Rested Beauty

I thought my hair looked cute, the way it sat after rolling out of bed this morning. And, of course, my body is in prime condition just following my beauty rest. I'd put on my "I Woke Up Flawless Like This" t-shirt, but...well, that would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn't it? :-p

Mixed Company - Breakfast

This is the first in what I hope will be a series of images exploring the theme of "mixed company" - that is, a household in which there coexist peacefully a nudist and one or more textiles. This is a personal fantasy of mine - a world that is not necessarily filled with nudists, but one in which nudists are accepted and permitted to go nude, without fanfare, as if it were just another fashion choice.

The impetus for this photo series was a dream I had one morning. In the dream, I was attending some kind of convention, when a staffer informed me that the time had come for my appointment for a kind of escape room challenge. But instead of a team effort, this was an individual challenge, with elements of an obstacle course incorporated, so as to be more physical than mentally-based. Two staffers took me behind a curtain, bound my arms and legs with a kind of rope or chain, and then left me there to make my escape. The most notable detail of this experience was that I had no choice but to tear off the very clothes I was wearing in order to free myself. In the dream, I had a tacit understanding that this was an expected part of the challenge - that I would then have to complete the obstacle course nude, and perhaps even then return to the convention and spend the rest of my day without clothes.

I was excited by the thought of being nude in public - but specifically, by matter of necessity, and not personal choice. That way, I might enjoy my nudity free from the guilt of my desire - a shame instilled in me by a repressed culture - similar to the way that rape fantasies may enable a person to enjoy sexual pleasure without having to take responsibility for it. Indeed, the responsibility for my state of undress lay with the organizers of the escape room challenge, and their authority as a professional and respected company meant that this occurrence - that an attendee would end up nude and have to return to public without their clothes - was common enough and expected enough that nobody would lodge any sort of complaint. (I suppose, in reality, even were this to occur, they'd provide some kind of clothing at the end - but that's not how my dream worked).

What this, then, presumes is a world in which nudity (even in public) is not necessarily the norm (so that it is still uncommon enough to create an effective contrast), but an occasional accepted alternative to being dressed. And while the "forced nudity" aspect is a powerful component of this fantasy (insofar as it effects deferred responsibility), I want to de-emphasize the possible corollary that much of the excitement comes from either the fear or the action of being caught. In my mind, this is not really the case. I enjoy the contrast (both aesthetic and psychological) of nudity against the dressed, but I want to be permitted to go about my business without hassle or even alarm, accepted the way I am - which just happens to be without clothes.

Snowshine

Every so often, you'll get snow flurries that reflect the sunlight so that at just the right angle, the snowflakes will glitter like diamonds as they float through the air. The effect seems to be more common in the morning, which I suppose is due to the light coming in from more of a sideways angle, as well as the fact that you can have clouds overhead (dropping snowflakes), with the sun still shining from the horizon. It's beautiful (and even prettier when there's already a layer of snow on the ground). I think I'll call it snowshine.

Observation

I got some spectacularly dramatic lighting from this window. It's amazing the difference light can make. But I guess that's kind of the point of photography as an art form.

I took advantage of this opportunity to stand up on a pedestal in front of the open window. I feel like this could be some kind of living art exhibit...

I wanted to do a clone shot with somebody outside looking up through the window, but it took some doing. My phone camera doesn't have a remote - I'm stuck with the maximum ten second timer. So hitting the button and getting outside and around the house to that window was going to be a challenge. I suspect it would have been slightly shorter going out the front instead of the back, but even though I was dressed during this portion of the shoot, I didn't want to draw a whole lot of attention to myself repeatedly running out the front door. So I went out the back several times, but the best I could do was show up as a blur in the corner of the window in the very last frame (whenever you put my phone on self-timer, it automatically takes ten shots in rapid succession). The turning point was figuring out that I could prop the door open before I started my run, which gave me the few extra seconds I needed to pull it off!

Paper Towel Dispenser

Because we can't be serious all the time! (And I'm a pervert; I enjoy sexualizing everything). Here, you can watch it in action, too:

Distraction

Oh, don't let me distract you, sitting here. Just continue what you were doing. :-3

Nothing To Be Ashamed Of

I like CFNM (clothed female, nude male). I also like CMNF (clothed male, nude female), as clichéd as that may be. And, of course, NMNF is always a blast. But it seems to me that much of the time, CFNM ties in with humiliation, often involving guys embarrassed by the size of their penis. Now, I can understand the erotic appeal of humiliation (at least in theory - or fantasy), but that's not what it's about for me.

