No Clothing Today

 I have yet another new novelette for you today and this one is a pure CFNM story, a fairly basic one as far as those go, where a guy loses a coin toss with his girlfriend and has to be naked all day and she milks the situation to the maximum degree. This one is a pure CFNM story involving the only one naked and in embarrassed naked man around a bunch of dressed women. And I think that the illustrations for this one came out particularly well!

No Clothing Today
Andrew scratched his beard stubble, the rasping sound loud in the quiet kitchen. He stared at the crumpled sandwich wrapper on the counter, remnants of lunch clinging to its edges. Carolyn leaned against the fridge, nursing her lukewarm coffee. Sunlight caught the steam rising from her mug.
    "So," he began, shifting his weight. "What if—hypothetically—you just… didn’t wear clothes? For a whole day." Carolyn raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking. "Like, ever? Or right now?" Andrew waved a hand. "Right now. Starting now. Just… existing. Naked."
    She snorted into her coffee. "Seriously? That’s your big idea?" He grinned, leaning forward. "Yeah. Think about it. Prancing around. Cooking. Reading." Carolyn set her mug down with a thud. "Prancing? Who prances?" "You would," Andrew insisted. "It’d be hot. Seriously hot."
    A pause hung between them. Carolyn traced the rim of her mug. "So this is the ultimate male fantasy, huh? Woman as naked sandwich-bringer?" Andrew’s grin widened. "Exactly. And you’d look damn good doing it."
    Carolyn pushed off the fridge, crossing her arms. "You want me to dance around bare-assed? Bring you lunch like that?" "Yep," Andrew said, popping the 'p'. "Full service." She rolled her eyes but didn’t move. The refrigerator hummed.
    Outside, a car door slammed. Neither looked away. Carolyn’s fingers drifted to the hem of her t-shirt. "All day?" she repeated. Andrew nodded slowly. "Sunup to sundown." Silence stretched.
    Then Carolyn’s hands settled firmly on her hips. She studied Andrew—his eager grin, the lazy sprawl against the counter. Realization flickered in her eyes: he genuinely expected her to strip right there. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "Okay, Andrew. But let’s make this... equitable." She dug into her jeans pocket, pulling out a worn quarter. "Heads, I get naked. Tails? *You* do." Andrew blinked, grin faltering. "For the whole day?" Carolyn nodded. "Sunup to sundown. Zero exceptions."
    He hesitated only a heartbeat. "Deal." Carolyn flipped the coin high. Sunlight flashed off silver as it spun, arcing toward the worn linoleum. It hit with a sharp *ping*, bounced once, then spun to stillness. Both leaned forward. Heads stared up.
    Carolyn’s shriek of laughter filled the kitchen. She clapped her hands wildly, hopping from foot to foot. "YES! Oh, Andrew!" She danced around him, finger jabbing at his chest. "Get ’em off! All of ’em! Right now!" Her laughter was infectious, breathless. "No shirt! No socks! Nothing between you and the world!"
    Andrew stared at the coin. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. A slow flush crept up his neck. He tugged tentatively at the collar of his faded flannel shirt. The refrigerator’s hum suddenly seemed deafening. His gaze darted toward the window where afternoon sunlight poured onto the driveway. Carolyn stopped dancing, leaning close with gleaming eyes. "Tick-tock, sunshine. Sunset’s a long way off."
    He cleared his throat, fingers trembling slightly near a shirt button. "Just… unexpected." A bead of sweat formed at his temple. He’d pictured Carolyn’s bare skin against sunlight, imagined himself comfortably clothed while she moved around the kitchen. The reality - *his* bare skin exposed, vulnerable under her bright, amused scrutiny - tightened his chest unexpectedly. He hadn't been naked with her before, not like this.
    Carolyn tilted her head, a slow smirk spreading. "Cold feet? Or just… shy?" Her voice dropped to a low, teasing purr. She stepped closer, invading his space, smelling faintly of stale coffee and something warm and familiar. "Need help?" Her fingertip traced the worn fabric over his sternum. Andrew’s breath hitched. Her touch burned through the flannel. "Or do you want to make it a show?" Her eyes widened mock-innocently. "Slowly? Piece by piece? Give me the full experience?"
    Andrew’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct screamed to retreat, to grab his shirt tighter. He could feel the intensity of her gaze tracking every micro-expression, every hitch in his breathing. She leaned in until her breath warmed his ear. "Relax. It’s just skin, Andrew." Her whisper was a challenge. "Unless… you weren’t *actually* serious about this whole… freedom thing?" Her smirk deepened, daring him. The air crackled with unbearable tension. He fumbled for the lowest button on his shirt, fingertips clumsy against the worn plastic. *Just do it. Just…*
    He stalled, fingers freezing above the button. A desperate idea sparked. "Hold on," he rasped, a flush creeping past his collar. "Maybe… maybe the very first time we see each other… like this…" He gestured vaguely at her clothed form, then at his own. "Shouldn’t it be… mutual? Sort of… fair?" His eyes searched hers desperately. For a fraction of a second, he saw it—a slight crease forming between her brows, a downturn at the corner of her mouth. Disappointment? Annoyance? It vanished instantly, replaced by cool appraisal. The air felt colder suddenly. She didn’t say a word, just tilted her head slightly, her gaze dropping pointedly to his frozen hands. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken accusation. *Coward.*
    The sting of her silent judgment hit him harder than any taunt. His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out. "Right," he muttered, the word thick and awkward. "A bet’s a bet." Like a switch flipping, Carolyn’s expression transformed. Her frown evaporated, replaced by pure, predatory delight. Her eyes lit up, gleaming with fierce amusement. "Exactly," she breathed, the word a soft victory chant. She eased herself onto the edge of the counter, legs swinging idly. Her posture was relaxed, expectant, her eyes now locked unwaveringly onto his trembling fingers. She lifted her hand, palm down, and slowly, deliberately, rotated it wrist-over-wrist – a silent, impatient *keep going*.
    Swallowing hard, Andrew focused on the top button. The rasp of the flannel against itself seemed deafening in the quiet kitchen. He kept his eyes lowered, avoiding her rapt attention. He shrugged the shirt awkwardly off one shoulder, then the other, the fabric catching briefly on his elbow before pooling at his feet. The cool kitchen air prickled against his bare chest and arms. He hesitated again before his belt buckle, acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin. Carolyn’s rhythmic hand-flipping stopped. Her stillness felt heavier than the silence. Her stare was unwavering, a physical pressure urging him onward. He fumbled with the cold metal clasp, his breath shallow. The denim rasped louder now as he pushed his jeans down past his hips. He didn’t dare look up, trapped in the terrifying vulnerability of undressing under her unwavering, fascinated gaze.
    A low chuckle escaped Carolyn. "You know," she murmured, her voice thick with amusement, "this feels downright voyeuristic." She shifted slightly on the counter edge, leaning forward. "Standing here fully clothed while you... unravel." Andrew froze mid-shuffle out of his jeans, one leg still tangled. His head snapped up, cheeks flaming. "Does it?" he croaked, searching her face. "Is it… making you uncomfortable?" Carolyn’s grin was instant, wide, and utterly predatory. "Hell no," she breathed, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated delight. "I'm enjoying every damn minute." She punctuated her words with a sharp, impatient flick of her wrist – *get on with it* – her tapping foot adding a staccato beat against the cabinet door beneath her.
    Andrew kicked the jeans aside with more force than necessary, stumbling slightly in his socks. He yanked them off next, tossing them onto the growing pile. Only his boxers remained, a thin barrier against the world and Carolyn’s intensely focused stare. He hooked his thumbs hesitantly into the waistband. The refrigerator’s hum seemed to intensify, filling the space where words should be. Carolyn leaned forward another inch, elbows resting on her knees now. Her gaze didn’t waver; it tracked the slight tremor in his hands, the flush spreading across his chest. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a tiny, involuntary movement. "Tick-tock," she whispered, the sound sharp in the quiet. Her tapping foot paused mid-air, poised, waiting.
