Adventures in Nakedtown

By P.A. Choi

Copyright 2017 P.A. Choi

Cover design by P.A. Choi

Table of Contents

Intro

Before we begin...

Stepping Out

House All to Herself

Hey You

Vignette 1: The Naked Mall

In Front of All

Kassandra in the Flesh

Rising Star

Vignette 2: The Car Wash

Wherever Allowed

Convention

Relax

Vignette 3: The Reading Room

Hidden Places 1 (The Cutest Nudists)

This New Feeling

The Abandoned House

Vignette 4: The Park

Hidden Places 2 (Discoveries)

This Old Feeling

Finding Nakedtown

Vignette 5: The Fountain

Beyond the Blue Wall (and conclusion)

Where is Nakedtown?

Intro

Have you ever been naked in a social situation? Or at the very least in a place where you wouldn't normally be naked? If yes, than you will find some familiar memories here. If not, you will find some adventure, and some things to consider.

Actually, a little bit of adventure may be in store for veterans of nudism as well. Some of these stories are very true-to-life. Others are more fantastical in the amount of suspension of disbelief they require. But maybe they aren't that fantastical. Not much would be required to have a world where a musician performs nude to a packed crowd in public, or for a group of teenagers to hold a car wash benefit naked with little consequence, or for a hotel to let convention-goers strut in the buff. After all, all of these things have already happened.

Before we begin...

Before we begin, please take off your clothes. Seriously. Enjoy these stories as the characters experience them. If you are not able to, due to your environment and social stigma, then at least be aware of your body under those clothes. And reconsider... can you get naked right now? Perhaps you can find a small corner of space and time where you can permit a little nudity (If you're in a place like New York City, don't forget that it's perfectly legal to go topless! You may also be surprised to find that there are nudist resorts closer than you realize.).

And if you find yourself getting aroused at the tales spun here, do not be ashamed, for "the body's erotic pull is unavoidable." - Horace McCallister, "Junioress Park"

Stepping Out

Nobody is outside on this particular grey and steamy summer morning, as rain batters down on everything. Gutters gush geysers, lake-sized puddles form, and the grass is a squishy carpet. Sidewalks gleam, and darting from one end of the street to the other is the skin-toned streak of a woman, naked, contrasting against the dull colors of the wet morning. She grins wide as she bolts to the other side of the street, and then runs down the sidewalk, dips under the torrents from the eaves, and then darts through an alleyway. Nobody is there to see her. But they could be. The rush, however, of being out in the open, won't let her stop.

She enters the back patio of a diner which is not yet open, slows enough to walk briskly through the rows of empty tables, where seldom is a sight such as her seen, a sight sure to be a shock to someone eating there. But this sight is reserved for none.

Back out into the rain. From there she continues down a narrow street, walking right in the middle, daring a car to come around the corner and catch her. But she turns right, towards a residential area, where she cuts behind the houses and crosses several backyards until she comes to her own. She opens the gate to the picket fence and lets herself collapse onto the wet grass, within the safety of her property and the privacy of her yard where she can roll around naked and nobody will see, and where she had started the morning before she got the notion to be wild.

She laughs.

House All to Herself

The house was warm, cozily lit, and a lot more than Daphne ever had, and for that she was grateful.

"Wow, Holly, you have this all to yourself? I couldn't imagine living here alone."

In truth, Holly's house wasn't all that big, but all Daphne had ever had was roach-infested apartments, so this was definitely a step up.

"I'm glad you like it," Holly said. "But it's not that bad living in a big place alone. You'll have all day tomorrow to get used to it while I'm at work."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me that I'm unemployed."

"Thanks for reminding me that I'm single," Holly said.

"Single but with a bitchin' house!"

"Indeed. Also don't say that word."

"Oh, sorry. Forgot."

*****

Holly gave Daphne a small, comfy room that was all the comfier for its being small. A little bedside lamp warmly lit a queen-sized bed with the thickest quilt Daphne ever saw. On a warm, summer night like this, it would not be needed, but Daphne was looking forward to the feel of the fabric on her bare skin.

It was something she turned over in her head when Holly accepted her request for a place to stay while she was in between jobs: was it okay to sleep naked in another person's home, as a guest? Surely the same rules didn't apply as having sex in a host's home. She was already sleeping in a bed and leaving her scent behind, so what difference did it make? And besides, nobody was cleaner than Daphne. She already had taken a shower, and she would have stayed naked if she didn't have to walk down the hall to her room. She could only imagine how Holly would react if she saw her. But now, she was free, and she pulled off her cotton shorts and tank and threw them in the corner.

It was a strange feeling. After being so used to lounging around her old apartment nude to the point that it felt weird to put clothes on, being in a new room in somebody else's house made it feel new again, with the thrill of possible detection and the sense of a boundary broken.

She ran her hands over herself, enjoyed the feel of her skin, and then she climbed on in, under the thick quilt, which did feel amazing, but because of her recent shower, it made her feel too hot, so she threw it off.

*****

As Daphne was getting comfortable in her new setting, Holly lay awake, thinking of her work for the next day, laying above the covers, wearing long pajama bottoms and a t-shirt which she pulled at to get a draft through her. She was getting dangerously close to the point of no return, where she would be too uncomfortable and thus too awake to ever fall asleep. But with Daphne over, she was in "social" mode all the way up to bedtime, and as a result, pretty tired, but it was a bad type of tired, Holly thought, the type of tired that never carried you into sleep, and—

She awoke to a light room. That's not my ceiling light, she thought, and then she was up in an instant. Shoot. Late. No time to shower. Got to go. And so she rushed to her closet, pulled out a dry-cleaned suit, and threw it on the bed before rushing to her master bath to clean up. Even with a quick wash of the face and a liberal spray of Goldbond, she could still smell the musk of sleep, and she would be self-conscious of it all day, just the way she usually was: self-conscious of her whole body, only worse.

Ten minutes later, she was out the door, which she slammed sharply as she left.

*****

Daphne's eyes fluttered open. It was light, but not that light. She hadn't seen the early-morning light for several weeks now, and it was a bitter nostalgia to see it again. She reached her arms out to her sides and stretched nude on the bed. The air was cool now that she had slept, and she had a slight chill. She also had to pee. She knew that if she pulled the quilt over her and tried to ignore the discomfort, she would never fall back asleep, so she got out of bed.

She remembered the sound: the front door slamming. The little digital clock on the little nightstand glowed 6:15. Holly was most definitely gone for work. Good thing, because Daphne definitely didn't feel like putting her clothes back on just to walk down the hall, even if she did have a chill. Still, she glanced out the window to see if she could see Holly's car.

She swayed on her feet and knew she was definitely tired as she stepped out into the quiet hall, barely touched by light, where she guided herself along the wall, feeling again very aware of her nudity in this new setting. Once inside, avoiding turning on the lights as not to blind and wake her further, Daphne did her business, and made sure to wipe and dab extra good, a habit that came from living in the nude, and a desire to be extra cleanly. When she finished up, she was dismayed to discover that she was thirsty.

Carefully she came down the stairs, her bare feet sinking into the carpet there, and then smarting with the cold of the hardwood floor, and then linoleum. The house was deathly quiet, a ghost of a house, livened up by the presence of a warm body as it opened the cupboard for a glass.

I wonder if I can be seen through the kitchen window, Daphne thought as she stretched on her tippy-toes to reach a glass, and, turning around, she found that she was pretty safe, as the view through the window showed only brick. So she relaxed, filled her glass, and leaned against the counter to enjoy her water and this private moment.

If only Holly knew I was standing naked in her kitchen right now, Daphne thought. She would surely not like it. "Just imagine the germs," she would say. "Besides, it's indecent." Daphne had a whole imagined dialogue in her head, and she laughed at it as she let her breasts press onto the counter top. Besides, she thought, there are more germs in the mouth than there were anywhere else on the body. Maybe I'll just spend the whole entire day nude. I'll wait for Holly to get home and I'll give her the shock of her life. The thought amused her so much that she didn't realize she was no longer eager to return to bed.

The thought sat a little more, however, and she began to doubt. No, that would surely jeopardize her stay, she thought, and she needed a place to stay.

Oh God, what if she has cameras? Daphne thought. Holly would definitely be the type to install them. If that were the case, she'd have a lot of explaining to do.

She stood up to escape back to the room immediately, but an abrupt report of the door forcing open through its warped frame made her spill her glass.

*****

I can't believe I forgot my lunch, Holly thought as she opened the door. She had had it packed and ready in the fridge, but she forgot all about it since she slept in. She blamed Daphne.

Shoot, shoot, already twenty minutes late. It was not going to be a good day. She crossed through the living room, not bothering to take off her shoes, and headed for the kitchen. As she made for the fridge, her dress shoes slid on the floor and she almost fell, if not for the support of the counter, which she caught her balance on.

It was a sizable puddle of water, just sitting there on the floor.

"What the..." Holly whispered. She knelt down to inspect it, she stuck her finger in it and smelled it, and then she tasted it. Definitely water. But from where? Daphne was obviously still asleep. Nevertheless, Holly looked around the room, expecting to see her.

When she looked back down again, she saw the glass. It was sitting against the base of the island kitchen, like a spy hiding around the corner from an enemy. Now how on Earth did it get there?

Daphne had to be somewhere in the room. Or in the next one. She was playing a trick on her. Well Holly didn't have time for tricks.

"Alright, Daphne, come on out, I don't have time for this, I'm late for work."

At the top of the stairwell next to the kitchen, the house was dark and motionless. Maybe she had just come down for water and knocked the glass over due to grogginess and just left it, Holly thought. Daphne would do something like that.

A floorboard creaked elsewhere the house, and Holly turned her head. Where had it come from? The living room? Holly approached the room with soft steps. Now where might a mischievous slacker hide? she thought, eyeing the sofa, the recliner, the curtains. She lightly searched the room, but it was so completely silent that it was obvious that Daphne wasn't there. Either way, she had work to worry about, and she turned to go back into the kitchen, and as she did, the pale form of Daphne dashed towards the stair landing and froze.

"Well, you're home early," Daphne said.

Holly couldn't think what to say, and just stood there with the most scandalized look on her face.

"I can explain."

"Just get dressed, please. I'm late for work, so you can explain tonight."

She turned and huffed out of the kitchen, as if she couldn't bear to look at Daphne and her naked body. Daphne almost voiced her intention to spend the rest of the day naked, but quickly decided against it. As she was standing there, mentally debating, Holly spun around.

"I hope you didn't sit down on the kitchen stools like that," she said, surprisingly direct with her gaze now that she thought up something else to be angry about.

"No, no, I didn't," Daphne said, holding up her hands in a gesture of denial, and causing Holly to quickly avert her eyes, as that left the rest of her uncovered. "Although," Daphne added, "did you know that there are more germs in your mouth than there are in your butt?"

"Ugh, I don't want to hear it. Just put on some clothes, please. I have to go, we'll talk about this when I get home."

