Chapter 2

And there it was, declining to be nude around these women was the reason it all fell apart. I remember sitting at my home with tears in my eyes, because what, some of them wanted to see me naked? Or did they all want to see me naked? It couldn’t have been that simple, could it? These were incredible women, but even the best could still be petty in their own ways.

Needing closure or whatever you’d call it, I agreed to meet Vanessa the next day for lunch at a nearby noodle restaurant. Not a trendy place, neither of us dressed for the occasion, no one would recognize us with loose clothes and bare faces. That alone spoke volumes about where we stood.

“I feel like we’re in fucking high school again,” I said.

Believe me, instant regret the moment that sentence left my mouth. I showed my cards too early and my emotional weakness. At least I didn’t cry, which is a low bar.

I could barely eat the noodles in my bowl as Vanessa went on about how much I meant to the group. She was giving me all kinds of excuses about why I wasn’t invited to things. I could tell she was trying to spare my feelings, but I could read between the lines, I was officially a burden.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to dump me, either.

“Promise not to tell anyone?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. Why is that even a question?”

“I needed to look into your eyes. I’m serious, don’t tell anyone.”

Vanessa thought for a moment then reached into her bag to get her phone. She unlocked it and flipped through the picture gallery.

“This is from last week. Brunch at Annabelle’s place, just a few of us.”

In the busy restaurant, Vanessa held her phone in my direction. The photo showed three women in a sunny backyard — Annabelle, Elise, and Tina — sitting around the patio table having coffee and avocado toast. They were barefoot, so ordinary looking, so suburban. They looked like normal moms anywhere. It was so mundane that I wondered why Vanessa was even showing me that picture.

With a swipe, the next photo showed the same three women, same patio, same angle, but now they were nude and their plates were clean. Completely bare, lounging on the chairs with legs crossed, breasts exposed under the late morning sun, no shame whatsoever, nothing to cover. Annabelle’s hand rested on Elise’s thigh in a way that was much too comfortable, with Tina throwing her head back in laughter, like it was the most natural day in the world.

Another swipe showed an even more audacious photo. Elise kneeling with her lips around Annabelle’s nipple, holding a large tit from the mother of three, while Tina laughed even harder. It was unclear whether Elise was actually drinking breast milk or not, but the sucking was real. Elise’s cheeks were hollowed and her lips were tight around the nipple.

I couldn’t look away.

Vanessa closed the phone and put it back in her bag. She had this mischievous look on her face, like showing me the pictures at a restaurant gave her an exhibitionist rush.

Before I could give any kind of response, Vanessa explained the mom group secret, or at least parts of it from what I could remember. It felt like a daze. But I distinctly remember Vanessa saying that my standing with the group would improve if I got ‘my hands dirty’ and got a ‘little messy.’ Basically I had to prove myself. She recommended a particular act that I could do at that moment. I froze, she looked me in the eyes.

Let me give you some context of my mindset there. In my writing career at the time, I’d been getting a steady flow of emails and comments from readers wanting more advice on navigating friendship groups. Social dynamics, proper etiquette, things like that. And in many ways, I felt my readers were living vicariously through me and that’s a responsibility I carry.

And so that was my motivation. It was like autopilot when I went to the bathroom and put a seat cover on the toilet and pulled my pants down. I’d never done anything like that in a public bathroom and I rubbed myself thinking of that picture of them, my supposed friends, being nude together in a backyard. I wondered if they were doing anything extra, but that seemed too far-fetched. The thought was intoxicating.

Two fingers went inside, I took a picture of it. I tried not to capture anything that could identify me like my wristwatch or rings. Although my mood was uneasy, thinking of the mom group made having an orgasm a smooth process. I took a picture of cum on my fingers, with the bathroom stall as the backdrop.

When I returned to the table where Vanessa was waiting and my noodles had gone cold, I texted her the image. She smiled looking at her phone, then she smiled looking at me, as if I’d proven myself.

August to September — 2025

I got a message from Elise the following week: Small gathering at my house this Saturday at 8 pm. Low-key, just the core group, husband and fam aren’t home. Interested? Love to see you

A heart-shaped emoji at the end let me know it was genuine. These days emojis can often say more than the actual text itself. Elise had always been the quiet one, a former actress on television who played the ‘shy best friend’ parts, now she runs a boutique skincare brand from home. She always had a way of making me feel welcomed in the group, always asking for my opinion on things during group conversations.

