Oz Beach Boys Xmas Hospital Strip

NOTES: This is an entry in the

Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022

, so I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time to vote. This is a stand-alone story featuring my recurring Oz Beach Boy character, Matt: a muscular, well-hung, 25-year-old exhibitionist. This story features CFNM, voluntary male stripping, MILFs, female-of-male body worship and groping, fellatio, and a one-on-one sex scene. All characters are over eighteen. Though one situation is based on a personal experience and is written exactly as happened, this is otherwise a work of complete fiction.

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It was Christmas time in Sydney, Australia. I was about to take off my clothes.

"You've got undies on, haven't you, Matt?" asked Faye Papadakis, the fifty-something volunteer coordinator at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital. "You're not hanging loose under there, are you? Letting the ol' nuts dangle?"

"Of course I've got underwear on, Faye," I said with a sigh. "I don't go commando. What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"Good boy...well, just strip off your gear here in the office and get changed into your outfit now," Faye said quickly and casually. "It's no big deal. It'll save time, mate. I won't look at you, I promise...well, not much anyway. Maybe just quickly at your bum."

"Faye," I laughed. "You could get in trouble for that kind of talk."

"Blah, blah, blah," Faye laughed. "Sexual harassment...yeah, right! Are you gonna dob on me, Matt? 'The scary old lady kept looking at my bum!' Please."

Faye sat at her desk and pretended to look through her paperwork while keeping one eye on me the whole time. I quickly peeled off my tight t-shirt, revealing my heavily muscled torso and bulging biceps. I saw a sly smile play across Faye's lined but attractive face as she drank in the sight of my shredded upper body.

Under the sneakily watchful eye of the bleach-blonde volunteer coordinator, I then kicked off my sneakers and socks. I smiled at Faye and then pulled my shorts down over my smooth, muscular legs. I stepped out of them, and placed them on top of a nearby filing cabinet along with my t-shirt.

Clad in just a pair of figure hugging fitted black boxer shorts, I looked down at the decidedly silly outfit that I was about to put on. A more casual, Australian-style interpretation of a Santa suit, my get-up consisted of a pair of baggy red satin shorts; a red, button-up, short sleeved satin shirt illustrated with a large belt and buttons; a red Santa hat; and a pair of ankle-high, black rubber boots.

"Geez, maybe we should get you to do the rounds of the wards in just your undies," Faye giggled and looked my near-nude body up and down unashamedly. "You've got an amazing rig, Matt. You must practically live in the gym! I'm sure the sick kids' mums and the female patients in the hospital would love it."

Faye probably wouldn't have been joking like this if she actually knew more about me. To the friendly fifty-something hospital coordinator, I was just a young guy who'd volunteered to help out at Christmas. And while my intentions were indeed wholly good, I am, however, far, far, far from wholesome.

Though not clinically diagnosed, I'm almost certainly a sex addict. I'm a 25-year-old Aussie male exhibitionist, and I get my kicks from stripping off my gear for ladies that like looking at men.

I spend much of my spare time running, swimming and training in the gym to get my body as ripped and muscular as I possibly can, principally for the purpose of getting female attention.

An unashamed narcissist, I pay regular visits to a salon to keep my toned body waxed, smooth and almost completely free of hair. Though some women obviously prefer a manly covering of body hair, in my experience, most ladies gain real pleasure from total masculine smoothness.

I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations whenever I can, particularly around Sydney's many beaches and secluded bays. I've had a host of very, very sordid, curiously kinky, and wonderfully sleazy encounters with members of the opposite sex.

I certainly wasn't expecting any of that to happen here, however, in the hallowed halls of The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital, but now Faye was joking about me getting around in my underwear.

"How do you think you'd go with that, Matt?" Faye laughed, and looked right at the enormous bulge in the front of my underpants. "Delivering cups of tea and biscuits in nothing but your cute little knickers? Let the ladies pinch your bum and feel you up?"

"I don't think so, Faye," I lied, slightly uncomfortable that talk more akin to my sordid sex life had surprisingly managed to encroach on my squeaky clean volunteer hospital work. "That does not sound like my idea of fun...or anyone else's!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Matt," Faye laughed. "I think there'd be more than a few interested parties, young man! I think a lot of people would like to see you in your undies!"