That last comment buzzed Daphne with a small current of fear. Did she just endanger her stay here? But as Holly reached the door, she called back, "don't worry, I'm not going to kick you out, but I think we need to lay some ground rules."

The day, which could have been potentially ruined by mulling over that fear, was saved, and Daphne did indeed spend the whole day naked, and thought about the coming night's conversation and how it might be a good opportunity to talk about personal nudism with her prudish friend. Holly's day, however, was unpleasant, because despite returning home that morning, she still forgot her lunch.

Hey You

It was exactly noon and Martin was walking down the street, off work early today, and quite happy about it. In fact, he was whistling. He whistled as he walked down a side road that cut between two office buildings, a quiet corner in the bustle of the town, and it was his whistling that probably drew attention to him, for somebody called for him from the alleyway.

“Hey mister,” came a feminine voice. Martin looked and was shocked to see a young woman standing in the alley, leaning against the brick wall, pale and nude against the dark paint.

Her hair was black. Her pubic hair was blacker, trimmed in a neat triangle. She wore only stockings (also black).

“Well are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna streak with me?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Martin looked left, right, to see if anybody was watching all this.

“I said: are you gonna streak with me? I need a streaking partner.”

“You mean take off my clothes, and run naked with you?”
“Yeah.” She pushed away from the wall and walked toward Martin, but she didn’t leave the safety of the alleyway.

“Why are you streaking?” he asked her, taking in her full frontal view.

“Because it’s a beautiful day, why else? Now are you game or aren’t ya?”

“I was on my way to go have lunch...”

“Listen,” she said, stepping completely out of the alley now, stepping right up to him, close enough to make him flinch before she grabbed the scruff of his shirt and pulled him closer, “I’m gonna run naked down Main Street and I don’t wanna be the only one to be caught if I get caught, you hear? I need an accomplice. So are you in or aren’t ya?”

He looked to either side again, afraid of being caught face-to-face with her.

“Okay, okay, but let’s dip into the alleyway,” Martin said, and in they went. She turned her back to him long enough for him to catch a glance at her ass, and a nice ass it was, small and shapely and shifting with her steps, and then they were in the alley, where she turned full-frontal to him again, and he took a step back.

“Well?” she said. “Go on.”

“Sorry, this is just a little unusual. Is this some sort of setup? Are you of age?”

“What’s of age?”

“You’re over eighteen, right?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m twenty. Now get those clothes off.”

Martin was complying without even thinking about it, taking off his sport coat and unbuttoning his shirt as he continued pressing her for questions.

“But what would happen if we’re caught? I could go to jail, right?” He was beginning to have second thoughts even as he was unbuckling his belt.

“If you were by yourself, maybe, but if we’re paired up they’ll probably just shake their heads and slap our wrists.”

This was moderately reassuring to Martin. He took down his pants, and then his shorts, and he stood naked with the strange girl in the alley. The wind cut through and he could feel it all over; an alarmingly vulnerable and thrilling feeling. The girl smiled and seemed to approve, and her eyes passed over his penis, which hung loose but long, long enough for Martin to feel prideful. Then she turned, went to the opposite end of the alley from where they came in, and he followed.

Cars passed by and Martin felt dangerously exposed. He was waiting for a person to pass the alley opening and turn to look at them in shock.

“Alright,” the girl said, “we’re gonna bolt out of here and turn right. We’re gonna run two blocks up the road and turn right again and then we're gonna loop around back to the other end of the alley. Then we make a break up those fire stairs behind us.”

Martin looked back and saw the zig-zagging black stairs climbing the building.

“Is that where your apartment is?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll let you come in. Normally I wouldn’t just let a strange man into my place, but we’ll be bonded after this.”

“I see,” he said. “But what if people recognize me when I come out afterwards? Wouldn’t it be better to have a getaway vehicle or something?”

“Don’t have the luxury of that. Ready set-go!”

And with that, she bolted out onto the sidewalk, and Martin was left standing dumbly for a moment before he got his wits and rushed out to catch up.

The first thing he noticed was the way his wang flapped around loosely as he ran. The second thing he noticed was the way the girl’s ass swayed as she ran, and her hair swinging back and forth above it like a pendulum. Then he noticed the shocked onlookers, and he hurried up to close the gap between him and the girl.             

He was right up behind her, no room to run side-by-side, and he gasped: “we’ve been spotted.”

“Of course we’ve been spotted,” she said, with no hint of exhaustion in her voice, “that’s the point!”

Martin almost let her gain ahead of him, but he caught his wits again and caught up, pleased to be behind her, close enough to smell the whaft of her hairspray as it trailed behind her.

She turned a sharp right, and so did he, greeted, both of them, by a group of old ladies walking down the sidewalk.

“Oh my!” one said, not quite scandalized but actually amused at the sight, and Martin and the girl breezed past them. Martin even felt playful enough now to give a mock salute as he passed them.

This stretch was shorter than the main drag, which itself passed by so quickly, and Martin was actually disappointed when they reached the alleyway again. Streaking was kind of like skydiving, or a roller coaster: two minutes of thrill after an eternity of anticipation. Or maybe it was for safety; the longer you were exposed the more likely it was that you would get caught. Either way, the girl showed no signs of disappointment, and promptly slipped into the alley, where Martin followed her to the stairs, gazing up at her bottom bouncing up each landing and from this vantage point seeing the fur between her legs (he averted his eyes then from a sudden shot of guilt).

They got to the top and she turned to face him. “Well...” she said, and turned back to the window of her apartment. She raised a leg over the sill and entered. Martin followed, but not before throwing glances at the alleyway and the sidewalk beyond.

The apartment was dim inside, and the open window—along with a few other windows—let in a cool breeze, which felt nice without any clothes.

Without any clothes.

“Shit, I left my clothes down in the alley,” Martin said. The girl turned around with some surprise.

“I guess we got a little excited and forgot, huh? Wanna go down and get them?”

He chewed on that, and stood there in her kitchen watching her, looking at her, and feeling more naked than ever.

“You can get them on your way out,” she said for him. “Want some tea?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

The girl went about busying herself in the kitchen, and Martin just stood there for a moment. He watched as she turned and reached up in the cupboard for teabags, wherein her butt hovered above the view of the countertop and then lowered again, and she spun around.

“It’s not polite to stare, you know, aren’t you used to it by now?” she asked, and Martin shook the cobwebs loose.

“Sorry, and no, I’m not, especially now.” He moved in and leaned against the counter.

“Have a seat,” she said.

“Did you want me to put down a towel or something? Don’t nudists usually do that?” The girl only waved a hand.

“I’m sure you’re clean, plus I can just wipe the stool off. It’s only wood. Plus did you know there are more germs in your mouth than in your butt?”

“I didn’t know that,” Martin said, and pulled out a stool. He sat and watched the girl put water on the stove, but he didn’t stare. “What’s your name, anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s Chloe,” she said. “And you?”

“Martin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She leaned against the counter opposite him and her breasts settled there. His eyes went down then up again.

“So how often do you do that?” he asked, “and when are we going to do it again?”

“So you had fun, did you?”

“A little, yeah.”

“This is the first time I did it around here. And probably the last. You don’t wanna do it too much around where you live, you know? I just moved here, so I don’t know the area. I used to live near the woods, so I could always go walking naked, and sometimes I would sneak close to the edge of the forest and dare to walk along the fields and near the ends of streets so people could see me. Way different here.”

He listened with fascination, realizing Chloe’s own particular fascination to what she did. She wasn’t so weird. And listening, his wonder and anticipation of whether or not they were going to have sex lessened a bit. They might, he thought, but he wasn’t sure that that’s what she chose him for.

“Well there’s a wildlife area about thirty miles away from here,” Martin said. “We could go out there someday.”

“Maybe,” Chloe said, “although I kind of like the element of danger.”

“You could walk around there for miles and get as far away from your clothes as you could dare,” he said. “You probably would get spotted by somebody. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

She smiled dreamily. The teapot squealed.

“Hmm, that would be fun,” Chloe said as she stood up and relieved the teapot and began arranging the cups. “But I think it would be cool to find some urban spots. Jump around from hallway to hallway in a hotel in the middle of the night. Or sunbathe at a quiet end of a park.”

The water gurgled into the two little cups and she handed one to Martin.

“Well,” he said, “shouldn’t the appeal of streaking just be how it feels, and not who you shock?” He admitted that sitting there, he felt more comfortable than he ever felt in someone’s home, sitting on a bar stool, which would usually make the crotch of his pants bunch up, causing him to stand and sit back down over and over. But not here.

“I hang around this place naked all the time,” Chloe said. “I’m already used to that feeling.”

“Well I can attest, it feels better when the wind is blowing over you.”

“And eyes are roaming over you,” she said, and smiled behind her cup, and Martin realized that Chloe was something of an exhibitionist. He felt this girl had it somewhat wrong. There was something kind of wholesome in the activity, but her fascination with it had a perverse edge.

“You think that’s kinky, don’t you?” she asked him.

“Maybe just a little,” Martin said, holding up his hand and spacing his thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

“What can I say? I guess I like a thrill,” she said, and backed away from the counter, twirled slowly around the kitchen so that she did not spill her tea, and Martin took in the sight of her. She finished her twirl facing him, standing far back enough to be seen in full, from her dark hair atop her head to the dark triangle below. She smirked.

“No staring.” Martin said, and the smirk became a smile. She came back to the countertop.

“You can’t help it,” she said. “It’s okay. Just don’t get any ideas.”

“Well, um, I may have had a few.”

She chuckled, and leaned her chin on her hands, shaking her head slightly.

“I’m not gonna sleep with you dude. You’re old enough to be my dad. Sorry.”

Martin sighed and nodded his head, knowing this was going to be the case anyway. Chloe stood back up straight again and came around to bar to his side. He turned in his stool to face her.

“If it’s any consolation, though,” she said, “you do look pretty good,” and, surprising Martin, she reached out her hand and brushed the length of his cock, which lay in his lap, not quite erect, but with a sudden tremble in it now.

She smiled, gave it one more light pat, and then went back to her side, and to her tea, where she grinned deviously over the rim.

"Next time you're free," she said, "I would definitely be down with going out to one of those trails you mentioned."

Fifteen minutes later, Martin was crawling back out the window and descending the fire stairs. When he reached the bottom he walked bravely into the alley in the nude, and found his clothes where he had left them. Along with—and he cursed himself—his wallet, which was undisturbed. He put on his clothes right in the middle of the alley, in view enough from either end for anybody to see him. But nobody did. And then he straightened his collar and walked on out into the early evening.

Vignette 1: The Naked Mall

Welcome, shoppers, and enjoy your time at Boutique Pública. Please discard your clothes at the lobby, and welcome yourself to the use of our showers before you shop. Feel free to accessorize yourself with a classy hat or scarf at our fashion outlet, or protect your feet with style and comfort at our shoe depot.

