So, what the hell am I thinking about today?

Other pages of interest:

JOURNAL 3

Almost Fully Exposed

October 9, 2026

Well, this is finally getting real.

I've been quietly building it, tweaking it, photographing for it, rewriting it, obsessing over details, and occasionally wondering whether this is the permanent proud exposure I have always been seeking.

Technically, the website has been live for a few days now. I have been testing it, asking a few close friends to review it. One person has already used one of the forms to reach out to me because they found it online.

But there's a difference between having a website on the internet and actually launching it so everyone knows it exists.

And on October 11, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going public. Completely. Permanent online naked exposure.

That's why National Coming Out Day feels like the perfect date. Because I've never really been interested in doing things halfway. If I'm going to put myself out there, I want to really put myself out there. And if I'm going to get naked and exposed, I might as well do it completely.

There's the obvious kind of naked, of course. I've never been particularly shy about that. But physical nudity is actually the easy part.

The harder kind of naked is putting your full name on it. Your face. Your history. Your personality. Your opinions. Your sexuality. Your sense of humor. Your body. Your desires. Your embarrassing moments. Your contradictions. Your entire wonderfully complicated collection of things that make you you.

Then making it all easily searchable on Google.

That's the kind of total naked exposure I'm interested in.

No clever pseudonym hiding behind a locked door. No carefully separated identities. No pretending that the naked guy and the Harvard-educated professional guy and the ridiculous guy with a website devoted to being completely exposed are somehow three different people.

They're all me. Shaun McMurtrie.

And yes, there is something deliciously appropriate about doing it on Coming Out Day. Because this isn't really a launch. The website already exists. October 11 is the reveal.

It's the moment I stop quietly pointing people toward it and start saying: Here it is! Come look. Come read. Come laugh. Come judge. Come be curious. Come discover something you didn't expect to find when you searched my name.

Because once I make that announcement, there's no pretending this is some private little project anymore.

It will be out. Public. Visible.

Exposed.

And, frankly, that's exactly where I want it.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about what fully exposed actually means.

It doesn't mean having absolutely nothing left to hide. It means being willing to let people see the parts of you that you once thought had to stay hidden.

Sometimes that's your naked body. Sometimes it's your sexuality. Sometimes it's your fetishes. Sometimes it's your fantasies. Sometimes it's your vulnerability. Sometimes it's the ridiculous parts of your personality.

Sometimes it's simply standing there under your own name and saying: “Yep. This is me.”

So October 11 isn't an arbitrary deadline anymore. It's the day I commit to total and complete naked exposure. The day I go all in.

All of me.

Fully exposed.

The thought has me so turned on, so fucking horny.

And what is even hotter to me is that, once it is out there - shareable, searchable, downloadable...

There's no going back.

JOURNAL 2

The Night I Don't Remember

September 30, 2026

If you're going to build a website where you put your real name, your real body, your sexuality, your thoughts, and pretty much every other uncomfortable piece of yourself out in public, eventually you have to talk about the things you would probably rather avoid.

So let's talk about the arrest.

There isn't a clever way to tell this story. There isn't even a particularly satisfying way.

The truth is, I don't remember the night it happened.

I had been drinking. I was extremely intoxicated. The officers can be heard on their body-camera recordings acknowledging that I was drunk, but that fact wasn't included in the police report. It also wasn't brought to the judge's attention until my sentencing hearing, when the judge apparently learned of my intoxication for the first time...because I mentioned it when I was given the opportunity to speak.

That's an important part of the story for me—not because being drunk excuses anything, but because it explains why I have absolutely no firsthand memory of what happened that night.

What I do know comes from the accusations, the police reports, the body-camera footage, the court proceedings, and what I was subsequently told.

I ultimately pleaded guilty to indecent exposure and loitering and prowling at night. The allegation was that I had been naked on a neighbor's porch and masturbating, with lubricant allegedly covering me.

That's a pretty fucking extraordinary accusation to realize to when you don't remember doing it.

There is another detail that has always bothered me. When I was arrested, the officers did not find lubricant on me. They did not find anything on me. Yet lubricant was part of the description of what I was allegedly doing.

I was identified in connection with the incident by a tattoo on my back. And here's where my skeptical brain starts asking questions. I have more than one tattoo. Some of them are considerably more obvious than the one on my back. Including, rather famously, a tattoo right on my dick.

So if the allegation is that I was completely naked and actively masturbating on somebody's porch, you'd think that might have made the description. It didn't.

