N.I.P - Nina In Public

This is my entry into the Literotica 2018 Nude Day Erotic Story contest, in which all stories have the theme of nakedness and (public) nudity. If you have enjoyed this story please vote.

Thank you.

-------------------------------------------------

The bandstand was ramshackle, covered in a patina of graffiti, the floor strewn with trash. Tucked away in the corner of the park in a town where all civic facilities were awfully underfunded, it had gone unused and neglected for years. Trees and out of control bushes completely hid it from view, and even the local tearaways didn't bother to use it as a hangout. Occasionally tramps slept in it during warmer months, but it didn't really even make a good shelter for the homeless. It was abandoned in the truest sense -- even those who had nothing didn't want it.

The young woman who slipped between the trees and squeezed her way through the undergrowth had hair the colour of strawberry milkshake and smoky, long-lashed eyes. A collection of silver rings jangled up the rims of her ears, from the lobe all the way to the conch-curve of the upper ear. Another ring penetrated her left nostril, while below her dusky-pink-painted lips, a silver stud sat in her labret.

She was dressed for the season, in short-shorts and a zip-fastened hooded top, fashionable trainers on her feet and a tote bag slung over her shoulder. The bag caught a little as she squeezed her way through to the bandstand, and she tentatively unhooked it, checking something valuable inside, before continuing. Slender of limb but full-chested and round-hipped, she had to breathe deeply inward to make her way through the more dense brush.

She arrived at last in the vicinity of the bandstand, and wrinkled her lips in discomfort at the state of her surroundings. It wasn't a pleasant place, but it would do -- well-hidden, but still public enough to satisfy the customer. She wasted no time, producing the camera from her bag and, after walking the perimeter for a few moments, positioning it on a rail.

Nina had been selling sex content online for about a year now, and honestly, it was the best job she'd ever had.

It had started maybe six months before that, when she was twenty. Things had a way of getting on top of you, and she'd found that unemployment and poor mindfulness weren't good combinations. Single, stuck in her parents' house, without an income, and with the majority of her old school friends off living new lives at university, she'd become isolated and unhappy. Going online had been an escape from that, and a community of other bedroom-dwellers had been the nurturing and supporting voice she'd needed at the right time.

Nobody encouraged her specifically into sex work. But some of the girls she knew shared mildly risqué pictures of themselves online through their blogs and social media, and when Nina did it too, she found a lot of compliments -- and more than a few offers from guys of money in exchange for more. The other girls reached out to her, too; explaining ways you could make money if you felt confident enough to do it (and were as camera-loved as they told Nina she was, with her candy-coloured hair, wide eyes and tattoos on her thigh and arm), telling her the best sites to use, and the ones to avoid because they ripped you off.

She'd set her own boundaries, then one at a time erased them. Some were still in place -- for her own sense of safety and privacy she rejected all requests from clients to meet in person for a personal service -- but many had gone as her confidence and her comfort with the work had grown. At first, she'd told herself she would just sell photos; but the huge number of requests for videos had soon made her rethink that policy.

She'd felt strange, the first time she filmed herself masturbating. She'd been too embarrassed for days to play the video back, imagining how ridiculous the genuine orgasm she'd given herself looked on camera. When she finally watched the recording, she felt not embarrassed, but disappointed. She'd been convinced she'd captured a moment of sexual ecstasy but she just looked mildly bored, squeaking out her climax with casual, repetitive motion of her hand between her legs, barely in shot.

It was back to the drawing board then -- or more exactly, back to school. She gave herself a crash course in "being sexy"; watching hours of pornography, both amateur and professional -- studying how these women moved, how they positioned themselves in front of static cameras, the faces they made, the looks they gave, the sounds they issued forth. It wasn't enough just to make herself come and film it, she learned. The customer was paying for the experience -- they needed to believe that their viewing was enhancing the moment for the girl. She needed to do more than just what she did when she was touching herself in bed or the shower, if she was going to be able to create something she could put on the internet without cringing inwardly at the thought.