    The stretchy cotton slid slowly down his hips. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, the sheer nakedness washing over him like a physical wave before he opened them again, pinned by Carolyn’s stare. She didn’t gasp or look away. Her expression was one of intense concentration, her gaze slowly sweeping upwards from his bare feet. A slow, appreciative hum vibrated deep in her throat. "Well," she finally said, her voice husky and rich with undisguised pleasure. Her eyes met his, holding them captive. "Look at you." She unfolded herself gracefully from the counter, landing silently on the linoleum. Her own clothes felt suddenly like armor as she took a single, deliberate step towards him, her smile widening into something primal. "Now," she breathed, closing the distance with unnerving slowness, "the *real* fun begins."
    Andrew instinctively coiled his arms across his chest, bare shoulders hunching inward. He glanced towards the window again, acutely aware of the vast, exposed pane of glass facing the street. "Carolyn..." he rasped, voice tight. "Are... are you...?" His gaze flickered pointedly to the hem of her own t-shirt. "Fair's fair? Starting soon?" He gestured vaguely at his own utterly vulnerable state. The question hung between them, thick with hopeful desperation. Carolyn paused, mere inches away. Her eyes narrowed fractionally, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. Her hands drifted slowly, tantalizingly, towards the bottom edge of her shirt. Andrew watched, holding his breath, a flicker of relief blooming amidst his panic. Her fingers hooked under the fabric. She lifted it just an inch, revealing a sliver of smooth, warm skin above her jeans.
    "Psych!" The word cracked through the air like a whip. Carolyn dropped her shirt instantly, her grin transforming into a razor-sharp sneer. She threw her head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed off the cabinets. "Oh, Andrew," she managed between breaths, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. "Did you *really* think I'd strip now? After that coin flip?" She shook her head slowly, her gaze raking over his entirely exposed form with deliberate enjoyment. "No, darling. Today is *your* day. Sunup to sundown. Zero exceptions. Remember?" She leaned in conspiratorially, her breath hot against his ear. "And honestly? The fact you're blushing like a virgin on prom night?" Her chuckle was low and thrillingly wicked. "That shyness? That delicious vulnerability right there?" Her fingertip traced a feather-light path down his trembling arm, making every tiny hair stand rigidly erect. Goosebumps erupted violently across his skin, chasing her touch. "That," she murmured, her voice dropping to a husky whisper thick with anticipation, "*That* makes this infinitely more exciting." She stepped back, eyes gleaming. "I have *so many* great things planned."
    Andrew stood frozen. Mortification burned through him, hotter than any sunburn – a fierce blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck and chest. Every instinct screamed to cover himself, to dive behind the fridge, to vanish. His legs felt suddenly unsteady, a strange, trembling weakness spreading upward from his knees as if they might buckle under the sheer weight of his predicament. He squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, trying desperately to will away the dizzying cocktail of shame and… something else. But even through the overwhelming urge to flee, even as he cringed inwardly at Carolyn's mocking laughter ringing in his ears, he couldn't ignore the undeniable, insistent heat throbbing low in his belly. It was a jarring contradiction: utter embarrassment warring violently with a fierce, unwelcome arousal. His heart hammered against his ribs, echoing the insistent pulse demanding his attention elsewhere. Despite every shred of dignity crying out, despite the terrifying exposure, his body responded defiantly, betraying him completely.
    Carolyn’s sharp intake of breath sliced through the kitchen's heavy silence. Her eyes, previously dancing with amused cruelty, widened dramatically and instantly locked onto the undeniable proof of his conflicted state. Her smirk vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated triumph. Her entire face lit up with dazzling, radiant joy – like she’d just uncovered the most precious secret. "Oh!" she breathed, her voice a mixture of delighted astonishment and sheer vindication. She clapped her hands together once, sharply. "Oh, Andrew!" Her laughter bubbled up again, genuine and bright this time, tinged with undeniable glee. "Look at *that*!" She gestured boldly, pointing directly at the source of his mortification. A delighted grin split her face. "Someone’s *awfully* happy to be seen naked!" She took a slow, deliberate step closer, her gaze unwavering, mesmerized. "See? Doesn't feel so scary now, does it? Looks like part of you," she paused, letting the implication hang heavily in the air before adding with a purr, "...the most *honest* part... actually loves this." Her eyes danced with fierce amusement and unmistakable heat. "Tell me," she murmured, leaning forward until her lips were agonizingly close to his ear again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that vibrated through him. "What else should I see?" Her hand drifted slowly, purposefully, towards the bare skin of his hip.
    Andrew flinched violently as her fingertips brushed his skin. "Carolyn!" He choked out, trying desperately to twist away, his arms tightening across his chest. "Don't!" He stumbled backwards, his bare heels hitting the pile of discarded clothes. The cool air assaulted his exposed skin even more intensely without the barrier of flannel or denim. His teeth chattered involuntarily. "Jesus... it's freezing in here!"
    Carolyn straightened up, her expression instantly shifting. A slow, predatory smile replaced the triumphant glee. "Chilly?" she echoed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. Her gaze swept over him, taking in the goosebumps prickling his arms and legs. "Poor thing." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming wickedly. "Well," she breathed, stepping forward decisively, "we can't have that." Before he could react, her arm snaked firmly around his waist. Her other hand landed boldly, possessively, on the small of his bare back. Her fingers splayed wide, anchoring him against her. Her clothed front pressed against his naked chest, the sudden warmth radiating through her shirt a shocking contrast to the cool air. His gasp was choked off as she pulled him close, her hand sliding down his spine with deliberate slowness.
    Her fingers didn't stop at his waist. They trailed lower, tracing the curve of his hipbone, then dipped unexpectedly, circling the firm swell of one bare buttock. Andrew jerked, a strangled noise escaping him. "Carolyn!" he hissed, trying to pull away. Her grip tightened, iron-like. Her fingertips danced lightly, teasingly over his skin. He felt the subtle pressure of her nails – not scratching, just a rasping whisper against his flesh. Then came the tickling – light, insistent flutters skittering across the sensitive skin of his ass. He instinctively arched away, but she pulled him flush against her, holding him immobile. Her breath was hot against his ear. "Hold still," she commanded softly, her voice a low vibration against his neck. "I need to warm you up." She began swaying slowly, deliberately rocking her hips against his trapped leg. Her fingers continued their playful assault, tracing maddening patterns across the taut muscle.
    Andrew froze, trapped against her clothed body. The tickling sensation was maddening – both excruciatingly embarrassing and strangely, intensely stimulating. The friction of her soft jeans against his bare thigh, the warmth of her pressed against his chest, the relentless, teasing flutter of her fingers on his ass... it was overwhelming. His heart hammered against hers. "What... what are you doing?" he stammered, his voice tight and breathless.
    Carolyn chuckled low in her throat, the sound rich and thrillingly wicked. She increased the pressure of her circling fingertips. "Dancing," she murmured simply, her lips brushing his earlobe. She gave a small, deliberate grind against his hipbone. "I've always wanted to dance with a naked man." Her fingers dug in slightly, kneading the firm flesh. "Feels... primal. Honest." She tilted her head back slightly to look into his wide, panicked eyes. Her own gaze was dark, intense, filled with fierce enjoyment. "And look," she breathed, her gaze dropping pointedly lower, her smile widening into pure, predatory satisfaction. "You seem to be enjoying it too." She increased the tempo of her rocking, her hand shifting subtly to cup his ass fully, pulling his hips tighter against hers. The persistent tickling blended with the firm kneading pressure, sending conflicting, electric shocks racing through his nerves. "Go with it," she whispered, her breath a hot caress against his jaw. "Feel it." She pressed herself closer still, her clothed belly sliding against his bare skin. Andrew gasped, his resistance crumbling. The impossible contradiction intensified – the burning blush on his face warring violently with the fierce, undeniable heat flooding his groin. Against all reason, against his desperate wish to hide, his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk forward, pressing insistently against the rough denim covering her thigh. A low groan escaped him, torn between utter shame and undeniable, impossible arousal. Her laughter, soft and triumphant, vibrated through him. "That's right," she murmured huskily. "Dance with me."
