Ever Picked up a Hitchhiker?

Ever Picked up A Hitchhiker?

I did... once:

Recently, I came across a young lady that reminded me of The One and Only Time I ever picked-up a Hitchhiker. …Well, Sorta. She was not really hitchhiking… you’ll have to read it to understand…

Every day of my life, I come across someone seeking help. People seek help in getting something, whether they seek food, booze, smokes, money, shelter, or help in getting somewhere else. The problem comes in deciding if that person is legitimately needing help, or is scamming others.

Some people have no problem never helping another. I am not one of those. I Thrive on helping people in need. I know how wonderful it is to have gotten help when I've needed it, so I willingly pass that along to others. Yes, sometimes being such a giving person bites me in the butt. More than once I have been taken advantage-of. It makes it tough to decide if helping is the right thing to do… but since that is such an important part of who I am, I usually continue to give.

The one rule I follow is: “Will I put myself in danger?” This rule often leads to an argument in my own brain between what I should do, and what I want to do when it comes to helping others.

Ironically enough, it would seem that by following that rule, I would Never let a stranger into my own home. But, it is the complete opposite. I let strangers into my home regularly. And, also ironic is the people I let into my home are the ones most in society would never even go within ten-feet of, or help them at all. If I choose to help someone, by letting them into my home, I KNOW without a doubt they will not harm me, will not steal from me, and will not do anything I will regret. Likewise, those I allow into my home Know without a doubt that I will not harm them in any way.

But, where I will not let someone in as readily is into my vehicle. I have always had a tough-time with this dilemma. For some reason, I KNOW those I let into my home will do me no harm, Yet I cannot be so sure about letting them into my vehicle. I go with what I feel is right. And oddly enough, when I come across a hitchhiker, I get the feeling that tells me not to even slow down, let alone stop. It makes me feel bad, because I really want to help, but I know I gotta trust that feeling.

I have come across thousands of hitchhikers in my travels. Not once have I felt it was right for me to stop… EXCEPT ONCE…

Seems Safe Enough ... Would You?

One time, and only one time I felt it was right, and I did. I was not wrong. I was really glad I did.

~~~~~ A Word of caution about the following events described in this post: Some people may find this to be a VERY disturbing writing. Just the feelings that came to me, and reminded me of this time in my life are extremely difficult to allow to surface again. Beginning to blog, just over a year ago was an Incredibly hard decision. The idea that I was actually going to allow myself to relive the events that have shaped so much of my life was therapeutic. The idea that I would finally put these into writing was hard to grasp. The idea that I would actually allow another to be able to see some of what I have kept a secret for most of my life is even more difficult. Why, you might ask, am I writing these events? And more importantly, Why would I allow them to be public? Simple: Some of the greatest help I have received in dealing with my own struggles is that which came from someone who had also been through a similar situation. Finding one person who can relate, and make you understand that things happen, and those things are what makes us into the person we later become, it all it takes to plant the seed of hope. I have been given that courtesy by others, and I have also given that hope to others. By choosing to actually find the words to put into writing, and make it available for anyone who might need that connection, understanding, or support, Then That Is Why I write my life’s events, and allow them to be viewed by others.

In No way would I want someone to begin reading this without knowing it confronts and deals with subjects many are not comfortable reading about. Just searching to put the feelings into words is an emotional roller coaster. Writing about the struggles, fears, shame, and imprisonment often heaped upon victims of sexual molestation, victims of rape, and victims of anything that would make people feel insecure, dirty, or even ashamed of their own body, the naked body, normal functions of the body, or anything that would normally be seen as sexual is one of difficulty. These topics are also often forbidden in society, so it makes it even harder to write about them without being too offensive, or even considered too graphic.

Often, just allowing anyone to even know what I have been through is embarrassing, and could be humiliating. People are mean, and often just allowing myself to be vulnerable by sharing what I feel, what I’ve battled, and how I view things is a hard choice. Fear is crippling. But Freedom is far greater. I strive for freedom daily. Sometimes, just allowing some “secret” part of my life to finally be released takes away the self-imposed (or often society-imposed) imprisonment.

The following events involving the picking up of a hitchhiker made me confront and deal with topics I wished did not exist. I hate more than anything in this world that people will harm another. It is amazing, though, how by allowing yourself to help another when they are in need, you often are shown how to deal with your own fears, insecurities, and overcome some of your own greatest barriers in life. It makes me wonder: Did God Place the hitchhiker in my path to help her, Or To help Me? While the underlying causes of the events below are horrific, Know I will not take you to that place. I will show you how those events took many people, myself included, to one of The most Positive, Most Rewarding places One could ever hope for. Good Truly does come from what is thought to be bad.

This event, involving the hitchhiker Does in Fact cover some Very Graphic, Very horrific feelings. Be warned, and know I discuss Rape, Molestation, and so many other Topics which are Some of The Most Difficult to confront in life. (At least for me, they are difficult.) If you Read Further, Know You Will read details about The human anatomy (yes, My own, and others, too), reactions (often considered to be sexual by many, but NOT intended that way by me), and some Very Private, Very Personal  Issues. I do not wish to discourage anyone from reading, learning, and understanding, But I DO Want to Be sure You Understand the content may be offensive. Please, As You Read Further, Enter With an Open Mind… Or With Closed Eyes. ~~~~~ (Enough about cautions, let’s get back to the event of The Hitchhiker!)  

In 1990, I lived in Roseburg, Oregon. I regularly traveled between Roseburg, and Portland. It was a three-hour drive. I had my routines, my favorite places to stop for gas, the restroom, and food.  I had my favorite places I always stopped, whether it was night, or day. I knew every mile of road, knew where I could pull-off the road and enjoy a creek, or just get away from the traffic on side-roads. I knew every exit, every tree, and every bit of the beauty along this stretch of Oregon.

Back then, I was not open about my love of being naked. I enjoyed much of life naked, but did so mostly in a secret way. (I went into hiding about my nakedness at the age of twelve. I was 22 at this time. It would be many more years until I allowed myself to “come out of the closet” so to speak.) I was mostly mortified to ever allow anyone to see me naked, but there were exceptions. In my quest to always find places to enjoy naked, I would explore every road that led away from the majority of travelers. I found many places I could stop for a skinny-dip in a creek, or to just sunbathe naked in a field. Depending on the weather, I would enjoy the sunshine, or dance in the rain, the snow, or just in run-around naked under the stars. Often in the summer, a moon-lit skinny-dip was one of the most rewarding things you could do! The feel of nature on my body always was a delight… but I was mostly in hiding about allowing anyone to ever see me naked. Oddly enough, even in simply going pee, I would often seek places I could do so totally naked, instead of in a traditional bathroom, door closed, out of view of anybody possibly seeing. I often would find a spot in nature to go pee along my travels. (Why use a smelly concrete, crowded place when nature was available all around?) And I reveal later in this writing about one of the places I’d been caught peeing as a “secret” guilty pleasure by my neighbors.

