(Mid 1990s) Early in our relationship, I learned that my first husband was not open to my exhibitionist escapades. So, I downplayed my activities of the past and spent the years with him trying to be a good wife. I would avoid situations where I knew I would get myself in trouble or do something to upset him. Occasionally I would take advantage of the times he was not around, although mostly it was a period that I did very little in this way. But my desires were still intense, and this hiatus caused my yearnings to spiral. Eventually I reached a breaking point.

In the months before I left my husband, I was working on a small independent film project with a few friends from work. It was not long until I found myself growing close to this group. We all had real jobs, most of us working together at the theme parks in Central Florida, which was full of want-to-be actresses, actors, filmmakers, singers, etc. Many of us took on special projects, like this film, with the hope of building a career. My husband didn’t like that I was spending my time this way, but he gave me no real problem about it. I think because he was a writer, who hadn’t sold anything in years. So, I was the only one bringing in money. He knew he couldn’t complain much that I had an unpaid job on the film.

This group of filmmakers included my future landlord and eventual best friend, Brandon, but I hardly knew him at the time. I was closer to our mutual friends who were as much about partying and hanging out together as they were about working on the films.

One night I was asked to come over to Eric’s apartment for a read through of the script. Eric was a friend from work, and a major contributor to the projects. He was very funny and helped write many of their scripts. Eric lived in the same apartment complex as Brandon and a few of our other friends that worked at theme parks and on the films. There were about 10 or so people at this read through, including an instigator named Ben. I didn’t like Ben very much, but he became key to me returning to my exhibitionist exploits. Ben was the loudest member of the group. He worked on the films and helped produce them with money he inherited from his grandfather, but he never worked very hard. He was only in it for fun.

Different mixtures from our large circle of friends from the parks would hang out almost every night. If we weren’t at some bar for darts, pool, or karaoke, then we were at somebody’s house party, which seemed to happen every few days. Ben could be found at most of these parties trying to convince the girls to get naked. His approach was to volunteer to go first. I kind of admired him for this. He was straightforward and daring. But I was quite aware that he could be real trouble for me. Anyway, we all knew that if you stayed at a party long enough, particularly if there was a pool, you would be treated to a show of Ben and whichever girls gave in. Because of my efforts to be a good wife, I left most of these parties early.

At our read through, Ben was at it again. While most of us were trying to get through the script, he was working to convince us to go to the pool. Eventually some people, including Brandon, had to leave and the meeting wound down. I was in no hurry to get home and found myself with Ben, Eric, and 3 other male members of the group (John, Randy, and Matthew). All were now up for going to the pool. No one had yet suggested skinny dipping, but with Ben in attendance, I knew where this was going. After years of avoiding this kind of fun, I finally broke and decided to go to the pool and just see what happens.

I pointed out that I did not have a swimsuit and a couple of the guys said they were just going to swim in their underwear. I let them know I was not wearing underwear. So, Eric gave me a shirt that was quite large for me but would work as something of a swimming dress. I changed in his bedroom, and we all went to the complex’s pool.

I noticed two important factors as soon as we got to the pool. Although the gate was not locked, the sign stated that the pool should be closed at this hour. And it was closely surrounded by several apartment buildings. There must have been 40 or 50 windows with a good view of the pool. I questioned this and was reassured that they often swam at night with no trouble.

As soon as I got into the water, I saw Ben was already naked, and noticed the shirt I was given, now wet, was not leaving much to the imagination. I very much enjoyed these friendships, and didn’t want to ruin that. But I was turned on by the idea of playing with the guys, who were already trying to figure out how far I would go.

Ben started in with his suggestions. He was campaigning for me to take off the shirt. I didn’t have a chance to respond before a couple of the others came to my defense. They thought Ben was making me uncomfortable. As they argued, I interrupted with an offer that I would get naked only after all of them got naked. I wanted this to happen, but it just seemed best that I not make it easy. I thought it was unlikely all of them would be willing - particularly Matthew. He was a very talented contributor to the films, and always more serious and a bit shy. But I was wrong about him at that moment. They all removed their shorts and tossed them out of the pool. Now I felt it. The intense conflicting feelings that were common in my early years. I was craving this, but equally anxious. In some ways I had them at my mercy, but in some ways they had me at theirs.

I sunk down low and removed the shirt, keeping it near me while I stayed chin level in the water. Ben grabbed the shirt and threw it far. I heard it hit the fence with a soggy thud. The guys were like sharks treading around me as they thought of silly things to say while trying to get a better look. But I was doing the same.

I considered myself to be good at determining the shape and size of a guy’s penis by his general frame and features. I still do this with most guys, even if I know I will never see his penis. But with the movement of the water, and that they would not stop touching themselves, I could only see distortions and hands. At the time, I thought they were touching themselves because I excited them. But I later understood that they were trying to overcome the effect of the cold water.