    She pulled back slightly, just enough to free her movements. Keeping one hand firmly planted on his hip, anchoring him, she began swaying her own hips in deliberate, exaggerated circles. Her eyes never left his face, watching his reaction with rapt, amused fascination. The playful sway morphed seamlessly into a deliberate, rhythmic twerk. Her ass, tightly encased in those faded black jeans, bounced and rolled mere inches from his trapped hips. Andrew’s breath hitched violently. The direct, unabashed display pushed him dangerously close to the edge; the teasing friction against his thigh, the mesmerizing motion of her curves under the denim, the sheer dominance of her clothed confidence versus his utter vulnerability… it was overwhelming. His jaw clenched, sweat beading on his temples, his entire body trembling with the effort not to explode right then. Carolyn glanced over her shoulder, catching his stunned, desperate expression, her eyes blazing with triumphant glee. "Wow," she breathed, shaking her head slowly, a smirk playing on her lips. "Someone’s… eager." She stopped abruptly, turning fully back to face him, invading his space. Her hand shot out, firmly gripping his straining erection. Andrew cried out, jerking violently. "Easy, tiger," she commanded, her voice suddenly sharp yet thick with amusement. Her thumb traced the swollen head, making him gasp. "Need to pace ourselves." She released him instantly, stepping back a pace. "Can't have the main event ending before the intermission." Her gaze raked over his flushed, trembling form. "How about," she suggested casually, pointing towards the counter where his crumpled sandwich wrapper still lay, "you put that… enthusiasm… to work?" Her smirk widened. "Make me a sandwich. Exactly like you imagined *me* making you." She stepped closer, her eyes sparkling wickedly. "Naked chef service. Go." Before he could react, her hand cracked sharply against his bare ass cheek – a loud, stinging smack. The shock of the slap, combined with the unbearable tension already coiled within him, was instantaneous. A pearly bead leaked from his tip, glistening obscenely in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.
    Carolyn froze. Her eyes locked onto the undeniable droplet, widening impossibly. A beat of stunned silence filled the kitchen. Then, it hit her. A bark of shocked, utterly hysterical laughter erupted from her throat. She staggered back a step, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes streaming instantly. "Oh! Oh my GOD!" she screeched, doubling over, pounding her fist hard against the fridge door. "A S-SMACK!" she gasped between peals of uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She slapped her own thigh repeatedly. "Just… one… little SMACK!" She wheezed, struggling to breathe, leaning heavily against the counter. "Andrew!" she howled, pointing a shaking finger at the evidence on his skin, then slapping her knee again with a loud thwack. "You… you LEAKED!" She dissolved into fresh gales of laughter, sliding partly down the cabinet until she was half-crouching, pounding her fist weakly against the linoleum. "Stop!" she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, clutching her stomach. "Stop laughing! Oh god… I’m gonna… I’m gonna pee myself! Stop!" But she couldn’t stop. Her laughter echoed off the tiles, wild, triumphant, and utterly humiliating. Andrew stood frozen, mortification burning hotter than the sun, staring at the hysterical woman collapsing before him, feeling the traitorous dampness cooling on his own skin, utterly exposed.
The sharp *crack* of Carolyn’s hand against his ass cheek seemed to echo long after the sting faded, replaced by a deeper, hotter flush of pure humiliation. Andrew flinched violently, stumbling forward a step towards the counter where the sandwich wrapper lay accusingly. Carolyn’s choked, hysterical laughter was still bubbling behind him, punctuated by gasps and slaps against her own thighs. *Leaked*. The word hissed in his skull. The cool air prickled against the damp trail on his inner thigh, a horrifyingly intimate testament to her power. He couldn’t look back. The sheer absurd, terrifying vulnerability – naked, aroused beyond control, commanded to make a *sandwich* while she watched him leak – choked him. He blindly grabbed the loaf of bread, fingers shaking so violently the bag tore sideways.
    Andrew focused desperately on the mundane: tearing lettuce, slicing cheese clumsily with a dull knife, spreading mayonnaise with trembling strokes. Every rustle of the lettuce, every scrape of the knife against the plate, felt amplified, a grotesque soundtrack to his exposure. He sensed rather than saw Carolyn’s shifting presence behind him. Her hysterical laughter had subsided into sporadic giggles and breathy sighs. He felt the weight of her gaze like a physical touch tracing the tense lines of his back, the curve of his spine, the unmistakable tremor in his hands. Mortification warred violently with something else – a raw, electric thrill that crackled through his nerves with every suppressed chuckle she made. Knowing she was watching him, utterly vulnerable, performing a mundane task under her explicit command… it felt like the most embarrassing moment of his life, yet paradoxically, the most exhilarating. The sheer submission, the total surrender of control to her amused, predatory gaze, burned away everything else. The fantasy of seeing *her* naked evaporated; right now, he existed only under her scrutiny. What would she demand next? Where would this terrifying surrender lead? The uncertainty was agonizing… and addictive. He layered turkey with exaggerated care, avoiding eye contact with the countertop itself.
    A soft sigh drifted from Carolyn’s direction, followed by the scrape of a stool leg across the linoleum. Andrew froze mid-slice of tomato. He heard her settle onto it, could almost feel the shift in the air as she leaned her elbows onto the counter behind him, observing his progress. He dared a sideways glance. She was perched on the stool, chin resting on her folded hands, a slow, utterly satisfied smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, however, held none of their earlier mocking cruelty. Instead, they shone with intense fascination, dark and gleaming, drinking in every awkward movement, every visible tremor. The silence stretched, thick and charged. Her gaze felt like fingertips trailing over his bare skin, tracing the goosebumps rising on his arms despite the rising heat within him. She didn’t speak. She just… watched. Her smile deepened slightly as he fumbled placing the top slice of bread. That silent observation, her rapt focus solely on his submission, was more electrifying than any taunt. He carefully lifted the completed sandwich, its simple ordinariness mocking the intensity of the moment. Turning slowly, he finally met her eyes. The heat in her gaze stole his breath. He extended the plate towards her, his hand trembling visibly. "Your… sandwich," he managed, his voice rough and strained.
    Carolyn didn’t immediately take it. Her gaze lingered on his face, then slowly travelled down his exposed body again, an unhurried appraisal that made his skin prickle. A faint hum vibrated low in her throat. "Hmm," she murmured, the sound rich with undisguised approval. Her eyes finally lifted back to his, holding them captive. "Presentation could use work," she stated softly, her lips quirking. She reached out, not for the plate, but curling her fingers gently under his chin, tilting his head up slightly. Her thumb brushed deliberately over his bottom lip. "But the chef?" Her smile widened into something fiercely possessive. "Perfect." Her gaze dropped pointedly lower again. "Keep it ready." She released his chin, her fingertip trailing lightly down his throat towards his collarbone before she finally, slowly, took the plate. She placed it deliberately aside, untouched. Her eyes locked back onto his, gleaming with a terrifying, exhilarating promise. "Now. Tell me what else you’re afraid to do naked."
    Andrew stared at her, the sandwich forgotten, his breath catching. The enormity of her question crashed over him. Where could he possibly begin? The sheer scale of vulnerability she demanded paralyzed his tongue. Carolyn watched the panic flicker across his face with visible delight.
    "Never been in a situation like this," Andrew finally rasped, the words scraping against his raw throat. He shifted his weight, acutely aware of every inch of nakedness under her unwavering stare. "Feels... really weird." His gaze dropped to the discarded sandwich plate, unable to hold hers.
