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Me, once, when I was younger and thinner. I didn’t drive in those days so had caught a train out to a National Trust park. It was the height of summer, very warm, and I spent the hot afternoon exploring the property and grounds. I was surprised that it wasn’t actually that busy? It was a week-day and was perhaps maybe too hot. I walked to a remote part of the park and sat in some long grass to rest under a tree. It was a glorious day. As I lay there completely alone and out of sight, head resting on my rucksack, I slipped off my trainers. I reached down and slipped off my socks, too. I felt very aroused. I looked about to make sure I couldn’t be seen and then undid my belt then unbuttoned my jeans. Anxiously looking around I unzipped them, then kind of wiggled them down over my hips and over my bare feet. This was almost too much – such a risk? But the grass was long and I was in a remote part of the park. I took a deep breath then slid my T-shirt over my head, leaving my lying there in just my underwear. Over the course of about 30 minutes I had indulged in a risky public striptease, slowly taking my clothes off. But was I brave enough to strip completely nude? I was virtually erupting out of my underwear anyway. One last check and I slipped them off, now quite naked. It was exhilarating as I ran my hands over my skin and massaged my erection, my discarded clothes scattered around me in the grass. I was so tempted to masturbate but decided that was just too risky so reluctantly pulled my clothes back on, returning home thrilled and excited. What if I’d been caught? I never did anything like that ever again but I remember it fondly.