And gradually, as she learned and practised (and goodness, she did enjoy the practise...) a new Nina emerged. A new persona, one that was both authentically her but also, somehow, someone new and unexplored. In real life relatively inexperienced with sex, she nevertheless became something of an expert on the art of stripping and self-pleasure, on moving her lithe body in sensual, enticing ways, and enjoying very much the performances she was recording.

As her confidence grew, more of those self-imposed boundaries fell by the wayside. Once she'd figured out how to perform a striptease or masturbate to orgasm on camera and look sexy rather than ridiculous (or, worse, unremarkable) and begun to make money on her videos, she found an increasing lack of discomfort with the requests she was receiving from customers for other, more fringe content. There were a million fetishes out there, and everyone seemed to want to see a pretty girl do something different. But with a can-do attitude, Nina began to explore some of the less disgusting ones to create custom content, which punters were happy to pay much more for than the more basic videos she had for general sale on the amateur girl sites.

That was why she was here, today, at the bandstand - the first time she'd be "working" somewhere other than her own home.

The customer she'd been messaging with had something of a fetish for public nudity -- an interest in seeing attractive women take off their clothes outdoors, in locations where they might be seen by another person, who wasn't expecting to find a sexy naked girl in the vicinity.

She'd built up quite a relationship with this client, although she didn't of course know his real name or where he was from; she knew him only by his screen name, "Noof" -- but nor did he know more of her than she'd made public, so they were equal there. He'd bought some of her general videos, then enquired about doing a custom one where she filmed herself naked in the house, doing innocuous things like housework.

She'd had to wait until her parents weren't home to shoot that. She preferred to make her videos when they were out anyway -- they of course had no idea she was making money as an online sex worker, and her bedroom walls weren't really thick enough to hide the noises of pleasure -- both play-acted and real -- that were a part of the recording process. But to actually shoot a video that involved her being naked in the living room or the kitchen, places where she'd sit with her mum and dad and brother eating dinner or watching television, wholesome -- clothed -- family activities in which her growing sexual awakening had no part, felt strangely even more forbidden and taboo than just filming herself on her bed with a vibrator.

She'd vamped it up a little for the first video, but the client had explained that he actually preferred the clips to seem a little more natural than her usual fare, and as his money was good, she was happy to oblige. They were actually easy to film, and she began to welcome the requests as a means to make money in a relaxed, effortless way. She didn't have to be "on" with this man -- she could even get on with the chores her mum and dad expected her to do, as the unemployed daughter still living at home, so long as she did them with no clothes on in front of a camera. Her client's enjoyment of "naked cooking" videos meant she was even getting into the habit of greeting her family when they returned home from school or work with a freshly baked tray of cupcakes or brownies.

She'd made a few domestic videos for the guy when he first asked her to go outside and take off her clothes. By this point, he'd become more assertive in his requests. He was no longer asking her, but instructing her. He was, she sensed, someone who was used to playing the dominant -- but she didn't feel threatened or uncomfortable with the persona he was beginning to reveal. Quite the contrary, she actually found the experience of being told very strictly and certainly what to do by a strange man, who liked her to reveal her body, to be more than a little arousing.

Still, she'd been nervous that first time she'd set up her camera on the patio and tried somehow to affect a manner that combined both a naturalistic "no big deal" attitude and a sexy sensuality as she undressed and posed nude in the morning sun. Her family's back garden lacked anything like the necessary privacy to do anything like this -- only the fact that she'd first gone round to her neighbours either side on a pretext and rang their doorbells to confirm they were all out gave her the confidence she needed to get through it, and even then she was more awkward and jumpy making this clip than she had been all year.

But she'd left in the darting eyes, the unsure moments, the nervy awkwardness, and the client had, apparently, loved it. Now he began instructing her toward greater exhibitionism. A still photo of herself standing in her front driveway, in broad daylight, naked as a babe; a film clip of her masturbating in front of an open, front-facing window. All his suggestions, all apparently intended to gratify his fetish by taking her outside of her comfort zone and putting her in situations where, at any point, her body might be revealed to a stranger in all its womanly glory.