Stop by for a drink at our refreshment center, and enjoy the company—and the sights—of your fellow nude shoppers.

Right now we have the lovely Fabia, sporting a Brixton "Joanna" sun hat, and not much else! Draped over her bare shoulder is a Louis Vuitton handbag, The Chocolate color definitely compliments her dark bush, does it not?

Here comes Paul, Paul does not appear to be shopping for much. He holds nothing, and is wearing nothing, except for a pair of Ducks Unlimited loafers. He is walking down the main thoroughfare, and I do believe he is showing off. Why—he is sporting an erection!

Let it be known that such displays are not frowned upon here. We welcome expression, and excitement, but do be advised: sexual acts are discouraged at Boutique Pública. Display yourselves as provocatively as you want, but no touching, and no ejaculations! Paul is following the rules; he smiles and waves happily at the other shoppers, and his erection waves, too! Here comes Tina, she is a sporty one. As she passes by, she bats at his cock very lightly—sproing!—it wobbles back into place. Paul doesn't mind, but Tina is not following the rules.

At the juice bar are a group of teenage girls. They are amused by what they see. They all giggle, jiggle, laugh, and point. There are several more erections now present, but these ones are well-hid.

Some shoppers feel the self-conscious need to cover up their arousal, but they needn't be worried. Why, if you can't hide it, decorate it! Look at Bob, he is not self-conscious. He's complimented his chub with a sheath of feathers, and its length is increased. It raises upward like the spear of some savage warrior!

Janet has taken to some body-ornamentation as well; see her as she stands in front of a mirror at Norstrom's. Around her waist is a string of beads, and hanging down from it are more beads, laying against the contours of her thighs and framing quite nicely her vulva, decked with hair. Her behind: also exposed, with beads hanging down just above. On her breasts, she has adorned strings of beads so that they cover her areolas, but not her shape, which is accentuated. Enticingly covered above, immodestly revealed below. She looks like some sort of god. She will definitely be buying these items.

Not everybody comes to Boutique Pública to shop. Some just come to socialize—and that is okay! Take our teen-aged girls from earlier: for hours they've sat by the juice bar, sipping drinks and talking, and people-watching. Occasionally they will get up and circle the area, where they too are also watched and admired. Almost none of them have adornments on their bodies, except for one, who curiously has a hooded sweater tied around her waist. It is an interesting look, on the nude body. All of them, however, seem to capture those around them with their youthful spirit, and ever-constant presence. They are, of course, always welcome here.

And you too are welcome. Boutique Pública is located right in your backdoor. Wherever you live.

If you would like to visit, go outside in your neighborhood, and go to the nearest shopping mall. Once there, go inside. Walk around, observing the others around you, and the way their clothes sit and settle on their bodies. In the summer this will be most easy, as the light and scant fabrics will conform and reveal much. Be aware of the way your own clothes move over your skin. Baggy and flowing clothes are best. You may even feel the fabric pass over and feather your nether regions, which may excite you, or not effect you at all, but the feeling will be pleasant. Either way, you will be aware of your own body.

Attaining this awareness, you will have gained entry into Boutique Pública, but if you are daring, you may find yourself going further...

In Front of All

It is a private home, quite nice from the outside, with several cars parked in the driveway, and along the street. Passers-by might wonder what sort of party or gathering is going on inside. But in truth, they pay it little mind, as we all do, for these things are the norm. But there are many quaint scenes such as this playing out in the middle of our neighborhoods.

The home is well-furnished and maintained, and in the living room sit at least six friends and neighbors, all with easels sitting in front of them, all putting contemplative final touches on their pieces, which all depict a nude figure, a woman, leaning in on a chair, with her chin propped on her hand. In the center of all those people is the nude woman herself, looking less contemplative and more amused, as the session has drawn to a finish, and she can now relax. Her smile breaks free and she lowers her wrist.

"Alright, time for tea," says the hostess, a middle-aged woman with studious-looking glasses and a neutral face. Everybody leans back in their respective chairs, and the model stands without the chair to hide her.

"Thanks for modeling again, Mary," one of the artists says. Mary says nothing and just smiles and curtsies, and goes over to the bar-stools by the adjoined kitchen, where she sits and awaits her tea. The hostess is putting a pot of water on the stove, and soon some of the other students follow into the kitchen, claiming snacks set out for them from the counter or the fridge.

"And how was your first time, Greg?" the hostess asks a young, thin man who stands towards the edge of the kitchen like a prom wallflower. He looks up at the hostess abruptly.

"Oh, good.... I'm not that great a painter, though."

His eyes dart quickly to the model sitting over at the counter and then quickly dart back, and it is obvious he is uncomfortable with looking a casually nude, beautiful woman in the eye.

"I thought your piece was really intriguing," the hostess says. "Don't ever put yourself down as an artist. There's lots of different styles out there."

Greg nods and looks towards the floor. The hostess looks towards Mary, the model, and leans against the counter while she waits for the water to boil.

"So Mary, would you be around again next week?"

"Oh, I might," Mary says, swaying her wrist, the other one propping up her chin. "I don't think I have any other jobs."

"If you can't make it, I may model. I think it would be a good experience."

There are enthusiastic exchanges of glances between most of the students.

"I think it would be a good experience to confront me in the nude. You're used to Mary, but to see someone you're accustomed to seeing clothed..."

The water boils. The hostess takes the pot off the stove and begins pouring it into prepared teacups.

"How is it modeling?" a young woman asks Mary. "Is it uncomfortable?"

"No, not at all," Mary says. "As you can see." She casually motions to herself from shoulders to hips. Laughs travel through the kitchen.

"But it is at first, maybe. If you have hang-ups about your body. Or if you get nervous in social situations."

Greg continues looking at the floor from the side of the kitchen.

"Or even if you do feel confident about your body. Being a woman, and being attractive, you might find yourself in some situations where you're there only because of your body. But some artists actually focus on letting the model's personality come out. That's what you keep an eye out for."

Nods of approval and understanding travel around. Mary smiles and accepts her tea.

She takes a savoring sip, then adds: "and I'll be honest, it is kind of exciting at the same time."

Eyes travel to her, even Greg's, and she smiles with her teacup in front of her face.

"You mean you like it for the thrill?" the same young woman asks.

"Sometimes. You get used to it and it becomes more calming than thrilling. But with new clients, there's always that little tinge of excitement; you don't know this person yet. With people you know, you relax more, and it feels more... dreamlike, I guess. Either way, it's wonderful to be naked as often as possible."

Her words echo in everybody's mind and continue to do so for days afterwords. As often as possible.

Kassandra in the Flesh

She sat at the front of the makeshift auditorium at a long table next to a panel moderator, a young, geeky-looking guy with a boyish face and plenty of talk to control the crowd, which was growing. Over a hundred people were sat in the chairs fanned out before the elevated speaking area as they waited for Kassandra, the well-known spokesperson for an indie game—well-known also because she modeled nude on camsites—to speak. The audience was mostly male, but there were womens' faces dotted amongst the beards.

"Alright, I think we're ready to get started," the moderator said, and the crowd hushed. "I'm Paul, not that you aren't sick of me already speaking at these panels, and I'd just like to say I appreciate Miss Kassandra coming out to join us today."

A massive applause filled the room and Kassandra smiled and felt the warmth of a blush. When the noise subsided, she leaned into her mic and said "thanks for coming today," and then waited for the next round of applause to die down.

"Now Kassandra, why don't you tell us a little about the progress of your game?"

She shifted in her chair and half-faced Paul, half-faced the audience.

"Well, we've almost reached our donation goal, so thank you, everybody, for your contributions."

Another roar of applause.

"...And right now we are halfway through the development stage, so I think we might be seeing some new footage pretty soon."

Some impressed murmurs traveled through the room at this.

"Do you think we might see some new footage of you anytime soon?" a voice asked from the crowd, and it was met with a few laughs and a smirk from Kassandra.

"Let's save the questions for the end," Paul said, adding, "and let's not bother Kassandra with anything unrelated to the game development."

"No, that's okay, Paul," Kassandra said. "It's kind of hard to not address it once the secret's out."

Paul was looking at her with a disbelieving look that seemed to say, stick to the script, stupid.

"And to answer your question, yes, although maybe not anytime soon," she concluded. This was met with a few more laughs, and a sense of relief, as if the tension was suddenly lifted.

"You've been busy, obviously," Paul said, trying to steer the conversation back on topic. Kassandra just smiled; she didn't care what topic they talked about. She wasn't heavily involved in the game, but merely a friend of the developer and a spokesperson for the project as a whole. People were more likely to stop and listen to a pretty girl than a disheveled looking man, and this was a reality that she accepted, though the ridiculous ease with which their target audience got distracted by her naked body was a tad irritating.

"Yes, pretty busy," she said. "On the development side, and on the social media side. You guys are a handful."

Everybody laughed.

"Yes, everybody's impatient for the game," Paul said.

"No, I mean on the damage control side of things."

"Oh, well we don't have to talk about that," Paul said, growing obviously nervous.

"Like I said, I don't mind talking about it. It's obviously on everybody's mind here, right?"

She scanned the crowd. Eyes averted her; most of the men in the crowd suddenly looked at their feet, or off to the corner of the room.

"I mean, once it was found out that I pose nude on occasion, why, that seems to be all that everybody talked about. I guess it actually helped with the game, in a way. Although it's a shame that that's what it takes."

The guilt in the silence was now unbearable. Paul's mouth hung open as he helplessly awaited what Kassandra might say next. She didn't care about offending him. Nothing she did here could hurt the game. They were on track to be a runaway smash no matter what, and whatever got people talking would keep it in the public's eye for even longer.

She sat and waited for Paul to direct another question towards her, but he seemed frozen in his tracks now. So she kept going.

"I get about a hundred messages every day, either saying how much they love my pictures, or going so far as to request private ones from me. Some are nice, others aren't. Some people try to shame me. A few dedicated gamers say I'm bringing the project down, yada yada. I get maybe six e-mails asking about the game in general. I usually reply to the nice ones, no matter what they're talking about."

"Well..." Paul came to life. "It's good to know that there are plenty of people out there still interested and civil."

Kassandra smirked. The tone of the audience's silence was still strained, and it was beginning to annoy her. She quickly scanned the audience to see if there were any children, and she stood up. Paul started, "what are you—" and in the next second, she was pulling her shirt over her head.

"It's obvious that we're not going to get far in this panel by ignoring the elephant in the room," she said as she pulled her jeans down, revealing black panties, matching her black bra, which she then went about unstrapping as she continued to talk. "So we might as well learn to look it in the eye."

The bra fell, and all eyes lifted to her homely, modest breasts, which everybody was used to seeing in still images on their computer screens, and not live in front of them (in fact, a half of the audience had never seen a naked breast in person before).

