Stu is a retired professor who taught human diversity courses for thirty years. His first college job, in 1964, was posing naked for art and photo classes— he still poses part-time! ‘Lights On—Clothes Off: Confessions of an Unabashed Exhibitionist’ is his rather revealing novel.
Stu welcomes your comments about topics in Sans Clothing.
His book: lightsonclothesoff.com
His email: stuauthor@gmail.com
A couple of my past Sans Clothing columns have included portions of the first four chapters of my novel. Those have generated many positive comments and emails to me regarding my book and the experiences I exposed. So I’ve decided to continue sharing this month. Here are portions from Chapter Five. Enjoy!
On men’s days at the YMCA, all the men and boys had to be naked—yes totally naked. The lifeguards wore their lanyards with their whistles and usually wore sandals but otherwise nothing else. The men who taught swimming classes didn’t wear anything. Men and boys of all ages wore nothing. Everyone was naked.
Being nude was required due to some ancient regulations that banned bathing suits. Fortunately, no one seemed to ever question this marvelous rule.
I vividly recall a few very special days when there were races and games in the pool for kids and teens. What made these days so exciting for me was that friends, family, and all Y members were invited to watch us and cheer us on. They would file into the pool area and fill up the old wooden bleachers that had been pulled down from the wall. There was usually a decent size crowd, all fully dressed, watching us. What made it even better was that some of my friends from school came. Boys and girls. To see me. Naked.
I never refused the requests from our swim instructors to participate in these events. I don’t think they realized how super it made me feel as I frolicked naked in front of the spectators. And of course, when we had to line up to be introduced, well that was the best. When my name was announced I’d jump to the front, wave, smile, and search all of the eyes to see who was concentrating on my new pubes and my penis.
Another treasured activity that got me stirred up during open swim time was to sit on the side of the pool, pretending that I was just resting or relaxing, so that friends could swim over and chat while they were holding onto the side. I kept my knees apart as I wanted to be sure that my buddies would have an easy and total view. Some of my friends would hold onto the side of the pool right next to me. My favorite friends were the ones who would hold on right between my purposely-parted legs. Their eyes were right there. Inches away.
As I got older it was obvious to me and my friends that my penis was larger and that my pubic hair was growing faster than most other guys who were around my age. My lengthy visits to the side of the pool, while I displayed my “resting poses,” were enjoyed by many. I loved my buddies’ subtle and “innocent” remarks about my size, my balls, and my pubic hair. My pleasure level went sky high when their eyes devoured me. I never let on that I noticed or cared about what they were doing. I just spread my legs a bit wider and propped up against one leg on the pool deck to offer an even better show for my many secret admirers.
I continued to thoroughly enjoy the Y and all of its exhibitionistic opportunities for several years. Unfortunately, the Y changed its policies about nudity in the pool area when I was sixteen. Bathing suits were required. Privacy walls were erected between the showerheads. In the locker room, men covered themselves with their towels. And the new red bathing suits for the lifeguards were a total bummer. Oh well. It was hot and it satisfied my hidden urges and fantasies while it lasted.
For those of you who think this is make-believe, keep in mind that this was in the 1950s and 1960s. To verify this practice google the topic of “Swimming naked at the YMCA.”
I’d love to hear from you. My Sans Clothing column and my novel are all about nudity, exhibitionism, and voyeurism. If these are issues you’d like to discuss with me shoot me an email: at stuauthor@gmail.com. And I’m happy to share photos of me posing for art classes–no fee, just ask. But since they are nudes be sure to indicate your age. Thanks.
Stu’s February Sans Clothing column and others can be found in the Blog listing.