I'm not claiming that any one of those details proves I wasn't there. It doesn't. And I'm not pretending that pleading guilty means I get to rewrite the events afterward. I made the decision to plead guilty, and I have to live with that decision.

But there is a difference between accepting responsibility for the legal outcome and pretending that I have a clear memory of events that I simply don't remember.

I don't.

I can't tell you exactly what happened that night. I can't honestly tell you that every allegation was true. And I can't honestly tell you that every allegation was false. I can say that if I was sober, even in an exhibitionistic mood, I would NEVER violate someone by exposing myself blatantly in front of them without their enthusiastic consent.

Then there is another part of this story that makes the whole thing considerably more complicated. The officer who arrested me was later accused of falsifying police reports and was subsequently removed from the force. The allegations concerning that officer included falsifying information related to intoxication and manufacturing evidence around intoxication.

I'm not going to pretend that this proves what happened in my particular case. It doesn't.

But when the officer who handled your arrest is subsequently accused of this kind of misconduct, and you already know that your own intoxication was acknowledged on body-camera footage but omitted from the police report, it is difficult not to wonder what might have been different if all of that information had been known at the time.

Unfortunately, I don't get to find out. I plead guilty. And I chose to plead guilty because this kind of blatant disregard for consent around nudity and sex is absolutely against my moral code. I believe in the honesty and goodness of people, so I don't believe anyone would intentionally manufacture a story against me - especially a neighbor that I do not know. As a person of integrity (and in consultation with my lawyer, of course), it was the only acceptable action for me.

However, because I plead guilty, I didn't have the same opportunity to have the underlying case litigated again when information about the officer subsequently came to light. The door was essentially closed.

That's one of the hardest parts for me.

There are questions I still have that I cannot answer. There are details I wish had been investigated differently. There are things I wish the judge had known before sentencing. And there are things I simply cannot reconstruct because I wasn't sober enough that night to remember them myself.

But the legal system doesn't give you a time machine.

I made the decision to plead guilty. The conviction became part of my record. And now it is part of my history. I have to own that.

At the same time, owning the outcome doesn't require me to pretend I know more than I actually know. That's the distinction I want to make here.

I'm not writing this to declare myself innocent. I'm not writing it to accuse someone else of committing a crime against me. I'm writing it because the public version of this story is inevitably going to be much simpler than the reality.

Search my name and you can find what the public got to know about the situation.

What you probably won't find is the fact that I don't remember the night. You probably won't find the body-camera footage in which my intoxication was acknowledged. You probably won't find the later allegations involving the officer who arrested me as a mitigating factor in the outcome. And you certainly won't find the uncomfortable gray area between “I did it” and “I didn't do it.”

Because sometimes the truth isn't that clean.

My arrest record has had real consequences. I lost my ability to teach. I lost my ability to be employed in most places. I lost acquaintances that respected me for years. I am now judged solely on one day of my life, rather than the other 48+ years.

That's part of why this website exists. Not to erase what happened. Not to pretend that I wasn't arrested. Not to make excuses. And certainly not to ask anyone to ignore the seriousness of an indecent-exposure conviction.

I'm putting this here because I want to tell my own story rather than let a search result tell it for me.

There is a version of me that can be reduced to two charges. There is another version that can be reduced to an accusation about what supposedly happened on a neighbor's porch. But neither of those things describes an entire human being.

I'm responsible for my choices. I'm responsible for the consequences of my choices. And I'm responsible for being honest about the fact that alcohol put me in a state where I apparently did things—or was accused of doing things—that I have no memory of. That's uncomfortable to admit.

But this entire website is built around being uncomfortable.

I'm not hiding behind a pseudonym. I'm not pretending that my past doesn't exist. I'm not deleting the embarrassing parts and presenting some sanitized version of me for public consumption. I'm putting the whole complicated fucking package on the table.

The arrest is part of my story. It isn't the whole story.

And perhaps that's ultimately what this website is about: not controlling what people discover about me, but giving them enough of the story to decide for themselves what it means.

I can't change that night. I can't manufacture a memory I don't have. I can't undo the guilty plea. I can't reopen the case.

But I can tell you what I know, acknowledge what I don't know, accept the consequences, and keep moving forward.

And, yes, apparently I'm doing all of that while naked on the internet.

Because if you've made it this far, you probably already know that's how I roll!