She hooked her panties, and took them down, crouching a little to step out of them, and then she stood to full, bare posture. A neat little triangle of dark, trimmed hair winked out at the crowd, and the phrase "look it in the eye" repeated in Kassandra's mind. Indeed eyes traveled down now, and as she watched the shocked faces, she finally did see that there was a child in the audience, a young boy of about thirteen, whose eyes his mother strickenly covered as he grasped at her hands, trying to see. Kassandra didn't feel bad. No regrets. It's just the body.

With Paul gaping in horror, Kassandra resumed her seat in front of the audience, the fabric of the chair warm and scratchy on her bare skin.

"So... as we were," she said.

Nobody said a word, so Kassandra picked up for them.

"Like I said, there will be some video soon. There's been a lot of debugging and there will be a good first chunk of the game that may even be playable by that time."

Á hushed response from the crowd. The young teenager was now fighting against the pull of his mother as she tried to drag him out of the room. Paul stood up reflexively. His mouth opened to say something to calm the crowd, but he did not know what to say. Kassandra lifted her hand.

"It's okay, Paul," she said. "We should be able to continue talking with me being here like this."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize," he began.

"Don't apologize."

"I apologize."

"Does anybody have any questions?" Kassandra continued. There was a long pause, but a hand eventually did shoot up.

"Do you hang around naked in the office?" a young man asked. Kassandra laughed.

"No, I don't. Why would I?"

"I guess it would be too distracting," Paul inserted, with a detectable air of ire.

"Maybe," Kassandra said. "But after a while, I'm sure we would all get used to it. That's never been something on anyone's mind, though. Plus, it's a little chilly in the office."

A small wave of laughter traveled through the crowd, and Kassandra smiled. She noted that the mother and her son had not fully exited, and the young boy was standing hypnotized at her but was listening to her at the same time, and the mother even seemed interested in what she was saying.

"So are you going to be in the game at all?" a cheery guy asked, and Kassandra laughed herself.

"No, I'm afraid not. I don't know where I'd fit in."

She adjusted herself in her seat, feeling quite comfortable now to be rid of her clothes. Her movement seemed to capture the audience's attention, and she felt the eyes on her breasts as they moved, and felt the eyes try to catch a glimpse of her lap underneath the table. So she took her microphone and stood. Paul's eyes now helplessly followed her as she paced at the edge of the little stage.

"Well while we're in a lull, I give you a rundown of everything that's in the game so far," Kassandra said, holding the mic like a motivational speaker, watching the gazes travel left and right with her. "The playable level I mentioned will have a fully interactive environment. We're looking to make it as immersive as possible. You might just be impressed with the amount of detail in it. For example, you'll even be able to take off your clothes, just like me right now."

Another wave of laughter loosened the crowd and Kassandra beamed more naturally.

"Its actually pretty funny to see the different characters react to you. There are even hidden stealth missions."

"Like you can sneak through areas naked and try not to get caught?" the boy with his mother said from the back of his room.

"Yep, it's actually pretty tense."

A hand went up and Kassandra pointed towards it.

"Did you guys get that idea from experience?"

Kassandra smiled.

"No, actually. It's just a fun thing that was added. I don't even remember who came up with it. You can also romance certain characters. There's actually a whole lot you can do, which is impressive for an indie game."

More hands went up, and Kassandra began answering questions as she stood on stage nude, while Paul forfeited the entire panel to her, resigning to just sitting back and watching her butt pass back and forth (he was very obvious about it). But despite the eye candy, the conversation commenced, and interest did appear to be generated, to the point that Paul looked away several times from the nudity right in front of him to react to an insightful question that would occasionally come from the audience. He almost lost track of time, but eventually, quite naturally, he announced to Kassandra that their time was coming up. Kassandra thanked the crowd and asked Paul if he wanted to add anything, to which he said no.

"You are welcome to hang behind and ask questions before the next panel," Kassandra told the audience.

And they did. Half the crowd gathered around her, standing in queue to ask more direct questions, get autographs, and to merely be around her, as she remained unclothed the entire time. The young kid managed to get away from his mother and shouldered himself to the front of the group, standing in awe and listening to Kassandra's every word.

Several group pictures were taken, which Kassandra did not mind. Even the kid goaded somebody to take his phone and snap his picture with her, to his mother's shocked response from the back of the room. Eventually Paul got her attention and told her to get dressed before the next panelist entered, but she hung by for a little extra. She was pulling her blouse down over her stomach just the door was opened.

All-in-all, the panel ended up being a success, and the game continued trending online, even more so than before, though Kassandra got a rant of disbelief from her friend afterwards. He was mad, shocked, but he couldn't deny the results. Elsewhere, the pictures floated around, the most-shared and celebrated was her with the admiring teenager, him blushing and beside himself, Kassandra's tan skin pressing against his side.

Rising Star

"Yes Ma'am, I'm aware. Yes, I know the clientele age group. The train has already started rolling, though, I don't know if I can stop it—yes, she has many people expecting it already, that's money right there. ...What do you mean to hell with the money? Okay, look, I'll try to get her to clean up her act a little. I'm just saying, its difficult to— yes ma'am."

Marcus put away his cell phone and sighed. Half of the strain was just struggling to listen to Mrs. Carmandy, the label owner, over the drone through the doors by which he stood.

The crowd got louder. Leah had come on stage.

*****

Her band could barely be heard over the roar of her fans, even though the venue had massive speakers everywhere. But as Leah appeared through the smoke and leaned forward at the edge of the stage, the crowd quieted.

"How's everybody doin' tonight? Now I know you're ready for Leah!"

The crowd exploded, almost as if they were angry, completely mad and intoxicated with their star. She launched right into her first set, appropriately aggressive and hip. She marched up and down the stage, shaking it in a very small pair of denim shorts and a white t-shirt that read, in bold letters, "Revolutionary."

Come on, get down,

We got the whole night

So let's go downtown.

Come on, cut loose,

Sex, rock 'n roll

And substance abuse!

Marcus stepped into the amphitheater and stood in back with his arms folded. The song was typical Leah, but that was not what Mrs. Carmandy was up in arms about. That part was to come. As Leah sashayed up and down the stage, she worked at the beltline of her shorts with her one free hand while the other held the microphone. A minute of doing this and those shorts were down, past her knees, and she stopped to let them fall and to step out of them, and she continued the song bottomless, completely bottomless, to the crowd's elation. Nary was there a disbelieving eye anymore at any of Leah's concerts, as they were all accustomed to it, and—as Marcus had told Mrs. Carmandy—expecting it. It would be understandable for there to be doubt amongst anybody seeing this for the first time. The fact that she was clean-shaven made it almost look like she was wearing hosiery, but after enough time, it became obvious. And then the top came off. Marcus marveled at how he again didn't notice how she managed to pull her t-shirt over her head without missing a beat. It always escaped his attention how she did it.

Now she was completely nude, her breasts bouncing with each rhythmic step, bouncing to the beat, which picked up, along with the roar of the increasingly excited crowd. She usually didn't change her demeanor when she stripped, instead acting as if it were any normal pop concert (which it technically was) and this lent a sort of curious innocence to the performances.

But tonight, her show was spicier. She moved her pressed-together legs in a snakey motion, the delta of her thighs teasing, and she sunk to the ground and crawled on her butt and heels, occasionally crossing and shifting her legs and giving brief vaginal glimpses.

I bet you wonder

What my skin feels like.

I bet you need

To hold me tight.

Marcus frowned. She was stepping it up a notch. Again. Mrs. Carmandy would have a shit.

Leah jumped up from her seductive perch as the beat picked up, and she waltzed along the stage:

I see you looking

Every day,

I see you yearning

In every way,

But you can't have me,

You can only look,

You can't learn how to get me

From a book.

Beads of sweat were gathering on her body, Making her glitter occasionally, only occasionally, as the stage lights hit her bronze skin at just the right angle, turning her into a body of stars in the eyes of her fans, a celestial being, her breasts galaxies. And she ate it all up. She figured not many of her fans appreciated anything more than just the chance to see her naked, but if enough people appreciated it on some deeper level, then that was enough.

*****

Marcus was tapping his foot backstage when Leah came through the door, still nude, with the sound of her hollering fans behind her.

"Whooh!" she said, "I think the entire attendance was crammed back in that hallway. I couldn't sign autographs without bumping into people!"

"Leah, this has gone too far. Mrs. Carmandy is going to have a shit."

"Oh, don't worry about her," Leah said as she went about the room. She went to the mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, leaning back and drinking it desperately, so that rivulets coursed down her collarbone and onwards.

"Mrs. Carmandy is upset because people are upset. Not just people. Sponsors. Money, Leah. And this venue might have known what they were getting, but the residents did, too, and they don't like it."

"I don't care if they don't like it."

"Well we do, and I think even the venue here might be surprised at the turn your set took. Now what the hell was that?"

"I'm already naked, are they really going to be suddenly upset if I act sexy, too?"

"Yes, for Chrissakes yes, Leah. That matters. And speaking of which, please put some damn clothes on when I'm reprimanding you."

"Oh Marcus, aren't you already used to it?"

"It's different when I'm angry."

"Then don't be angry," she said, standing and pouting, which almost had the desired effect. Leah was cute, as is the prerequisite for a pop star, and it was almost too much to see her, with her dark bangs, glittering eyes, and dimpled face complimented by a body that was nude, and for all intents and purposes, conventionally attractive.

But Marcus was a bush man and was not so easily manipulated.

"Put your clothes on, get ready for the bus ride back. In case you forgot, you can't run naked outside this building."

A deeper pout from the pop star, and a wiggle in her naked body.

"Now. We'll talk about your new paradigm with Mrs. Carmandy."

*****

What was meant to happen was that Leah was going to be asked into Mrs. Carmandy's office, along with Marcus, a very brief talk was going to commence, and Leah was going to be let go from the label. And while they did hear of many angry comments from locals directed towards the last venue (how did they know and why did they care as long as it was contained inside the concert hall, Marcus wondered, until he saw the angry letter Mrs. Carmandy showed him in which a mother exclaimed: "I let my daughter go to this show! Had I known...") they also got lots—and lots—of publicity, and not necessarily the bad kind, though there is no such thing. Buzzfeed, Daily Mail, and all the click-bait sites ran stories on the show, and a few on Leah in general, though by now she was no strange face on the internet. Only to baby boomers, And they weren't the ones buying tickets.

So money talked, and Mrs. Carmandy was not so morally opposed to Leah as to not let the train ride a little longer. The meeting never happened, and Leah went on satisfied that she had allayed her superiors for a little while longer. Then she got an invite to perform at a charity event held by Live Aid.

"You've got to be kidding me," Marcus had said.

The event was to benefit the ongoing rescue of victims of sexual trafficking in Southeast Asia, a cause which nobody ignored the inappropriateness of pairing with Leah's sensuality. Many objected. Mothers and activists protested. Even Leah's fans cringed with concern. Marcus tried to be diplomatic with Leah, and as usual, he had difficulty making her budge.

"I'm not going to do the sexy song, Marcus, don't worry."

"Yeah but are you planning on doing the benefit naked?"

