I 'm a guy, tall, athletically build, and was in my thirty-something at the time this took place. If you 're looking for a report broad of sex and such, do n't bother reading further. This is sort of a diary- a catalog of some of affair I did to go on the time alone on Nox break in a sort of deserted arena of Town. I do n't commend doing any of the things I did at work, but you 'll do what you want regardless. Just be warned that getting caught doing anything I did will get you fired, arrested, and- if you 're really unlucky- registered as a sex offender. Do it at your own risk. That said, one with the recounting ...

workings night shift in a figurer midpoint gets ho-hum, especially in a humble one where it only requires one somebody, if anyone at all. My adventures started out reclaim enough : surfing for porn, masturbating at my station, the casual streak through the building. As you might conceive of, these were exciting at first base, but got to be old before long. A slight self-bondage spiced thing up for a while, but it, too, lost it 's appeal. I started taking my smoke breaks naked. The industrial park the post was located in was toward the end of a dead-end street, with as many vacate buildings as there were occupied, and even those closed not long after 6 pm. There was the occasional delivery truck, sometimes someone who made a wrong tour, and amorous twain who did n't require to spend the money for a hotel room, even a law cruiser patrolling for trouble. All said, I had the area pretty very much to myself. When I was n't busy with a labor or repairing an issue, I started wandering farther from the relative safe of my office wearing my brake shoe at most. I was seen a couple times by legal transfer drivers I did n't detect in time to enshroud, but aside from that, the nude strolls became old hat.

One of the byplay was one of those uniform laundry and reparation services, and they often had dumpsters good of shirts, trouser, and overalls that had seen too many washing to be of any fair use. I dug through and found a shirt that was big and would hang long enough to cover my ass and peter, and a pair of pants that were just small enough that I could squeeze into them. I cut hole in the shirt for my pap to show through, then cut the seam out of the ass of the pants. Standing straight and still, you might not detect anything, but if I walked, the gasp would slide and debunk my ass. If I bent over at all, there was nothing covering me between my legs. I would wear this outfit on farseeing walks, out onto the chief road and down a block or two. While there was decidedly more traffic- both foot and vehicle- no one seemed to pay special attention to my picture. I went without the shirt and no one looked twice, even when coming up on me from behind. So I went with only the shirt. I got an periodic honk, maybe an odd facial expression from a pedestrian, but I was otherwise unaccosted. Encouraged by the seeming apathy, I retrieved another discarded uniform and cut down the leg seam until only a few screw thread kept them together, repeating with the shirt. I walked about a air mile down the road- the farthest I had been so far- behind a dumpster and stripped down. With a final deep hint, I ripped the shirt and drawers along the prepared crinkle, leaving me zero to wear without commentary. Then I pissed on the end and threw them into the dumpster, so even using them to cover up myself would be gross at best. My heart was hammering in my chest as I walked back to guard, my eyes swiveling to every shadow, every fun of light, waiting to hear a cry out or the whine of a siren. I had one close call as a car pulled out of a parking lot just as I was ducking into the tincture of an alcove, but I completed the walk unobserved as far as I know. I jerked off twice before going inside to get dressed.

I started leaving my clothes in the car and spending my stallion displacement naked. If anyone happened by, I would hedge them until I could run outside to get garment and claim to have been in the bathroom, or on breakage, or some such. I even would go away my home naked, driving into work, spending the day, then driving household without any clothing available at all. Each successful escapade gave me braveness to go farther, take bounteous peril. Each close call would chill things down and get me to take a pace back for a time, or change things to have a 'back up plan'.

Then I happened across a dare somebody had posted online. The original dare was to hide several Key around a park, with the final one in the restroom of a club, then strip show naked, lock the habiliment into a pecker box, then chain yourself up. The only way to get dressed again was to go to the keys, unlocking yourself as you went, then retrieve the last key from the club 's restroom. This struck a chord with me. Public nudity, bondage, and both a minimum and maximum time to be exposed. There was an element of risk, but it seemed manageable.

I went about gathering the materials I would involve. A trip to the local entrepot scored me a 12 luggage pad locks, all with different keys, several choker-style dog chains of respective lengths, some magnetic hide-a-keys, and a small plastic toolbox. I planned out my locations- a stop preindication on the main route, a alight celestial pole in the middle of a expectant parking lot, a threshold with a windowsill over my brain, a tree diagram with a fairly small trunk, and a chain-link fence. I placed all the winder shortly after getting to play, trusting that no one would be around to discover them, let alone get curious enough to enquire or take them.

I finished the little work I had to do for the night and shivered with anticipation. I locked up the office with my dress 'safely'hidden at my station and went to the tree diagram. I locked my agency key in the tool box and the creature box to the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. Click, I was committed to at to the lowest degree finding the key to the tool box, located on the back of the stay sign. Before I could call back about chickening out, I went about chaining myself up. I used a long chain to tie my ankles together with about two feet of slack. I would be slowed, but could walk. Another hanker chain went from the center of the mortise joint mountain range to a concatenation around my lump sac. Too big of a step would be awful, but otherwise there was just a small tug and it kept the chain from tripping me or dragging on the background. Another prospicient chain went around my waist, with a poor one fastened at the minuscule of my back. I looped one end of the minuscule chain around a radiocarpal joint and locked it in space. The familiar spirit thrill and fear raced through me. I stroked myself but did n't let myself cum, then quickly locked my other carpus behind my back. I stood there for a moment, fully erect, breathing surd, completely nude, hobbled, and my helping hand locked behind my rear. My simply alternative now was to get all five headstone before being discovered or the businesses opening for the day.

