I recently realized that I had forgotten an earlier experience I had with being naked in the presence of young clothed women. All of the participants in this adventure were eighteen and trying to kill time the summer before we went to college.
As a young man of eighteen in the sixties, I was, like all young men, constantly horny, often somewhat embarrassingly erect without much provocation and ready to take advantage of any privacy to relieve the tension. Most of the time, it was in my bedroom when no one else was home. On Saturdays, when one or both of my parents were home, I had to use my imagination to find a place to stroke myself to that relief.
One Saturday in that last summer before college, I had ruled out nearly all of the places I usually used, for various reasons. The bedroom was out because my mother was on a cleaning jag and moving around the house too much. The basement was out for the same reason. A usually quiet and people free woods near my house was annoyingly populated with a whole band of younger kids playing cowboy posse and running everywhere. Finally, I thought of the tree house my friends and I had built, years before, in a small group of trees in a nearby vacant lot. It was sturdy, plenty of room, and closed in, with flaps for the doors and windows, so I could whack away in peace without sharing the event with the neighbors.
All my friends, who had helped build the tree house so many years before, were off playing ball, shopping with their parents or out of town. Normally, the possibility of one of them showing up would have ruled out my even thinking of using it for a "sex palace". I hought, "Today is perfect for me to have total privacy in my hideaway and have a lot of fun. I grabbed my favorite Playboy and headed to the tree house.
I climbed the ladder, flipped the flaps down and took a quick look around to make sure no one was in sight, anyone who might show up at an awkward moment. With the coast clear, I proceeded to get ready to take myself to heaven. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tossed it casually into the corner of my private space. I often wondered in the intervening years why I took my shirt off, as it soon turned out to be my Achilles heel. One doesn't have to have one's shirt off to masturbate but I knew from experience that it would add a little excitement to be totally naked.
Next to come off were the tennis shoes and socks. I peeked out the flaps one last time before I began to loosen my belt. My dick was getting harder by the second, with the anticipation that I would soon be naked in a semi public place. I mean, anyone could come along at any moment and without any way to keep them out, other than blocking their view, and I could be caught naked. That had always been a part of the appeal of the woods. They were fairly large and thick and I had always heard people coming long before they could see me. This had always given me just enough of a sense of security that I could pull my pants up before I was seen. I never had tried "totally naked" in the woods and now wonder why I thought that the tree house was secure enough to try being extremely vulnerable in my total nakedness. It seems that being horny and hard can actually turn off a teenage boy's protective inhibitions. Who would have thought such a thing?
I began to get anxious to get down to business, as it were. I very quickly loosened my belt, unzipped my jeans, and virtually ripped them off my legs. I was now sitting there in my tighty- whiteys, which were tented into a high peak with my insistent erection. I decided to take another quick look out under the flaps in the windows. Coast clear. So I took a deep breath and slid my underwear completely off. I instantly got even more excited as the fabric slid off my toes and I realized that I was completely naked, for the first time ever in a sexual context outside of my home. My extremely hard cock was begging to be stroked. I grabbed my underwear and jeans and hurriedly tossed them out of my way and, as I later painfully realized, into the opposite corner from the one where my T-shirt had landed.
I was probably so excited that I could have gotten myself off without the Playboy, but it was a part of the process and I proceeded to flip through the pages to find a picture that would do the trick for me. As you can imagine, this took a little while. I was stroking my cock as I flipped the pages and thoroughly enjoying the whole experience. I really didn't want to hurry the process so I was taking my own sweet time, stretching out the delicious tension and little shock waves shooting through my whole body. I slowly pulled the loose skin on my uncircumcised cock up and down over my engorged head. It felt and looked larger that I had ever remembered it being, dark purple and very hard in my palm.
I varied the treatment by slipping my fingers under my balls and rolling them around with my finger tips. I thought I was in heaven with the incredible and new sensations I was feeling. I was definitely lost in the moment and oblivious to the outside world. At that very moment, my brain was thrown into total panic.
