Posts tagged male

My First CFNM Experience

How did you first get into CFNM? Was there a single incident that hooked you for life? I’m asked these questions a lot. The answer to the second one is a resounding yes. The answer to the first one is … well, read on.

It happened one rainy summer when I was in my teens. That holiday, I spent most of my time idling around the shops with my best friend Jessica, but every now and then we’d run into a boy called Steve. (All names changed, of course.)

Steve was one of those cocky, precocious types. I’m not sure how far his experience extended, but he always pretended to know more about sex than anyone else. His chatter was full of obscure references to outré sexual positions and fetishes. Depending on his mood, he could be annoying or charming, but he was always provocative.

On that particular afternoon, Steve was with a friend called George. They were about to rent a movie and watch it at George’s house, on his parents’ gigantic TV. As it was yet another wet afternoon in what was turning out to be a real washout of a summer, we agreed to tag along. It proved to be a painless way of killing a few hours. The movie wasn’t that great, but the wraparound sofa in George’s parents’ sweeping lounge was super comfortable, and we had soft drinks and popcorn to sweeten things still further.

Once the movie ended, Steve suggested a quiz. I immediately smelt a rat. Steve was always trying to lure girls into playing strip poker, or other games that might result in the shedding of clothes. But surely he knew how little chance he stood with me? I had the rep of being exceedingly prim and proper. Did he seriously think he could break through my reserve with a movie and a can of Diet Coke? As for Jessica, no way would she fall for anything like that – even loaded up on sugar, she was a bit of an ice queen.

But no, Steve had a slightly different plan. He proposed that we split into boy-girl groups, me and him, George and Jessica. The girls would answer questions and, if they got them wrong, the boys would have to remove an item of clothing.

How or why he came up with the idea I’ll never know. Maybe he’d been reading about CFNM in his nightly trawls of Internet porn sites, and liked the sound of it. Maybe he thought (mistakenly) that if the boys got naked, there was every chance we would follow. Maybe he was bored and he just wanted someone, anyone to get naked.

Whatever his motives, I fell in love with the idea the minute it escaped his lips, although I was careful not to show it. I turned to Jessica with a doubtful shrug, while my insides churned at this proposal which seemed to chime with secret fantasies I’d been having for years. Jessica wasn’t too sure, being very distrusting of boys, but in the end we gave our permission for the game to begin.

So George dug out some stupid quiz book, and we played, making sure we got all the answers wrong, and the boys did indeed get naked. Sorry to leave you hanging, but I’m not going to describe this in any detail, because, hey, we were underage. But that was it. My First Time. Jessica laughed hysterically throughout the whole thing and then seemed to forget about it instantly, while the same experience stayed with me until this very day.

The Perfect NM

When it comes to boyfriends, I’m as finicky as any girl. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. Confident but not arrogant. Funny but not a flake. The list of prerequisites goes on …

But CFNM makes me see men in a completely different light. A guy doesn’t have to be an Adonis for me to find him sexy. He can be middle-aged, or under-endowed, or have love-handles and little wobbly man-tits. I don’t mind if he’s short or going bald. As long as he’s well-scrubbed and not too much of a woolly-back, almost any guy can turn me on.

There’s but one requirement: he has to be really, really, really into CFNM. That means he has to love exposing every inch of himself to any girl who’s interested. He also has to embrace the idea that, while she’ll get to explore his every nook and cranny, he’ll be lucky if he sees past her knees. In addition, just because she deigns, out of the kindness of her heart, to run her lovely eyes over his quivering bare skin, and perhaps weigh his balls with her glossy-nailed fingers, he shouldn’t take this as a come on: his balls are in the hands of a lady, and he should treat her with respect and courtliness.

This power to make almost any guy sexy (at least to me – maybe other girls feel differently) is one of the things I love most about CFNM. It’s part of its relaxed, high-spirited quality. And what works for NMs also works for CFs. Girls, you don’t have to be gorgeous 19-year-old with big boobs and a perfect figure to get men to drop trou. You can be the neighbour’s wife, you can be a grandmother. If you’re female, there will be guys who’ll just adore getting their kit off for you. Including ones with broad shoulders, narrow waists and long legs …

Top Down, or Bottom Up?

When it comes to high-energy stripping in public, those naughty boys at ExtremeCFNM are the undoubted experts, and I raise my vodka and lime to them. But I do love a bit of stripping in the home as well. Telling your man to get ’em off can serve as a wonderful forfeit for a lost bet, or a penalty for failing to tidy up, or it can just be a spontaneous bit of fun when there’s nothing on the telly. It’s also a great chance to experiment with different approaches to getting naked.

Don’t get me wrong, when I’m out with the girls, there’s nothing I like more than a polished striptease with the traditional reveals – those oiled pecs bursting out of a policeman’s tunic, the moment when the trousers with Velcro sides come flying off. But when it’s just me and my boyfriend (or some other willing amateur) I like to do things my own way.

I like the guy to strip from the bottom up.

There I am, curled up in a corner of the sofa, looking as cute as a kitten in a calendar in my slim-cut jeans and snug jersey top. I’m nursing a glass of Pinot Noir and a wicked grin and my eyes are sparkling greedily. Some R&B pop is tinkling away in the background, and the guy’s standing there in front of me with an eager but nervous smile. He doffs his jacket or sweater, his trembling fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, and that’s when I shake my head and point casually to his trousers.

His brows shoot up, as though to ask, “Already?” I say nothing, but my lovely grey eyes darken just enough to put the fear of God into him.

Hands quivering, he pops the waistband. I savour the moment of awkwardness as he fumbles the trousers down his brawny legs and over his feet. When he straightens up, his face is flushed and his shirt is dangling down over the tops of his bare thighs, almost covering his briefs.

And that’s where I point next.

I do it with a slight pout, as though I’m already growing bored and he better hurry up and impress me. That’s usually all the motivation he needs to send his undies plunging to his ankles.

And now comes my favourite part. Technically, the guy is still half-clothed, but the shirt on top only makes the bottom half seem even more naked. I love the way the guy’s swelling dick pokes out from under the fabric, waving hello. I encourage him to move around and I’m just as entranced by the view from the rear, the shirt-tail hugging the contours of his tight little bum.

Finally, I tell him to pull the shirt over his head, so I can take in the whole sweep of his body, and now he doesn’t have a stitch on him.

The naked male. Just as nature intended.

And that, of course, is when the fun really begins …

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