The irony in my “mostly secret” naked life was that it was mostly only secret to those who knew me… …or when I thought nobody was looking if I happened to be where those who knew me might see me. I was often very cautious around my own home, yet at the same time, that is where I tended to take most of my “risks” in another “catching me” so to speak. When I met strangers, they accepted me for who I was, and I was not at all ashamed to be seen by them. Another oddity in my own hiding, was that I never felt the need to hide when sharing a bathroom with someone who happened to be in my life at the time. Whether in my home, or when traveling with friends, it always struck me as odd that those who normally hid any nakedness from each other, would forget “the rules” if they needed to share a bathroom. If people were sharing a bathroom, they tended to not get worked-up if they saw another. In my quest to always find naked freedom, I often was seen when I did not intend to be when I would be in nature, or even a laundry room of my apartment building. But I learned that nobody every freaked-out when I was seen, so it just became another “safe” place to allow and accept nakedness in my otherwise “secret” lifestyle. To me, naked was not sexual, and I never could understand why so many people made simply naked into something it was not. (You might ask why I include this bit of nakedness acceptance here? Because it is important for understanding how I helped this hitchhiker…)

This day was no different. I had spent a couple of days-off in Portland with My Mom, Sister, friends, and enjoying my favorite city. I needed to head home to Roseburg that night, since I worked at 8am the next morning.  I left Portland around 6 in the evening, which would put me into Roseburg around 9. Plenty of time to get settled-in, get plenty of rest before work the next morning, and start my week again.  It was dark, cold, and raining hard. (That was not unusual in Oregon.) But this night, it seemed darker and wetter than normal. It was a gloomy night to say the least. I drove a small Toyota pickup. It had no extra-cab, and hardly had room in the front seat. I always knew how to keep my bags dry when I put them in the back, but today, I had crammed them into the front seat with me, not wanting to bother with the rain-proofing of them.

I headed South on the freeway like I normally would. In Wilsonville, I stopped to gas-up, and grab a burger for the road, just like I normally would. As I got my burger, for a reason I did not understand, I actually ordered two, and a second order of fries, too. This struck me as odd, because I never got two of either, but I KNEW I needed to, even though I hardly had enough money to buy two of each, I did so. I have learned in life to trust and follow those “feelings”, knowing it was not usually my own thoughts, rather those of God who was directing/ guiding me. (Yeah, I am often stubborn, and will still attempt to do things my own way, instead of The Way I was Meant to, but most of the time, if I get the feeling about something, I know I need to follow and trust it.) Getting an extra meal was one of those I just knew I was supposed to do, without knowing why.  Then I hit the freeway South. The freeway onramp there always has hitchhikers, and I had gotten used to going past them every time. This was the last spot before miles and miles of wide-open country. They always had some sort of sign, or antics hoping to attract someone who would stop and give them a ride. It was nothing abnormal, or strange to see at least one on this onramp. It was the last place a pedestrian could easily walk-to before being in the no-man’s land between cities.

On this particularly dark, wet night, however, there was not the usual crowd of hitchhikers. I was slightly surprised to not see any out there. As I got up to freeway speed near the top of the ramp, something caught my eye in the dark, through the rain. I saw a face… part of a face, only eyes peering out from under a dark hooded sweatshirt. It was unusual, and I tried to look twice, but I was already passed what I had seen, plus the rain, and darkness made it seem like I had only imagined it. But I knew I had seen eyes. I knew the eyes I had seen were begging for someone to notice… but not notice because of anything else done to get attention… notice by the chance that God had intended them to be noticed.

(Many times in my life, I have been led to things, places, or people that are completely unexplainable to anyone, even those who witness it. I understand how and why these things happen, and Know this is how God works. I know to trust it, and not question it. I cannot explain it, nor can the person who is helped by it. It is just something that one must accept, and be willing to allow to happen as it is meant-to.)

I hit the brakes, pulled-off to the shoulder and looked back to where I had seen those eyes. I could see nothing. My first thought was to just go-on, and ignore what I thought I had seen… But I Knew I could not. I knew it was not a thought, but that it was actually someone there that only I was supposed to see. I got out, and looked again, so I was not looking through rain-splattered windows. I could not see anything along the ramp. Another car came up the same ramp, and even with their headlights lighting up where I had seen the eyes, I could see nothing. After that car passed, I grabbed my flashlight and shined it back down there. I still saw nothing, but I knew there was something I was supposed to notice. I climbed back into my truck, wet from the downpour, and was tempted to just get on the freeway and go…

…But I Knew. I backed down the ramp to the spot where I had seen those eyes. I looked again, and still saw nothing. I grabbed my coat, and flashlight and got out to go look. As soon as I pointed my flashlight in the direction of where I had seen the eyes, I saw them again. Those eyes looked scared, but hopeful. Those eyes looked as if I was the only one supposed to see them. I saw eyes of a scared, but relieved person. They were eyes of a young lady who looked like she could not trust a soul in the whole world, but had just seen what she needed. She appeared to be in her young twenties (the same age I was at the time). I lowered the light so I would not blind her, and shined it toward the ground. I told her my name was Jon, and she showed a slight hint of a smile. I removed my coat and stepped toward her. She did not move at all, just watched with her eyes, looking with slight relief. She was wearing dark clothes from head to toe, and the only thing visible even with my light was her eyes… and a slight hint of a smile. The smile was not one of joy, but of relief, trust. She had the look of fear of any male, yet of trust that I was not like most males. I could tell immediately that she had been repeatedly mistreated by a male, or many males. I knew this look, and also knew that God often placed me in a hurt-person’s path so, they could find good again.

