Nii's Naed Weeend

I've always lacked confidence about my body.

If you had to pin me down about it, I would say that there's nothing particularly "wrong" with the way I look. I have a fairly average body type - a little towards the "plump" or "curvy" side but no more than most women my age. I'm quite short and my breasts are on the large side, leading to me feeling on some days like I am basically a pair of boobs with some feet attached, but I do know that if my body was on somebody else, I would like it a lot better than I do on me.

If I think about it, my lack of confidence goes back to my pre-teen years. I developed early, compared to most of the other girls around me, and this unfortunately gathered me a lot of attention from boys - and men. I didn't welcome any of this, I was too young really to understand a lot of it, and it left me often confused, embarrassed and scared. But it also caused problems with other girls - although I didn't like the attention from guys, the other girls around me thought I was inviting it, and they were jealous and angry as a result. They were very mean to me, calling me all sorts of names, telling me I was fat and ugly. I know where it came from now, but at the time it just seemed like they were telling me that because I was.

I hated taking off my clothes. I used to dread changing for gym in front of everyone, and wearing skimpy clothes or swimwear was horrible. The idea of anyone seeing me completely naked filled me with anxiety and I would do anything to avoid it. This carried on into adulthood, and I even hated my partners seeing me naked. I used to dress and undress hurriedly around them, and would only make love in the dark, or at least in flattering light. This made things very difficult in relationships, with my constant insecurities creating a barrier between me and the men I was with.

I was 22, and my last relationship had ended badly. My insecurity about my body and my shyness about nudity was not the sole reason for that, but it had been a big contributory factor. And by now, even I realised that it was getting to the point where I needed to do something about it.

I began to use the internet to look up ways to improve body confidence. There was a big movement towards body positivity in women and there were lots of websites and articles to explain how to learn to love yourself and stop feeling ugly and inadequate (of course, there were also plenty of articles on the same sites shaming celebrities for a bit of weight gain or some other unsightly feature, so I wasn't sure how to feel about that!), and lots of tips and tricks to try.

One of the themes which kept popping up was the idea that it can help you to feel better about yourself if you simply take off all your clothes and spend some time naked at home by yourself - I guessed it was about getting comfortable in your own skin. A lot of writers talked about how it had helped them and as it didn't require much more effort from me than just staying indoors a while, I decided that it might be worth giving it a go!

The first time I tried walking around naked at home I nearly cried. I was incredibly uncomfortable without clothes on and almost immediately, and gratefully, slipped a t-shirt and leggings back on. I told myself "baby steps", and that it would be something that would get easier with time.

Except, it didn't. I just didn't feel comfortable or happy with my clothes off. Nudity was supposedly going to feel natural and liberating for me, but all I felt was weird and awkward. I disliked the feeling of areas of my bare skin connecting with one another, or with unfamiliar surfaces. I felt cold. And most of all I hated looking down at myself and seeing my body uncovered and exposed. Time and again, try as I might, I would soon find myself putting my clothes back on.

I felt like a big failure. I couldn't even get up the courage to do something as simple as walk around my flat naked. I was never going to build up my confidence and was always going to be ruled by insecurity.

I think feeling like that was what got me to try a pretty drastic measure.

I'd bought, a few years before, a time-lock box. It had been to help me with my revision. Anything that might distract me (usually my phone) would go in the box. I'd lock it, and instead of a key, it had a timer. When you set that, the box would not open until the time ran out. There was no override, no way to trick the box into opening early - once something was locked in there, it was in there until the time reached zero.

My clothes in my flat were all kept in one big walk-in closet off my bedroom. All my clothes, including underwear, nightclothes - everything except for a few pairs of shoes. The closet had a sturdy lock on the door, and only one key - and it was this that formed my plan.

I decided the only way I was going to get over my discomfort about being naked was to force myself into it, to create a situation where I would have no other option except to be without the security of my clothes, at least in the privacy of home. I didn't have enough willpower to stick with it, otherwise - I would just run back to the comfort of clothing at the first sensation of disliking my naked state. I needed to make myself do it, until I no longer felt like I needed to cover up.