"I'm going to do it a little different."

"I said: Are. You. Planning. On doing. The benefit. Naked."

"It's only inappropriate if you do it inappropriately."

"Look. Leah. Mrs. Carmandy is going to drop you if you take your clothes off there, you got that? She doesn't even want you going to this thing. You know it would look good on a PR standpoint if you were reserved enough to turn the invitation down. It would show a moral compass and more people would get behind you."

"But it's an honor to be called on for a thing like this, plus they wouldn't invite me if they had issue with the way I perform."

She got up and started pacing across her living room while Marcus sat patiently on the sofa.

"Also why doesn't Mrs. Carmandy just forbid me from going? What's stopping her from stepping in and making a statement?"

"Like you said, it's an honor to be chosen for this."

Leah paced with a different step now, and a smile appeared on her lips.

"Or you know," Marcus said, "it would be equally well-received if you still did the concert but made it very clear in the beginning that you won't take your clothes off as a show of respect to the victims."

"But it's not the body that's responsible for their pain. It's others' lack of respect for it."

"But still, you could-"

"No."

*****

The benefit was held outside in a grand amphitheater. Leah was preceded by many other performers. Several took moments to talk about the trafficking victims and the battle to free them. The concert went on from morning to mid-afternoon as a mood was set. Spirits were high, and altruistic, and after a lunch intermission of socializing, mobilizing, and postulating, the attendees returned, to meet a new change of pace as Leah took stage.

She wore what looked like a wool robe, very airy and comfy in appearance, and she walked on stage to a sudden and complete silence, with acoustic guitar in hand. A stage hand, from the other side, brought out a stool, which he set in front of the microphone, which he then troubled himself to lower, and he was not completely offstage before Leah, in preparation to sit, disrobed.

A collective murmur traveled through all assembled. It was loud as any cheer. And Leah, her whole front bare, sat down and became modest under the cover of her guitar and her crossed legs. Somewhere, on the other side of a closed-circuit television, Marcus spat out his drink.

Leah did not open with any words for the victims. She didn't even address the crowd with a glance. It was as if she was up on stage by herself, in an empty amphitheater. And she strummed her guitar and began:

Tell me, do you hear

the cries of the unloved?

Can you feel their torment

or are you safe up above?

I bet you see them

just as others have seen them,

They see them like you see me.

With nothing between me

and you

But a veil intrudes.

The quiet over the crowd, the command Leah had over her fans, was absolute. Not one person talked, or shouted out. All murmurs had ceased. Not even a camera flashed, and anybody who thought about it was given pause by a feeling of guilt, Even Marcus, in his backroom away from the crowd, was brought to a mental hush. Slack-jawed the audience watched, slack-jawed Marcus and even Mrs. Carmandy far away watched, and the opponents, watching live streams, and everybody, were hypnotized by Leah's recital of words she had spent many sleepless hours perfecting. And her nudity, at once innocent and erotic, was both put aside and held in attention by the people in the crowd; her crossed, bare legs, hiding her guilt, until she stood up, when her first song finished, and held her guitar at her side, hiding nothing. Then she bowed, briefly concealing all and then immediately revealing all again. And so entranced was the crowd by both the nudity and the message that it conveyed that a long silence passed after Leah's bow, followed by a sudden and deafening applause, which was followed by a more casual and comfortable next set of songs.

When Leah was done, she stood and bowed again, and then took the time to speak to the crowd about the plight of the victims, a soliloquy that was more punctuation than proposal, and words that would do no good to be recited here, as the only thing necessary to know is that Mrs. Carmandy never fired Leah, and nobody ever came at her, and that she enjoyed a long, prosperous career after this event.

Vignette 2: The Car Wash

It started out as a simple fundraiser for the university's theater program. But it was a hot day, and the hand car wash in the parking lot of the local community center soon turned into something hotter. It all went downhill when Rick sprayed Julie with a hose. Stupidly (or perhaps strategically), she was wearing a white t-shirt. This, of course, was to the delight of the customers. In vengeance, Julie sprayed Rick, who shrugged it off, as it was a hot day, and the water felt good. But a clingy wet t-shirt did not, so eventually, Rick peeled it off.
Soon customers were gazing out of their windows at the chiseled man's chest and the well-endowed young woman's through her see-through shirt.
"But that's not fair," Julie had said, and Rick only shrugged. Double standards are a bitch.
But double standards be damned, Julie didn't care. She stripped off her shirt, and her chest gave a big shake behind her bra. Everybody thought she was stopping there, but soon her bra was off as well, and her oblong breasts were already collecting droplets of water. Everybody's mouth was agape. Rick, for the first time, looked scared. What if the head of the community center came outside? But Julie didn't care. She picked up a sponge and went right back to work, her breasts pressing against the window of the delighted owner inside.
More and more people came then, and as the work piled up, some customers seemed disappointed that the people washing their cars weren't topless. Their faces could be seen, downcast, through the curtains of cascading water on their windshields. One old man even asked rather directly: "is this a naked car wash?" By now the others had gotten brave, and Julie continued washing cars with her breasts bare, so Tina also took off her top. And then Stacey. Craig took off his shirt.
Not one to be upstaged, Richard stopped what he was doing and unbuckled his belt. To everybody's shock, he took down his jeans and stood completely in the nude, his penis hanging down from a springy patch of pubic hair. Like Julie, he picked up a sponge and went back to work, the center of many a female gaze at the car wash. Turned on so was the rest of the group that they too completed their disrobing. Julie stood back and watched the scene with a smirk, and then took down her shorts, revealing her smooth crotch.
In no time at all, the car wash become a scene of pale bottoms, and tan curves and tones. Everybody was naked, and the lot was at its busiest moment, and by the time that the lady from the community center did come out, it was too late to stop it. And that's how the campus tradition of the naked car wash was born.

Wherever Allowed

The sky is slate gray, and a chill breeze sails across the rooftop, but that does not deter the people there from swimming. They do not want to believe that summer is ending. The air may not be warm, but the water still is; residual warmth from hotter days, warmth that will soon dissipate.

Only a few people cling to this pining for summer. Young, in their twenties, with enough money and free time to enjoy the early evening. It is a small gathering: Sandra, Tina, and Tom. There was another, but he went inside because it was too cold, and everybody teased him. He would be missing out. Sandra is wading hip-deep through the water, not caring about how cold the air is on her upper torso, her nipples protruding through her bra.

None of them had bothered to bring swimsuits. None of them had any. But they wanted to swim. And now they were left resorting to the movie-version of what skinny dipping was. After all, who swims in their underwear? It is uncomfortable. It clings to your skin, it weighs you down, and it makes drying off impossible. But they were, of course, bound to the rules of the hotel. Not to mention not quite comfortable enough with each other to cavort around naked. Or so they thought.

Sandra is the one who's had enough. Tina's mouth is agape as her friend reaches behind her own back and lets her bra fall.

"Oh my god, Sandra, what are you doing?" She squeals the last word in her utter disbelief.

"I can't stand this thing anymore," Sandra says. Her tits are small and perky, with unusually dark areolas. "Besides, nobody is here."              

"He is here!" Tina shouts, pointing to Tom, who leans against the opposite wall of the deep end with only his head above the water. Sandra cranes her neck.

"You don't mind, do you, Tom?" she calls.

He raises his head a little so as to not sputter water as he speaks. "Not in the slightest," he says.

Tina minds, however. She had never seen her friend's boobs before, and she never had planned on it. And she does not have time enough to be scandalized before Sandra lowers herself to her shoulders and her panties float up.

"You don't have to do it," Sandra says, "but I'm going to get comfortable."

As her friends watch, Sandra collects her floating undergarments and swims to the edge of the pool, where she pushes herself out of the water and out into the open for everybody to see. Water glides down her back and bottom.

"Whew, that's cold!" she shouts. She scampers over to the wrought-iron gate and hangs her underwear there to dry the best they can in the cold breeze, and then hurries back to the water, her tiny chest bouncing in abrupt little shakes, her triangle of hair twinkling with droplets. Tina stares at her full-frontal profile before Sandra jumps back in.

She comes up with a delighted face, her black hair clinging to her forehead.

"SO much better!" she cries, and paddles through the water while her friends stare. If their other friend had returned, he would have seen her garments hanging there, the others sitting still, and Sandra gliding through the water, her pale form wavering just inches below the surface as she kicked her legs.

But he never came, and he did miss out. As did Tina, for there is no better way to swim than without your clothes.

Convention

Greg sat at the hotel bar, which was nestled in the corner of the room and managed to be comfortably-lit and a pleasant place to pass the time for the past several hours. It was midnight, two hours away from last call, but Greg didn't have two hours' worth of bar money to spend. Large groups of costumed people passed the bar in waves. It had picked up some. Just as Greg looked up, his friend Nim pulled up next to him.

"Hey dude," he said.

"Oh, there you are."

"Yeah, sorry, it was better than I expected up there."

"Oh? Worth going?"

"Too late now, my dude."

"Oh well."

"No 'oh well,' it was awesome. I'm sorry you don't really feel like doing anything, but you better hope they're back up there tomorrow, bud. Unlikely for a Sunday, though."

"That hot, huh?"

"Dude, you have no idea."

"Well, lets hear it."

"Well I'll tell you, it was like streaker central up there."

"Oh yeah? A lot of hot girls?"

"A good many of them."

"How far did they go?"

"Well, the first thing I saw when I walked in was a girl cosplaying as Mystique."

"Of course."

"Of course, yeah. She was in full body paint, and nothing else."

"Nice."

"Yeah. Well actually she had scales pasted on, too. It looked pretty legit. But she didn't have anything pasted over her nipples. She did not give a fuck. So I knew I was going to be in for an awesome night."

"What all did you see?"

"There were all types there. A lot of guys dressing up, too. Or dressing down. A lot of people wearing conveniently-placed armor and leather. There was a whole crew dressed up as Nudist Beach from Kill la Kill. And of course there was a Ryuko and Satsuki."

"And what else?"

"Alright, let me paint a picture for you, my friend. Step into my eyes. But first, let me get a drink."

Nim ordered a drink, a double whiskey on the rocks, and while he waited for it, Greg glanced behind them to see if he would catch a glimpse of any of these risque cosplayers his friend spoke about.

"You're not gonna see any, dude, that stuff is pretty well-contained," Nim said. "Con rules."

"I wasn't really looking for anyone."

"You will when I'm done. You'll start imagining them everywhere."

"Oh, get on with it."

Nim received his drink and took a sip—a big sip for whiskey. He liked to loosen up before telling a story.

"Alright, well I was hanging out by Mystique for a while, because she was pretty impressive, and that's when Nudist Beach passed by, with their conveniently-placed straps, but as they passed, I saw that none of them bothered to cover up their bums."

"Well, Mystique's was bare too, right?"

"Yeah, but she had makeup. These had nothing."

"Not much difference."

"No, but it's more shocking."

"There were dudes in that group too, right?"