She was not dressed for rain, or even the cold. She was not dirty, did not look confused, or even mentally-gone, or even on drugs.  She was just cold, wet, and standing there, looking like she wished she could just flee, but knew I was supposed to be there, too. I wrapped my coat around her. She did not back away, nor look worried. As I wrapped the coat around her, I looked at her eyes to see if she was willing to allow me closer. I wrapped my arms around her, held her, and asked if she was all right. In response, she wrapped her arms around me, too, and quietly said “I will be.” She remained hugging me and was shivering. I could tell from holding her that she only had on a thin layer of clothes, and was not dressed or prepared to be out here. I asked if she would like a ride. She nodded again.  She was shivering, and soaked. She was wearing black canvas shoes, black sweatpants, and a dark brown hoodie sweatshirt. She was not wearing any socks, and it was fairly obvious she also did not have on a bra. I guessed she also did not have on any underpants. It seemed she dressed and left whoever or whatever very quickly. Her hands were tucked up inside her sleeves. There was no mud or dirt on her shoes, so I could tell she had not gone off the gravel, and had walked here, or been dropped-off here. I asked if she had a bag, or any belongings with her. She shook her head ‘no’. I shined my light around, just to double-check, and there was no sign of anything having been near her. She clearly was out here all alone, not dressed for the weather, or even to go anywhere. I led her to my truck. She stood there, still shivering, and not saying a word as I took my bags from the seat, and placed them in the bed, not taking the time to place them in water-proof wrappings. I grabbed a blanket out of one bag and wrapped it around her, and motioned for to her to get in. She smiled slightly as she sat down. I reached in and turned the heat up to high, and closed the door so she could begin to warm up. I quickly made sure none of the bags would blow out, and thought about attempting to place them in plastic, but decided they were already soaked, so it would do no good. I would just need to do laundry as soon as I got home.

I got into the truck, and at that point understood why I had gotten two burgers and two fries. I pulled one of each out and offered them to her. She looked like she was hungry, but would not take the food I offered. She looked at it as if she wanted to, but she did not want to take away my dinner. I told her how I felt I needed to order two of each, and showed her both. She happily took the food and quietly began to eat. I could tell she was hungry, but her fright made it so she had no appetite. She nibbled, slowly, but did not scarf-it down.

(I already KNEW I was supposed to pick her up, and take her with me, and KNEW without a doubt  God had sent me to do exactly that. I Trust when I am put into these situations, and know they are right.) Before driving again, I told her I would not harm her, nor would I pry into her troubles. She looked at me, and without saying a word, I could see in her eyes that she already knew this about me. I asked if she wanted to tell me her name, and where she hoped to go. She quietly said “Laura, and California.” I asked if She would allow me to take her as far as Roseburg. She said, ”I do not know where that is.” I told her Roseburg was 90-miles North of The California border, about three-hours from here. She smiled, and said “I’ll go there.” So, my intention was to head to Roseburg, then drop her off at the exit, and she could continue on with her journey.  

After a few minutes on the freeway, I was still cold from having gotten soaked, and she was still shivering. Even though the heater was on high, and she was wrapped in my coat and one of my blankets, she had been out in the rain and cold too long, and could not warm up like this. I took an exit I knew had a secluded underpass where there was a creek I often stopped at for a swim. Tonight, I was not stopping for a swim. It was waay to cold for swimming! But this overpass would give me a dry place to get each of us out of our wet clothes, and allow her to warm-up.

Normally, if a driver would pull-off a road with a hitchhiker, and seek a secluded underpass, it could mean only trouble. As I took the exit, she watched and looked, seeming to wonder, but not showing any fear. Her eyes were wide and watching everything, but she did not ever look like she felt she was in danger. I told her I needed to get each of us out of the wet clothes, and get us warm.  She showed a slight smile, and continued to look at me, not worried, not scared, simply like she knew she was gonna be alright. She was looking around, seeming to think I was heading for a place with a building which would be suited for this.

Once I was under the overpass, parked out of the rain, and turned off my headlights, she smiled a bit more, yet also looked nervous, seeming to understand my idea. She asked, “here?” She did not look worried like I was going to harm her, but worried like she could not allow me to see her naked, or to allow herself to see me naked. I told her I would not embarrass or humiliate her, and respect would be my priority. I told her the fastest way to get each of us warm and dry was to first get us out of our wet clothes, and asked if she would be offended. She looked relieved, yet still concerned. I knew that look. She was mortified at the thought of having me see her, and it seemed she was not thrilled to see me, either. I was not so sure I wanted her to see me changing. She got out and watched as I opened my bags, hoping some of my stuff was still dry, but it was all completely soaked. I knew my clothes would not fit her, but I hoped I could at least give her some socks, and a warm sweatshirt to cover-up with, and wrap her in a warm, dry blanket. I had hoped to find enough dry clothes that each of us could wear something other than our wet clothes, but everything was completely soaked.  She saw my disappointment, and she too looked disappointed.

I always kept towels and blankets behind the seat, so I looked to see what I had this time. Sure enough, I had several towels, and two blankets… all nice and dry! I told her we could get dry and warm, but I had no dry clothes for either of us. I assured her I was not interested in getting her naked, nor in anything else associated normally with naked. I only intended to get us each dry and warm, and asked if she was ok with that. She only nodded, and continued to look at me as she did. Her eyes said she was ok with this, yet her body told me she was still uncomfortable with this whole situation. But she did not look like she truly knew what to do. I told her she was the one I was more concerned about first, then I would take care of getting myself warm again. She nodded again, but still looked unsure of how to proceed. I asked if she was comfortable in me seeing her naked, just to again make sure she was not weirded-out. She did not answer, or even nod, but looked down at her feet. I could tell she was wanting to trust me, and wanting to get warm, just not sure she wanted to bare herself. I asked if she would like me to help her, or if she wanted me to turn-away. She shyly asked if I would help her, but would not look at me.

I went around, and took her to the tailgate, set a dry towel on it, and motioned so she knew she could sit and undress. She looked at me again with eyes that said she was not comfortable in undressing herself, but needed (wanted) help. I understood this. It is an interesting dynamic, where we do not want to make ourselves ‘vulnerable’, or ‘revealed’, but if another helps us in becoming this way it is completely different.  So, I reached to unwrap the wet blanket from around her, and she got a bit of a grin. Still shy, and slightly embarrassed, but said “You First.” She was still shivering, but the food had taken effect, and she now had energy. She was willing to allow me to help her undress to get warm, but now to get her courage up, she wanted me to go first. I also understood this way-of-thinking. If we are slightly scared of ‘revealing’ ourselves, it is easier if we see another do it first. It is kind-of odd, how this works, but it really does help in removing the fear, when we see another able to do the same thing we ourselves are afraid of. It also helps in taking down any barriers that may be there, also helps in making it so both are on the same level. Also in having me go first, it would allow her to see I was not interested in just getting her naked. It would give her more to feel how much I could be trusted, and whether I had other intentions.