Of Greek heritage, the short and curvy Faye Papadakis was a lot of fun. We'd chatted on the phone a fair bit before I started my volunteer work at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital. For a couple of weeks, I'd been taking a tea trolley around to the various wards, and offering the patients magazines and newspapers.

I was encouraged to sit and chat with the patients for as long as they liked, and just to be there to talk and take their minds off the various medical issues they had to endure.

I also did basic cleaning, restocking, organising, and whatever else Faye needed done. In between my duties, Faye and I would always enjoy a laugh together. She was flirtatious and fun, but she was also twice my age, and married with four children. There was definitely nothing sexual cooking between us.

Now that it was getting close to Christmas, Faye informed me that I would have to wear the casual Santa outfit to get into the spirit of the holiday season. The youngsters on the children's ward loved it, and it pleased their parents to see distracted, momentary smiles on their little faces. I was fine with the silly Santa outfit; I was just happy to help in any way I could.

With Faye watching my rippling muscles the whole time, I pulled on the red shorts over my underwear, buttoned up the red shirt over my bare torso, pulled on the black boots, and then slid the Santa hat over my longish, sandy brown hair. I smiled and did a slow turn for Faye, who gave me an encouraging little clap.

"You look great," Faye's eyes sparkled naughtily. "A real sexy Santa! Okay, get yourself out there, Matt. Your clothes will be here waiting for you once you're done...maybe! Enjoy!"

Though I genuinely wanted to give back over Christmas, and my work schedule allowed it, I'd also opted to volunteer at The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital out of guilt, and as a means to atone for something I still felt truly bad about.

While I love getting naked in front of adult women, I only like to do it if I'm certain they're interested. If I see a group of women continually checking me out on the beach, or slyly taking photos of my enormous crotch bulge with their phones (it happens more than you might think, trust me), I might "accidentally" let my extremely large cock slip out of the side of my Speedos. Or I might "accidentally" let my towel drop a little to reveal my bare butt while I'm getting changed out of my swimsuit.

I only do this, however, when I genuinely believe the women watching me are really into it, and would most likely enjoy seeing more of my nude body. I'm in great shape, I have a huge cock, and I've been told I'm handsome, so I do tend to get a few women looking my way.

On rare occasions, however, I do get it wrong. I have guiltily misjudged a few situations, and have found myself on the end of some unfortunate but probably wholly justified verbal abuse. My intention is never to shock or intimidate women with my nudity, but that has unfortunately happened. It always eats away at me when it does.

A few weeks prior, I'd been relaxing by the water at a secluded bay not far from my home one early evening. I spotted a couple of thirty-something women sprawled on the rocks by the water a considerable distance away from where everyone else was sitting. I decided to see if I could get something going.

I walked over the rocks past where people were enjoying the warm evening air, across a water-splashed break, and then towards the two women. They were attractive and wearing long, summery dresses and sandals. They were indulging in a bottle of wine with some crackers, cheese and dips.

We all smiled as I walked past. I dropped my towel and backpack on some rocks just far away enough from the pair so as not to be intrusive, but close enough so we could all see each other clearly. I noticed the women looking over at me a few times. There was a lone man fishing off the rocks further down from us.

I peeled off my t-shirt and dropped it on top of my backpack, and then slipped off my shorts. The two women looked over at me and giggled. I was wearing a pair of butt-hugging Speedo Aquashorts. I'd been to the gym that afternoon, and my body felt totally jacked.

I proceeded to stretch out my arms, and then posed for a few moments with my hands braced behind my head to accentuate my thick, powerful biceps. I flexed the muscles in my chest and abdomen. I did a series of cross-body arm stretches, and hunched in my shoulders to draw out the muscles in my back.

"Oh, my god," I clearly heard one of the women say. "Is he posing for us? Is he putting on a gun show?"

"Yeah, I think so," the other woman replied with a giggle. "Geez, what a body, huh?"

Now certain the two women were not only watching me, but apparently enjoying it, I turned my back to them and then bent forward, stretching out the muscles in the back of my legs, and also giving them a perfect view of my tight, taut butt.