    Carolyn nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful, almost serene. "It certainly does," she agreed softly. Her eyes flicked down his body again, a slow, deliberate sweep that lingered on his trembling thighs. "But not," she paused, selecting her next words carefully, "...in a *bad* way." Her lips curved into a knowing smirk that sent fresh heat flooding his cheeks. She reached for the untouched sandwich, picking it up casually. "Don't worry," she murmured, taking a deliberate bite. Her eyes never left his face as she chewed slowly, savouring the simple act. "I'll give you some time to think." She gestured vaguely towards him with the half-eaten sandwich. "Stand there. Right there."
    Andrew obeyed, rooted to the spot. The silence expanded, thick and electric. Carolyn leaned back slightly on the stool, crossing her legs nonchalantly. She took another bite, chewing thoroughly, her gaze drifting lazily over him. The *crunch* of the lettuce echoed impossibly loud. Every swallow she took felt obscenely intimate. She watched his nakedness – the slight tremble in his hands clenched at his sides, the flush creeping steadily lower on his chest, the way his breathing hitched whenever her eyes paused somewhere particularly vulnerable. Her smirk deepened infinitesimally, a silent commentary that screamed louder than any taunt. She lifted the sandwich again, her pinky finger extended slightly as she took another bite, eyes gleaming with pure predatory amusement fixed unwaveringly on his straining form. The casualness of her eating, juxtaposed against the raw intensity of his exposure, was unbearable. Each deliberate bite felt like a command whispered directly onto his skin. He felt utterly claimed. Watched. Owned. The promise simmering in her dark eyes held him captive far more securely than any rope.
    She finished the last bite with deliberate slowness, licking a stray smear of mayonnaise from her thumb with agonizing thoroughness. A small sigh escaped her lips, a sound of contentment that vibrated through him. Placing the empty plate aside, she slid gracefully off the stool. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate. Padding silently across the cool tiles, she stopped directly in front of him. Without a word, she reached past him and patted the worn leather seat of the stool she’d just vacated. Her eyes commanded him: *Sit*. Andrew hesitated for a fraction of a second, acutely aware of the smooth leather against bare skin, but the intensity of her gaze brooked no refusal. He shuffled backwards and lowered himself gingerly onto the stool’s edge, every nerve ending screaming.
    Carolyn didn’t pause. As soon as he was precariously perched, she stepped forward fluidly. With effortless grace, she pivoted and settled directly onto his lap, facing him. Her thighs bracketed his hips, her weight coming down fully onto his exposed thighs. Andrew gasped sharply at the sudden, intense contact – the rough denim of her jeans pressing firmly against his bare skin, the soft cotton of her t-shirt brushing his naked chest, the warm, solid reality of her body engulfing him. She shifted slightly, deliberately grinding her hips against his trapped hips, the friction immediate and shocking. Her soft chuckle was a warm puff of air against his throat as she draped her arms loosely over his bare shoulders. Her fingers traced slow, idle patterns on his sensitive shoulder blades. "So," she murmured, her voice a low, husky purr vibrating against his collarbone. She leaned back just enough to lock eyes with him, her own dark pools gleaming with wicked amusement and undeniable heat. Her smile was slow, deliberate, utterly predatory. "How does it feel?" She punctuated her question with another deliberate, slow grind against his lap, the pressure undeniable. "Having me," her gaze raked insolently over her own clothed figure and then his nakedness, "...all dressed... rubbing up against *this*?" Her hand slid down from his shoulder and traced a feather-light path over the flushed skin of his chest, dipping deliberately lower towards his stomach. Andrew whimpered, a choked, desperate sound. Words were impossible dust in his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming – the friction, the heat radiating from her clothes onto his bare skin, the terrifying vulnerability beneath her clothed power, the crushing intimacy of her weight. His hips jerked involuntarily, a small, helpless thrust against her. His entire body trembled violently. He could feel it again, the insistent, humiliating trickle of pre-cum escaping him, wet warmth smearing against the rough denim covering her thigh. His face burned crimson. Carolyn felt it instantly. Her eyes widened, a triumphant spark igniting. "Ohhh," she breathed, a delighted tremor in her voice. Her smile widened into something ferocious and possessive. She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "Leaking again, darling? Just from me sitting here?" Her fingers tightened possessively on his hip bones, pulling him tighter against her grinding motion. "That’s… very honest." Her chuckle was dark velvet. "Now," she whispered, her breath scalding his ear, "tell me how it *feels*. Use your words."
    Andrew opened his mouth. Nothing coherent emerged. Just a frantic, breathless stammer. "I... it's... Carolyn, I..." He fumbled, eyes wild, darting from her face to the ceiling, anywhere but her victorious gaze. "I... can't..." His arms flailed weakly beside him, utterly useless shields against her dominance. "It's... you're... I..." He swallowed convulsively, his throat clicking dryly. "Thought... maybe..." he choked out, barely audible, "you'd... be... naked... too... today..." The admission escaped in a pathetic rush, tinged with hopeless confusion and overwhelming arousal. Carolyn froze mid-rock. Then, her laughter erupted – not mocking, but rich, delighted, genuinely tickled. She threw her head back slightly, the sound echoing warmly. She leaned back again, studying his flushed, agonized expression, her eyes dancing as if she'd just discovered the funniest secret. "Oh, Andrew!" she gasped, shaking her head slowly, biting her lower lip to contain her grin. Her thumb brushed his burning cheek. "That's *adorable*." Her gaze locked onto his, fierce amusement burning. "You thought," she whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer until their noses almost touched, "that *maybe*... if you played along... got naked... endured my little... appetizers..." Her hips ground deliberately against his trapped arousal again, making him gasp. "...that *I'd* suddenly decide 'fair is fair'?" Her chuckle vibrated through him. "That I'd strip too?" She leaned back, her grin widening impossibly. "And *that's* why you're trembling?" Her fingers trailed teasingly over his collarbone. "Because you're sitting here naked, leaking onto my jeans..." She paused, savoring his shuddering inhale. "...while I'm still completely dressed?" Her chuckle deepened. "And *that*," she murmured, her voice thick with genuine, delighted heat, "is *ridiculously* hot." She shifted her weight subtly, pressing herself harder against him. "The sheer unfairness of it," she breathed, her eyes gleaming with fierce appreciation. "*That's* the thrill, Andrew. That's what makes you babble." She leaned forward again, catching his chin firmly. "Keep stammering," she commanded softly, her thumb brushing his parted lips. "It’s delicious." She held his gaze, her own dark pools promising endless humiliation and aching, impossible pleasure. "Now," she commanded softly, "ask me nicely what comes next."
    Andrew whimpered. The words scraped out. "Carolyn... please... what... what comes next?" The plea hung in the charged air, raw and vulnerable. Carolyn’s smile was pure triumph. She slid effortlessly off his lap, landing silently on the cool tiles. "Next?" she echoed, stretching languidly. She gestured vaguely around the kitchen – the clutter of yesterday’s dishes in the sink, scattered mail on the counter, crumbs dusting the floor near the fridge. "Well," she sighed dramatically, tapping her chin. "My house *is* a bit messy..." Her eyes snapped back to him, sharp and commanding. "You could tidy up." She padded over to the armchair beside the window and sank into it, curling her legs beneath her like a satisfied panther settling to observe prey. "As you... sweat," she added pointedly, her gaze tracing the sheen already starting to glisten on his bare shoulders and chest in the afternoon light.