Normally, if anyone was asking me to be visibly naked, or paying attention as I was undressing I would be mortified. There were three things that made this unlike any other undressing situation: First, I was in nature, not in a building, or any real place where ‘naked’ was not allowed. Second, I did not know her, so in my mind it made it ‘safer’. Third, I knew we both needed to get out of our wet clothes to be dry and warm. (I also knew I had to get her dry and warm, and to not lead the way would not be good for her.) Of course I was nervous. ANY time I allowed someone to see me naked, it was a test. It could easily become an embarrassing situation, or make me very vulnerable. The irony did not pass me by in that she was now going to see me in a very vulnerable way, and that I too needed to totally trust that God had led me to this spot for the reasons I felt it was supposed to happen like this. But I knew she was safe, and this was the right way to go. So, I sat down on the towel right next to her. She did not move away one bit. She made sure she was watching me, but not looking directly at me. As I reached to untie my boots, I was visibly shaking from the fear I was now feeling. She saw this, and reached her hand to mine. I looked at her. She said “You are as scared to reveal yourself as I am.” I told her “Mortified.” I knew she was not thrilled to even see a man naked, and also that she was not wanting a man to see her. I asked if she would rather I undressed out of her sight. She thought a moment, then hugged me, and told me “No, I want to have both of us undress right here.” Then she said “Thank You”. That gave me just enough support to proceed in front of her, and to know she was conquering her own fears, as well as helping me with mine. While sitting, and while she still half-hugged me, I removed my boots, socks, pants and underwear. She no longer looked away, but watched, and looked at every detail. But for some reason, I suddenly was not mortified, just comfortable. But sitting was different than standing. But I needed to stand to not whack her in the head as I removed the top layers. As I stood and removed my layers on top, I was completely naked in front of her. She did not laugh, or make me uncomfortable. She handed me the towel with an intense look of studying and wanting to know every inch of me. Strangely she did not make me uncomfortable in doing this. She was not wanting to be obvious, but she definitely was looking longer at my penis, and watching it very much. She was not looking as in admiration, but more of a look that she wanted to hate it, yet the look was also one of interest. I was not sure exactly what she was looking for, or why she looked so intently, but I also was surprised at how comfortable I was with her looking like that. I dried off, still shivering, but felt an incredible warmth around me. It was cold, but no longer being wet gave a warming feel, plus the way she had shown support, and the way she looked at me was warming, too. I picked up all my wet clothes and piled them into one of my wet bags.

I asked if she was ready? She nodded, looking alternately from my eyes to my penis again. She remained seated, and the blanket was still wrapped around her, and under her butt and legs, too. I was shaking again, both from the cold and wind, and because I was about to undress someone who I wanted to not harm, or humiliate in any way. I was So afraid I might make her uncomfortable! I reached to remove the wet blanket from around her. By doing this, it literally placed my penis inches from her face. When I am cold, and also when I am scared, my penis will become almost non-existent, almost retreating up inside me. She watched carefully, and I knew she could tell how far it retreated. Especially with it right in front of her face! Most people would take that opportunity to make remarks to make me feel even more insecure. She only watched. She never reacted, never backed-away as I leaned close. She just let me do what I needed to do. Since the blanket was wrapped around so much of her, I only could get it down around her. Then I removed the jacket. I reached for the sweatshirt, and she took my hands in hers. She saw I was still trembling, and nervous. She held my hands in hers, looked into my eyes, then smiled a bit. She was helping me more than I ever could have imagined! I decided I should undress her in the same way I undressed myself. This would allow her to remain slightly more covered even once her pants were removed. I removed her wet shoes. I watched her for a second to see how she wanted to proceed. She had accepted that I was going to undress her. She remained still, studying my every move, watching my eyes, watching my hands, watching my penis. She definitely was getting a slight smile every time she watched my penis. It slowly relaxed and returned to normal size as my own fears subsided. I was not sure what exactly her smile was about, but I could tell she was feeling safer. I reached to remove her sweatpants, and she stopped me. She looked slightly worried, and asked if I truly would not stare, or ask questions.

I sat next to her, hugged her and told her she was safe, and I would not make her uncomfortable in any way. She sat for a moment, just allowing me to hold her, her new fears still keeping her from leaning into my hug. She looked and watched my penis as I did this. I now realized what she was watching for. She was seeing if I was going to get aroused, or in any way inappropriate. I knew from her look, and worry that she probably had something she wished to hide, and this was going to reveal whatever that was. I also could tell that she had never been around a man or a penis that did not harm her. My guess was bruises, cuts, or other marks that would tell what she was leaving behind would be clearly visible once her clothes were removed. I also would smell a scent on her that was unmistakable. I smelled it as soon as she was inside my truck, and the doors were closed. I could smell it now, too. It was a smell that sent me fleeing, and that, to me was setting off all my alarms, telling me to not go near it. But I knew I needed to be strong, and force myself to suffer through it. As her fears surfaced, the scent also grew stronger. That scent was one of recent sex. But it also was of not so recent sex. It pained me to know she had been raped not only once, but many times, and the horror was only magnified by the fact that she still carried it with her, had not washed, or even had an opportunity to attempt to clean. There Is No amount of scrubbing that can remove that nasty feeling once you’ve been raped. Yes, cleaning the area is helpful in removing anything the rapists left behind, but it only removed the left-overs, not the feeling. She still felt every bit of it down there. The thought of removing her pants only magnified that shame and humiliation even more. I knew I likely would see evidence around her vagina showing the harm that had been done to her. The night was very dark because we were nowhere near any city lights, plus the heavy rain made it especially dark, too. It was not very light under the overpass, but there was enough light from my truck’s interior light, plus my parking-lights were on. I had left these on so we could easily see what we were doing, and not fumbling around. The light reflecting off the overpass above did make it so it was hardly dark. I asked if she wanted me to make it completely dark. She thought for a moment, then said she would be more comfortable if I did not see her naked. No problem. Her safety was my priority. I hugged her tightly, and told her she would be alright. She relaxed a bit and leaned into the hug, welcoming the comfort and reassurance. As she did, her arm relaxed, letting it fall. Her hand landed directly on my penis. But she was not totally focused on that for the moment. Then she wiggled her fingers, and realized what she had done. She yanked her hand back, reflexively, and looked horrified. But she did not pull away from the hug. I held my hand out to allow her to place that hand in it, both giving her a ‘safe place’ to rest that hand, plus showing her she had not caused offense. She allowed her hand to rest in mine, then looked to see what the reaction was from my penis. I had not reacted at all. To me it was not a turn-on, or in any way sexual. It was simply a touch, inadvertent, and not meaning to grab anything. She smiled a bit, allowed herself to completely relax again, then allowed herself to rest her hand on my thigh, Very close to my penis, but not directly, allowing the normal movements of it and my penis to touch. To her, this was a safe test, yet also gave her an opportunity to see if she was truly ready for this. She watched, and smiled more as there was no reaction, and just leaned into my hug. She said, “You can get me warm now.”