"Oh, yes," one of the women laughed. "That's the best pose yet! I like that one! What a view!"

"The scenery here is just superb!" the other woman chimed in. "Delightful!"

I should have just kept going for a bit with the theatrical but still innocent posing, but the enthusiastic response from the two women got me instantly aroused, and I didn't stop to think things through. Overly excited, I jumped right in instead of weighing up the pros and cons.

Incorrectly believing they'd love it, I bent over again, and then slowly, dramatically slid my Speedos down over my butt to gradually reveal my smooth, muscled arse cheeks.

Instead of amused laughter or titillated gasps, I heard something far less encouraging. I realised immediately that I'd dropped my pants too abruptly and without the appropriate sense of build-up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" shouted one of the women, obviously shocked and horrified. "You fucking creep! You fucking pervert!"

"Why did you pull your pants down?" shrieked the other woman. "Why? What's wrong with you? That's disgusting! Gross..."

"He's a fucking flasher!" shouted the first woman. "A fucking creep! Pervert!"

Shocked, concerned, and immediately wracked with guilt, I quickly pulled up my Speedos, grabbed my backpack and clothes, and then took off in the opposite direction, back over the rocks away from the two women and toward a cliff-face exit trail that would get me out of the secluded bay.

My mind raced as I moved over the rocks, the shouts of the women just a blur of noise in my ears as I desperately ran away. With the pair so upset and agitated, I was concerned they may have even called the police to make a complaint. I was sweating with white-hot fear and dread.

As thick beads of perspiration rolled down my face and stung my eyes, I pushed on toward the end of the rocky bay, but noticed the fisherman looking at me, obviously aware of what had been going on. He dropped his fishing rod and moved toward me, his chest puffed out threateningly.

"Were you hassling those chicks?" he asked loudly. "What the fuck are you doing, mate?"

"Come anywhere near me, and I will fucking drop you," I shouted firmly, which stopped the fisherman in his tracks. "Stay the fuck away from me. Mind your own fucking business, right? Don't be a hero, dickhead."

Though I'm certainly no tough guy, I was raised rough in a succession of foster homes and state institutions, and I know how to look after myself. I was also much bigger than the fisherman, and I was fairly confident I could have put him down if I had to.

"Fucking weirdo," the fisherman muttered angrily, but thankfully stayed where he was.

I moved quickly past the still grumbling fisherman, across more rocks, and then up the cliff-face exit trail, and finally out of the bay. I burned with guilt all the way home, and also sweated over possibly being pulled up by the police.

I eventually made it back home safely, and then agonised over how much disgust I'd sparked in the two women. I had genuinely believed they'd enjoy seeing a little more skin, but I was very, very wrong. I'd fucked up their evening, and I felt terrible about it.

I laid low for a week or two and stayed out of the bays and off the beaches, slightly concerned the cops might have been looking for me. That's when I made the decision to do some volunteer work.

It would keep me busy and occupied, and I genuinely and sincerely liked the idea of giving back and doing something positive to help at Christmas time. It would also perhaps in some way make up for the distress I'd caused the two horrified women at the bay by flashing my butt at them.

I looked at a wide range of volunteering opportunities online, and liked the sound of what The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital offered in terms of duties, time commitment, location, and involvement.

I'd thoroughly enjoyed my couple of weeks there, and working with Faye Papadakis was a great laugh. I'd also slowly started to feel better about what had happened at the bay with the two women. I still regretted the upset I'd caused, but I'd started to move on from it.

Dressed in my ridiculous Aussie-style Santa suit, I spent most of the morning hanging elaborate Christmas decorations around the sterile white corridors of the hospital, and in the various waiting rooms and reception areas.

I had a few laughs with some of the mostly female nurses as I worked, and had an enjoyable time. A lot of the nurses were young Irish and English girls on extended Australian working holidays, and they loved to flirt with me and really push the envelope.

"Those shorts look very easy to pull down," one of the cute Irish nurses giggled at me. "Be careful! You might get yourself pantsed! Someone might want to see your bottom!"

After lunch, Faye asked me to hang more Christmas decorations, this time in the children's ward. This was always a sad place for me, seeing the sick kids and their harried, stressed, and often distraught parents. Quietly courageous, the mums and dads were always smiling bravely and doing their best to make their children feel better.