I wasn’t fooling myself by any means. I knew exactly what the invitation was. I was certain Vanessa had shown my wet-finger picture to everyone in the group to let them know I was ‘safe’ and could be trusted. Between all that extra anxiety, I’d been masturbating more than usual, thoughts of what might happen.

Elise lives in a cozy home in the canyons. When I arrived, the front door was open and most of the mom group were already there. Snacks and drinks were going around. I was dressed light. I went barefoot walking around the home. They greeted me like we hadn’t missed a beat, as if they hadn’t spent weeks ignoring me and keeping a distance. I wasn’t upset with them. The opposite. I missed them and how the friendship used to be.

“Beautiful outfit,” Ashley said. “What brand is that? Can you show us?”

Everything stopped and the group looked at me with curious eyes. Asking about my clothes was a ruse. It’s the suburbs of Los Angeles, we’re all wearing the same brands. Part of being in any sort of friendship group, or interacting with people in general, is having the ability to read between the lines. I knew exactly what Ashley wanted. I knew what the group wanted.

That was the moment I’d been masturbating about constantly during the lead up. The moment of truth, if you’d call it that. I’d already decided that being with these women was worth whatever price I had to pay. And the bill was calling, no late payments accepted, no bargaining allowed.

I stood and removed my outfit, nothing underneath, and got naked for them. Head to toe. At 40 years old, I no longer have the magazine friendly figure I used to have. I have stretch marks, fat around certain areas, and gravity has taken hold. But I felt beautiful the way their eyes lusted after me. My nipples, my trimmed pubic hairs, their eyes were glued. They were satisfied at what they were seeing.

As a joke, I held each article of my clothes and read the labels to Ashley, telling her the brand names, making everyone laugh in the process because of how absurd it was.

The validation hit me in waves.

For the rest of that meeting, after putting my clothes back on, I became the star of the group. If I was seen as prudish before, I became the daring one, the new life of the party. Someone who could be trusted with any secret. They were curious about me again. While we talked, I noticed their eyes tracing my curves, wishing I’d be naked again.

Online it was a different sort of validation I was seeking. I went home and wrote extensively about connecting with the mom group, of course, leaving out the part where I got fully undressed. I wrote a few thousand words in a single sitting. The next day I edited the piece and hit send. My readers were ecstatic with getting their fix of my social life.

“Yeah, I was wondering with them, glad the stories are back!”

“I live for your updates.”

“You make me believe it’s possible to have friends like these.”

The next major escalation happened a week later. After my phone started coming alive again with memes and inside jokes, I was invited to a group pilates class. There was a grand opening for a small studio which caters to people our age.

Leggings, sports bras, bare feet gripping the mats. Everyone rocked their bodies, accepting the fact that we wouldn’t look as good as our 20’s, but loving ourselves even more. The workouts started normally, controlled movements, slow extensions, deep breathing, but the instructor wanted to leave a lasting impression to make sure we’d become regulars.

We ended up sweaty and exhausted, and when the class was over we were dripping on the way to the locker room, which was like a mini-spa. Spaces were tight and they had a few showers with minimal privacy and a square box for a sauna and a hot tub that could fit three people at best.

Steam filled the locker room as a few women hurried to shower and leave. Conversations varied. At some point everyone made a comment about the hard workout, and as usual, everyone made small talk about parenting duties and home life. All this happened while stripping off clothes and walking around naked and barefoot. Oh yes, they were accustomed to that, but to me it was a feast.

That was my first time seeing all of them nude and they were fine being like that around each other. If anything, it made them open their personalities even further. The jokes were more explicit, putting taboo comedy programs to shame, they laughed harder, and their body language was more animated, pushing their chests out with their milk-filled boobs and darkened nipples from lactation.

I was very aroused seeing them like that and the million dollar question on my mind was if they ever did sexual things together. That question had been a constant for the last few weeks but I never dared asking anyone about it. I figured if the time was right, I’d know.

Linda guided me to sit on the bench for some reason. Her being a light-skinned Asian woman, I was amazed by her nipples, protruding and black, by far she had the darkest nipples of the group along with pitch black pubic hair that was trimmed. She got on her knees while talking about her weekend plans. Keep in mind, she wasn’t even talking to me, she was talking about Elise, but she was kneeling in front of me, getting in between my legs. Linda treated this like she was doing me a simple favor in between a casual conversation.