    Andrew stared. Naked. Humiliated. Painfully aroused. Ordered to *clean*. The sheer absurdity, the power imbalance crystallizing into mundane servitude, sent another wave of burning heat washing over him. Yet, propelled by an instinct deeper than shame, his legs moved. He shuffled towards the sink, acutely aware of every rustle, every bead of sweat trickling down his spine under Carolyn’s rapt watch. He began rinsing plates, the mundane clatter loud against the silence. He’d fantasized countless times about Carolyn doing exactly this naked – bending over the sink, the domestic intimacy charged with sensuality. Now, *he* was the exposed figure performing the chore, commanded by the clothed woman observing every awkward bend, every droplet of water splashing his flushed skin. The fantasy inverted, twisted into submission. The exhilaration was terrifying. Where *were* his clothes? The discarded pile near the fridge was gone. She’d hidden them. The realization struck like ice water – he was utterly trapped, dependent entirely on her whim. He scrubbed a plate harder, knuckles whitening. The sink's cold porcelain pressed against his bare hipbone, a sharp counterpoint to the heat radiating from his core. He dared a glance sideways. Carolyn hadn't moved. Her eyes were fixed on the play of muscles in his back as he leaned forward, utterly captivated by his nakedness performing her bidding. A slow smile touched her lips. "Don't forget the counters," she murmured softly, the command slicing through the clatter. "Wipe them down." Andrew grabbed a sponge. The rasp of the damp cloth against the laminate echoed the frantic beat of his heart. Every swipe felt like exposing another layer of his surrender.
    The rasping sponge paused mid-stroke. A soft sigh drifted from the armchair. Andrew froze. He didn’t need to turn; he *felt* the shift in the air, the sudden intensity of her focus sharpening beyond his cleaning. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head. Carolyn was leaning back, utterly relaxed, her head tilted slightly against the cushion. Her eyes were closed. A profound expression of pure, unadulterated bliss smoothed her features. Her lips were parted ever so slightly. Andrew had never seen her look like this – utterly serene, radiating contentment so potent it was almost tangible. It was more intimate than any touch. A flush crept up his neck, hotter than embarrassment – he’d *done* that. His naked submission, his stammering humiliation, the raw vulnerability she commanded... it was feeding her this profound delight. Her eyes fluttered open. They met his shocked gaze, dark pools shimmering with lazy, satisfied amusement. "Much better," she breathed, her voice husky and thick with pleasure. Her gaze drifted down his prone body, lingering on the towel clutched uselessly in his dripping hand. "Keep going." He turned back to the sink, trembling anew. *She* was enjoying this. Deeply. And seeing *her* this utterly delighted, this fiercely powerful and savouring every second of his exposure... it ignited something primal within him, a dark thrill coiling alongside the shame.
    The clatter of dishes resumed, amplified by the taut silence. Andrew scrubbed furiously, focusing on the grease, the suds, anything but the intensely aware feeling of being watched. Another sigh, deeper this time, drifted from behind him. Then, a faint rustle of fabric against the armchair's leather. His spine stiffened. He didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He could sense it – the subtle shift, the quiet concentration replacing her languid observation. Her self-control, usually iron-clad, seemed to fray just a fraction. He heard a soft inhalation, held, then released slowly. Every tiny movement he made – the flexing of his shoulder blades as he reached for a high shelf, the involuntary tremor in his wet fingers as he rinsed a glass, the way his bare feet shifted uncomfortably on the cool tile – seemed to ripple through her stillness. He saw her silhouette reflected dimly in the window above the sink – her head tilted back, eyes closing again. One hand drifted slowly, purposefully, towards the waistband of her jeans. Andrew’s breath hitched violently. His hands stilled under the running water. The sponge slipped from his fingers into the soapy sink with a soft *plop*. The running water roared in his ears.
    "Andrew." Her voice was a low thrum, thick and resonant. He turned as if pulled by a string. Carolyn’s eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed with lazy pleasure, fixed unwaveringly on him. Her hand was now unmistakably beneath her waistband, hidden but moving with slow, deliberate rhythm beneath the denim. A soft groan escaped her lips, utterly unguarded. "God," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. "Couldn’t... couldn’t take the tension..." Her gaze raked over his trembling frame. "This... watching you like this... cleaning... sweating..." Her hips rocked subtly against her own hand. "...it’s like my own private porno show."
    Andrew stared, frozen. His own arousal throbbed violently against nothing. "You..." he stammered, his face burning crimson. "You... look at porn?"
    Carolyn laughed, a rich, throaty sound vibrating through her stillness. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with fierce amusement. "Andrew," she purred, her hand stilling beneath her jeans. "If you could see how *many* hard drives I have..." She paused, letting the implication hang, thick and dangerous. "...you’d find yourself a lot more nervous than you are right now." She tilted her head, studying his rigid posture, the frantic pulse visible in his throat, the sheen of terror on his brow. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. "*Can* tell, actually," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You’re more nervous than you've ever been in your life. Aren't you?"
    He couldn't deny it. The tremor running through him was seismic, shaking his bare legs. Her casual admission felt like stripping another layer off him. Her gaze intensified, pinpointing his terror, savoring it. Her hand resumed its slow, hidden movement. Another soft moan escaped her lips, deeper this time. "Good," she breathed. Her eyes drifted shut again, lashes fluttering. "Now... keep cleaning." Her voice was thick, strained with building pleasure. "...And don't... stop... trembling."
    Andrew fumbled for the sponge. His fingers shook violently, spraying water across the counter, dripping down his thigh. The mundane act felt impossibly obscene under her rapt, self-pleasuring gaze. Every scrape of the sponge against porcelain echoed her low, rhythmic sighs. He hunched forward, acutely aware of his exposed ass facing her mirrored reflection in the window. He heard the slick, wet sound hidden beneath her denim intensify. He squeezed his eyes shut, the scrubber clenched in his fist. The sound filled the kitchen – her breath hitching, her soft gasps building – a soundtrack to his utter degradation. His own neglected arousal pulsed insistently, agonizingly ignored. Sweat stung his eyes. He felt perilously close to falling apart entirely. The tension coiled impossibly tighter with every ragged breath she took.
    A sharp gasp tore from Carolyn’s lips. Her hips lifted violently off the leather cushion once, then twice, her whole body arching silently against the armchair. Andrew froze mid-scrub, breath held. Her hand went utterly still beneath her jeans. She slumped back, head lolling against the cushion, a deep, shuddering sigh escaping her slack lips. Her eyes remained closed for several long, trembling heartbeats. When they finally fluttered open, they were hazy, unfocused, deeply sated. A slow, lazy smile spread across her flushed face as her gaze drifted towards him.
    "Andrew," she murmured, her voice thick and velvety. She sniffed the air delicately. "Mmm." Another slow, deliberate inhalation. "God... *do* you smell." Her eyes sharpened, focusing on the sheen of sweat glistening across his bare shoulders, dampening the curls at the nape of his neck, beading on his lower back. "It’s… potent." She tilted her head, a predator savoring prey. "Salt," she breathed, "and adrenaline… and something else…" Her nostrils flared slightly. "Something purely… Andrew." She chuckled lowly. "Actually… kind of intoxicating." She pushed herself up, stretching languidly. "But," she added, her voice shifting back towards command, "...as much as I enjoy your… musk…" She padded towards him, stopping just behind his frozen form. Her index finger trailed a slow, cool line down his wet spine. He jumped violently. "...you reek," she stated bluntly. "That… tension…" Her finger tapped the knotted muscles between his shoulder blades. "...and exertion." Her touch drifted lower, tracing the sticky sweat clinging to the small of his back. "Needs washing off."
    She nudged him sideways gently. "Shower. Now." She jerked her head towards the hallway. "I’ll supervise."
    Andrew stumbled towards the bathroom, legs weak. Carolyn followed silently, her footsteps echoing his on the hardwood. He pushed open the bathroom door, the familiar cool tiles underfoot chilling his bare soles. He hesitated before the tub, intensely aware of the cold ceramic pressing against his knees. Carolyn leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Well?" she prompted, her voice flat. Andrew fumbled with the taps. Water hissed, then roared from the showerhead. Steam quickly billowed, fogging the mirror. He stepped under the spray, gasping as the hot water slammed into his overheated skin. He stood rigidly, staring at the wall tiles, acutely conscious of her silhouette blurred through the fogged glass door. He scrubbed mechanically, soap bubbles sliding down his trembling limbs. He heard her shift slightly against the doorframe, felt the weight of her gaze even through the steam. Every movement felt calculated, exposed. His teeth chattered despite the heat.