I chatted away to the kids while I strung decorations from the ceiling, and put up a Christmas tree in the corner of the large ward. I pinned up Christmas-themed posters, and I could feel the excitement building in the children as they watched the ward being brightened up for the holidays.

I also noticed several of the mothers of the young patients watching me as I worked, and even caught a few of the older women talking to each other with their hands over their mouths while looking directly at me and giggling. A total sex addict, I liked the feeling of these older women checking me out. Even in the hospital, it was admittedly a major turn-on.

I love older women. I find their earthiness and experience a massive turn on, and I've had some truly amazing experiences with women much, much older than me. [See Stories: "Oz Beach Boy And Byron Bay Oldies"; "Oz Beach Boy's Anjali Rao Threesome" and "Oz Beach Boy Meets Schoolgirl's Mum"]

As I awkwardly placed a near life-size Santa statue near the entrance to the children's ward, one of the mothers of the young patients approached me with a warm smile.

The very pretty and always engaging Monica Halsey looked to be in her early forties, and was the warm and caring mother of Archie, a freckle-faced eleven-year-old boy courageously battling leukaemia.

Despite the horrible continuing tragedy she'd been hit with, Monica was always friendly and funny and up for a laugh. Bringing her a cup of tea in the afternoon was literally the highlight of my day at the hospital.

I'd never seen Archie's father around, and though I was there to volunteer and do the right thing, I also couldn't help noticing how profoundly appealing Monica Halsey was.

Considerably older than me and sexy in a reserved, casual kind of way, Monica had long, mousy brown hair frequently pulled back in a ponytail. She had sparkling brown eyes and strong, sharp features, which were charmingly accentuated by the stylish tortoise-shell glasses she always wore.

I'd guiltily checked out Monica's long legs on the few occasions when she'd been wearing shorts, and I'd also made an unfortunate habit of ogling her gently wobbling, mid-sized breasts from across the ward when she wasn't looking.

I literally felt the burning need to kick myself every time I copped a perve at Monica, but I just couldn't help it. This pretty older woman really got my dick twitching.

"Hey, Matt," Monica smiled. "I like your outfit...very nice. Are you the sexy Santa of The Neil Hamilton Fairley Hospital?"

"Oh, my god, no way," I laughed. "I'm just helping out with the decorations, that's all. I'm dressing for the season now, you know?"

"Well, the kids all like having you around, especially in the Santa suit," Monica smiled with a naughty sparkle, "and so do the mums...a handsome young man like you."

"Oh, right," I said nervously, surprised at Monica's forward flirtatiousness, "that's nice to know..."

"Matt, can we have a little chat?" Monica asked. "Maybe in the tea room, well away from the kids?"

"Um, yeah, of course," I stuttered. "Okay, yeah..."

I dropped my decorations, and we moved quietly and quickly into the tea room, which was completely separate from the children's ward, and well away from all the kids and the other parents. I was very curious about what Monica wanted to talk about.

Monica poured herself a plastic cup of water from a dispenser above the sink and then handed me one too. We both took a sip, and Monica pushed her butt up against a bench and leaned back casually.

"Matt, I'll be upfront with you," the obviously confident and self-possessed Monica Halsey smiled and looked me right in the eyes. "All the mums on the ward have been checking you out since you started volunteering here."

"Oh, really?" I asked, totally surprised at this startling but very pleasing admission from Monica. "Is that right?"

"Yep, we talk about you all the time," the pretty forty-something smiled. "You're so much younger than us, so it's a bit naughty. Teri bangs on and on about your butt, and Meg can't believe your bulging biceps."

"What?" I said in shock.

"Robyn even claimed she could see the outline of your willy when you were wearing those tight jeans the other day," Monica giggled. "Sorry, Matt, but yes, we older women have all been objectifying the much younger man. It's terrible, but true."

"Oh, my god," I muttered in shock. "This feels a bit strange..."

"Look, she'd kill me if she knew I was telling you this," Monica giggled, "but Leah told me she even masturbated while fantasising about you running along a deserted beach completely naked with your willy swinging around."