I suppose it's more of a traditional exhibitionist thrill - being exposed in front of others - albeit with the conceptual twist that you're not the one actively exposing yourself, but are the victim of others wanting to expose you - you just happen to like it, which is not necessarily the anticipated response. I suppose it's a form of responsibility deferment (I'll have more to say about that in another post). If it's true that "you can't rape the willing", then it's similarly true that you can't violate an exhibitionist by exposing him.

If somebody is trying to expose you, then they are giving their consent to be exposed to. If, on the other hand, you elect to expose yourself to someone, you have to deal with the possible repercussions of that person not wanting to be exposed to (a not unlikely possibility) - or, at the very least, the added complication of obtaining their consent beforehand. Which can be a perfectly exciting part of the scene, but let's be honest, spontaneity can be fun, and sometimes you just want to cut to the chase.

What we are provided with, then, is the exciting (to an exhibitionist) prospect of being exposed, in a situation where the consent of all parties is implied; which lets us relax and enjoy the exposure without the nagging guilt in the back of our minds, instilled by a culture that preaches that exhibitionism is a harmful and selfish fetish. Not selfish in the sense of seeking self-satisfaction - as all fetishes pretty much do by definition - but in the sense of (allegedly) doing so at the expense of (and without regard to) the supposed harm it causes others. At least, according to stereotype.

If, on the other hand, you get off on the non-consent of either party, then you're welcome to interpret it that way, because it will still just be a harmless fantasy - which is where these kinds of desires are best satisfied.

Venus From The Ice

A few shots I took after the Spring Thaw photoshoot. Standing in the center of that pile of melting slush, I couldn't resist imitating that famous painting of the Goddess of Beauty. I don't appreciate, however, the human sense of modesty that's been applied.

I also wanted to snap a shot demonstrating the crazy mood swings the weather has been having lately. The thermometer on the porch actually read nearly 80 degrees that day! This is still February, mind you - there was still snow on the ground. Here's proof:

Spring Thaw

Happy Valentine's Day! This year, I present to you a rare treat: some erotic fiction. Enjoy!

Exposure Test

[I tried illustrating the story to the best of my memory - although there are a few liberties taken for the sake of expediency (clone shots are always finicky, and it was a bit chilly to spend all day out there, micromanaging every detail - like the wardrobe), and due to my anatomy...]

Spring Thaw

The bench rumbled under me as the bus hobbled over another pothole, but I had already long since tuned them out. My attention was occupied by the world zooming past the window beside my seat. It was Friday afternoon, and we were headed home for Spring Break. I had mixed feelings about spending Easter with my cousins, and I was going to give Mom hell if she didn't agree that I was too old to participate in the egg hunt this year, but a full week without assignments and peer pressure seemed like paradise at this late stage of the school year.

Besides, the Earth was warming over. We'd had a pretty heavy snowfall just last weekend, and only now were the last remnants of it - formerly piled high along the sidewalks - beginning to melt into the gutters. But it was finally warming up. I'd taken my jacket from my locker at the end of the day, and thrown it over my shoulder. Bobby had worn shorts today - but then, he's always wearing shorts. Flowers were beginning to spring up from the ground - innocent little buds, aching for the sunshine. I felt as though I were one of them.

Suddenly, a voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"Jenny? Earth to Jenny. Are you in there?"

It was Arnold, who had plopped himself down on the bench beside me as we pulled out of the school parking lot, though he'd spent the entire trip turned sideways, chatting with his friends in the bench across the aisle. That suited me fine. We all lived in the same neighborhood, and had known each other pretty much forever, but we weren't necessarily best friends.

"What?" I responded.

As Arnold replied, I caught Dustin looking in my general direction, and struggled to stifle a blush. "We're having a little contest. You want in?"

"What kind of contest?" I asked with a furrowed brow.

"Since we're all getting off at the next stop, we're gonna race to the corner of Bobby's street."

They knew I was on the track team. They didn't stand a chance against me. Especially Bobby. The only race he could ever hope to win was a race to the bottom of a bag of Fritos.

"What's the point?" I replied. "You know I'll beat you."

"That's why we're going to make it interesting."

I have to admit, my curiosity was piqued. Arnold continued his explanation.

"Last one to the corner has to strip naked and let the others pelt him with snowballs. That'll give us motivation to run hard. So, you in?"

I didn't even bother trying to hide my disgust.

"Are you mental? There's no way I would agree to something like that!"

"Aw, come on. You already have the advantage. We all know you're not the one who's gonna lose. Besides, you might get to see Dustin naked."