"Hey, who's up there?" came from outside my now-not-so-seemingly-secure hideaway. In micro seconds my suddenly tortured brain seemingly processed enough information to keep a super computer, which hadn't yet been invented, busy for weeks. It was a girl's voice. Oh shit! I recognized it as the voice of Linda, the older sister of one of the friends who had helped build the tree house. The vacant lot was right next door to their house. Oh, fuck! She must have not gone with her parents, who I knew were gone. I knew that because it was one of the things I had checked before I foolishly, as it had now turned out, proceeded to get naked and play with my still hard dick. Shit! Fuck! I'm NAKED! There's a beautiful eighteen year old girl right outside the tree house. What do I do now? Damn! Wait! Where is she? Is she some distance away? Is she climbing the ladder already? Oh, SHIT! She's gonna see me naked. I'm just a scrawny guy with a hard-on and she is a gorgeous girl who had graduated from a Catholic school, and who, I had assumed, was way above my class level. I am going to catch such hell for this from her and who knows who else that she might tell if I can't get out of this.
"Say SOMETHING to stall her, you idiot!" screamed my brain. "It's Eric! Don't come up!" I managed to get out in a voice that I hoped didn't sound too panicked. The instantaneous thought, "Hide the Playboy!", rocketed through my brain. Okay, I'm totally naked, with a massive (for me) hard-on sticking straight up in my lap, there is a young woman, who knows me, within a few seconds of being able to see me this way and potentially make my life miserable, I haven't even thought about putting on my clothes yet and I'm worried about her seeing the Playboy?
"Why not? I can come up if I want to!" she offered in reply to my stupid comment.
"Oh, hell. She's coming up." I thought.
"Yeah, who are you to say we can't come up?" came from below, in another girl's voice that I didn't recognize at all.
"Hell, there are two girls outside who are going to see me naked, DO SOMETHING, NOW!" All of this has taken maybe 20 seconds, if that, but I still have not come upon the idea of trying to put my clothes on. Terror can do strange things to a naked, teenage man's thought processes. I clutched the Playboy in my hand and began to look around for a place to put it so the girls wouldn't see it. Obviously, if they saw the magazine, full of naked women, they would know what I was doing. They would know I had been playing with my dick, which is still stupidly unaware of the extreme danger facing me and rock hard and about to become a major embarrassment to me. My immediate response to her came out as, wait for it, "Girls aren't allowed up here! It's just for us guys."
My brain responded to my own verbal comment with "How lame. Why did you say THAT? YOU IDIOT! Now they will come up just to prove that they can. Cover up your dick, now!" as my hand slapped down to my lap and I finally jerked my head around trying to locate my, once forgotten, clothes.
"Well, we're coming up anyway." The ladder moved.
"Do anything!", my brain screamed. I suddenly located the T-shirt out of the corner of my eye. It was six or seven feet away, in the corner furthest from the door flap. I scurried across the floor and grabbed the shirt, which was turned inside-out, the way I had ripped it off over my head at the beginning of my once blissful adventure. What went through my brain was, "You have to turn it right side out or they will know you've been naked! Wait! Get your underwear and jeans and put THEM on. Being without a shirt will be okay. Hurry!" I heard the ladder rock slightly on the tree house porch and the sound of footsteps on the treads as the girls were climbing up to my seemingly inevitable doom if I couldn't get covered up. My saving-grace thought was that the tree house was really high in the tree and I had a while before they made it up there. Yeah, it would be mere seconds, but I was panicked and looking for anything that would calm me down long enough to get dressed and save my dignity. I forced myself to think I had enough time. I lunged across the floor toward the door, where jeans and underwear were. I knew the flap would soon lift and reveal the source of my panic, two girls who would see me stark naked and with a hard-on, but I had no choice. I instantly realized that the legs of my jeans were also inside out and it would be impossible to get them on in time. In frustration, I threw them across the floor and started yanking my still-inside-out shirt over my head.
