "But I was very confused at the time. I still am not sure how that came to be. John, can you explain for Daphne how I came to find you totally nude on my front porch... particularly strange when your house (and clothes, I assume) are just across the street? And please turn around when you speak to us."
I couldn't look at Daphne's face, and since she was still catching her breath from her various fits of laughter I was guessing she wasn't looking at mine, either. Instead I spoke to her feet, rehashing (for what felt like the hundredth time) the events of the afternoon: When I told my girlfriend (at home with her parents) that I had the house to myself for the day and evening, she dared me to do a bunch of stuff naked. One of those things was to go skinny dipping. Unfortunately once I was already on the back porch (without a suit or towel), I found the door had locked behind me. I couldn't imagine my parents finding me that way when they got home, so I ran over to Daphne's house since her mother once had a spare key.
Mrs. Lawson spoke up now, apparently disappointed I had a major point. "That's not exactly the way things happened. His girlfriend--a lovely young woman named Katie--stayed on the phone with him for nearly the whole day, keeping him naked and forcing him to do things around the house in the nude that he normally was allowed to do fully clothed." As she spoke, Mrs. Lawson had begun to move towards their small kitchen table, Daphne following her lead. They took chairs on opposite sides. Once they moved Mrs. Lawson commanded I follow them--now my hand-covered groin was directed at their eye-level.
Mrs. Lawson continued, excited by her next thought. "But you'll love this part best, Daph. Katie had the splendid idea to have him go outside to tan and swim in the nude, but she let him put on a bathing suit as he walked out of the house."
Daphne, not yet as practiced as her mother in keeping their naked male guest embarrassed and exposed, seemed surprised. "If he was to tan naked, why did she have him get dressed?"
"I told you that you'd love this," her mother responded. "Katie didn't tell John he was going to be naked, only that he was going out to the pool. Once he was out the door, she forced him to strip off his suit and toss it and the towel back in the house. She wanted him to think he would be allowed to be covered, but only so that it was that much more humiliating when he found himself totally nude on the back porch. He closed the door, and suddenly found himself locked out of his house. Locked out totally and completely nude, with absolutely no hope of covering. Can you imagine that? Locked out naked in the bright afternoon sunshine?"