Oh my! I don't walk around naked at all just for pleasure.
One of my roommates in college did that a lot; he was one of us from the Sandhills, straitlaced redneck fundie country according to the primitives.
He'd come out from the bathroom, having just taken a shower, with a towel wrapped around his mid-section.
He'd walk into the living room where some of us were watching television (usually there were six guys living in this three-story old house)--or in my case, reading--whip off the towel, and snap it at one of us. Someone would grab the towel, leaving him all exposed, but he didn't care, and wouldn't bother getting dressed right away unless he was going out, or someone was coming over.
We were a rather raucous group--it was, after all, a "party house"--but actually for four years maintained a clean and decent reputation among girls, old people, and children, none of whom by good luck saw how we really were. The college girls who hung around with us thought us all perfect gentlemen.
The college girls were probably right; that was a long time ago now, and for a long time everybody's been happily married to their first and only wife, good kids, professionals.