As I went to turn off the lights, I also grabbed a tub of wet-wipes I kept under the seat. I turned off all the lights, and came back to where she was. She could tell I could still see clearly, but she could not. She asked if I have excellent night vision. I told her I was like a cat. This gave her a smile. I told her it was good to see her smiling. She said, “So you will still see every detail once I am naked?” I told her “I am not interested in looking at your body. I promise you will not feel me looking.” She now had energy, and was able to smile more, but was still shivering and cold. She saw how comfortable I was naked in front of her, even seemingly warm without anything on my naked body, because being dry is half the battle. She then smiled again and told me to “hurry up and get me warm”.

She was helpful in the undressing. She lifted her butt to make the pants easier to remove. I was not surprised to find that she did not have on underwear. I could indeed see more than a little evidence of having been raped. Her matted hair was full of semen, and her vulva was very swollen. She had huge bruises all over her legs, and inner thighs, and the smell was almost crippling. Almost as soon as I removed the pants, she seemed to suddenly feel vulnerable again. To not have her more exposed than was necessary, I handed her a towel, but she just held it against her bare front. She remained seated on the wet blanket I removed from around her. I got another towel, dried her feet and legs up to where the wet blanket was still under her. She was still looking into my eyes, but the look was now of a fear that I had seen more than she felt comfortable with. I leaned in, hugged her, and told her I would help her, and she will be alright. She nodded. I asked if she wanted me to continue. She nodded again. Without moving, I reached down to pull off her sweatshirt. Since I removed her sweatshirt while mostly hugging her, I inadvertently managed to have my penis between her breasts as they came free of the top. She watched, noticing I did not stare at her now bare breast, also noticing I did not do anything sexual, or react, it was just simply touching.

I hugged her again, and this time pulled her up to a standing position, to get her off the wet blanket, and so I could properly dry her. She kept her hands on the towel, covering her vagina, which of course placed both hands on my penis. This time she did not flinch, or react. She looked down, smiled, then looked into my eyes again. This was good. She was comfortable with my nakedness now, and accepted that just because I had a penis did not automatically make me a bad person. As I hugged her, I told her she was not in any way going to be harmed. She smiled bigger. I told her again how good that smile looked on her. I went to continue drying her, beginning again at her toes, then working up. As I dried her, she still held her towel against herself, seeming to hide, yet moving it as I needed to dry each part of her. She did not flinch, nor object to allowing me to thoroughly dry each part as I went. She did not at all seem uncomfortable with allowing me to take care of her, and make sure she was dry. I knew she did not want me to know, but at the same time, she could tell I would not embarrass or harm her. As I got to the top of her thighs, I did not proceed directly to her vulva. She did, however remove her own hands and the towel she was covering with as I got near that area. Without making it a big deal, as I got to her vulva, she moved her own hands and towel away, seeming to know I would help comfort her. I dried her butt first, and as I got to her anus, she winced, and flinched. I could tell she had been raped there, too. I made sure to be gentle, and she noticed I could tell. She relaxed enough for me to continue drying there. I got a couple of wet wipes, and began to clean her back side. I was not sure how much she would want, or be willing to allow me to clean. I began with only attempting to clean her butt cheeks. She seemed to like that I was doing this, and moved enough so that I could easily clean not only her butt, but easily between, and to her anus. I was not thinking I would be able to do a thorough cleaning, or would even attempt to go inside. I figured that would be too much, but I would clean what was comfortable for her. She relaxed almost quite suddenly as soon as she felt the soothing wet cloths against her anus. This showed me she was wishing me to continue. I did. I cleaned as much inside as I could without causing too much discomfort. She was in pain, and I hated to cause the discomfort, but I also saw she wanted that stuff out of her, and was letting me help her. I dried her back here, then proceeded to her front. Instead of coming around to the front side, I continued forward from behind. This gave me a better angle to firmly, yet gently dry her very sensitive parts. She welcomed this, by moving her legs apart enough, so I was not hurting her bruised thighs. I gathered more wet wipes. I held my hand with the towel gently, but very firmly against her swollen vulva. I applied a solid, very firm continuous force directly to the area that was most tender, and hurting. I could tell it hurt, and I saw her wince, so I pulled back a bit, but she placed her own hand on mine to say she wished me to continue.  She pressed my own hand and the towel more firmly with purposeful applied pressure. I understood what she wanted and needed. I pushed the towel quite solidly between her vulva, and into her swollen vagina, then just held it there. I could feel the tension releasing, and that she was accepting this, painful as it was. Without stopping the pressure, I reached around with my other hand and began gently cleaning with the wet wipes. I kept the towel and pressure firmly against and in her vagina, and while doing this, methodically cleaned all through the hair, and down to her vulva. I used many wet wipes, and make sure I removed all that I could, gently. I could see her understanding of what I was doing, and how it was a comfort to her. Yes, it was horribly painful for her, and I could see and feel that! But at the same time, I watched her eyes and saw she was feeling the effects of the cleansing, and release of tension. By applying the solid firm pressure, it released all the tension, plus it made the wipes feel so soft, cool, and gentle.

As I removed the towel, I made sure to go in with the wipes. I watched her eyes and body movements to see how much was good. I thought she might only wish me to go a bit inside, or not at all, but she fully welcomed as much of the cool cleansing wipes as I was willing to do for her. (A note about how hard this was for me: I really have an aversion to the fluids and smells created by sex. I especially have a hard time when there is semen involved… yes, even my own! To willingly place my fingers in the semen and stickiness as I cleaned her was something that under different circumstances I would have not been able to, likely would have thrown-up, and been absolutely disgusted! Yes, I even have a huge problem with the fluids and scents naturally found inside a vagina, even if there has not been sex involved. I am not grossed out by the human body, or that it is the vagina at all, just simply that I react strangely to fluids, scents, and textures of those fluids. To me, the vagina in itself is quite amazing, and to understand how a woman works, you must embrace and understand how a vagina is shaped, what it feels, and how it functions. I absolutely love anything to do with that aspect, just can’t handle the fluids, scents, or textures associated with those. Then add to that the fact that there was old and new semen from more than one man mixed in, plus in all her hair, and I willingly, carefully cleaned every bit of it. And when she welcomed me to clean as much of her vagina as I could, I of course was honored to be able to give so much, but it was a huge test of my abilities! I wanted nothing more than to escape, throw up, and clean myself from head to toe!)