Dustin looked away as the other two boys began to tease him. I guess they knew about my crush. That was no surprise; I wasn't very good at hiding my feelings. Arnold turned back toward me. One look at my face told him that he'd hit the right chord.

"Guys, I think she's in."

They were all leaning in now, waiting on my response.

"You're really serious about this?"

All three of them nodded in unison.

"Okay. But only because I know I'm not going to lose, and I want to see you idiots get what you deserve."

It's like they'd only heard the first word. The rest didn't matter. I started having some regrets. What were they expecting, anyway? It's not like any one of them could hope to beat me in a race, much less all three. Were they planning something dirty?

"Hey, no tricks, you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Arnold barely even turned in my direction this time.

I knew I was going to win, but I felt some butterflies in my stomach just the same. It would be right out on the street corner. What if somebody walked by? There's no way they were actually going to go through with it. They'll just whine and complain when they lose, and I'll go home. Whatever.

I didn't have much time to worry, before the bus screeched to a halt. It was our stop. We were all eager to get off. I grabbed my bookbag. The boys shoved each other to get out first. Arnold and Dustin took off down the aisle, and Bobby squeezed past me before I could slide off the bench. There was no way I'd get around him in the aisle. Looks like I'd be the last to get off the bus. Figures. I'd been given a handicap. No matter, I'd make it up in no time once my tennies hit the concrete.

At least, that's what I thought. That last step off the bus was always a wild card, given the variable heights of this county's sidewalks. My foot hit the ground sooner than I expected, and I twisted my ankle. It wasn't sprained, but the sloppy landing dropped me to my knees, even if just momentarily. I let out a grunt, but Bobby didn't even look back. All I could see in my vision were the three boys ahead of me, and the distance growing between us. The corner wasn't nearly far enough away for me to make up the distance now.

I launched myself off of the pavement from a squat, but my ankle felt stiff, and it hampered my sprint. I heard the boys laughing and cheering in mockery, and I realized as I reached the corner that I was the last one to arrive. My heart sank. I couldn't believe it! Victorious, the boys were all clapping each other on the backs. I was stupefied. As usual, Arnold was the first one to speak.

"You know what this means, Jenny."

"Wait! I twisted my ankle getting off the bus!" I wasn't ready to accept defeat.

"You're a track star. None of us had trouble getting off the bus."

I realized Arnold was right. It was an unfortunate stroke of luck, but it wasn't their fault. Still, I wouldn't give in.

"But...Bobby blocked me on the bus. I couldn't get out!"

Looking victimized, Bobby defended himself. "I didn't block you - the bus was crowded!"

I wanted to protest further, but I knew in my heart that I was just using that as an excuse. The starting conditions were hardly fair - we should have all lined up on the sidewalk first - but it was my foolish error to agree to such a contest while overlooking those details.

"Come on, Jenny, we're waiting." Arnold looked impatient.

"This is crazy! I'm not doing this."

"We had an agreement."

Bobby chimed in. "Leave it to a girl to chicken out when she loses."

And then Dustin spoke up. "Any one of us would have done it if we'd lost. I've always known you to keep your word, Jenny."

No, Dustin, not you, too! In the back of my mind, I suppose I was hoping he'd convince the other boys that this was crazy. But, on the other hand, if he wanted me to do it...

I had two choices. I could either go back on my word, or I could suck it up and get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Alright, fine. Let's make this quick. And no ice! If you leave any bruises, I swear to God, I'm gonna tell my dad what you did to me."

Just in case they didn't respect my authority, I knew they'd respond to a show of male dominance. My dad had been a football legend at our school in his day.

I stepped around to the other side of a bush, to give me at least a little bit of privacy from the road. I glanced around to make sure the streets were clear, then I quickly removed my clothes. I stripped down to my underwear, and the boys began hooting and hollering.

"Shush! Are you idiots trying to attract attention?"

They sized me up like a cut of meat.

"Hey, Bobby, you've got bigger tits than Jenny!"

Bobby was not amused. "Shut up, Arnold!"

All I could think to say in my defense was, "they're still growing..."

And then Dustin said, blushing, "I think she looks fine."

I smiled, almost forgetting the humiliation I was being subjected to. Almost. I hesitated, looking over my shoulder to make sure we weren't being joined by any onlookers, and the boys began to grow impatient.

"Well?" I asked. Were those idiots trying to draw this out?

"Well, what?" Arnold replied. "You're not naked yet."

I gasped in disbelief. "Do I really have to be, like, naked naked? Isn't this good enough?"