    The water shut off abruptly. Silence crashed back. Andrew stood dripping, frozen. The shower door slid open with a metallic groan. Carolyn stepped inside, filling the small space with her clothed presence. She held two oversized, fluffy white towels. Without a word, she pressed one firmly against his chest, dragging it slowly, thoroughly down his torso. Her movements weren't sensual; they were deliberate, efficient, possessive. The rough cotton rasped against his flushed skin. She moved behind him, wrapping the second towel around his shoulders, pulling it taut across his back. Her hands squeezed firmly, briskly, rubbing the terrycloth into his damp skin, down his arms, across his ass cheeks. She ducked low, towel drying each leg with swift, impersonal strokes, the fabric catching roughly against the fine hairs. Finally, she stood before him again. She tossed the damp towels onto the closed toilet lid. Her hands landed firmly on his hips, holding him steady, her eyes raking critically over his flushed, towel-marked skin. A satisfied smirk touched her lips. "Better," she murmured. Her gaze lingered pointedly lower. "Much cleaner." Her thumbs traced sharp circles on his hipbones. "Ready?"
    She didn't wait for an answer. Her hand slid possessively around his waist, fingers sinking into the flesh just above his hip, steering him firmly out of the steamy bathroom. Andrew stumbled onto the cool hallway hardwood, Carolyn’s clothed warmth pressed against his bare side. They rounded the corner into the living room. The afternoon sun streamed through the bay window.
    Three figures stood frozen near the sofa – Stephanie, Adeline, and Carly. Stephanie clutches a reusable grocery bag, her mouth hanging open. Adeline’s hand is frozen halfway to adjusting her glasses, her eyes wide and unblinking. Carly’s jaw had literally dropped, her gaze locked onto Andrew’s nakedness with stunned disbelief. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The air crackled with shock. Adeline finally managed a jerky gesture towards the front door. "The… the door," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It… it was just… open…" She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, her cheeks flushing crimson as her wide eyes darted from Andrew’s face to his exposed body and back again.
    Carolyn’s grip tightened around Andrew’s waist. She threw her head back and laughed – a bright, ringing, utterly unashamed sound that shattered the stunned silence. She squeezed his hip hard. "No clothing *today*, Andrew!" she declared, the statement echoing brightly, daring anyone to contradict her. Her laughter subsided into a wicked chuckle as she looked pointedly at his hands instinctively trying to shield himself. "Oh, don’t be *rude*!" she scolded playfully, giving his hip a sharp shake. She gestured grandly towards her stunned friends. "Say hello! Don't get all shy and start covering yourself up *now*!" Her eyes, gleaming with fierce amusement, swept over Andrew’s crimson face, his trembling hands hovering uselessly at his sides. She nudged him forward half a step. "Go on," she urged, her voice thick with delighted command. "Be polite." Her grin widened, sharp and predatory, daring him to defy her command while utterly exposed before her friends.
    Andrew’s legs moved stiffly, propelled by Carolyn’s urging hand and sheer terror. He shuffled towards Stephanie, his outstretched arm shaking violently. "H-hello," he stammered, his voice cracking. His damp fingers brushed hers briefly before jerking away. He repeated the jerky gesture towards Adeline, then Carly, each frantic "hello" sounding more strangled than the last. His entire body was rigid, trembling from shoulders to knees, the flush on his neck deepening to a feverish crimson. Stephanie gaped, her fingers instinctively clutching the grocery bag tighter, her gaze darting between Andrew’s stark nakedness and Carolyn’s triumphant smile. Adeline blinked rapidly, frozen mid-adjustment of her glasses, her cheeks flaming scarlet. Carly just stared, her jaw slack, utterly transfixed by the surreal spectacle unfolding before her.
    "I didn't... um..." Carly stammered, finally finding her voice, her wide eyes fixed helplessly on Andrew’s trembling form. "...know you were having a... uh... bachelorette... *thing*... today?" Her gaze flickered briefly to Carolyn, seeking clarification amidst the bewildering tableau.
    Carolyn waved a dismissive hand, her laugh light and casual, utterly incongruous with the scene. "Oh, heavens, no!" she chirped, stepping forward and looping her arm possessively around Andrew’s waist again, pulling him tight against her clothed hip. "Nothing like that. Ridiculous idea!" She patted Andrew’s stomach reassuringly, her fingers lingering on his bare skin. "See, Andrew here," she explained breezily, her voice dripping with cheerful nonchalance, "made a silly bet with me." She tilted her head, smiling fondly at Andrew’s mortified profile. "He lost the coin toss." She shrugged theatrically. "Plain and simple! So," she gestured broadly towards his naked body, "...no clothes today!" She beamed at her friends. "Just his little... forfeit."
    Stephanie, Adeline, and Carly exchanged a flurry of bewildered, awkward glances. A soft, nervous giggle escaped Adeline before she clamped a hand over her mouth. Stephanie shifted her weight uncomfortably. Carly swallowed hard, her eyes darting back to Andrew. The silence stretched, thick with palpable discomfort and disbelief.
    Carolyn rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, don't be *so* awkward!" she commanded, her voice suddenly sharp, slicing through the tension. She gestured imperiously towards the living room sofa with her free hand. "Honestly! You absolutely do *not* have to leave!" Her grin returned, wide and unsettlingly bright. "Come *in*!" She gave Andrew’s hip another possessive squeeze. "We," she declared, her voice dropping to a husky, thrilling whisper filled with promise, "*will* have a lot of fun." Her gaze swept over her friends, then lingered pointedly on Andrew’s flushed, naked shoulders, silently daring any of them to contradict her invitation.
    Carolyn chuckled softly, the sound echoing cruelly in the small space. She pushed off the counter and stepped closer, her eyes tracing the desperate tension corded in his neck, the frantic clench of his buttocks. "Look at that pressure," she murmured, husky with excitement. Her fingertip brushed the hot skin low on his back, just above the frantic knot of muscle. "*All* built up." She leaned in, her lips grazing his damp shoulder blade. "Trapped," she breathed, her voice thick with dark delight. "Building… swelling…" Andrew whimpered, sweat slicking his temples, his entire body screaming for release locked behind an impossible barrier of shame. Carolyn’s grin was fierce, triumphant. The sheer impossibility of his control thrilled her. Each passing second, each visible tremor of his desperate clench, only deepened her predatory satisfaction.
    Suddenly, Carolyn spun towards the doorway, clapping her hands sharply. "Enough!" she declared brightly, cutting through the suffocating silence. "The suspense is killing *me*!" Her gaze swept over Carly’s wide eyes, Stephanie’s hesitant curiosity, Adeline’s fascinated blush. "Clearly," she gestured dismissively at Andrew’s frozen, trembling form, "our shy boy needs… a distraction!" Her grin widened into something dazzlingly wicked. "Charades! Perfect!" She snapped her fingers. "Andrew and I will go first." She grabbed Andrew’s rigid arm, propelling him forcibly out of the bathroom, past the stunned trio, and into the brightly lit living room. Andrew stumbled beside her, the frantic pressure in his bladder momentarily eclipsed by fresh waves of terror at her sudden declaration. Carly choked out a startled laugh, quickly muffled by her hand.
