As I have said before, I often walk naked in the streets in the early hours of the morning, risking being seen, but taking precautions to reduce that likelihood. My senses are never so alert, the feeling of vulnerability intense, and occasionally an encounter can result in an exceptionally rewarding experience. My aim is not to confront, but to enjoy the thrill of possible discovery.

Some twenty or so years ago, I took part in a golfing tournament on the mid-north coast, about three hours drive from Sydney. It was for amateurs, playing off their official club handicaps. There were male and female individual events, with team events in conjunction. I went with a group of twenty or so, split into a number of four man teams. Some stayed in motels, but I stayed with two others in a holiday-rental house. The event was held over two days, Saturday and Sunday, and we drove up Friday evening to take possession of the house. The town was a small coastal, mainly holiday location, with plenty of beach and ocean activities available, besides the golf.

Waking the first night between three and four, I got out of bed for a walk. Wearing running shorts, a t-shirt and running shoes, I quietly left the house, walked about a hundred metres, removed the t-shirt and left it beside a lamp-post by the road. I then took off the shorts, scrunched them up into my hand, and set off naked but for the shoes. It certainly was a sleepy village. I encountered no-one, no traffic and felt unusually safe in my nakedness. I was back in about forty-five minutes.

We golfed Saturday, and that night, waking at about the same time as the night before, I decided to repeat the walk, with a slightly altered route. This time however I upped the risk factor, leaving my shorts with my t-shirt at the pole. Now I set off with no fall-back position. It was wonderfully exhilarating, no clothes, a beautiful night, in a small and strange little town. The only small concern occurred as I passed in front of one particular house that must have had a motion detector, which suddenly bathed me in a powerful light. The heart raced as I thought I may have been discovered, but quickly realised that the light was probably automatic. I always walk under street lights without concern, but these automatic lights can give a bit of a shock.

As I walked on I thought I might have heard a slight muffled noise, like a giggle being restrained, but no-one seemed to be around, so I thought no more about it. Again, I was back to the house in about forty-five minutes.

On Sunday I played particularly well, winning the individual event for the day, and thereby finishing third in the two-day event. After golf, we stayed in the club-house, waiting for the presentations, and the dinner to close the event. I had a few beers, some wine with dinner, and so was getting a bit tipsy. Having won the day event, I was called to the stage to receive my prize, and make a small speech. I was on the stage again not long after, to receive my third-place prize, but no speech was required.

After the presentations, people started to leave. Most of my group left, but I stayed on, buoyed by my good performance on the day. I began to notice that four women at a nearby table had also stayed on, were chatting animatedly, with frequent glances in my direction. With very few of my friends left at our table, I was thinking of leaving, when one of the guys who were clearing the tables, approached holding a glass of champagne.

"The ladies over there would like you to join them so that they can congratulate you in person" he announced, handing me the drink. I looked across, and true enough, they were beckoning me to come over. In movies, one sees guys doing this to women, but I had never seen, or heard of, the reverse. I was intrigued, a little drunk, and up for almost anything, so I joined them.

It did not take me long to realise why I was wanted there. It was not for them to learn something from me to improve their golf games. Nor was it due to my magnetic good looks and charisma. It was evident that they thought they recognised me, when I was on stage, as the guy they had seen the night before, naked in front of their house. They were not quite sure, and so did not address the issue directly, but circuitously via a series questions about how I was able to sleep in a strange house and bed (they found it difficult). What did I do when I could not sleep ( they sat up and talked).

Soon we were teasing each other. They were now quite sure it was me that they had seen, but did not directly accuse me. I knew what they were getting at, but did not admit that it was me they had seen, or that I knew what they were driving at. We all knew that we were teasing each other, so spirits were high, there was a lot of laughter, and not a little more drinking.

The staff had cleared all the tables, had placed most of the chairs on the tables, and were waiting impatiently for us to go.

It was then that I tested their interest and cooperation. "I love walking in misty rain. So fresh and invigorating. Especially without clothes."

"What's stopping you?" came a response, quick as a flash.

I began to undress, handing each item of clothes to the nearest lady. As I did so, there was some debate over whether or not to be associated with my madness. I helped the cause by suggesting that, a lone naked man would cause concern, but one chaperoned by four elegant and responsible ladies, would hardly be seen as a threat to society. It was now a little past ten in the evening, and already the streets seemed deserted. It did not take long to have unanimous support for me to continue to strip down, shoes and all, and to be escorted home. I was even relieved of my watch!

We were a bit boisterous on the walk, and did attract a bit more attention than we would have otherwise. But the attention was benign, if not encouraging. A dozen or so people observed us, and the sight must have been quite unique. On occasion, I received an encouraging slap on the bottom from one of the ladies, and as their inhibitions receded, they even took turns leading me by the penis. I am sure some spectators witnessed this. It was an unparalleled experience.

On arrival at their house, there were no signs of getting my clothes back. I offered to make and serve coffee and tea. The ladies enjoyed, and took full advantage of, having a naked house-servant. Being told how naughty I was, I offered to be severely punished, lying across the most available knees, and carefully placing my cock between them. I did not need to plead to be spanked harder, as the other ladies were encouraging the spanker to do so without my interference. Meanwhile the spankee had attained his most eager erection, which he proudly displayed as he stood, offering himself to the next pair of knees. This time the spanker took the initiative, directing the cock between my legs with her hand, and displaying it for all to see, before setting to work on my reddened arse. The naked erection itself enjoyed the occasional slap, but never hard enough to cause pain. It was clear that a naked cock becomes substantially more interesting when erect.

They now were fully aware of how brazen, unashamed and compliant I was. They had little interest in taking things forward to other levels of sexual exploitation. They were merely having fun, using my nakedness to amuse themselves, rather than to arouse themselves. We continued drinking and talking as they invented new ways to try to embarrass me. Invariably this meant exploring the full flexibility of my erect cock, or the range of maneuverability of my cock and balls when not erect. They amused themselves tying my shoelaces around my cock and balls in a variety of ways. 

One lady announced that she had often fantasised about playing deck quoits with an erect penis. A search was undertaken to find a suitable quoit, settling on my shoelace tied end to end in a loop. The game kept them interested for over thirty minutes. Whenever my erection waned, I was told I was ruining their game, and I needed to get it back to the required rigidity by myself. I did so quite successfully a few times.

Finally I was required to rest on hands and knees while a metal salad spoon was oiled and pushed a small way into my anus so as to stay there without assistance. Lipstick was used to draw some rings on my bottom, with the spoon at the centre. The game recommenced with the spoon as the new bulls-eye. The need to maintain a constant erection was thereby overcome.

The noise must have woken the neighbours. The cheering, the laughter, the booing were all unrestrained. It went on until after one in the morning, at which time entertainment options dried up, and enthusiasm waned. I could have kept going, but could think of no appropriate way to proceed. So I accepted my clothes, and left without putting them back on, to walk, naked, back home, after thanking each other for the crazy night.

As the door closed behind me, I heard the girls agree that "what happens on tour, stays on tour".