The boys' silence was my answer. I was getting agitated. The temperature was mild, but it was chilly standing there in my underwear. The ground was damp and frigid under my feet. I briefly considered just getting dressed and bailing out, but I'd come this far. Besides, it was kind of exciting. I'd never let a boy see me naked before. I'd be giving Dustin an image to dream about. But I didn't want to get caught, and get into trouble. I had to do this fast.

I rolled my eyes and exhaled with exaggerated indignation, then unsnapped my bra and slipped off my panties. I stood there naked, while the boys reeled, unsure of how to process the visual stimulus their eyes were receiving.

"Come on." I said impatiently.

They all snapped into action. Crouching down over a melting pile of spring thaw, they began balling up the snow in their hands.

"One each!" I shouted.

As they turned toward me, the snow flew in my direction. I instinctively hunched my shoulders and covered my privates for protection. My skin stung where the snowballs hit me. Icy runoff dripped down my body. I hugged myself tightly and shivered. When I looked up, Bobby had his phone pointed at me.

"Are you taking a picture?" I shouted, incredulous. "You jackass!"

The boys all started laughing. I lunged for the phone, hoping to grab it right out of Bobby's hand, but he leapt backward with surprising agility, spun on his heels, and took off running. I turned back towards where I had left my clothes to see Arnold scooping them up. I dropped to my hands and knees just in time to hook an arm through the shoulder strap of my bookbag, while Arnold darted off with everything else. He dropped one of my shoes, and I watched him stoop down awkwardly to pick it up. I quickly contemplated my chances of catching up to him running in bare feet on the cold, hard pavement, but just then a car rounded the corner, and I knew that if I left the relative privacy of the bushes, I'd be completely exposed to the entire neighborhood.

That's when, still on my hands and knees, I realized that Dustin was standing transfixed behind me. He looked utterly mesmerized by the show I had been inadvertently giving him. When I turned my head to look in his direction, he came to his senses. With a deep blush, he managed to mutter half an apology, before he, too, turned tail and ran.

I was beginning to redden where the moisture clung to my skin. I just wanted to be back home, warm and dry. If only it'd been a practice day, I'd have my gym clothes in my bag. Still, I shouldered my bag and headed home, darting from bush to bush, and trying to look nonchalant during those long stretches of sidewalk without cover, hoping that if anybody looked my way, they wouldn't look close enough to realize I had no clothes on. That would make for some awkward dinner conversation the next time Mom invited the Johnsons over.

Luckily, I avoided any passing cars in the three blocks from the dreaded corner to my street. When I got to my door, I was shivering, and didn't have the patience to plan my entrance. So I just crossed my fingers and stepped through the door. Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Hearing the door, she greeted me without so much as a glance in my direction, thank God.

"Hi, honey! How was school today?"

"Fine, Mom!" I shouted back as I rushed up the stairs, into my room, and slammed the door. I put down my bag and wrapped myself up in a fluffy robe. My first thought was to run a hot bath. While the tub filled up, I grabbed my phone, and sent scathing texts to Arnold and Bobby. I had no idea what to say to Dustin. So I mulled it over as I slipped off my robe and sank into the hot bath. It felt heavenly.

As I lay there in the water, with my eyes shut, my mind strayed back again and again to Dustin, standing there, dumbstruck, staring at me on my hands and knees. Something about that moment excited me. Had that been a bulge in his pants? Surely, I hadn't had the presence of mind to notice one way or another at the time, but now, I seemed sure: he'd been aroused by the sight of me in such a state.

My mind began to wander, and I drifted past the bounds of reality. Dustin had gotten sexually excited staring at my nether regions, exposed in full daylight. What if he had not been an innocent schoolboy, but a real man, capable of pleasing a woman? Surely, he would have dropped his pants, exposing his rock hard, 13-inch erection (I'd read on the internet that's how long they get), and taken me right then and there in the bushes. My hands caressed my thighs under the water, and my fingers strayed toward that forbidden spot. As I pressed and rubbed - just as Sally had demonstrated over her panties at the sleepover - and envisioned Dustin as a rippling stallion of a man, I felt waves of pleasure washing over me.

Too soon, it was over, and I felt ashamed of the way I'd thought of Dustin. After all, he was friends with those lowlifes Arnold and Bobby. I never did text him that week, because I was too embarrassed. Arnold apologized halfheartedly as he surreptitiously passed me a bag with my clothes in it at my doorstop the next day - although my underwear was missing. He said he must have dropped it. (Yeah, right). I gave him hell for that. I also threatened Bobby, hoping it would keep him from sharing that picture, but by the time I got to homeroom Monday morning after break, it seemed like the whole school knew about it, although nobody ever said anything to their parents or the teachers.