    Carolyn positioned them squarely before the bay window, the afternoon sun painting Andrew’s naked desperation in harsh, unforgiving detail. "Alright, team!" Carolyn announced cheerfully, entirely ignoring Andrew’s violent tremors beside her. Her clothed shoulder pressed firmly against his bare one – a deliberate contrast. "Andrew and I have…" She paused dramatically, tapping her chin. "...an *object*!" The gleam in her eyes promised humiliation. Andrew stared straight ahead, fists clenched at his thighs, every muscle locked in a desperate battle – against the building pressure within, against the crushing gaze of the four amused women settling onto the sofa and armchairs. Carly grinned, leaning forward eagerly. Adeline adjusted her glasses, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Stephanie watched, her earlier awkwardness replaced by absorbed curiosity. Carolyn nudged Andrew sharply with her hip. "Ready?" she whispered, her voice a thrilling, terrifying promise. Andrew flinched, a tiny, desperate gasp escaping him. *She knows*, he thought wildly. *She knows I can barely stand*. Carolyn’s answering chuckle vibrated through him as she leaned closer to the audience. "*He'll* act it out," she stage-whispered, her grin pure, malicious delight. "And *I'll* guess!" The women burst into giggles. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut, drowning in mortification and agonizing pressure, utterly exposed as Carolyn’s cruel game began.
    Andrew, propelled by Carolyn’s sharp elbow nudges, stumbled into a rigid stance near the coffee table. His movements were jerky, frantic. He thrust both trembling arms upwards violently, pantomiming a fierce cascade – a waterfall. Sweat beaded along his collarbone, tracing frantic paths down his chest. Carolyn tilted her head theatrically. "Hmm… Niagara Falls?" she guessed loudly, her eyes raking his straining posture. Andrew shook his head desperately, a choked noise escaping him. He bent awkwardly at the waist, mimicking filling something… pouring… his movements growing increasingly stiff, frantic. Carolyn tapped her chin. "A pitcher? A watering can?" Andrew trembled violently, unable to correct her. Adeline snorted softly. "Looks like he’s desperate!" she whispered to Carly, triggering another wave of suppressed laughter. Andrew clenched his jaw, fighting tears, the pressure mounting unbearably.
    Carolyn suddenly snapped her fingers. "Got it!" she crowed triumphantly. Her voice dropped to a husky, suggestive whisper that filled the room. "*Filling up*!" She paused dramatically, her eyes locking onto Andrew’s mortified face, then deliberately dropping to his lower abdomen. "*Something* swollen… tight… ready to burst?" Her implication was undeniable. The room exploded. Carly shrieked with laughter, doubling over again, pounding her knees. Stephanie gasped, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her cheeks as she dissolved into helpless giggles. Adeline hid her face, shoulders shaking violently. Andrew whimpered, his knees buckling slightly, his face crimson flame. Carly gasped between peals of laughter, pointing weakly at Andrew’s frantic clench. "I think… he *really*… has to go!" she managed to choke out.
    Carolyn patted Andrew’s shoulder firmly, her touch both possessive and mocking. She turned a dazzling, dismissive smile on Carly. "Oh, *Carly*," she sighed playfully, her eyes gleaming with fierce amusement. "He's a big boy!" Her gaze slid back to Andrew, pinning him like a butterfly. "He can hold it for a little while longer, can't you?" Her thumb brushed his damp cheekbone. Without waiting for an answer, she smoothly pivoted towards the kitchen counter where the open wine bottle stood. She grabbed a clean tumbler, poured a generous measure of Chianti, and turned back. "Thirsty?" she offered Andrew brightly, extending the glass towards him. Andrew stared at the deep red liquid, horror warring with the instinctive dryness in his throat stoked by panic and exertion. He cringed viscerally, a fresh tremor rippling through him. The wine looked like cruel mockery. But Carolyn’s expectant, predatory gaze brooked no refusal. His hand shook violently as he reached out, fingers brushing the cool glass. He took it reluctantly, the heavy tumbler like a stone in his grip.
    Carolyn watched him cradle the untouched wine, her smile widening, sharpening. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a chilling murmur meant only for him, yet loud enough to cut through the others’ fading giggles. "No clothing," she hissed softly, her eyes blazing with triumph, "...and no bathrooms." Her gaze swept pointedly over his trembling nakedness, the untouched wine glass trembling in his hand, his entire posture screaming desperation. "*Looks*…," she paused, savoring his agony, "...like it!"
    A choked sob escaped Andrew as the crushing pressure intensified, blurring his vision. Across the room, Adeline nudged Carly fiercely, her smirk deepening into something conspiratorial. Carly leaned closer, her eyebrows knitting together in theatrical confusion. "*What*?" Carly hissed back, loud enough to draw Carolyn’s amused gaze. Adeline whispered urgently into Carly’s ear, her eyes darting meaningfully between Andrew’s rigid, agonized stance and Carolyn’s predatory posture. Carly’s initial frown melted instantly into wide-eyed, delighted comprehension. She threw her head back with a bark of laughter. "Oh! *Ohhh*!" she gasped, wiping imaginary tears. "That’s *brilliant*!"
    Carolyn arched a perfect eyebrow, radiating feline curiosity. "Do share, girls."
    Carly clapped her hands, bouncing slightly. "Naked conga line!" she blurted out, her eyes sparkling with mischievous glee. She gestured wildly at Andrew’s frozen form. "Would be *awesome*!"
    Carolyn froze. Then, slowly, a slow, devastating smile spread across her lips, pure predatory delight igniting her eyes. She chuckled, low and rich. "Oh, Carly," she breathed, shaking her head slowly. Her gaze slid back to Andrew, pinning him. "*One* of us naked," she corrected pointedly, her smile widening impossibly. "Obviously." Adeline giggled, Stephanie stifled a snort, and Carly beamed.
    Before Andrew could react, Carolyn snatched the wine glass from his shaking hand, tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. She grabbed his rigid wrist firmly. Carly seized his other hand tightly. Adeline slapped Andrew’s bare shoulder enthusiastically. "Conga!" Carly yelled, already swaying her hips. Stephanie, caught up in the sudden frenzy, grabbed Carly’s waist as Carolyn surged forward, pulling Andrew sharply behind her. Adeline pressed close behind Andrew.
    "One, two, three!" Adeline chanted.
    Carolyn kicked off, dragging Andrew stumbling behind her. "*Conga!*" Carolyn sang out brightly, thrusting her hips sharply backwards against Andrew’s exposed thighs with each step. The rhythmic bump forced his legs apart wider than was comfortable. Carly echoed the chant loudly behind him, her own hips bumping against Adeline who bumped against Andrew’s back. "*Conga! Conga!*" Stephanie chorused, her voice thick with laughter as she clung to Carly.
    Andrew gasped, stumbling. Each sharp bump from Carolyn forced his thighs apart, sending jolts of blinding agony through his clenched core as his bladder screamed. He tried to lock his knees, but Carolyn jerked his arm forward relentlessly. His face was a mask of pure torment – jaw locked, eyes squeezed shut, sweat pouring down his temples and chest. Grimacing silently, he shuffled desperately behind Carolyn’s swaying hips, his naked skin flushing crimson. Every jolt threatened the fragile dam holding back the desperate flood.
    The women moved with escalating abandon, laughing, singing off-key – Carolyn leading the absurd procession around the coffee table, her hips bumping relentlessly against Andrew’s trembling thighs. Their eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated amusement, locked onto his visible agony. Andrew shuffled behind her, every forced step a silent scream, trapped in the circle of their gleeful torment.
    As Carly stumbled out the front door later, clutching Adeline’s arm for support, she gasped through fading giggles, "Carolyn, that... that was hilarious! Best Wednesday *ever*!" Adeline, wiping tears, nodded fervently. "*Seriously*. Naked Andrew days..." She grinned wickedly at Andrew's hunched, flushed silhouette near the hallway. "...need to be a regular thing. Promise?" Stephanie added breathlessly from the porch, "Please say yes!"
    Carolyn leaned against the doorframe, silhouetted by the warm indoor light, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her face. Her gaze drifted from her laughing friends to Andrew’s rigid form. "Oh," she purred, her voice thick with triumph, "I think that's a pretty damn safe assumption." The door clicked shut on their retreating laughter, sealing Andrew into silence punctuated only by his ragged breathing.