"Yeah, so what? No big deal. Hell, I saw my share of cock there."

"Oh really." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah. Well there was this one guy who had the balls to walk around with a flasher coat open, and his hard-on wavin' about for the world, but he had a little monkey face attached at the end. I couldn't believe it. Okay, my eye strayed a bit too long, and that's when I looked away, and I saw the girl standing in the corner.

"She was completely nude. There was nothing covering her, except for her long hair hanging down in front of her boobs. I couldn't tell if her pussy was cleverly covered with a fig leaf or something like that because of all the people passing between us, but I worked through the crowd and saw her bush, unmistakable.

"There was a guy standing with her, too, his dick just hanging there. I was floored. They did just not give a fuck, and apparently the con organizers didn't, either, because nobody stopped them. All the others I had seen seemed to be exercising just the barely acceptable amount of restraint, like they didn't know how much they could get away with, and apparently it was a lot.

"So these two are just standing there, and there's a small semicircle of people around them, including me, which is why I didn't notice the inflatable palm tree next to them at first.

"'What's this supposed to be?' I ask them, trying to keep my eyes 'up here' but noticing the way the girl's hair parted and revealed her areolas.

"'You know, Blue Lagoon!' she says. Of course. It was pretty minimal, but I guess that's the point.

"I told her I never saw or read The Blue Lagoon, but this sure made me interested in seeing it now. I say, 'I can't believe you guys have the guts to do this,' and she smiled, 'well yeah!' and spun around on her tippy-toes, showing everything, her small butt, her breasts as her hair slid and lifted when she spun. The guy didn't do much, just sort of stood there smiling, kind of a stage smile, and to me it felt restrained, assuming I was right in assuming that this was her boyfriend, and he was uncomfortable with people oggling her as they were, but I might be projecting based on what I would feel if I were in his shoes (oh, he didn't have shoes).

"'So what we're trying to do,' the girl says, 'is get more castaways.'

"'Castaways?' I say, and she's like 'yeah, it's just us two on this island, it gets boring,' and I'm like 'well it looks like you have plenty of people that just washed up.'

"'Yeah, but they're just standing here,' she says, and she asks, 'what's the first thing you would do if you landed on an island paradise?'

"It was obvious what I was supposed to say. 'Take off my clothes?' I ask her, and she yells 'bingo!'"

"So did you take off your clothes?"

"You bet."

"Wow."

"What?"

"You're crazy."

"Oh, it wasn't that hard, really."

"Ew, don't want to know."

Nim paused for a second. "I mean it wasn't that difficult."

"Oh." Greg stared dumbly past the bar and then realized his beer was empty. He craned his neck to see if he could locate the bartender, because he was going to need a drink if he was going to hear about Nim getting naked. Unfortunately the bartender seemed to be slacking off somewhere.

"I did get a little hard, for a brief moment," Nim said as they waited.

"Oh God, don't want to know."

"Man, get over yourself. So I have a penis. Now you know."

"Beer... beer please!" Greg called to nobody.

"Anyway, it's easy to understand why I did get a little hard, what with how cute and... naked... that the girl was, but also just the excitement of it all. It was exciting to get naked."

"So how'd it happen? Were you the only one doing it?"

"Hell no! Half the people in that group took their clothes off."

"So what'd you do? Just stand there? Were you the first one to do it?"

"You seem awfully interested in me getting naked all of a sudden."

"I just think this is interesting. I can't believe stuff like this is going on here."

"Right above your head," Nim said.

They both stopped talking and turned their gazes upwards, at the ceiling through which, five floors above them, the scenes that Nim described had happened.

The bartender returned and sat a beer down in front of Greg without asking. He must have assumed that Greg wasn't going anywhere, or he had heard his desperate plea for alcohol, and either way, Greg pulled it close, like a comfortable pillow, and he didn't take a drink until Nim resumed speaking.

"So yeah, I led the charge," he continued, "I figured 'screw it, why not?' and just took off my pants first. I don't know why I did it that way, I guess I was just excited to get straight to it. And I was, um, 'excited' too, from the energy of the moment and the buildup with this girl, this Brooke Shields cosplayer. She was clapping and bouncing on her heels as I stripped, glad I was so easily swayed. I took off my shirt and then it was easier to see that I was a little rigid and she froze for a second, like she wasn't expecting it, and I thought for sure right there that her boyfriend was going to beat me up.

"He was just standing to the side and raised his eyebrows, and it was also right then that I realized that I was standing there hard in front of everybody else. Everything froze for a moment, and I was like 'aww hell, what have I done?' But then a girl from the semi-circle started taking off her shirt, and that's when the party really got started."

"Damn, so you set a trend?"

"I guess. Either way, I was glad, first because the pressure was off, and this girl was cute, too. She had a pixie cut, so there was nothing to hang down over her chest. It was enough to make me flustered, But everybody else joined in after that. Guys, girls; I relaxed then. So by this time the whole room was naked, or partially naked with crazy costumes, and everybody was just standing around talking, chatting each other up while keeping their eyes 'up here,' which I guess wasn't that hard, since everybody seemed natural about it. I didn't have that much trouble either, actually, although the eye did stray occasionally, but no more than in a normal situation. Once you got used to it."

"So there wasn't anything sexual going on there?"

"Actually, there was."

"Oh really?" Greg said, leaning closer.

"Not a lot, but... well, when I went to one corner of the room to see what was up, the guy I mentioned earlier, the guy with the monkey mask on his dick, he was standing in a circle of people with his arms crossed behind his back, and there were girls reaching out and giving him a little tug. The monkey head fell off, and the hands were going over his head (it was glistening), and I was getting a little hard looking at that, so I started to turn away. But right then I caught sight of the Blue Lagoon girl. She was there, in that circle, putting her hands on that guy's dick and grinning and throwing excited glances between the other girls with her."

"So, I guess her boyfriend didn't have a problem with that sort of thing afterall."

"Or he didn't know."

"So did you step up to bat?"

"I started to, but somebody came up and told them to stop, and they spread out."

"Aww damn, I thought you were gonna give me a good ending to that part."

"That's okay," it was a fun night, anyway. And honestly, it was all the better for not being dirty. There was no pressure, it was kind of cool just to chill."

Nim stopped and took a deep swig of his whiskey, which he had not been able to drink much of while narrating his tale.

"What that room could have used was a good open bar."

"Is that why you came down? To get a drink?"

"Hell no, are you kidding? I didn't want to leave that room for the world, It had to end, though, They didn't want people hanging up there all night, and eventually some hotel staffer told us it was time to head out, so they could clean up the room for tomorrow. It was odd seeing everybody put their clothes back on before going out, too. I felt like I was leaving some porn shoot or something. And it was really disappointing to put those clothes back on.

"So that puts me here," Nim said, "Drinking with you."

"Yeah, I'll admit," Greg said, "I kinda wish I had been there."

"Well that's what you get for sitting on your thumbs all night."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Excuse me," a light female voice said, and Greg turned his head to see a young woman, bare on her shoulders, bare everywhere, her chest covered by her long, dark hair just as Nim described to him. She stood on her toes to lean over the bar, her hair swaying forward and the globes of her breasts revealed, and she raised a hand to get the attention of the bartender, and his attention was soon gotten.

"Is the bar still open?" the naked girl asked.

Relax

Sam walked down the hallway with Katy, his friend and his light crush. He agreed to spend the evening with her just chilling, studying for their upcoming exam a little, and then just kicking back and playing video games. Her roommates were going to be there as well. This whole setup turned Sam off a bit, but he tagged along as he always did.

"They might already be here, but they have exams too. We should be able to concentrate," she told him as she reached her door and fished out her key. "It should be easy to relax."

She opened the door, and the dorm inside was rather small, warmly lit with just desk lamps. Three regular beds were positioned on different sides of the room, and one of them was occupied. Its occupant raised her head up from under the covers.

"Hi Katy."

Directly across from the door, on the other wall, was a computer desk, which someone was sitting at. Sam could see the dark hair on the top of the person's head and her tan shoulders sticking out on either side of the chair. At the announcement of Katy, the girl in the chair swiveled around to face them, and Sam froze as he saw that a lot more was bare other than her shoulders.

"Welcome back—oh."

"I told you I was bringing a friend," Katy said. Sam stood with his mouth hanging open.

"You did," the seated friend said, and smirked. "I'm Michelle," she said, sticking out her hand. Sam just stood there, until Katy nudged him forward, and he stumbled forth and involuntarily approached the buck-naked roommate, sitting there in her chair, olive skin against pumpernickel fabric. Sam's eyes drifted down to her lap, where a nest of thin hairs triangled where her legs pressed and pointed towards him.

He took the hand—or, she took his—and they shook.

The girl in the bed rolled over and reached her hand out.

"I'm Anna," she said. Her hair was shoulder length, and sandy blonde, and hung over her face a bit. Sam looked in her direction and went through the motions of a handshake.              

"We like to relax here. This is our room, after all," she said. "Don't freak out, we're pretty chill here."

"Yes," Katy said, stepping forward and pulling up her shirt. Sam turned in awe at the girl he'd been fawning over for years as she revealed herself casually. The shirt was tossed on another nearby bed, and soon the bra, the bra that he had never seen, was off and tossed on the bed as well, and he saw her topless for the first time, modest, mid-sized breasts that he had only imagined. And soon she was fully nude to him for the first time, because she didn't waste time taking down her bottom, answering the question of how she was groomed down there with the sight of a strip of black hair, and the faint impression of a tanline, where a bikini bottom had covered up what was up until now a mystery to him.

She turned to him, smiling and observing his state. "Relax," she said. "You can relax here. Come on, let's get to that chapter we were supposed to review."

With that, she bounced over to her bed, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with the situation, and it took Sam a bit to follow. He stood before the bed as she rolled onto it and pulled a book from her shelf, plopping it in front of her as she sat cross-legged, her crotch just right there for his eyes to see.

"You can get on, come on," she said, and he worked up the motivation to sit on the side of the bed.

Another door opened and a light cloud of steam entered the room, followed by another girl, fully nude and dabbing her hair with a towel.

"Thanks for letting me use your shower guys—oh, hi Katy. And hi," she said, pausing only slightly at Sam's presence and continuing over to the other side of the room as she finished drying herself. Sam watched her in a hypnotized way, seeing her in full, front, side, and back.

"Weren't you guys studying tonight too?" Katy asked.

"We stopped a while ago," Michelle said from her seat. "But don't let us bother you."

"We won't. I don't think this will take long anyway. Don't you think?"

It took Sam a moment to realize that she was directing the last question at him, and he looked up at her, not used to looking at her in this state, and stammered out a "no."

A look of judgment seemed to pass over her eyes, and her posture changed slightly.

"You know, you would probably feel more relaxed if you got naked like us. So you won't be the odd one out."

His already-quickening heart-rate quickened some more, and it showed on his face.

"No pressure," Katy said, laughing. But Anna, rolling over excitedly in her bed, lit up.

