I have had exhibitionist tendencies since I was young. In an effort to better understand, I have given much thought to how this developed over the years. My first related memory is from when I was still living in my parent’s house. There was a large window in the upstairs bathroom. It was always uncovered because it was located such that it was not exposed to the neighbors or street. One would have to be on our roof to see in. When taking a bath, I would fantasize that whichever boy I liked at the time was out there watching me. I think this was extra thrilling because of how much it was contrary to my world otherwise. My father was a Presbyterian minister. I was, and considered by all to be, a “good girl”. Over time, I grew to hate this. I so much wanted to shed this reputation.

I had once overheard a guy at school telling his friends that he slept in the nude. At first, I was shocked, but also fascinated. I thought about this a lot. How brave and somehow mature. I built up the courage and started sleeping naked myself. Although usually under the covers, it was quite liberating. I was afraid my mom would discover me – and eventually she did. To my surprise, she did not freak out. See did a double take, but generally ignored it. So, this became something normal in my world.

To this day I sleep in the nude, or sometimes in just my panties. This is likely connected to my always feeling sexiest in the morning. It is the time I feel the most slim and desirable. I almost always pleasure myself before getting out of bed, and I stay there as long as I can. When I do get up, if I don’t have to go anywhere, I likely won’t get dressed at all. I like to do my chores or find fun activities to do naked. It is not difficult. Just the work of everyday life is more enjoyable in the nude.

Just after I began sleeping naked, I would lie in bed until I knew both my parents had left for work, then I would kick off the covers and lay face down, exposed to anyone who may enter the room, although no one did. But I would fantasize about who this could be. At that time, it was usually Tom Selleck – dressed as a cowboy. My most prevalent fantasy is to be roughly taken, from behind. This intruder having his way with me. That can sound a little scary, but not to a girl in the 80s when the intruder is Tom Selleck.

My routine of naked morning chores, etc. was, and still is fun. But like most things people enjoy doing a lot, it can lose its luster after a while, and you must step it up to keep it exciting. This too happened to me. I started to fantasize more about being seen. But I did not want my parents to find out. And if they did, I knew I would need a good story for how this “accidentally” happened.  I became determined to bring this fantasy to life.

My first idea to be seen related to the fact that we lived on a golf course. It was common to have tee shots miss the fairway and land near or in our yard. I decided to do some nude sunbathing. If discovered by my parents, I knew they would be mad, but at least it would make more sense than just running out and flashing someone. So, I laid out a towel in the yard - a long way from the fairway. It took a while to build up my courage. I knew to keep to areas not exposed to the neighbors. Most of the yard was well covered by trees, so I had to move often to stay in the sun and not appear to be a naked girl just napping in the shady woods.

I was so excited and nervous, yet also somehow relaxed with certain parts of my body feeling the sun and air for the first time. When I spotted golfers in the fairway, I actually chickened out, but it was too late. I knew they were more likely to catch me if I jumped up and ran. I tried to cover up with the towel, but the leaves started to rustle. So, I closed my eyes hard and just froze until I was sure they had passed. I had no idea if they saw me, but I don’t think so.

It was weeks until I tried again. I wasn’t even planning on it at the time. I was cleaning the sliding glass door on the back deck. This was a fun chore to do naked, after my parents left for work. While cleaning, I heard the familiar knock of a ball striking a tree in our yard. It just came over me to really go for it. I grabbed a towel and rushed out and pretend to be sunbathing. As it seemed to take forever for the golfers to arrive, the excitement kept building and building, and with it my courage. I picked up my towel and hurried down closer to the course and set up again. I saw three men headed my way.

Now I was terrified. I knew they would see me for sure. They would be looking for the ball very close to me.

Then, just like before, I chickened out. But this time I did jump up to run back to the house. As I grabbed my towel, I looked right at them looking right at me. I was flooded with emotions as I ran for the house. I did not look back until hidden below my living room window. Peeking out, I could see them still frozen in their tracks. But after a moment or two, it became clear they were engaged in happy conversation. I imagine I made their day. And after a few minutes, I had calmed down enough to realize it made my day too. I ran around the house, jumped up and down, screamed, and danced for some time after.

I knew it was unlikely that the golfers would know me or my family. We lived on Hilton Head Island. A vacation resort that always had many more tourists than locals. But as I still feared being recognized, this did not become a regular event. I would still lay out sometimes, but closer to the house. Although it was usually hard to tell if I was seen, I am pretty sure that a handful of times some golfers caught the show.

I had other adventures related to the golf course. At night, it was pitch black out there. You could not see more than a few feet. Sometimes I would sneak out and run naked around the course, daring myself to go farther each time. This was a good outlet for me for a couple of years. As far as I know, I was never seen. But I had a few close calls getting in and out of the house, or crossing under the light near a road to reach other parts of the course.

These were the beginnings of my adventures, that were at first occasional, but quickly escalated into an everyday obsession.