So, I laid my plan. I cleared my diary, stocked up with food, drink, snacks, and picked out some shows on Netflix. Then, early one Saturday morning, I got out of bed, stretched, and walked over to the closet.

I had gone to town the previous evening. As well as my clothes, I had also made sure any towels, blankets - anything I could wrap myself in and hide my body - were in there. There wasn't anything left around my flat that could be considered clothing, even by the most imaginative person. Everything was piled up in my closet.

I stood looking at it all, for a moment, feeling apprehensive. But I was determined to do this. So I took a deep breath, and pulled my pyjama top off over my head. I dropped it on the floor of the closet, and followed it a few moments later with my pyjama shorts and my underwear.

Now completely naked, I stepped back out of the closet. I took the key to the closet door from my dresser, closed the door, and locked it.

I clutched the key tightly in my hand and went into the kitchen, where the lock-box was. I checked, double-checked and triple-checked the timer, to make sure I hadn't just set it for 10 years or something ridiculous. Then I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and dropped the key to the closet into the box, before closing the lid. It clicked and beeped to let me know that it was sealed.

I stood there for a moment, naked in my kitchen, looking at the key in the box. I'd set the timer so that the box would not open again for slightly under 48 hours - the early hours of Monday morning. My intention was to force myself to spend the whole weekend completely without any clothing or coverage of any kind - without even the option of covering up. I wasn't going out, I was expecting no callers - I might get a bit of cabin fever but I didn't see any logical reason why I should have any problems staying naked around my home for two days, aside from my own discomfort with nudity and my own naked body, and I hoped that by giving myself no get-out-of-being-naked card, I would soon overcome that and maybe even come to enjoy it!

-

Three hours in to my naked weekend.

As I'd anticipated, it had initially been awful.

I'd shuddered each time I passed a mirror or reflective surface, and caught a glimpse of my pale, naked form. I'm just about 5'2", with brown shoulder length hair. I don't have a weight problem, but I do carry some extra, especially on my thighs, bottom, and stomach - all the "trouble" areas basically. I do have, as I have mentioned, fairly large breasts, with (what I would say are) big nipples - but I'm probably not the best person to describe myself, as I have a pretty biased perspective against using complimentary terms to describe myself! Suffice to say, in the real world, outside my head, you'd probably say I have a "nice" body - but I wouldn't believe you if you told me! So to keep glimpsing my naked form as I walked around - well, it was hard going. I found myself focussing on all the flaws I perceived - the lumps and bumps, the marks, the way my stomach looked or my pubic hair (which I trim but don't shave completely) was scruffy, or how my breasts are uneven (every woman's are but I still felt like there was something wrong when I noticed the tiny discrepancy in size).

Gradually, though, I had started to calm down. My anxiety at being naked and unable to clothe myself for the next 48 hours gave way to frustration at my own ridiculousness - why was I so bothered about walking around naked in a completely private place with nobody to see me? - and finally to acceptance.

I fixed myself breakfast and got on with a few chores. I had to admit, once I had something to take my mind off the body issues, being naked was actually quite nice. I suppose it was the novelty, but dusting and washing dishes and eating food with no clothes on was starting to feel pretty good!

I gave myself a break and flopped on my couch to watch some cartoons. I only half paid attention to the screen, though - what held more interest for me was my own body.

I began drumming my fingers on my bare belly, softly, just feeling the connection between my skin and my fingertips. I traced circles on myself with one finger, then cupped my naked breasts in my hands. My nipples were hard, and I tweaked them and giggled.

I shifted position on the couch, and parted my legs. Slowly, a little nervously, I slid my hand between them.

I was not a frequent masturbator. To self-love, for me, required me to love myself, something I had until now struggled to accomplish. But now, feeling liberated from at least some of my negative thoughts about my body, I went at it with gusto. I caressed my outer labia with my fingers, before I ran a cautious finger along my slit. I was surprised and delighted to discover how wet I was, and gathering some of that moisture on my fingertips I began to massage first my labia and then finally, delightfully, my clitoris. I quickly found a rhythm of circular motions, and in no time at all the ache was growing within me and I was building towards climax.

