Posted by Mike on September 5, 2005, 8:59 pm, in reply to "I’ve done that (Part 1)" I went in my room, and, as excited and nervous as all dickens, took off all my clothes, then walked out where she was, completely naked, to head for the bathroom. She was still sitting at the table. As soon as I came out, her eyes met mine, then glanced down, then back up at my eyes again. “Well,” I said. “It’s going to feel good to take a shower now—because I’m tired,” trying to sound like there was really nothing on my mind except the shower I was about to take. She smiled. (The key to it is just don’t be lewd about the whole thing. The only reason you’re naked is because you’re on your way to bathe your body, right? So from the way she saw the situation, it didn’t come across as if my being naked were some kind of sexual act. It was just a case of her employer in the house who had to take a shower, and he was a little more liberal about the whole thing because he was from a different culture, that was all... as she was seeing it.) But oh, when I got into the shower, the first thing I did, and the only thing I could do, was masturbate, thinking about the sight of those luscious, beautiful brown eyes taking a glance down there. Over and over again the image flashed through my mind, with me off in ecstasy, till I was done. Okay, so the truth is, it really was a sexual act—perverted, yes—but it was only in my mind while I was in the bathroom by myself, masturbating in private. When I came out—still naked—she was folding some of my clothes that she had just finished ironing. “Oh, that felt good,” I said to her. (And that was the truth, except in a way she probably wasn’t imagining.) She smiled kindly. Then I noticed those lovely Spanish eyes taking another quick glance down at it, then looking back up at my eyes. I wondered what she must have thought about what it looked like, being white, pink-tipped and circumcised, since the only ones she would have seen, on the little boys in her country when they run around naked when they’re being bathed by their mothers, are brown-skinned and uncircumcised. I wonder if she noticed that there was something different about mine, and if she understood what it was that’s done at birth that makes it that way—or maybe she didn’t even notice the difference at all, just because of the different size and the whole bit, since it was the first time she’d ever seen a grown man’s. Maybe she just never looked that closely at them, who knows? “Well, I’m going to go to bed now,” I said, then shrugged my shoulders. “Buenas noches.” “Buenas noches,” she replied gently. “Que descanses” (Sleep well). When I was in bed I masturbated again, with nothing on my mind except those lovely Spanish eyes of hers… and where they had been looking—even if it was only for a few quick seconds. I went to shower that way in front of her a couple more times after dinner, watching her eyes take brief glances down, and was in frenzies while I bathed. Once a few days later, after she had come back from visiting my friend and his wife, I asked her how his wife reacted when she told her I go naked in front of her now. She said, “Oh, I don’t tell her that. ˇDios guarde!” (God forbid!) Maybe that’s just as well, although her girlfriend, my friend’s wife, has been in this country many years now, and she’s been around and has talked to many people about many things (she speaks English fluently), and she’s heard and seen just about everything there is to hear and see from people in this country, and if Araceli told her that, I don’t think she’d be terribly surprised, nor would she think anything the less of me over it. So nowadays, every day when I shower (sometimes twice a day; sometimes I really feel the need to be really clean, you know), I just walk to the bathroom in front of her naked all the time. One time I came out of my bedroom and she wasn’t expecting me to be naked. First she looked me in the eyes, then looked down, then put her hand over her mouth and smirked. She’s getting more used to it now. And sometimes nowadays I’m starting to notice her downward glances lasting a few seconds longer, which never fails to send me into fits inside. I’m getting the impression that sometimes she’s even enjoying taking looks. Another time, when I came home from work, I found that the can of tear gas I keep in my pants pocket (just in case I ever run into a situation somewhere where I need self-defense, though that’s almost never happened) had accidently leaked and had gotten through my underwear onto the front of my hip and had caused a terrible red swelling and made the surface of the skin a gooey red. I came out of my room with my long T-shirt on to come to the table, with nothing on underneath, and when she asked me how I was, I said fine, except—and I told her about how the gas had leaked and made a mark on my hip. Then as I was telling her about it, I lifted the T-shirt all the way up to my waist to show her the mark it had made on my hip. My penis had been swelling up a little, sticking straight out because of how I was aroused at having it bared in front of her like that, as I pointed out the red spot it had made on the front part of my hip (as if that were all I was showing her and only for that reason). I didn’t make the gas leak on purpose, but since it happened, what a convenient excuse it was for doing that—and it gave her an excuse to keep her eyes fixed down at that level. Now she had an excuse to stare at it (and secretly turn me on inside). One evening when I went for my nightly shower, I came out of my room with a big erection. It embarrassed me a little for it to be that way in front of her. (Some people would shake their heads perplexed and ask me, “Well, what about being embarrassed for it to be seen naked at all in front of her? Shouldn’t you feel that?” Well… maybe so… but that’s beside the point.) Between her and me, our situation is a lot different than it is with that fellow above and his American wife, who thinks of nudity as an act of sex, and when she finds out about the maid seeing him, she falls all apart as if he had been having an extramarital affair with her or something. It’s better with a woman who doesn’t see it that way. Yes, I know the whole thing is a little off. But that’s the whole conflict we have to live in: being addicted to it and having to spend our lives finding ways to fix all the situations so that they’re both “in context,” as well as legally safe.) But oh, every evening when I come home from work, she’s right there with my dinner, and then after dinner, mmm, nude. How relaxing. It may be a disadvantage turning out to have an addiction like this, knowing it’s an unnatural thing and knowing you may never be able to kick it for good—and we may have to spend our lives rearranging all our circumstances, surroundings and situations to be able to find all the ways we can find for compensating for it. But, ˇ ay ! (as they say in Spanish). How sweet it makes it when you don’t have to go through life worrying about being hunted down by cops and the law all the time everywhere you go.
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(Originally posted on September 10, 2002, 12:06 am) 
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