Of course, she could have declined his requests. Indeed, some she did -- those where she would be unable to avoid being seen naked, or where the point was actually to be seen. Dialling for a pizza and then filming herself answering the door nude had been one suggestion that she'd felt was too far for her to go. She'd grown comfortable with being undressed or lingerie-clad before the plastic, unblinking gaze of the camera, but she didn't feel like translating that comfort to nudity in front of a real life stranger.

But although the client was always firm in his instructions, he never seemed disappointed by a flat refusal. Nina began to understand that this was a game, wherein he was dominant over her, she the submissive bending to his whim -- but like all sex play, there was the equivalent of a safe-word, a point where she could say, that's too much. If she acted coy or unsure, he would double-down, persuade and convince -- that was part of the dance. But if she just said "no, I can't do that," his next message would be an alternative plan, one perhaps a little more within her capabilities.

She'd sensed also that he was building her up, getting towards some bigger clip which more fulfilled whatever fetish the guy had. Sure enough, he'd eventually offered her a pretty impressive sum if she would film herself taking off her clothes in an entirely public place.

She'd blushed when she opened his message, in spite of herself. She couldn't help it -- the thought of being naked in public was not a reassuring one; rather, it was faintly terrifying, recalling those recurring stress dreams where you are in school failing an exam and look down and, holy cow, you're also naked. It brought to her memory the abject humiliation of the teenage beach holiday where she'd lost her bikini top to an aggressive wave while swimming in the ocean, and stood up from the water without realising, in full sight of her brother and the boys he'd befriended from the hotel. She'd been so red-faced that her mother thought she'd gotten sunburned, and she was in no hurry to repeat that experience.

And yet, when she could have outright refused, she didn't. Instead she asked for clarification -- just how "public" were they talking?

Perhaps sensing her reticence, he'd been reassuring. All he wanted was a video clip of her undressing, and a short amount of posing and ambulating in shot, in a place that was out of doors but not within the boundary of her home. Not a place where she would be seen, only a place where she might be seen. And he wanted advanced approval of the location, to see if it met with his expectations.

So, she'd gone location scouting, taking her camera and filming a few places around town where she thought she might be able to get away with a striptease and five or ten minutes of nudity without humiliating herself. She'd sent these to him, and had been somewhat relieved when he'd chosen the bandstand. Although not the most private spot to be naked in, it wasn't the most public either, falling somewhere in the middle of the selection she'd picked out, and she'd happily agreed to his terms, price, and even dropped him a message just before she left the house, letting him know she was off to shoot his clip. She thought he would appreciate that.

Nina checked the camera, working out where best to stand from its position so she revealed both the maximum amount of herself and, crucially for this client, also left it in no doubt that she was out doors in a place that could, generously, be considered public.

The bandstand wasn't a pleasant place to be. Sunlight poked through holes in the roof and gaps in the bushes and brush which hid it from general view, but all they illuminated was a floor strewn with empty beer bottles and cider cans, and other detritus from the homeless who occasionally hid from the elements there. The wooden structure itself was rotting, and smelled it -- lurid, unreadable graffiti was sprayed over any surface.

Yet in spite of it all, Nina found it somehow attractive. She'd always been different to other girls at school and later at college, with her bright hair, piercings and tattoos, her love of music that most of her peers dismissed as angry shouting. She felt less discomfort than most in exploring these places on the fringe of the routine world, and didn't find the signs of vandalism and alcohol abuse to be frightening.

Still, she was nervous as she primed and switched on her camera and began filming. It was one thing to feel comfortable exploring a derelict place like this, it was another to feel at ease removing your clothing and going naked here, even when mostly hidden from view -- because another person could come along at any point, whether one of the park's grounds and maintenance team or, more worryingly, someone for whom vandalism or alcohol abuse were the reason to be visiting here. She didn't know what a person like that would do if they found a half-dressed girl alone in such a hidden spot, but she didn't want to find out.

