It was the summer after my senior year of high school and at 18 years old I was presented with the opportunity to rent a three bedroom, two bath house in the country by my boss, who recently had his previous tenant move out. The rent was very affordable and I enjoyed the space as it afforded me great privacy. It didn't take long after moving in that I soon rediscovered the thrill almost everyone experiences of walking around nude when home alone, except I was always alone so I stayed clothes free pretty much all the time.
Over the summer I developed a few habits because of my love of wandering around the house in my most natural state, I would wake up every morning and simply hop out of bed for coffee without worrying about putting any clothes on, if I happened to have clothes on before a shower, I'd simply drop them wherever the mood struck me, then spend the rest of the day without them. Soon I began to do my weekly grocery run on Fridays so that I could enjoy my entire weekend without a stitch covering me, even taking the exhilarating few steps outside off my back porch and walking around in the moonlight late at night, or enjoying the peacefulness of the early morning with my coffee in hand.
Before long I found myself feeling much more comfortable in my own body, something that was completely new to me as I'd always been very self conscious due to my weight (or lack thereof) and general skinniness that stuck around no matter how much I worked out or ate. At 5'11" and 120 pounds soaking wet I always felt like less of a man around my peers, but after awhile of living as a nudist in my own private space I came to realize that it didn't much matter, I had my own body and I shouldn't be ashamed of it, that some people would even like how I looked, though few had ever seen me outside of jeans and a t-shirt.
As they say however, all good things must come to an end, and with only a month left in the hot season I received a call from my best friend, Mark, who decided to move back home after spending the summer out of state with relatives. His plan was to go to college, but that fell through when his uncle took a new job and sold the house. Mark hadn't seen my new house yet, and wanted to come visit that weekend after he settled back into his parents house. I told him I'd love to have him visit, and made a mental note to myself to be sure and keep my clothes on while I had company.
Friday came along, and with it so did Mark with his overnight bag to spend the weekend at my place. We had always been really close friends, we shared the same hobbies, and all throughout highschool were pretty inseparable most of the time. Mark was built very similar to myself, not too tall, lanky, but he spent much less time lifting weights than I did, so I certainly out classed him when it came to muscle definition.
I gave Mark a grand tour of the place and helped him get set up on the couch in the living room, even though I had three whole bedrooms, I didn't have much furniture so the other two rooms were mostly empty except for a desk, chair, and my computer setup in the furthest one. The couch faced my bedroom door, so I would need to be especially mindful in the mornings as I slept nude and was very much used to facing my first adventure of the day to the kitchen for coffee, straight out of bed.
Luckily Mark and I were pretty comfortable around each other and he always slept in just a pair of gym shorts so I could still be mostly naked, except for my boxer briefs, which kept me decent even though they didn't leave much to the imagination. Although we'd often change clothes in the same room in the past, we never saw each other in between states of dress as I would have my back turned to him, and he'd hide himself behind the closet door to maintain the privacy of the other. We had of course discussed the idea of being naked when we'd be home alone growing up, and while I fully admitted to the act occasionally and encouraged him to try it, he never did as far as I know, giving the excuse that he was always afraid that he'd have unexpected visitors at his parents house. I personally argued that excuse was bullshit since nobody could see in his windows, and everyone always knocked before walking in the house, since growing up he had a very large and very protective dog that was extremely intimidating to anyone that wasn't Mark or his parents.
His aversion to nudity always struck me as odd, since he never wore any underwear and frequently hung around in just his gym shorts, but at the time I never said anything about it, and only touched on the subject in passing once or twice, always under the provision that he tried it alone. The discomfort he expressed kept that conversation to a minimum and I thought better of trying to push the issue beyond "it's great, you should think about trying it sometime!"
That weekend we hung out like always, watching TV, discussing women, technology, cars, and anything else that came up in conversation. I was on my best behavior and made sure that I hung my underwear on my door knob at night so that I wouldn't forget them in the morning. He finally left that Sunday afternoon and I was able to return to my preferred dressing habits, or lack of them I should say. Although I was glad to spend time with my best friend again, I was a little disappointed to have missed out on my normal weekend.
Inevitably as one would imagine, Mark asked me one day if I would be open to having a roommate as it didn't make sense for him to be living with his parents when his best friend had such a big house to himself. I couldn't really argue, other than the fact that I was naked all the time, but I wasn't about to bring that up as a reason he couldn't move in with me. We discussed it on and off during the week after work, either over the phone or in person when he'd stop by to visit. By Friday we had an arrangement, he'd pay part of the rent and we'd split the bill for groceries as long as he did the shopping. That seemed to be a good compromise for me, as at least I would have some time alone where I could strip off should I choose to.
By the next weekend Mark was all moved into the once empty bedroom, bringing his bed, dresser, computer, and other various odds and ends. Although I was bummed out about losing my freedom, I was really glad to have him as a roommate and quickly adapted back to keeping my midsection covered except when sleeping or showering. The only exception I would make would be after my showers, when I'd walk from the bathroom into the laundry room off the kitchen to put my towel in the washer and put on a pair of shorts or underwear which I usually kept in the dryer for convenience. I occupied the master suite of the house, complete with it's own bathroom, but always used the shower on the other side of the house as the one in my room was only a few square feet in size and I felt claustrophobic, always bumping into the door or walls when I'd wash up.
As anyone that has lived with a roommate knows, introducing another person into your environment brings unexpected changes. Changes like certain household items not being where you left them, things moving around in the fridge, and the dishwasher always being loaded incorrectly. I didn't mind any of that though, as it was barely noticeable for the most part, Mark was very respectful of my space and although we were very close friends, he still kept the mentality that he was a guest in my home and I appreciated that about him.
Living in close quarters with anyone there's always a non-zero chance of accidentally catching a glimpse of something you're not supposed to, glancing over a shoulder at a phone screen, seeing a private text message, walking past an open door while someone is changing clothes, and other various situations, but none of that ever happened with Mark. Oh no, when something happened, it happened in a big way. It was a Friday night about a month after he moved in and I went into the bathroom to take my shower, nothing out of the ordinary there, and as usual I left wearing my towel and walked through the living room where Mark was hanging out on the couch, into the kitchen and finally the laundry room where I dropped my towel and placed it into the waiting washer. I noticed it was full, so I added the detergent and started the machine before opening the dryer next to it to retrieve some cover for myself. I'd done this dozens of times in the past, knowing that should he decide to get up from the couch and go to the kitchen, he'd get a full view of my backside, but he never did as far as I knew, so I was pretty comfortable with the arrangement I'd made for myself.
I pulled the dryer door open and bent down to reach in, only to find it empty for the first time since I'd moved in. "Hey Mark, um...I have a problem," I called out to the living room.
"What's up?" He asked, not moving from the couch.
"Where's all the clothes that were in the dryer?"
Mark let out a short chuckle as he realized the situation he'd created. "Sorry man, I wanted to put my clothes away but didn't want to sort everything there so I carried everything out in a basket to my room. Everything is piled on my bed."