Yes, my fingers touched her inside, and while I was not intending touch in this manner, I could feel her welcoming and embracing it. She was so tender and swollen, it was heart-wrenching. Her swollenness made it difficult to adequately move a finger, let alone a cloth, but I did what I could. She knew it was difficult, and it had to be extremely painful, and not feel good at all. I could tell it hurt her incredibly, but I was happy that she would let me finish as best I could. I knew all too well how getting those remnants out was the best thing that could be done. Before grabbing a towel again, I used plenty of wet wipes on my own hands and fingers, too! There are some things I just cannot allow to remain on my skin, let alone smear across the rest of her own body.) I grabbed a clean towel to carefully dry her after the cleaning, wishing I had my baby powder with me to give her more comfort. I gently dried and caressed with the towel, this time with no pressure, or force. Then I got another new towel to continue up the rest of her body. Her eyes were watching mine as best she could see in the dark. Once I got to her face, I noticed her looking into my eyes, and stopped to smile at her. She said “You are not horrified, yet you know.”

I hugged her and held her. She clearly could tell that I understood what she wished to hide, and could tell that I understood, too. She did not resist the hug, nor want to stop. She wrapped her arms around me, and held me, as if she just found her security. After a few moments, she said “Do you realize you just felt more details about what I am going through, learned more about me than I’ve ever let anyone know, and now I am hugging you while we are both completely naked, your penis is directly against my vagina, yet you never once reacted, were inappropriate, or made me feel dirty, ashamed, or vulnerable?”  I Told her, “Yes, I Know”. She held me in the hug for a long time. She never once wriggled against me, or made me feel uncomfortable. She stopped shivering, and I could feel her relaxing. She again thanked me. Once she was completely relaxed, and warm, (even though we were both naked still… the comfort, and security went a long way in creating the warmth) I asked if she was ready to continue South. She asked if she could wear a blanket. I told her “Of course!” I wrapped her in a blanket, and got her settled into the seat. I gathered all our wet items from the back, and shoved them into a bag. Then wrapped myself in the other blanket, and climbed-in. What a sight we were… two naked messy-haired, barefoot people wrapped in blankets driving down the freeway.

Laura fell asleep almost immediately once we hit the freeway again. She now was warm, safe, and knew she would not be harmed by me. It made me smile to Know God had placed Me in Her path to help Her. That night I did not even need to turn on any music during the drive. I had plenty of happy music to listen to… The sound of her peacefully breathing while she slept was more joyous than any music I could have played on the stereo. It continued to rain really hard for the entire drive. During the rest of the drive to Roseburg, she did not stir, or wake one bit. I needed to stop and pee one more time before reaching Roseburg. Since I was naked, I obviously did not find a rest-stop. I found another underpass where I could go without alarming anyone. I was worried about waking her when I pulled-off, or even stopped and opened the door. But she slept soundly, peacefully.

Originally, I intended to let her off at the exit of the freeway once I hit Roseburg. But since she was not wearing any clothes, and was still sound asleep, I knew I needed to take her to my home until morning. Even once I parked at my home, she did not wake, or even stir. She was out! She was sleeping solid, and looked like she had just let-go of every worry, every care, and every concern she had carried for who knew how long. I knew I would need to carry her into my apartment, because I was not gonna be able to wake her.

I lived in an old converted schoolhouse. It was three stories above a basement. There were six apartments on each floor. So it was easy to be friends with your neighbors, yet at the same time, there was not an abundance of people here. I lived on the second floor. All the doors to the individual apartments faced common corridors on the inside of the building. While I was still in hiding, mostly about my nakedness, occasionally I would go naked from my apartment to the laundry room in the basement. The laundry room was hardly private or secluded. It was in the basement of the building, and was wide-open.  The basement was one large, open place with stairs on each end, a few storage-closets in between, and many support pillars. Many tenants kept some of their belongings down here, just piled in the wide-open, so there were barriers to wide-open visibility, but at the same time, it was not totally secluded. There also was one window on each side-wall. The stairs went halfway, then doubled-back on themselves, with no doors. So, while it was not directly visible from the top of the stairs, it was fully visible from halfway down. Plus the windows were not exactly covered, or hidden, so if anybody decided to look in, the entire basement was visible. Occasionally a homeless person would be seen sleeping in here, but they never touched anything that was not theirs, and were clean and respectful, so nobody bothered them. It was not uncommon for a homeless person to strip off their clothes and do a load of laundry, since the machines were free. They never paraded around naked, and often would sleep while they laundry went, only walking naked from their bedding to the machine and back. Nobody ever was concerned, because they were respectful.

Occasionally, I would go outside naked for a short-time during the darkness of night, watch the stars, and just feel free for a bit. Sometimes, I would take a bowl of ice cream and go to the top floor, and sit in the window of the stairwell, and watch the cars go by on the highway at night. Occasionally someone would come along and use the stairs while I was there naked, but they simply said “Hi” as they went on by. I did notice occasionally, it seemed the girls my own age would purposely make extra trips up and down the stairs, if they saw me, but they never made big deal of it, and did not make me uncomfortable. More often, though I might be seen dancing in the rain… especially if I was already doing my laundry naked, and felt I was safe to venture out. But I never went out when I thought others might see me, or where I thought I was visible from their windows. The corridor from my apartment, down the stairs and in the basement I always felt safe, and like I was not seen, yet I knew I easily could be at any time.

Because of the extra stops, and time needed to get Laura warm and dry, it was well-after 10pm when I arrived home, so I knew I could safely go up wearing just the blanket, thinking I would not be seen. I went up, and opened my apartment, and pulled the bedding back, so I could just carry her up, and lay her in the bed. The bathroom was also in the bedroom, so I turned that light on, and shut the door mostly. This would provide light if she woke later, and not be so bright as to be in her eyes. It was enough light that the room was not in darkness. I knew I would not be able to carry her while I was wearing the blanket, so I just left my blanket in my apartment, and went back down naked. It was still raining hard, but the rain actually felt refreshing on my skin. Even when I carefully pulled her out of my truck, the rain hit her face, and I semi-clumsily carried her up to my apartment, she did not wake, or stir one bit. I carefully unwrapped the wet blanket and placed her in my bed. I gently applied baby powder to her sensitive region so it would sooth and help remove the pain, then covered her with the covers, so she would continue to sleep.

I was half-torn about whether I should dress or not to go get all the bags of wet clothes from my truck, or whether I should just remain naked. I was very wet, but not cold, and nobody was out, so I decided to just continue naked. I was invigorated, and it actually felt very safe and very comfortable. This whole night had been made to feel that way. So I continued naked, knowing that on this night if anyone saw me, they would be comfortable, and I would not freak-out... But I also was betting that in this rainy darkness, nobody would be out, let alone looking out their windows.

As I picked up the first soaked bag, and realized how much of a mess this would make in my apartment, I had to laugh. I had piles of clothes, blankets, towels, and other misc stuff that were so soaked, I knew they would make a huge mess in my apartment. Plus, I knew I needed to somehow get Laura’s clothes dry before morning. I decided to go straight to the laundry room in the basement. This apartment building had many machines that were all free, and available any time of day or night. The bags were so heavy, since they were soaked, I could only take one in at a time. I plopped the first bag down, and headed out for the second one. Just as I got outside the door, I was surprised to find three other tenants carrying them in for me!