"Yeah! Get naked! You'll feel better."

The un-named girl who had come from the shower turned to face him, looking at him expectantly and with an amused face, and Michelle turned around in her chair.

"Look, uh..." Sam said.

"Don't think that this is some sort of orgy or something," Michelle said. "We're just relaxing."

"Yeah," Katy said.

"I'm not very relaxed."

"You will be."

Was this peer pressure? Sam thought. What would be more awkward, taking off his clothes with a room full of pretty naked girls his age, including one he liked, or remaining clothed in the same situation? Or walking out, which he considered? He would never be able to face Katy again if he did that. So he pulled up his shirt, and the girls in the room cheered.

He stood up from the bed, shaking, and unbuckled his belt. Michelle, at her desk, casually looked at him, but did not stare, even with his penis wagging, half-erect once released. He stepped out of his pants and got back on the bed, and his cock lay against his leg for everybody to see. It didn't stay down long.

The girls didn't seem overly concerned, and Katy was already holding her book, but she smiled at him and said, "feel better?"

"Uh, yeah, I think."

"Okay, well anyway, how far did you get in today's chapter?" she asked, and Sam fumbled to retrieve his book, getting accustomed to the feeling of his dick moving around and feeling like a source of attention, getting accustomed to and very much liking the comfortable feeling of his bare skin against the blanket. His skin touched Katy's as he opened the book and leaned over to show her.

"I, uh, kind of didn't get far."

"Oh, well that's okay, I can sum up for you. Where exactly did you leave off?"

"Right here," he said, touching the space on the page.

"Oh, well that's not too bad," Katy said. "Actually it's pretty downhill from there."

"Yeah, it was just this figure that kind of got my head swimming," Sam said, pointing to a chart.

"Well look here," Katy said, reaching down to turn the page. As she did, her wrist brushed against his erection, and he trembled.

Katy made a pleasant little laugh, which sent Sam’s heart racing.

"This is the second part of the chart," she said. Sam attempted to concentrate on it, amidst his dick hovering at the end of the page, and his crush's hand hovering so close to it.

"This is all the information from the first chart, only expanded. See?"

"I, uh...."

"Look," she said, and flipped the page back. The edge of the book nudged his cock, and it waved.

"This is the macro-view," she said, and she flipped the page forward again, and he was bumped by her wrist this time. "And this is the micro. Can you see it now?"

"U-uh huh..."

"Everything's bigger."

One of the girls laughed. Sam looked up and Anna threw her covers off, but remained prone, turning from lying on her back to lying on her stomach, so Sam could see her delights on both sides. The curves of her back made an erotic landscape and his penis approached full rigidity.

"Look at the macro-view again," Katy said as Sam stared at her roommate, and she turned the page, and even though neither her hand nor the book touched him this time, he came, geysering right in front of her and sending ribbons of his semen over the pages, and dots of it on her blanket.

"Whoops!" she cried.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" he stammered through his wave of euphoria.

"That's okay. Grab a tissue, would you, Michelle?"

Michelle dutifully got up from her post in front of her computer and pranced to the bathroom. Sam watched her bouncing butt depart, and then she returned quickly with a bundle of tissues. Next Sam found himself doted on by both of them as they dabbed up his semen on his abdomen and on the tip of his dick. He twitched, and his heart continued to pound.

"Calm down, boy," Katy said.

"S-sorry." The tone she used on him absolutely murdered him inside, as did seeing them dab up his cum off of Katy's bed. As the two college girls finished cleaning his mess, Michelle stood up to dispose of the tissues, and Katy cuddled up next to him. The book lay ashamedly in front of them, with dark spots where his cum had landed, and as Sam looked down at it, his eyes widened.

"Oh!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"Now I get it."

Katy laughed harder than he had ever heard her laugh before, and she slapped his shoulder and leaned in against him.

"Well, we accomplished something," she said. "How about a break?"

"Sure," Sam said. "Wanna watch a movie?"

He inwardly kicked himself right as he said it. Everybody laughed. Michelle returned and plopped back into her seat.

"Sure," Michelle said, surprising Sam. "I just downloaded the new Avengers, if you want to watch."

Nobody objected, and she already was clicking on her mouse to bring up her download folder. In minutes, Sam found himself curled up in bed, pressing bare flesh against bare flesh, while they watched the movie.

He had fantasized, for a moment, that he and Katy would have sex on that bed, now that they have seen each others' goods. He at the very least imagined all of them doggy-piling on the one bed as a mass of bare skin. But everything proceeded normally, except for the occasional, tactile friction between his side and Katy's, and the soft press of her breasts against his arm, all which he relished, and the rest of the night proceeded like a normal gathering, only with the absence of clothes. It was definitely not the last time he came there.

Vignette 3: The Reading Room

It is a cramped little bookshop, the kind with narrow aisles and nooks and crannies that lead into sections of the store one didn't know existed. In fact, it seems that there is always a new nook or cranny every time you visit. It is this quality that let the store have its seldom-talked-about but widely-known reading room.

There are in fact several reading rooms, but this one is tucked away in back. One has to slide between two shelves (a feature that some wondered if was meant to keep overweight people out) and you will end up in a sizable room, with many easy chairs, and walls lined with shelves. There is a beveled window letting in natural light, several lamps, and even the room's own bathroom, the entrance to which is in its own nook.

Investigating the nook that leads to this room, one would understandably expect a storage area, a dusty pile of books that could not be sold. And one wouldn't blame them. As for the books in that room, most of them are old, but not necessarily all of them are. The topics vary, but the one quality all of the books share is that they are a little... niche. There are books on living in the wilderness, books on spirituality and Gnosticism. There are nude photobooks, and there is even erotica.

Curiously, there is also a stack of plain white sheets on a corner table as you enter the room, almost as if the owners want people who visit to pick one up first thing, and then perhaps go to the bathroom and wash up, for there are towels with which you can wipe away the sweat of the day, and even powder to keep fresh. Then you are as comfortable as you need to be to come pick your seat, lay out your sheet, and take off your clothes.

It wasn't an official decree that this would be the "naked" room. It more or less happened. It was originally the area where all the odd, uncategorizable, and often racy books were kept, and perhaps on one occasion, while flipping through the aforementioned nude artbooks, a patron became inspired, or perhaps envious of the comfort seen on the pages, and in the big easy chairs, he, or she, began to be uncomfortable in their clothes, pulling and adjusting and fidgeting endlessly, and the patron found it was much more comfortable to sit in the nude.

The owners, when they found out, didn't bother to put a stop to it, but silently acknowledged it, and that is how the sheets came about.

Every now and then an uninformed customer finds their way back there, and is shocked at the sight of one or two other customers reading in the nude. Occasionally the males, when reading erotica,  sport erections, to the delight, sometimes, of others in the room. But no sexual contact ever occurs inside the reading room. People there abide by a loose honor code. Or perhaps―and most likely―nobody wants to get stains on the books.

Hidden Places 1

(The Cutest Nudists)

The way she walked, the way she smiled, the dark twinkle in her eye and braces-laden smile, the thin trim of her body and the tanglepuff between her hips all combined together to create the image of the cutest nudist in the entire nudist park.

Things at the nudist park aren't sexual, but a pretty face is a pretty face and a pretty body is all the same. A delight to look at, and to be around, for her winning smile and jokey talk made her a favorite memory among the visitors there. And perhaps many a crush among the young boys gazing for the first time on a girl without her clothes.

She greeted all as if they were a friend, and when the photo-ops came around, she always hopped in. Standing at the edge of the pool as the cameraman came by, she, with her hands on her hips, closed one eye against the sun, and it looked like a playful wink, as she grinned, full-frontal to the shutter as it snapped and moved on, taking with it the wonderful image, wholesome yet for some erotic, for when the cameraman later reviewed his photos of the day, he stopped at her and took a breath. She was young, and nothing suggestive was in her demeanor, but she was infectious, and the man knew already that the erotic is sometimes pure, effortless. No shame in the body, the mind or soul. Just a pretty naked girl there for us all.

This New Feeling

Chuck's heart had started thumping when he pulled onto the bumpy dirt road, but now that he had parked and saw the groups of nude bodies in his rear-view, his heart was furious in its work. There were many old people, liver-spotted people and fat people. There were toddlers, and fat people carrying babies. Chuck turned around in his seat to get a better view, and with a little bit of shame searched for any attractive women. An older, obscenely-tanned lady of about sixty stood out somewhat, but mixed back in with the sea of aged, weathered skin. There was nobody, no body, that looked like anything out of a magazine or of his fantasies. Everybody was quite what one would call an everyday person, and this at once calmed Chuck but also disappointed him.

Why had he come here in the first place? Partially, deep down, it was to satisfy his lustful curiosity, his desire to see exhibitionism, and to perhaps be a part of it, though this wasn't his full desire. Even when he first read about nudist camps, his nervousness grew. "I couldn't do that," he'd tell himself. Reading these stories, his erection also grew, and that was why he was here. Not for lust, but excitement. He got hard because of the daring thrill of it, the shockingly casual nature with which nudists walked around.

There's no way I could do this, he repeated in his mind. Even in the company of old men, he felt self-conscious. And it was weird. Would those old men be looking at him? Sexually? In a way it was worse than if there were pretty girls there. And what about the kids? The most he saw were toddlers, but he spotted one young boy of about eight skipping along, thin, almost like a girl, except for the barely-noticeable nub of a penis, which he immediately looked away from. Were the other nudists going to storm his vehicle soon? How does one even appropriately cavort around naked in the company of children, also naked?

This was uncomfortable. This was not the erotic paradise he was expecting. Nevertheless, he took a breath, shut off the engine, and got out of the car with his bag. The check-in office was just ahead, and Chuck felt as if he were behind enemy lines as he walked past the pool with all his clothes on. Someone cannonballed into the water—he didn't see who—and a fine spray misted Chuck and made him realize how hot and muggy he was in his clothes.

The man behind the counter was clothed, surprisingly, and Chuck dropped his bag and took out his wallet.

"Uh... I'm Charles. I called earlier about staying for the day."

"Oh yes, I remember you." This made Chuck flinch. "Yes, just yourself?"

"Um, yes."

"That'll be forty dollars, and we accept debit."

"That's okay, I have cash."

He handed the man two twenties he had just got out of the ATM, and when asked if he wanted a receipt, he said no.

"Well, enjoy your time here. You are paid for the whole day, up until nine tonight."

"Thanks."

"Relax, have a good time."

Where do I get undressed? he thought. Do I wait until I go out to the pool? Or do I strip right here in front of this guy? That would be weird.

He opted to go outside first, where he again felt out of place walking among the naked people. The tanned woman was wading in the pool, along with an equally-tanned man with dreadlocks, a definite hippy, who was obviously her boyfriend, or son. The woman's chest was out of the water and her breasts hovered like two golden suns, and Chuck looked away as he kept walking. An incredibly obese woman lounged amidst the other sunbathers and he looked, curiously, and he averted his eyes from that as well. Several people smiled and waved at him, there were many "hi"s and "how-do-you-do's." Nobody looked at him weird because he was clothed, because after all, he was about to take them off and join them, right? You are getting naked, right? A sign by the pool read, among other things like "no diving," "no clothes in the pool."