Mindful that I was completely alone, I threw restraint to the wind, and allowed myself to moan and cry out loudly and ecstatically as I came. I was normally much more reserved - a legacy of my teenage years, when we had very thin walls and I would always find myself cumming with one hand clamped over my mouth to stifle the squeaks and moans I would be powerless to hold back. But here, now, I was liberated, and very many gasps and cries of "oh God... oh yes!" flew from my lips before I finally sank back on the couch, spent and breathless.

I must have dozed off, after that. I awoke, woozy and with a head full of fluff. Why was I naked on the sofa, I wondered for a moment, before my mind cleared and ordered itself and I remembered - all my clothes and coverings were locked away in my closet and I would have no access to the key until the early hours of Monday. I was maybe 4 hours into a weekend which I was going to spend entirely naked.

Now that I had masturbated, and orgasmed, I started again to feel a little uncomfortable about my nudity. Post-sex, I always feel very vulnerable, and putting on some clothes - even just a big fluffy robe - has always been my way of returning to a sense of security. But, here and now, I had no choice but to remain naked, and try to ignore that sense of feeling vulnerable and exposed.

I decided to try to take my mind off it by doing a little more housework, and that had the desired effect. I was beginning to enjoy being completely naked again, and I was soon busy down on the floor scrubbing the doors of the kitchen cabinets, completely oblivious to any discomfort.

When the knock at the door came, I think I jumped about a foot in the air.

I flushed, scarlet and hot. Panic gripped me. I was stark naked. I had no accessible clothing of any kind anywhere in the house. I'd been so determined to force myself to remain naked that I had banished everything that I could have possibly used as clothing to the closet. I had suspected that if I only locked my clothes away, I would simply wrap myself up in whatever fabric I had to hand, so I had tried to anticipate that action. Towels, blankets, even my bedsheets - everything was locked away. I couldn't be any more naked than I was right now - and now somebody was at my door.

I tried to force myself to relax. They couldn't see me. They didn't know I was naked. They didn't even know I was here. All I had to do was not answer the door, stay still and quiet, and they would give up after a moment, and go away.

They knocked again. I remained rooted to the spot. I was barely breathing. I didn't want any noise to give me away.

I must have stood there like that for about 5 minutes, but no further knocks at the door came. I breathed a sigh of relief. My heart rate was coming back to normal. "Phew!" I exclaimed aloud.

I was relieved, but also a little angry at myself. I had been so certain that spending a weekend naked would be, for me, a terrible challenge that I had gone out of my way to prevent myself having any escape clause, and locked everything away. But, as it had turned out, I was really rather enjoying being a nudie, and it had only taken maybe an hour or two of nudity to get that way. I'm not saying I suddenly felt confident about my body, but being naked on my own in my apartment certainly no longer seemed quite so terrifying, which was kind of the point of the exercise. My long-term goal - body confidence - would only happen, I knew, once I had been able to develop a more casual attitude to nudity, something which I hoped now would evolve naturally over time spent living my normal home life in the nude at least some of the time. This weekend had been all about ripping off the band-aid, rather than the long-term healing. That had been accomplished and I now felt that, at this moment, even if my closet door were to spring open, I would probably not get dressed, at least until I needed to go outside - or greet a visitor. And I wouldn't view either as a defeat now I had managed to do what I wanted.

But, instead, I had gone all out, trying to force myself to spend my whole weekend without the crutch of clothing by locking my closet and sealing the key away all weekend. I'd gone overboard and not thought about having an emergency item of clothing - just a dress or a robe or a coat - in case I absolutely needed it. I felt I'd been a bit silly, burning my boat without considering I might have a legitimate need to get off the beach! But, on the other hand, who is to say I would have got to this point without giving myself no other option?

I didn't, in the end, have an easy answer.