We were all suggesting different games we should play. Most of the guy’s suggestions would result in me getting out of the water. I eventually agreed to play chicken. But none of them would put another guy on his shoulders. After much debate, I interjected. I told them that I understood the real goal. And if they would line up on the steps, above the water, where I could get a look at them, I would then let them carry me around on their shoulders to get a look at me. Most of them agreed immediately. But it took several minutes to convince Matthew, then another few minutes of stroking and stalling as they had to prepare. But they all went through with it.

Other than Ben, who I had seen before, my penis predictions were not very accurate this time. It was really something to see the 5 of them lined up in this way just for me. I felt as though I had a certain control over them. I loved it. Ben enjoyed being on display, but I think the others were only going through with it so they could see me. I let them take turns carrying me around on their shoulders while I teased and flirted. With all the physical contact between us, I was experiencing sensations I had not felt in years. Being handled and admired by the guys as they each picked me up, sometimes with help from the others, made me giddy with excitement. It was so fun laughing, wrestling, and splashing around with them. I knew we were being loud, and I couldn’t stop wondering how many people may be watching from the windows.

Then I saw someone at the fence. I let out a little screech before I realized it was Brandon. He was just returning home. This was the first time he saw me naked. I was above the water on Eric’s shoulders. At the time, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him seeing me like this. Brandon was the motivated leader of our group and the film projects. I wanted him to respect me, but I was having so much fun. I waved and called for Brandon to join us. He answered that he would be out in a minute, and I watched him look back at me as he went into his apartment, which was right beside the pool.

Before Brandon returned, I saw Matthew jump out of the water and run for his clothes. I knew that was not good. Then someone announced they saw a cop. I turned to see a police officer at the fence, trying to find the gate. I dropped into the water and watched as all the guys rushed for their clothes and ran out through the adjoining laundry room. I sank down in the water, not sure what to do. I thought I might try to run if the police followed the guys. But two male officers came in through the gate and up to the edge of the pool. They ordered me out of the water. I told them I didn’t know where my clothes were, and pointed in the direction I thought, asking if they could retrieve my shirt. One of them shined his light around and found the shirt but didn’t pick it up. He told me I needed to get dressed. So, I tried to pull myself out at the edge closest to my shirt, but I was struggling and had to wade down to the stairs and walk all the way around while they shined their lights on me. The whole time I thought I would be arrested, and imagined all the trouble this would bring.

What will it be like in jail?

Will I go there in just a wet shirt?

Will I make it to work tomorrow?

What would I tell my husband?!

But as the officers kept their lights on me and watched as I untangled the wet shirt, I started to think otherwise. They seemed delighted. I thought they could get in trouble for treating me this way. Making me stand naked in their lights while struggling to get dressed. They could have kicked the shirt over to me while I was in the water, and not have me walking around like this in front of them and whoever may be watching from the windows. I took my time working the uncooperative garment down over my body, hoping to extend the incident of their ogling to something they would not want to have to explain. And even though I was scared, I enjoyed the sensations that washed over me as I appreciated the contrasts of their powerful authority in crisp uniforms, with their large chests, arms, and weapons looming over my meek, nude, soft, wet, shivering self.

They asked if I lived there, and if I had been drinking. I answered, “No.” Then they told me to go home.

Fearing they would follow me to Eric’s apartment, bringing trouble to the others, I thought to get in my car and drive around until they left. I could not go home to my husband in only some guy’s wet shirt. But before I got to my car, I realized my keys were with my clothes in Eric’s apartment. So, I just aimlessly walked around the apartment complex waiting for the police to leave. A few people had come out to see what was going on. I no longer felt sexy, but silly, in my wet shirt as I passed them on the sidewalk, wondering if they had called the police.

Eventually, I returned to Eric’s apartment and pounded on the door, a little mad that they ran off and left me. But I knew what they had done was probably best. The guys would have been much more likely to get arrested, or maybe evicted.

When Eric answered the door, I pretended to be angrier than I was, just to have some fun with them. Only Eric, Ben, and John were still there. I entered the living room shouting at them for leaving me. I dramatically pulled off the shirt and threw the still wet and heavy thing in Eric’s chest before storming into his bedroom to retrieve my clothes. They followed, trying to calm me down. My charade was working and I wanted to keep it going. I was always more a follower, and almost never expressed anger. Yelling at the guys, while naked and only pretending anger, was marvelously stimulating. I started throwing my clothes at them instead of getting dressed. But after making a bit more of it, my joy became too obvious, and they knew I was joking. I told them what happened with the police, and we all enjoyed the excitement and eventual relief of the whole experience - before I had to return home to my restrictive world.

I had already been thinking about leaving my husband. Feeling the negative turn of my mood driving home that night, I started to believe it really could be the right thing to do. I was facilitating my husband’s ability to not work, and I had grown to believe we were just not good for each other. Although unintentional, my friends were reminding me how wonderful life can be. I felt like this night was the first time in years I had done what I wanted - reveling in just being me.