Naturist Site SeriesPart 3: How I Became a Household Nudist Held Captive

For my previous naturist storyline sites see Part 1 Naturist Blog Seriesand Part 2 Boobs, Boobs Everywhere.
A Captive Home Nudist
Home Nudist – Individuals talk about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as of late as though it were a joke. Oh, I am so OCD! you might say, when choosing what to wear or putting away the dishes. But for my mom, OCD was no laughing matter. She suffered through it, scarcely getting even several hours sleep per night. In my own family, we simply referred to as mom’s problem.
My psychology textbook chapter on OCD was a disclosure. I thought, that is mother! Her neurosis impacted every aspect of our lives. Just she and my father were allowed to have keys.
My sister, who lived with us until she was thirty, never had a key of her own, calling my mother daily to unlock the front door. This would not have been so terrible if my mother had been a housewife, but we were eatery people, and our lives revolved around making pizza.
After the school bus dropped me off, she made a quick lunch as I watched He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, and for four to six hours later, I became a solitary prisoner in my own dwelling. Father, brother, sister and were all at the eatery, and every door was locked from the inside. Thank God we never had a fire or I would have already been toasted alive.
The disadvantage to being trapped within my house was, of course, loneliness. I spoke to myself incessantly and acted out the stories running rampant within my head. But after “bathing unicorn girl”, I discovered a surprising benefit to my solitary existence.
There was a certain exhilaration in showering without shame which led me to spending time naked in the bedroom. And since my mother locked and unlocked and locked the door about fifty times before getting in her car, I knew when she away, so when I could be alone. Let me just say I Have spent a lifetime trying to describe that initial feeling of stepping out my bedroom door sans underwear.
Or a man who’d never known music and hearing Mozart for the 1st time.
Particularly, it was the world of touch that opened up to me. The feeling of air on my shoulders, the bristles of carpet under my feet, the varied textures of every chair and pillow. And it still seems strange to me. It wasn’t like I Had never worn a bathing suit, but being completely nude made me acutely more aware of my surroundings.
Home Naturist Held Captive
Needless to say, I was a teen, and I’d be remiss not to mention arousal. But after the first hour or so, my brain figured intercourse wasn’t occurring.
There was also the thrill factor. When folks say they climb mountains because they are afraid of heights, I understand what they mean. I did flirt with the black side of nudism – exhibitionism – at one point. But I never really cared for anyone to really see me naked. All I really wanted was that sense of liberty, to be one with myself and my environment.
Over the the next couple of years, whenever the family was away, the clothes came off. And I developed very good hearing. It was like having a fire drill, except it was a parents-arriving-unexpectedly practice, and anyhow I could not have had a fire drill because I was locked in the damn house.
Some days I stressed I was suffering from some mental illness. My behavior was not exactly regular, and the Internet was still years away, so I couldn’t just Google being naked. There was no way of knowing people like me existed.
But that didn’t prevent me from growing ever more bold. Places I secretly went nude: my dad’s orange grove, hotel locker rooms, hotel jacuzzis, and the woods behind our restaurant.
Household Nudist
That last part, I admit, was a little dumb.
There was also waste, in the displaced individuals who liked to camp out there, and maybe on the run pedophiles. Come to think of it, I was a pedophile’s ultimate fantasy: a boy in the woods, naked and alone. But my only real fear was someone stealing my clothes and having to return to my family, and a restaurant high in shocked customers and employees, wearing just a pizza box with no explanation. Sure, it might have made for an excellent story, but I’d likely be struggling with embarrassment-PTSD now.
I had finally decided I was a naturist. Though I couldn’t be certain what the lifestyle entailed, life just looked better without clothing. Even algebra homework was more fun sitting on my naked butt. But my new found liberty came coupled with tension; as a naturist, I was true to myself, and yet my true self had to stay concealed; naturism was about being open, though also my biggest secret.
Frustrated by these paradoxes and philosophically minded at a young age, I started to ask the hard questions, like why shame existed to this kind of degree in our society, and why it was even necessary to wear clothes.
Being a real Household Nudist
Wouldn’t the world be better without shame? Sometimes, when my sister drove me to the library for school, I spent the time on the microfiche machine (Google it, kids!) to look up posts on naturism / naturism. But more than anything, I wanted to come from the closet, to spend time around other nude folks where I could be myself and love the components of nature without fear.
When boys my age started fantasizing about sex, I was thinking about the naked beaches of the Greek islands. But how could I ever have the ability to go there? How could I ever be free? I visited Greece every summer, but consistently with the family, and if my mom were to discover my naturism, with her clothes-related OCD, she had probably die of a heart attack.
Learn how in part 4, coming next week!
Now read Part 4: Searching For The Naturist-Bird.
This guest site about being a captive household naturist was released by – Young Naturists & Naturists America
Tags: children and kids, greece, home nudism
Class: Nudist Blog