I stopped-dead in my tracks! Here I was naked and soaked, and suddenly I see three barely-dressed female tenants out in the rain carrying in all my bags! They each smiled, and said they wanted to help as they marched right on past. They did not stop, or say anything more, or even look at me as if I was naked. I was just standing there dumbfounded as they went on by. So, I went and locked-up my truck, and went to the laundry room, where they had gone. As I entered the laundry room, I cautiously covered my naked self. They just laughed, at this, and told me I did not need to hide, or cover. I knew these three young ladies. They were friendly neighbors from three different apartments. I knew at least one had seen me often, but she never said anything about it, so I did not either. They all assured me they had seen me naked many times, and this was the first time they felt they could come out and let me know, without freaking me out. They had already begun dumping, sorting and stuffing the machines. They acted like this was a normal daily thing for them.

None of them had taken the time to put on more than they were wearing before coming out to help me. None of them had shoes on. Two had wet socks on, and one was barefoot and also not wearing any pants, only panties. All three had on only a t-shirt on the top. None had on a bra. Needless to say, they were almost as naked as I was. The dash out in the rain gave them each wet-tshirts. As much as I did not normally find excitement in just seeing a female’s body, I found this quite alluring, and was surprised to find I was reacting. All three girls had flirted with me previously, and I just was not very interested. Sure, I was interested in having friendly neighbors, but the rest that came with the flirtation, I was not really interested in.

I was, to say the least, a bit unsure how to proceed! Besides attempting to hide my reaction, I stammered, and tried to speak. I was flustered, and now embarrassed. They seemed completely unconcerned that I was naked, unconcerned at how they were now mostly naked, and not at all concerned that I was reacting. They saw my nervousness, and unsure-how-to-proceed, so the one without any pants came, took my hands from covering my reaction, stood on her tip-toes to place her own crotch on top of my own reaction, and gave me a hug. She knew what she was doing with this. She literally buried my reaction in her wet panties (wet from the rain, not any other reason), and crotch. It was an awkward hug for me, because for many previous years, I had gone into absolute hiding of any reaction I might have. She explained how they were all just hanging out in her apartment, (which explained why she did not have on pants, but the other two did… She was comfy in her underwear at home, and was not going anywhere in the corridors. The other two would still be walking out later, so had on their pants and socks) and saw me pull into the parking lot. (I suddenly realized that I never even once looked up at any of the windows to see if anyone was looking, or if any lights were on!)Then they saw me go into the building wearing just the blanket. Then saw me come out naked, and get the girl out of the truck and carry her up. That got them wondering who I was helping, and what the situation was, so they continued to watch, knowing I would be back since my truck was still open. When they saw me lug the wet bag in, and saw there were more, they knew how to get involved and help me. They came out wearing only what they had on, got soaked in the rain, and literally gave me more than I expected. As she hugged me, and had my reaction well-buried in her own crotch, she managed to squeeze it with her thighs, causing even more of a reaction. She smiled quite proud of what she was feeling. I was surprised that I actually was not mortified.  She released her grip down there, although I had not attempted to pull away. Then she let go of the hug, moving one hand down to my butt, and the other to my penis. Again, I was surprised that I did not pull away. Something in the way she did this made me actually appreciate her touch. She did not attempt to take me to any other level, and certainly was not trying to make me uncomfortable. She simply was showing me she appreciated me like this, and I should not be embarrassed. She asked if I was ok now. I was. I still had my reaction, but I was not feeling like I needed to hide it, or that it was a problem for anyone. The other two girls grinned, as they saw I was willing to allow them to look.   

Because they had shown me they were helping me, and not at all concerned that I was naked, had a reaction, or worried one bit about it, but actually enjoyed it, it helped me to relax, and know I was safe with them, reaction or not. My first question then was “How and when have you seen me naked?” They just laughed (but not in a mean way) and told me they had been watching me since the first day I moved-in, and would tell me more details in the morning. They all wanted to know about the girl, and it was clear not one cared I was naked, or that were nearly naked. I told them how I found Laura, and most of the rest of the details that led us to here. They all wanted to help her, too. I still needed to go upstairs and get my laundry soap, so they came with me. They wanted to see Laura.

I had not told them about what I saw and what Laura had wanted to hide, but I guessed they could tell. In the bags of wet clothes, were also the towels, and wet wipes. I saw them notice, and discreetly throw the wipes in the trash, and the towels, plus her clothes definitely had the smell, so I was sure they knew.  The light shining through the door crack of the bathroom was enough to light her up enough that she was not in darkness, plus the light from the front room was shining in on her, too. The girl without pants asked if I would pull the blankets back for a minute. She clarified, before I had a chance to even ask. She simply wanted to see her body size, not gawk at her. She did not want to give me more details, and I caught what she was hinting at. I knew exactly what she had in mind, and also though it was a good idea. She intended to find clothes for Laura to wear in the morning. I warned them they may not like to see how bruised she was. I pulled the covers off long enough for them to see her size, and they did exactly that. They looked at her body-size, not the details on her body, although the bruises were clearly visible. They might easily have noticed, but were polite and did not make it obvious. Laura did not stir even when we did this.

The three girls and I all went back to the laundry room, and got the washers started. They told me to “get some rest, and they would take care of the laundry for me”. I tried to argue that they did not need to, but they were persistent, and insisted I had already done more than my share tonight. So, as I hugged them each, one suggested I go pee down here in the laundry room before I went up to bed, rather than risk waking her using my bathroom.  The other two giggled when she said this, and all three gave me a knowing look that told me that they had seen me do this many times before, but I had thought I was not seen. (Yep, I have been known to use an available floor-drain to go pee. Call it a guilty pleasure. Yup, my own bathroom was just a few floors up, and it was not like waiting two minutes was an issue, I liked going pee any place that was not a conventional toilet. I always have. I am careful with my aim and make sure I do not create anything that could be considered an unhealthy environment, or pee any place it would not be acceptable. One day, I will write about this ‘secret’ joy in life!) I asked how they knew this, slightly embarrassed. They told me they would tell me about that in the morning, too, but not to feel I had anything to be embarrassed about. (I was beginning to realize they had been ‘secretly’ watching me for a long time, although I had hardly hidden, or been sneaky, I had not really thought any had noticed, or the few who had just acted like they hadn’t.) They all grinned, and stood there waiting.