And that's how I got the nickname "Elsa". Obviously, I glowered anytime somebody called me that, but somewhere deep inside me, I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought that everyone at school had seen my naked body. I knew it was wrong. And I couldn't admit to liking it - that would destroy my already tenuous reputation. I had to put up with a lot of vulgar comments from the boys. But every now and then, in the evening, when I'm alone in bed and feeling unusually naughty, I'll imagine all the boys across town who are probably secretly looking at that picture of me right at that moment, touching themselves because of what the sight of my body was doing to them. It felt good to be desired. It made me feel powerful.

Drawn (But Not Quartered)

Everyone's got their preferences, I guess. I like the way the body looks when it's fully extended. And here's a blooper shot from when I was trying to do a handstand:

Getting Dressy

A couple of videos this time, in lieu of pictures - except for this one, because I can't resist an opportunity to be naked in (sort of) public:

I can't tell you how much I loved this first dress, but it was very tight around the chest - and very difficult to get on and off. If it had fit me better, I would have bought it in a heartbeat.

I also loved this second dress - a perfect Tinkerbell dress. Can you imagine it with green fairy wings? But, sadly, it, too, was restrictively tight around the chest. :-(.

Winter Bundle

Nothing like the electric company working on your gas line midwinter to inspire you to bundle up in your warmest lounging clothes (and then, when your gas comes back on and the house warms up, to gleefully strip them off).

I made the mistake of taking too many shots and then not knowing how best to present them without overloading the viewer. So let me just try to target as many different angles as I can.

Cold & Hot

Although full exposure is normally the name of my game, a little bit of restraint is sometimes necessary to push my work to wider audiences. I consider it a creative challenge. I wouldn't want to be bound by it every time (or even most times) I pick up a camera, but it's a good way to mix up my workflow, and reinvigorate those innocent feelings towards nudity that can have a tendency to fade when you're surrounded by it day in and day out.

Moreover, I am fascinated by the exploration of that fuzzy line that separates explicit nudity from socially-acceptable "partial" nudity. How close can I get to that line without crossing it? And is there a point that is so close, that the suggestion of crossing the line can have the same practical effect, like the decimal form of 9/9 rolling over to 1? I don't know the answer, but I enjoy exploring the question.

Presented for inspection! (If only, right?)

I think the "shirt cock" is a ridiculous look. I know most people don't look like models to begin with, but there's something about the juxtaposition that's not particularly flattering. Of course, that doesn't mean that it can't be made to look attractive - and a lot of that has to do with the person modeling it (case in point, I've seen a "shirt pussy" or two in my day that I didn't hate). After all, a lot of people think men in swim briefs look ridiculous - and in a lot of cases, I would agree (although that's not reason enough to restrict their freedom to wear them). But on the right person, they can look downright smoking! So tell me, can I make a shirt cock look attractive, or not?

Casual on top, party on bottom - it's the mullet of fashions!

Obviously, I don't have a problem showing my face in naked (or even erotic) pictures - I stand by my modeling decisions, and if anyone has a problem with that, it's their problem, not mine. The immortality of art is more important to me than fleeting social trends. But this -

Seminonymous

- seems like it would be a great pose for people who want to show off their bodies, while still protecting their identity. I reluctantly acknowledge that some people don't want or can't afford to be noticed engaging in internet exhibitionism - and I'd rather they pursue it anonymously than give it up. But certain types of self-censorship are just tacky. Rather than smudging your face in Photoshop, or exclusively shooting cropped images of your body, it's much better if you can find creative ways to hide your face, like this one.

Polar Vortex

That polar vortex finally brought us some decent snow fall for a change. I actually had to get out the snow shovel! (And not just the broom). And, of course, I shoveled naked - because why not?

To anyone who sees this picture and feels compelled to ask why I'm wearing a bikini while doing a handstand in the snow, I have only this to say: would the picture be more interesting if I were bundled up in normal winter clothes? No, of course not. And now you know why I'm wearing the bikini. -_^

Plenty of snow for a snow angel - more, even, than we got last year, I think. I piled up some snow from the driveway to give me a nice snow bank to dive into - something I haven't gotten to do for nigh on a decade!

Whew! I was so cold I forgot to stop recording before I grabbed the phone and ran into the house to dry off! (Did you see my snow angel in the background?). What a blast, though. This is what winter is all about.