Wasting no more time, with a hurried glance around to make sure she was indeed alone and unobserved, Nina unzipped her hooded top and cast it aside into one of the least-filthy parts of the bandstand. Dressed now in her shorts and a sleeveless, low-cut t-shirt that showed off her cleavage most enticingly, she began a more considered performance. Her undressing wasn't the full striptease routine to music she would undertake when filming herself at home -- this client preferred something more natural, less choreographed. But she tried to portray some careful sensuality, rather than simply flinging off her clothes and getting it over with.

Grasping the hem of her shirt with crossed arms, she raised it slowly over her head, brushing her displaced pink hair from her eyes as she tossed the shirt, with impressive accuracy, to land on the already-discarded hoodie.

Now she was exposed beyond the point where she could reasonably explain her actions as anything other than undressing. She wore just her denim shorts and a carefully-chosen bra; one which definitely came from her "camgirl wardrobe" rather than her day-to-day choices, but which erred on the more conservative side of that collection.

She turned around, letting the camera see her from all angles, rolling her hips a little to emphasise her curves. She took a moment to contemplate herself, but a moment was all she allowed -- the client wanted to see her naked, not dressed half Victoria Secret girl, half Daisy Duke.

Nervousness growing in spite of herself, she unfastened her shorts and, legs straight, used another roll of her hips to cause them to loosen. Another striptease trick -- but she was too curvaceous in the butt, the denim too tight, for them to drop naturally, and she had to break with the performance to hook her thumbs into the slack waistband and slide them down, over her thighs, exposing fully the tattooed birds on her leg, before stepping out of the shorts and casting them away, once again, in the direction of the other clothes she'd lost.

Just her underwear now, then -- a matching set, the panties more revealing and seductive than the bra. She hoped her client didn't mind the choice of underwear. She'd got the impression he was rather more into the girl next door thing; that the sexy lingerie she usually adorned herself with in videos and pictures she sold didn't actually do a lot for him. But for Nina, it was important, part of the persona she needed to be able to perform this way. She couldn't do sex work dressed like downtime Nina, in boyshorts and a baggy sweater; she needed underwear and clothing that made her feel sexy before she could portray that sexiness for the camera. Her client would just have to accept this.

Once again, she didn't linger too long -- he wanted her naked, and she had to oblige. Arms bent behind her back, she unhooked the clasp of her bra, and let it go loose about her shoulders before shrugging out of it.

Instinctively, she hid her now bare breasts with her forearm as she sent the bra sailing over to her clothes pile. She hadn't meant to do that, but the fresh air was an unavoidable reminder that she was now in a public part of the world, wearing only a pair of panties, her breasts -- and nipples -- exposed.

But her client, the mysterious Noof, wouldn't want to be cheated by modesty. She forced herself to uncover her breasts, masking the previous gesture by squeezing them between her arms, making them stand to attention, nipples prominent. She wasn't lacking in the bust department, and youth was still on her side -- her naturally full, perky breasts were an asset that had won her much appreciation from men who bought her sex-worker content, and she knew Noof was expecting her to show them off.

Working through her own self-consciousness, she quickly yanked down her panties, stepping one leg out of them and then, with a kick, sending them to join the rest of her clothes.

For a moment then, she froze, the sense of her nakedness hitting her like a wave striking you while paddling on the beach. She was fully nude now (except her trainers -- given what might be on the floor, there was no way she was going barefoot here). In spite of the seclusion of her chosen spot, she was outdoors all the same, with all the sensation of exposing her previously covered skin. She felt the day's light breeze play across her most sensitive areas, teasing her nipples to stiffness, tickling her between her legs. She felt a sudden instinct to cover herself, and fought it, remembering the camera, and that this was work.