I asked if they expected me to pee in front of them? They all insisted I had done it many times before, and they actually found it to be a guilty little secret to watch, especially since I did not attempt to hide, they figured if no harm was done, they could find pleasure in it. I agreed! I was a bit shy, when put on the spot like that, so I told them I can’t ‘perform’ when I know I have an audience… an expectant audience! I was, however a bit flattered. Imagine my surprise to find out that my ‘secret joys’ actually made others smile! One asked if it would be easier if all of them did it, too. She pointed out that there were enough floor drains that we all could go at the same time. That made me laugh… and relax, too. But one girl protested saying “her aim was not that good, and it would be messy.”  Then another said it would be more fun if we all could face each other, and go at the same time. I suggested we all go outside and pee in the rain at the same time. I asked if any of them had ever felt the pouring rain and wind against their bare skin while they pee’d? They exchanged glances, then one suggested how difficult it was to balance with pants around the ankles, and not get any on your pants, too. Another said “Not if we aren’t wearing any!” And immediately removed her pants and underwear, giggling as she did. The one was already without pants, but she happily removed her panties, to show she was ready. The third one looked a bit hesitant. She was the one who suggested it was difficult to balance, so it was clear she was nervous, and just used that as an excuse. She looked at each of us, grinned at the sight of her two friends wearing only wet t-shirts, and decided to strip, too. We went upstairs to head outside, into the rain. One girl stated “we might as well be naked, as she watched her shirt become even more transparent. The other two said it was more fun this way. I agreed! It also surprised me, and it was all I could do to not get another reaction. For some reason the sight of them in only their wet t-shirts, and cute bare butts bouncing free really was alluring to me. I asked where they would feel comfortable squatting, and all three made a circle facing me, and said “right here!” (I had suspected they would be a bit more discreet, or wish to maybe be a bit spread-out, so it surprised me when they all wanted to pee together, facing each other, right in front of me.)  I’d pee’d in front of others many times, especially outside, but this was new and fairly arousing to be so close, and with them like this. I did get a reaction, and all three grinned as they watched. Strangely enough, I was totally ok with this, yet at the same time I wondered about what was the real reason I was reacting. But I tried to not think too much about that, and just enjoy what was happening.  For some reason outside always removed most barriers we tended to put up around us. For some reason outside seemed to always be more free, more accepting, and more comfortable. I was laughing, but somehow knowing these girls had seen me pee before, just had not let me know they had seen me was quite comforting. (Also it was not terribly surprising, just that I had not realized it.) Now, standing in front of them with a reaction, they each were giggling as the rain and wind hit their bare parts, plus eagerly watching my own reaction. One commented that they were having an impromptu wet-t-shirt contest.  I told them I likely would not have reacted if they were simply naked. This made them all laugh, then they each assured me they were glad they had Not been naked, then. (Meaning they were happy to have caused the reaction.) The girl who first removed her pants said “you start, we’ll join” and they all squatted in front of me. I could tell they had seen me many times, and were not in any way weirded out by this. One of the things I always liked about peeing outside was I did not need to hold or aim it. But since I was not hanging relaxed, I felt I should squat to help keep any from getting on them. It took a moment with my reaction, but the rain totally helped. It was odd to think I was doing this just barely in front of them, facing them. As soon as I started, the one who had hugged me earlier when I first showed the reaction, reached and held it. She smiled proudly. I was surprised also that I did not have a problem with this. Then as soon as she held my penis while I pee’d, she started, then the other two did also. All three never once took their eyes off me. I had to admit, it was actually fun to watch them, and quite a thrill to have the one hold me as I went! Even dare I say? A Turn-on, too! I had seen girls pee before, and it was never any big deal, but to have them purposely want to watch me, and have me watch them simultaneously, and so close, too! It was fun! (Yes, it played with my mind to even entertain the thought that this was in any way not kinky, or a weird-thing. I knew it was. It was totally weird, and totally kinky! But I’ve learned not all things considered weird are bad, and I also have learned to embrace those that do no harm, are mutually enjoyable, and can be a shared, joyous moment between people… It just takes the right situation for me to allow it to happen.) It reminded me that we, as adults, tended to put-up silly walls, and forget how to just enjoy the simplest things in life. As a kid, it was never weird, or ‘kinky’ to go pee with your friends, male or female. It was never weird for a friend to hold your penis as you went, and certainly never strange to allow another to feel your reaction, or to cause it, so why was it so bad as an adult? Also the joy of watching, and freely allowing another to watch you was quite good for one’s self esteem. The girls enjoyed the experience as much as I did. 

They were definitely having their wet-t-shirt contest, and found it to be quite funny, especially since their most exposed parts were not their tops. They were more impressed by their own exposed breasts due to the rain than they were about their bare bottoms, and visible vulvas. To me, seeing breasts was no big deal. Seeing them through a semi-transparent top did something different for me. I never understood why a simply naked person was never alluring, but the allure created by a bit of cover, or suddenly that cover becoming revealing, yet still in place was a turn on I could not deny. But what was even more of turn-on was the playful freedom they were allowing themselves in the rain, and I enjoyed that they could find such joy in it. They each hugged me before I went in, each one rising onto her tiptoes to place my reaction snugly between their own thighs, and totally against their vulvas. They knew how to embrace the moment, so to speak, and to show they were glad they had caused my reaction. Normally, I would have been absolutely mortified for any to see it, let alone hold, or “mount” it like that. They truly found an opportunity when I would let my guard down. Strangely enough I was totally ok with this. I had to realize how many years it had been since I had allowed myself that freedom. It was good for me, too. I went inside to get some sleep, they were removing their wet tops as I went in. Just before I went into my apartment, I looked out the window in the corridor above the stairs, overlooking where they were playing. Sure enough, they were now naked, and stomping in the muddy puddles! I DID want to join in that fun, but I was tired, and knew I needed to get some sleep. It looked like they would play out there naked until it was time to move the laundry to the dryers. The way they were playful, I guessed they would all end-up going to one of the girl’s homes and showering to warm-up, probably remaining naked as long as possible.

Again, not wanting to make Laura uncomfortable in any way, I set up a bed for myself on the living room floor. I left my front door unlocked. (Like any place I have lived, where I know God protects my home, I always left my door unlocked whenever I was home.) I remembered to set-out a new toothbrush on the bathroom counter. (Yes, I always had spare toothbrushes, still in the packaging, so any guest would always have a fresh toothbrush.)I set my alarm for 5:30 in the morning, knowing I needed to go gather my laundry, shower, eat, get Laura up and moving, then head-out for work by 8am.

This post is another exceptionally long one, so I decided to break it into two parts. The second will be posted soon.  Here is part 2: http://enterwithanopenmindorclosedeyes.blogspot.com/2012/12/i-picked-up-hitchhiker-part-2.html