There was a time in my life when I shared a house with two other guys. The setup was kind of messy—there was only one real bathroom, and it was inside my bedroom. So, to use it, everyone had to walk through my room. There was a small service bathroom, but it didn’t have a shower.
And I always slept naked.
So yeah—my housemates regularly saw me naked. The house was owned by the company I worked for, and over the three years I lived there, at least a dozen different people came and went. Every single one of them saw me naked at some point—especially in the mornings, half-awake, with my semi-hard cock, grabbing breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And honestly? I kind of liked it.
The idea that someone might walk in at night and see me like that—totally bare, vulnerable—there was something soothing about it. Almost comforting. Like the sounds of the house at night were tucking me in, wrapping me in this sleepy, half-dreamy feeling.
