I have been a devoted and obsessive exhibitionist for nearly sixty years. If it were legal, I would never wear clothes. Almost daily, I put myself in a position where I might be seen naked. I thrill to the danger of being caught. It is my equivalent of sky-diving. I like to be completely naked, rather than merely flashing my cock, a technique I find quite tawdry (sorry other flashers, we all have our preferences). It makes me feel more vulnerable, more committed to the task. I believe that my openness can be less confronting to a viewer, and I try to avoid encounters where I leave the viewer no escape options. 

I am tall, athletic and light-skinned. I have no tattoos and have no body hair apart from on the top of my head (I keep my pubic area thoroughly shaved). In my younger days, I was considered "pretty", rather than handsome, with blonde hair, blue eyes and totally clean-cut. In my mind, I was a mobile Roman statue, a vision to be admired, not to be threatening. Even now, after all these years, this is still my self-image, with at least a little justification.

I like to walk in the neighbourhood between three and four in the morning, fully naked, usually holding a scrunched-up running costume in my hand for emergencies. I like to collect the morning paper as the sun comes up or collect the mail as it goes down, naked. In these circumstances, my senses are on high alert, and almost always I become aware of a potential viewer before he or she sees me, so I can avoid detection. Cars do not bother me, as I usually see light from their headlights before the car itself appears.

There are also plenty of ways to be seen naked, as if by accident, and I take advantage of them quite often. If the reaction is good, then I can continue, and thereby reveal that there had been no accident at all.

This sequence of stories recalls situations where my public nudity has been spontaneous, taking advantage of a particular situation, or where "accidental" exposure has morphed spontaneously into unashamed public nudity.

In the first episode, I was quite young, around twenty or so. It was in my first year of teaching, during school holidays, and I had gone into the city to buy some tennis clothes at a newly-opened clothing outlet. Not sure of my size, I selected from the racks some brand-name shorts and shirts and was looking around for where I might try them on when a shop assistant offered to direct me to such a place. He took me to a row of four or five conjoined cubicles in the centre of the store, each protected by a full-length adjustable curtain. It was mid-morning, and the store was not busy. I noticed that the cubicles were not gender-specific. The assistant opened the curtain for me to enter, and casually closed it behind me.

I took off my shoes, leaving my socks on, took off my shirt, dropped my trousers, and hung them on a hook, leaving me in my underpants. I selected a pair of shorts to try on and stood in front of a full-length mirror. I was about to step into the shorts when I noticed that a six to nine inch gap had been left between the curtain and the wall, and through it I could see a lady waiting outside. I could see her complete profile, so realised that if this was so, she could, if she looked, see me also in complete profile. She was reasonably attractive, perhaps thirtyish, and appeared to be looking around the shop for someone else. She was not looking at me.

Quick as a flash, I saw the opportunity. She might look towards me at some stage, and she might be there for a while because she had left a shopping bag on the floor beside her. I put the shorts back on a chair and hesitated for a moment as I plucked up the courage to drop my underpants. I had my fingers at the waist ready to take them down when I saw her look. I realised that she may well have noticed that I too had seen her, but averting my eyes, I continued to take my underpants down, and step out of them. I was fully aware of the danger I was in, but I convinced myself that, since she had not left her position, she might tolerate a little exhibitionism. I certainly could not forego the opportunity.

I lingered there for a while, now naked but for socks, before reaching for a shirt that I began to pull over my head. My head would not go through the neck of the shirt, as I had not undone the buttons, so I left the shirt there while I attempted to undo the buttons from inside and below. This left me almost entirely naked as I turned, leaving myself fully front-on to the woman. Eventually, I could see, through the neck gap in the shirt, that she was still watching attentively. As I undid all the buttons, I turned back to the mirror and pulled the shirt down covering my upper torso.

Hands on hips, I studied myself in the mirror, swayed a little, then turned and looked back over my shoulder to study the rear view. This again gave her my full-frontal, and as I turned back to face the curtain our eyes met. She smiled and gave me the thumbs up. I was in raptures. I stood there transfixed, luxuriating in her attention, speechless, thrilled, nervous, feeling extremely vulnerable. Would she scream? Would she call for an attendant? Would she hurry away? 

In time, still facing her, only two strides away, I took the shirt off, replacing it slowly with another. I mouthed "which one?", pointing to the shirt I was wearing, and then the previous one. I was conscious of my rigid erection, pointing up above the shirt, as it seemed to want to escape from the rest of my body. It was humiliating, yet terribly exciting. 

"Wait a minute, I'll select a few more," she whispered, disappearing, leaving her bag to signify her committed return.

When she did come back, a minute or two later, she had another lady, of similar age, in tow. She approached the gap, handing me two more shirts, and taking the opportunity to widen the curtain gap a few more inches. The two then stepped back a pace and watched as I replaced my shirt with one they had brought. I did a pirouette, then took the shirt off, and, now naked, reached for the fourth shirt. All the time the two ladies would quickly glance from side to side, no doubt watching for unwanted interruptions.

As I stood naked, the newer lady put her head through the gap and asked if I was ready to perform some tricks for them. I asked if they would like to come in, but the offer was declined on the basis of insufficient room, and the need for someone to keep watch.

"Take off your socks first," she suggested, and insisted that I face the mirror as I did so. She stepped back, as I reached down to take my socks off. I could see both ladies between my legs, as I felt deliciously wanton and humiliated leaving my anus so fully and vulnerable to their view. How embarrassing! How exciting! 

"Stay down like that, but shake around a little,came the request from the second woman who had approached the gap again. 

After a while she approached again, requesting me to stand facing them, and pull my cock one way and another so they could watch it spring back. I was afraid their giggling might arouse attention. They must have witnessed the stream of pre-cum swaying like a strand of spiderweb in the breeze.

At this stage, I was hoping that they might ask me to masturbate for them. But they merely asked me to perform some light calisthenics.  I was in the process of doing so, when they both came to the gap, told me that I had been a lot of fun, but that they needed to go. As I stood there, the second lady reached in, gripped my cock, and gave it a small handshake. Then they were gone. Did I leave her some of my juice on her hand? I hoped so.

All I could do was close the curtain, and finish myself off, alone, a little disappointed, but soon very appreciative of the pleasure they had given me. I now regard the episode as one of my most memorable experiences, extremely happy that I had taken the opportunity, regardless of the risk. I had initiated the encounter, but I now realise how quickly I became subordinate to their demands, obedient to their instructions, vulnerable to their reactions.  This is the effect of CFNM that I forever crave.