Diaries of a teenage exhibitionist |

 2. The garage
From: Take It Off. Yes, All Of It. Now

I didn’t see Mark except from a distance for the next 3 weeks. School vacation ended too though I was glad to be starting my final year at school. He passed me once in the car as I was walking home and gave a cheery honk. More than anything I took that to mean I had gotten away with it. Mark hadn’t seen me and didn’t think I was a pervert.
The following Saturday saw me at his door again. As before it was standing ajar and when I rang the bell he called me to come up to his office. We chatted for a while and if anything he seemed friendlier than ever, laughing and animated. Though standing in front of him while he sat rocking in his desk chair did remind me vaguely of being summoned to the principles office. But as we finished our chat and I was going downstairs, I turned and noticed something I hadn’t seen while we chatted; sitting on the corner of the desk was a pair of binoculars. 
As I worked on the car I couldn’t get that out of my head. Why binoculars? The only window in that room only had a view of our house and more suburbia beyond. Was he into bird spotting? Maybe they were just waiting to be put away? But the more I thought about it the less logical it seemed. Had he left them there on purpose for me to see? I didn’t even want to think about what that might mean. 
An hour or so later Mark came into the garage and asked me if I’d mind helping him with some boxes. We shoved stuff around for 10 minutes or so until he finally pointed to a large metal tool chest saying “Think we can get that up on that shelf?” as he nodded toward a shoulder height storage unit. “I keep tripping over the damn thing and it’s too heavy for me.” The weight wasn’t so bad at first but it was big and awkward to lift. Mark easily got his end onto the shelf but I really struggled with mine as my shoulder muscles burned with the effort. I struggled to push the chest up the last few centimeters to slide it onto the shelf, my shirt riding up as I felt my jeans slip down a few inches. I saw Mark’s eyes flick downward to where I knew half of my underwear must be on display, almost losing the box until Mark came to my rescue. 
“Maybe you need to work out more,” he said. I knew he meant it as a joke but I began to mumble something about how I had always been skinny and hated it because I didn’t really know what to do about it. Despite all my fantasies and the games I played with myself, there was a huge paradox. When it came to other people I was painfully embarrassed about anyone seeing my body. So much so in fact that I only went to the beach alone and always got to the changing room early to change for sports at school. I didn’t even know what the showers at school looked like because the idea of the sporty guys seeing my skinny body genuinely terrified me. 
Mark must have seen the embarrassment on my face because he said “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, you have a very nice body.”
I looked at him. 
“You don’t know that, you’ve never seen it” I said. He smiled at that and said something that sounded like “Well not up close.” I was sure I had just misheard. “So why do you think you’re so skinny? What do you weigh?”
I told him I was only 69 kilos for my 195 cm height. 
“Well I guess that’s slender, but it’s all about proportion. Why don’t you let me be the judge?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. 
“I’ve seen plenty of guys. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Let me see.”
Misunderstanding, I flapped my arms helplessly, did a 360 and said “So?”
He was silent for a moment then laughed as he said “Well I can’t tell like that. Take your shirt off.”
I hesitated as he stood there grinning at me expectantly. “Come on André, what are you afraid of? Have you got 3 nipples?”
That made me laugh. 
“It’s only a shirt. Just slip it off for a second.” He said it so matter of factually and I didn’t want to seem a wimp, so after a moment I reached down, grabbed my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. I stood there, my arms crossed over my chest, feeling pretty silly and very exposed. I didn’t dare look at him directly, but I could feel him looking me up and down. The breeze through the open garage door felt pretty good on my bare chest though. Mark took his time taking it all in, before saying
“Put your hands behind your head.”
“Why?” I asked. 
“It shows your abs and lats better.”
Without really understanding what he meant I did as he said. 
“You don’t know what you’ve got. I’ll swap that flat stomach with you anytime” he said, taking a step closer. His hand moved toward my chest. “Do you mind?” he asked and without waiting for me to answer gently laid his fingertips squarely between my nipples. He let them rest there for à few seconds before slowly drawing them downward, tracing the subtle trail of hair to where it disappeared beneath my belt, making me shiver. 
“You have great muscle tone too” he said quietly. 
“Yeah right. I have chicken legs and no backside.” I felt strange talking about myself this way but it was good to finally say out loud what I had always thought about my skinny body.
“What are you on about?” he asked, sounding amused. “Turn around.” I began to lower my hands. 
“No, no, leave your hands behind your head. You have a nice arse.. small but nice. Can’t see much of your legs in those jeans though. Are you wearing jocks under there?” My mind raced to remember what I’d put on that morning. 
“Eh, yeah, of course.” I mumbled. 
“Great. Slide your jeans down for a sec and I’ll tell you what I think of the rest” he said, grinning easily at me as if he’d just asked me if I wanted a beer. My mind was racing almost as fast as my heart, trying to process what he had just said. Was my neighbor really asking me to pull my pants down for him? 
Not quite believing this was really happening, I dropped my trembling hands to my belt and fumbled it open.
“Come on, hurry up” he said, beginning to sound just a little impatient. We both have work to finish.“ That hurried me along. My hands found their way to the button and as I pulled the zip down I had an uneasy flashback to doing exactly this in front of the bathroom window a few weeks before. Only this time there was no doubt about whether anyone could see me. I folded the front of my jeans open and not knowing what else to do with my hands, put them back behind my head. Mark walked around behind me saying "They need to come down a bit more than that,” and I felt my jeans being tugged gently but firmly down to my ankles. As fate would have it, I had chosen to wear the same red briefs as a few weeks earlier. 
“You really do have a nice backside you know. Small but nice. Red suits you too. You always wear briefs?”
I mumbled a barely audible “Yes.” What I really meant was that ever since I’d started buying my own underwear I had developed a bit of a fetish for briefs. In fact every new pair I bought I rushed home to try on in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. Sessions which invariably ended in some serious wanking off. 
As he ran his hands over my legs, Mark said something I didn’t quite catch. “What’s that?” I asked. 
“I said there’s nothing wrong with your legs either.” He was standing in front of me now, scrutinizing the lower half of my body. “Such a shame most boys your age wear boxers these days. Briefs suit you. You fill them well,” he said, grinning. And with that I was suddenly conscious of having pretty much a full erection. Just when I thought my embarrassment - and excitement - couldn’t become any more intense, he said “Looks like you have nothing to complain about in that department either from what I can see.”
My mouth was working but all that came out was “Yeah… sorry, I eh …”
“It’s normal, young guy like you, all those hormones. I’m sure you’re wanking off 3 times a day in front of the mirror like I used to when I was 18.” I didn’t bother correcting him on the age, and he was pretty accurate on the rest anyway. 
“Well,” he said, sighing, I guess we better get on. You have a great body, so don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.“ And with that he patted me on the chest as if we were old friends, and without another word walked out the garage door into the autumn sunshine.
I stood there in a kind of daze before slowly pulling my jeans up. It was hard to believe Id just let my neighbor tell me to strip down to my underwear for him, getting a raging hardon while I did it. It was all I could do to concentrate on finishing the car, but when I did I just slipped out and went home. 
In my bedroom the blind was open. I stood in front of the mirror and began to undress, reliving what had just happened as it began to dawn on me how much I had not wanted him to leave, not wanted to put on my clothes again. And I had no idea if or when it might ever happen again.