I hurried as fast as I could to the first key- the promiscuous post in the parking lot. I reached the edge of the lot before farseeing and with only two or three backbreaking tower on my Lucille Ball mountain chain. I waited and watched. dealings had not died off completely, and there was a regular series of motorcar going by. I started getting flighty, wondering if I 'd taken too big of a hazard with the positioning of the key. After about ten minutes, I took a cryptic breathing space and set off, hoping that the citizenry driving by were too absorbed in their liveliness to notice the chained naked guy waking across the parking lot. I got to the post and squatted down at the base. I sat there for a minute, my back to the road, trying to catch my breath and slow my affection a little, then went about working the key out of the hide-a-key box. This was for the lock holding my radiocarpal joint to my waist. Once I opened the ignition lock, I could slide my wrist-chain under my ass and pull in my hands out in front of me. Still not nonpareil, but practiced than being completely helpless. I closed the whorl back down on the waistline range and, carrying the key and box, crossed back to the shadowed sharpness of the parking lot. I let out a alleviated sigh as I reached the darkness. I 'd made it without being seen.

My following stop was the fencing, which would unlock my ankle joint. I had gotten used to the tread and made my way quickly to the next point. The key was fastened a little over shank highschool on the fence with a curl, the key for which was also in the hide-a-key I carried, midway between two streetlight. I had to walk about 50 pes along the fencing to get to the key, exposed and lit. The fence was on my dead-end street, so dealings should n't have been a job. Terrified, I made it to the key without anyone coming by. I quickly retrieved the key and unlocked my mortise joint. I tucked the chain into the one around my waist and secured it there with the just opened ringlet, then quickly jogged to the shadower again. Having full use of my branch again, eased some of my concern, because at least I could run if take be.

Next was the windowsill with the key to my wrist. It was also on the dead-end street, but at the other end so quite a distance. Feeling braver, I walked down the midriff of the street, the blacktop still warm on my scanty pes. I got to the door and reached up for the key and froze. It was n't there. I stepped back, trying to see up, thinking that maybe I had the wrong spot. The key box was not up on the shelf, or the ledge to either face. Panicked, I looked around and almost cried out when I saw the box laying on the sidewalk nearby. Somehow it had been blown or rattled off the sill. Quickly, I opened it to pee-pee certainly the key was still inside, then unlocked my wrist. I was now completely freed from my chasteness, but still locked out of my office. One last-place key, and two stops to go.

The stop sign with the last key took me past my agency, so I dropped the accumulation of chains and such off next to the door. To get to the preindication, I had to cross about 100 yards of opened subject field that was cut down regularly but was still unexploited. I had three choices : 1 ) I could stroll down the independent street on the sidewalk, with railroad car going by at temporary intervals ; 2 ) walk down the dead-end street with the opportunity of stepping on piece of develop glass left by littering drunks and infrequent street sweeper ; or 3 ) cross the field with it 's dirt, mud, and potential spine plants and bugs. Time ticked by as I looked at my selection and considered. I finally decided on the area, figuring that the scant Mary Jane might at least provide me a piddling concealment if need be. I could always wash away off any mud and droppings back in base hit. I kept crouched, ready to lay flat at a moments warning, and at a speed that I hoped would get me there quickly but without calling undue attention of anyone I did n't see first. The sign never looked to be getting closer, and the seconds seems hours. I had to lay directly twice as cars came by, and froze several fourth dimension as car I did n't see until too tardy passed. Finally, I reached my loot. I quickly snatched the key box, turned, and ran across the champaign, uncaring who might see my bare ass now.

I stayed at a run until I reached the tree with the instrument box attached. Giddy, exhausted from the stress and thrill, and excited beyond anything I had felt before, I masturbated until I came. I reached down and unlocked the box, gathered everything up and went back to the office, again strolling down the middle of the street. I was 15 foundation past the storage warehouse where a crew was loading a delivery truck before I realized they were there. I shrugged and kept walking, trying to act like there was naught out of the ordinary, and heard some chortle and muttered comment. I walked past my office and doubled back in case any of them took enough involvement to see where I was headed.

I gathered the death of my gear into the tool box and let myself into the office. After a quick slipstream up in the sink, I finished off the little work that had trickled in during my adventure and headed home, leaving both clothes and my adventure gear stashed at my station.

Over the next couple of hebdomad, I did the series a dyad clip, varying how I was bound, where the Key and pecker box were hidden, and the command sequence. After a airless margin call that had me hiding in a dumpster for an hour while an unfortunately time police patrol decided to halt and write his shifting reports in the parking lot I had been crossing, I decided that I would direct a break from my adventures. Soon, the weather condition turned cold enough that I could n't be outside naked without risking injury, and I was moved to the day shift not long after that. I sighed, resigned to the end of my playtime, but it was n't long before I found that even during the day there were opportunities for my naked dangerous undertaking. But that is for a later sentence .