JOURNAL 1

Building a Website About Being Naked and Exposed

September 2, 2026

There is something inherently ridiculous about spending time building a professional website whose central message is, essentially, Hi. I’m Shaun. I’m naked. Come take a look.

And yet, somehow, that is exactly what I’ve been doing.

The idea for this website didn’t arrive fully formed. It started as a collection of thoughts, conversations, half-baked ideas, questionable jokes, and increasingly serious realizations about what I wanted to do with this strange little corner of my life. I’ve spent a long time being interested in nudity, exhibitionism, sexuality, being seen, and the complicated line between privacy and openness. Eventually I started wondering what would happen if I stopped treating all of those things as disconnected pieces of myself.

What if I simply put them together? Not behind a pseudonym. Not on some anonymous adult profile. Not as a character who exists separately from the rest of my life. My name. My face. My thoughts. My body. My history.

That became the idea.

And then came the hard part: actually building the damn thing. I bought the domain shaunmcmurtrie.com and suddenly the idea became much more real. There was something wonderfully terrifying about seeing my actual name sitting in a browser address bar next to the realization that I intended to put some very personal—and very naked—things there.

I wanted the site to look nothing like a generic adult website. If I was going to attach my real name to this, I wanted the result to look intentional. Professional. Polished. A little outrageous, certainly, but not cheap.

So I started developing a visual identity. I used Google, ChatGPT, and friends to understand more about website design, the possibilities, to get some focus.

Then came the endless parade of pages. Home. About Me. Galleries. Media. Adventures. Collaborations. Hire Me! Contact. FAQs. Misconceptions. Philosophy. Support Me. Journal. Resources. Merch...

Every page seemed to generate another page. Every idea generated three more ideas. Every time I thought, Okay, the site is basically finished, I would find myself staring at some tiny detail and thinking, Oh, shit. We need a page for that.

And I became surprisingly obsessive about the details. I wanted consistent headers. Consistent typography. Consistent buttons. Consistent colors. I wanted the site to work on a phone, not just on a computer. I wanted videos embedded properly. I wanted galleries to look good. I wanted links to my other work. I wanted people who know me in real life to understand what they were looking at if they stumbled across the site.

I wanted it to feel like a real website, not just a collection of naked pictures thrown onto the internet.

Because that's really the point. This isn't only a website about being naked. It's a website about me being willing to be known. That's a much bigger—and considerably more uncomfortable—thing.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it means to put my real name next to parts of myself that most people would normally keep private. There are obvious risks. There are professional consequences. There are people who will misunderstand it. There are people who will judge it. There are people who will probably search my name, find this site, and decide they know everything about me based on what they see here.

And honestly? That's part of what makes the whole thing interesting.

I've never been particularly good at pretending that people fit neatly into categories. I'm a lot of things at once: educated, nerdy, funny, sexual, curious, occasionally ridiculous, sometimes serious, sometimes profoundly inappropriate. I've been a teacher. I've been a student. I've written. I've created. I've performed. I've taken my clothes off in front of cameras. I've masturbated on camera. I've talked about sexuality and exposure. I've worried about what people think.

Those things don't cancel each other out. They're all part of the same person. Me.

So the website gradually became less about creating a place to display nudity and more about creating a place where all of those seemingly contradictory pieces could coexist.

There is a strange freedom in that. And there is an even stranger freedom in realizing that once something is online under your real name, you can't really take back the fact that you did it. That's simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

I've also discovered that building a website about yourself requires an absurd amount of self-reflection. Every page forces another question. What do I actually believe? What am I comfortable showing? What am I willing to say publicly? What happens when someone from my professional life finds this? What do I want people to understand about me beyond the obvious?

Some of those questions have been easy. Some haven't. And some answers are still evolving.

The site isn't finished, and I'm not sure it ever really will be. That's partly intentional. I want the Journal to be a living record of this experiment—to document what happens after I make the decision to put my real name, my real body, and my real thoughts in the same place.

Maybe someday I'll look back at this first entry and laugh at how much work I thought the website was. Maybe I'll look back and realize this was the moment everything changed. Or maybe I'll simply think: Holy Hell, Shaun. You really did build an entire website because you wanted to be naked and exposed on the internet.

And the answer will still be: Yep. I did.

Welcome to the beginning.

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ADULT CONTENT NOTICE: All content on this site features full frontal male nudity. Some sections also include erotic nudity, erections, masturbation, fetish play, and consensual gay male intercourse. This website is intended only for adults 18 years of age or older.

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