It was lunchtime by then so I fixed myself a sandwich and returned to the sofa. I ate then turned on my games console for a run round Skyrim. I had never played videogames naked before but, like everything else today, I found it was a pretty enjoyable experience.

I'd been playing for about an hour when, again, I was startled by another knock at my door. Once again, I jumped, but this time I more quickly reassured myself. People didn't call on me unannounced often, but if they did, they weren't certain I would be home - just stay quiet and still and they would go away. As a precaution I muted the television and then sat, still as a rock, remote in hand, and waited.

I could hear voices at the door, and though I couldn't work out what they were saying they started to sound familiar. It took me a moment, but I could soon make out the voices of my parents.

My parents had obviously decided to stop by unannounced. We lived not far from each other and often did this, I would visit their house if passing, and they would likewise sometimes call in on me if they had been in town. I thought it was nice of them to stop by, and I relaxed as I reassured myself they would go away when they realised I wasn't in.

Unless...

Suddenly a terrific fear gripped me. My parents, being my parents, had a spare key to my flat. They would use it to water my plants when I went on holiday, but also sometimes to drop things off (usually food) if they called round to deliver them and found I was out.

What if... what if this was one of those times? What if my mum and dad were the other side of that door with a casserole or a cake, about to let themselves into my flat to discover me sitting there stark naked? What would they say? They'd be shocked, and I'd be embarrassed... but even more so when I would have to explain to them why I was naked - and why I wasn't able to spare all our blushes by going and putting clothes on!

Fear sprang me into action. My flat offered very little in the way of hiding places. But there was one possible escape route.

Using the remote I still had in my hand, I turned off the TV. Let the game still run - if the screen was off they wouldn't know I had been playing. Quickly I scrambled up from the sofa and grabbed the handle on the glass door that led out onto my apartment balcony. It was unlocked - I pulled it open and propelled myself through, yanking the door quickly shut behind me. I noticed with relief that the light voile curtain I use to grant privacy over the big balcony doors and lower the light without blocking it out completely had fallen back into place, making it harder for anyone in the flat to see out onto the balcony, then I crouched down, barely concealed behind a potter fern, and held my breath.

It was not a warm day and, five floors up on my balcony, there was quite a breeze. My bare skin prickled with gooseflesh and I shivered. My nipples were rock hard from the cold, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling. The metal rails of my balcony gave me no cover from the wind - or from anyone in the nearby buildings. I just had to hope nobody had chosen that moment to look out of their window with close enough attention to see me crouching there.

My decision to hide out here, though, turned out to have been the right one. No sooner had I settled into my hiding place than I became aware of people moving and raising their voices in the flat, calling my name. Mum and dad, just making sure I was genuinely out. I crouched down, hoping they would believe I wasn't home and wouldn't investigate this side of the living room closely enough to notice me out here.

Luckily, they appeared to accept that the flat was empty. I heard them moving away, even heard my front door close, but still I stayed motionless on the balcony for a little while longer. I didn't want to run the risk of walking back in to find they had stepped back into the flat for some other reason. I stayed peering back into the glass door, straining my hearing for any footstep or voice from the flat. I was ignoring everything else around me - the wind, the noise of the traffic below.

I can only assume that was why I didn't realise she was there until I stood up.

"Excuse me?" came a voice. "What are you doing? Are you OK? Why were you hiding behind plant and why you have no clothes on?"

My nerves must already have been shot. That's the only explanation as to why I didn't accidentally leap six feet into the air and topple off the balcony to my death. I whirled my head around. Leaning on the rail of the balcony adjacent to mine was my neighbour, Anna, a pretty blonde girl about my age, originally from somewhere in Eastern Europe.

"Are you OK?" she repeated.

Words failed me, as did actions. I stood there wide-eyed in shock - and everything on show.

"Sorry," she grinned. "I did not scare you, I hope?"

"Yes!" I squeaked, finally, a little too loudly. I suddenly recalled that I was naked, and tried as best I could to cover my breasts and my crotch with my arms and hands. I was, I am sure, beetroot red in the face now too.