    Carolyn turned slowly. The predatory amusement softened into something infinitely more dangerous – a lazy, intimate satisfaction. She padded towards him, stopping inches away. Her eyes traced the sweat-slicked panic on his face, the frantic tremor in his clenched thighs. "So," she murmured, her voice a low, seductive thrum that vibrated in the sudden quiet. "Everyone else had their fun." Her fingertip brushed his damp collarbone. "*My* turn." Her gaze locked onto his, dark pools promising oblivion. "What do you want to do now, Andrew?" She paused, letting the unbearable pressure low in his gut scream its silent answer. A slow, devastating smile touched her lips. "Option one..." she breathed, leaning closer until her lips brushed his ear, "...you finally get your precious bathroom." Her hand slid down, fingers pressing *hard* against the taut, desperate swell just above his groin. He whimpered. "...Or," she whispered, her other hand slipping beneath her own waistband with deliberate slowness, her eyes burning into his, "...you come upstairs with me. Right now. And I make you forget *everything*." She pressed her hips forward, grinding against his trapped leg, radiating heat and impossible temptation. "Choose," she commanded softly. "*One*."
    Andrew choked. Words died in his throat. The choice was agony, both paths unthinkable. His gaze flickered wildly towards the hallway – sanctuary, agony deferred. Then back to Carolyn’s face, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parted slightly, radiating raw, impatient desire. The dam inside him felt ready to rupture just from her proximity. He felt the slickness of her fingers against his skin beneath her waistband, the promise implicit in her touch. The sheer impossibility of walking upstairs overwhelmed him. A ragged groan ripped from him, half agony, half surrender. He nodded frantically, desperately, towards the stairs. Carolyn’s triumphant grin was blinding. "Good boy," she hissed, grabbing his wrist with startling strength. "Move!"
    Andrew stumbled behind her, propelled by her grip and the frantic, blinding pressure. Each step jarred his core, sending bolts of pain through his clenched muscles. The climb was torture – Carolyn pulling him relentlessly upward while he fought to contain the flood, his legs trembling violently. He gasped, whimpering as she hauled him across the landing threshold towards her bedroom door. Carolyn shoved it open violently, pulling him inside. The dimly lit room smelled of her perfume and warm linen. He saw the bed – a rumpled expanse of soft grey bedding – seconds before Carolyn pivoted abruptly. With a fierce shove against his chest, she sent him staggering backwards. His legs buckled instantly. He landed hard on the edge of the mattress, bouncing once before collapsing backwards onto the soft duvet. A gasp tore from him, his body instinctively curling inward defensively against the agony squeezing his core.
    Carolyn didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, looming over him, her eyes blazing with frantic need. Her hands flew to the button of her jeans. A frantic flick, the rasp of a zipper, and she shoved the denim down her hips in one brutal motion. They pooled around her ankles. She kicked them aside violently, stepping out of them. Beneath, she wore nothing. Andrew stared, transfixed and terrified, at the dark triangle revealed. Carolyn didn't climb onto the bed gently. She lunged onto him, straddling his hips, her knees sinking into the mattress beside his trembling thighs. Her hands pinned his wrists to the bed above his head. The sudden, intimate contact – her bare heat against his naked abdomen – was electric. He felt slickness smear against his skin. "No more waiting," she growled, her voice thick and guttural. Her hips lifted slightly. One hand released his wrist, reaching down to grasp him roughly, guiding him urgently towards her center. He was impossibly hard, rigid with trapped tension. She aligned him swiftly, brutally. Her eyes locked onto his, wild and commanding. "Now," she hissed.
    Carolyn slammed herself down onto him with shocking force. The penetration was instant, deep, engulfing him completely. The sheer, overwhelming friction, the sudden release of unbearable containment – it detonated within him instantly. The orgasm ripped through Andrew like a physical explosion. He arched violently off the bed, a raw, guttural scream tearing from his throat – a sound of pure, agonized release and blinding ecstasy combined. His hips bucked uncontrollably beneath her, pumping helplessly into her tight heat as wave after devastating wave of pent-up sensation crashed over him. Carolyn screamed too – a high, startled cry of shock and intense pleasure. The sheer, convulsive force of his climax beneath her threw her violently backwards. She lost her grip on his wrist, flailing backwards as if physically shoved. She landed hard on her backside a foot away on the mattress, legs splayed wide, eyes wide with stunned disbelief, gasping for breath, her own climax triggered violently by the unexpected force and intensity. They both stared at each other across the rumpled sheets, panting raggedly, utterly spent and momentarily speechless, the air thick with the scent of sex and the echoes of their cries. Andrew’s chest heaved, his limbs trembling uncontrollably, the blinding release still tingling through his nerves. Carolyn slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows, a slow, utterly amazed smile spreading across her flushed face. "Holy *shit*," she breathed, staring at him with newfound, awestruck respect.
    Minutes later, tangled in the soft grey duvet, Andrew lay partially propped against Carolyn’s pillows. He was still utterly naked, skin cooling against the linen, every muscle feeling liquid. Carolyn lay curled beside him, half-dressed only in her crumpled t-shirt, her bare legs tangled with his. She traced idle circles on his damp chest with a fingertip, a lazy, profoundly satisfied smile playing on her lips. "Okay," she murmured, her voice thick with post-coital languor and lingering amusement. "That... that level of desperation?" She chuckled softly, shaking her head slightly against the pillow. "*Definitely* needs repeating." Her fingertip trailed lower, brushing his hipbone possessively. "We *have* to do this more often."
    Andrew managed a weak, utterly boneless groan. He felt hollowed out, blissfully empty. He turned his head slightly on the pillow to meet her gaze. Her dark eyes sparkled with wicked delight. He found a ghost of a grin touching his own lips. "*Totally*," he breathed, the word barely audible, laden with both exhaustion and a strange, quiet surrender.
    Carolyn’s answering laugh was a low, rich purr of pure victory. She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand to look down at him fully. "*Super*," she declared brightly, her grin widening into something dazzlingly wicked. A low chuckle bubbled from her throat as she leaned closer, her breath warm on his face. She dipped a hand into the crumpled pocket of her discarded jeans beside the bed, pulling out a single, gleaming penny. She held it up between them, turning it slowly to catch the dim bedroom light. "You know," she murmured, her voice thick with dark, intimate amusement, "I owe all that *exquisite* fun..." She flicked the penny lightly against his bare collarbone. "...to my lucky penny." Her gaze locked onto his, the laughter fading into pure, predatory triumph. "*Best* coin toss ever."

This was a pure CFNM story that I thought was just really hilarious. Again this one's fairly basic as far as CFNM concepts go, it's another one where a guy ends up losing a bet to his girlfriend and pretty much she takes total advantage of that, and I think that women in these situations would probably be more creative than guys are. I just love the way she totally takes advantage of the situation and turns it around on him when he was expecting the opposite, and the best part is that when her friends show up and compound the humiliation for Andrew she is just totally casual about the fact that he is naked, like she doesn't even flinch over it, while her friends are little bit more awkward about it but clearly enjoying it just the same, and she pretty much just totally milks the whole situation for everything it's worth, and then at the end they both end up having an explosive release like that, so I was able to get my liking of pee desperation into this story as well. 

    But yeah I just thought that there was something funny about a woman just being so happy that she ended up winning this coin toss and then just sort of getting the maximum benefit from it. The fact that her friends eventually join in and then they had like a naked conga line I thought was just sort of a hilarious thing, but it's one of those stories that I love where you see a bunch of women just having a grand old time at the expense of this poor embarrassed naked guy, even though he's clearly enjoying it as well, and who wouldn't?! It is always more fun to be the naked one I think in any of these situations, especially when they are entirely unexpected and you are totally at the mercy of everyone who gets to see you naked.

    This one is a pure CFNM story involving the only one naked and in embarrassed naked man around a bunch of dressed women. And I think that the illustrations for this one came out particularly well!