You aren't getting in the water with those trunks on, are you? You don't really plan on walking around with pants on all day, do you? Sir, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave.

As these thoughts ran through Chuck's head, he found his spot on the deck. The last row, a nice, isolated lawn chair at the end.

He dropped his bag, and took out and spread his towel (you're always supposed to sit on a towel, Chuck did know that) and then...

All right, so this is where I take off my clothes, right? he thought. No problem, easiest thing in the world. Nothing simpler than dropping your pants. Alright, let's go.

But all he could manage was unbuttoning his shirt. After that he merely stood there, as if in a trance. With his shirt open, it seemed as if his heart could be heard thumping even louder.

All around him, nobody seemed to notice, or care. Everybody that he had said hi to was now splashing in the pool. But they weren't looking, and Chuck found his shirt falling off of his shoulders. Still nobody was looking. Then came the moment of truth, and he unbuckled his belt. His jeans came down, and he stood there in his boxers, which felt ridiculous. Still, as he took them down (fast, like a band-aid) he found himself trembling. And then he was standing nude in front of everybody.

But again, nobody cared. He laid down in his chair, and felt secure there. As he sat, the shakes and the heart-pounding subsided, and he opened his bag and took out a book, intending to read. But first, he people-watched.

Children played, and the adults walked around casually standing with their penises and boobs hanging out. Hardly anybody was what one might call attractive, and Chuck felt a  little boost of confidence. Besides the tan woman and her friend, he was probably the best-looking person there. The most average-looking person. He had always felt self-conscious about his belly, and his pale skin (soon to be fixed), but if all these people didn't care about their own insecurities, then he wouldn't care.

He opened his book. It was probably rude to just watch people. So he sat and read. He would get in the pool soon enough, once he felt comfortable. And already, he was feeling remarkably comfortable laying out on the chair, bare, without a shred of clothing to cause any discomfort. He was amazed at how easy he took to being naked here in front of others. But then again, he was merely sitting there. Easiest thing in the world. After a while, he actually found himself growing bored, as going to a pool by one's self wasn't the most engaging of activities, and though he found enjoyment in his book, he soon figured it was time to get in the pool.

Book set aside, he swung his legs over to the side of the chair and stood up, and stood into a sudden, alarming feeling of vulnerability. There was nothing to protect him, and nothing to hide him from the eyes of others, who were now looking, in casual glances. Chuck steeled his nerves and walked over to the edge and slipped in the water.

Never was there ever more a wonderful, free-wheeling feeling. Why did people bother swimming in clothes? Chuck felt the water glide over his entire body, and there was no need to keep his trunks pulled up, because he already was showing everything! And in such close proximity to others, everybody with their torsos under the water, the weird feeling vanished. They were just a group of people enjoying a pool on a summer day, and enjoying it in the best way possible, which Chuck discovered the full scope of once he got out of the water. No clingy, soggy shorts, just his skin, which beaded off most of the water by the time he sat back down. His whole body was cool. He felt refreshed. He felt... clean. Not wanting to risk getting a drop of water on his book, he just sat there and let himself be awash in the feeling. This soon proved to be a hazard, however, as he noticed with growing alarm that he was growing hard.

It was faint at first, and he tried to let it pass, but soon it was undeniable, and the more he thought about it, the more rigid he became. He brought his leg up to hide it, and by then, he was fully erect, his penis not even resting against his leg. He grabbed his book, water damage be damned, and held it strategically in his lap. His erection was now hid on one side by the book and on the other by his thighs, as if it were a duchess changing her clothes.

His hyper-awareness of his cock kept it hard, and he read words without even gleaning their meaning. It took twenty minutes for his brain to focus, and for his other one to calm down, and it was at that point that he noticed the other people, and that there were a few more attractive women in their midst. Most of them were a little older, but they looked good, and there was one woman in her late thirties, blonde, thin and not very tan, although she was clean-shaven. Chuck took notice of these things, including the appealingly smooth and shapely backside that presented itself when she turned towards the pool, and Chuck feared a second wave in himself, but it never came, and he realized that he was now fully comfortable in this environment. Not comfortable enough to want to get back in the pool now. But comfortable enough to get bored.

The grounds were comprised of more than just a pool and clubhouse. There was a tent area, game area, and a walking trail, which Chuck considered. But right now, he didn't want to lose sight of a pretty woman without her clothes.

She slipped into the water and he didn't get to see much of her except for her bare shoulders poking up, which was disappointing, so he read some more, glancing up every now and again to see if the view had changed, and sometimes it did, though he realized he was missing out on enjoyment that would otherwise be had in the company of others. So after a while, he got up, and collected his things in his bag, and set out for the walking trail.

Leaving the patio, bag slung over his shoulder, he felt exposed again. His bag hung down just far enough to cover his ass, which somehow made it feel more exposed. His feet got dirty as he neared the tree line, and he realized he should have brought sandals.

He found himself walking alone on a dirt path with the noise of the pool echoing behind him. A raw sense of adventure stirred in his heart, as he was now free to roam as he pleased, and he was very far from his clothes. Farther than he had ever been on his own personal jaunts. As the woods thickened, his heart quickened at the sound of snapping twigs, but then he calmed down as he instantly realized he could not get "caught" here. One would expect to find a naked person on this trail. It was funny how his past experiences conditioned him to treat his nudity as if it were a contraband that he possessed.

He expected to cross paths with whoever made those sounds (perhaps a pretty girl), but he never did, and marked himself disappointed until he heard a new sound: the gurgle of running water. He hurried his step, despite the sensitivity of his feet, and could barely see the glint of water through the trees. Soon he was on it: a wide creek at the bottom of a slope. Chuck worked his way down the hill carefully, already imagining himself wading in, splashing to his heart's content.

He reached the bottom, and there was a splash to his right. There, there was a young girl rising out of the water. At teenager, by the looks of it. She flung her hair and sprayed a fan of droplets. Chuck couldn't help but stare. She was like something out of a fantasy story, a faerie from a faerie tale, the most alluring sight he'd seen so far.

She turned, and saw him looking. She waved, and he waved back. He was surprised how casually he waved, and he was also glad, for it was only then that he saw the rest of her family, standing by the shore farther down. There was a father, well-tanned, fifty-ish, and the mother, thick with age but no less distinguished-looking. And there were two younger children, a boy and a girl, and they all waved, and Chuck waved back.

"Come on in, the water is awesome!" the girl he saw first yelled, and Chuck wasted no time in descending the rest of the slope and splashing into the water, just as he imagined, with the exception of having company. The girl was smiling, and asked him his name.

"Chuck," Chuck said, watching the naked nymph as she neared. He felt uncomfortable so close, with her family close, but there was quickly something natural, wholesome about the whole affair, that he quickly lost his feeling of awkwardness.

The rest of the family made splashes as they too entered the water, and Chuck found himself in a family gathering in the creek.

They ended up swimming in the accompaniment of each other, and chatted about the resort, what Chuck thought about it, was he there by himself? Has he been there before? Chuck answered the questions honestly, though not divulging into his solo streaking. He did not want to seem like a pervert to them. The father, however, seemed perfectly comfortable with him, as did they all. Maybe Chuck's reservations were all in his mind.

After a while, the family admitted it was time for them to leave, and they exited the water and dried off, grabbing their things. Chuck waved them goodbye, and then tried to decide whether he should stay or not.

The call of the water was too great, and he soon found himself submerged with only his head above the surface, listening to the zen rush of the creek by his ears and the birds above that. After a while, he climbed out and scrambled onto a large rock in the middle of the waterway, where he sat and dripped dry and affected something close to meditation. He sat there long enough to lose sense of time, and gained another sense, of a growing erection.

Why was he getting hard now, of all times? he wondered. He was not thinking of the girl or her family. They were now completely out of mind, and the time they had spent was completely wholesome and left no erotic influence on him. In fact, he was not thinking of anything. The last thing he felt, before his penis rising, was an awareness of all around him. Of the serene nature scene, and his place in it, dwarfed by it all on his little rock down below.

Perhaps it was nature itself that made him aroused right now, he thought, and laughed. He stood up and let his arousal announce itself to the forest, unashamed, and he climbed back into the water to cross over to the shore on which he entered.

The dirt clung to his wet feet on the way back, and his erection waned now that he was moving. He felt great, refreshed, although gaining a new light bead of sweat from the hike. Nothing that couldn't be washed off at the shower by the pool. He actually felt cleaner than he would have had he been tromping around in shorts and a t-shirt, and he felt comfortable now in his body.

When he arrived back at the resort, he was mentally focused on his penis, which remained un-hard, not excited in the slightest, and in focusing on it, he became aware of the way it flipped up and down as he took quicker steps, and this brought him great amusement and satisfaction as he got closer to the main building.

The first thing he did was drop his bag and step under the spray of an outdoor shower, rinsing off the sweat in front of everybody, and then he dried off, because instead of laying by the pool, he decided to enter the clubhouse and commune with the rest of the people that had discovered the same things as he did.

The Abandoned House

The road winded alongside the hill endlessly, and his feet were sore, but George did not stop walking. For he knew that right around the bend was an area of his family's gated community that was still under development, and he knew that there would be some partially-built houses to explore. And he didn't quite want to go home yet. Walking the neighborhood in the summer was one of the few quiet, meditative moments he had.

And there it was: a small side road appeared, and at its beginning, the bright frame of un-stained wood loomed. George hurried his step.

It was a two-story house, partially enclosed, with the other half skeletal. It was surrounded by mud, which George navigated carefully around, and when he got inside, he kicked his shoes off and took off his socks.

More than walking through the wooded neighborhood, George enjoyed exploring abandoned buildings. The community had a few, and he'd been in all of them. Half-built houses weren't as interesting, but they satisfied some itch that he had to delve into somewhere unknown and isolated. It was a strange mix of urban exploration and wilderness adventure. Once again, it was meditative, and it also gave George a chance to try out personal nudism.

He entered the center of what was to be the living room, out of sight, but not quite, and took off his clothes. He bundled up his jeans and shirt and put them against the wall, and then he stood in the middle of the room as if he had just suddenly appeared in it.

This was his private pleasure. He did not do it for perverse reasons. Since high school he had always been fascinated by the nudist lifestyle, had always read accounts of others who were experiencing social nudity for the first time, and vicariously through them, he experienced the first thrill of exposure, of others' exposure, and he tried to replicate those thrills with his own adventures, to success, though the thrill delivered by sneaking around in the nude was different from the thrills he read about on blogs. With his ventures there was the ever-present thrill of being caught, which dogged him always, except in the moments when it suddenly disappeared and he became comfortable, and those moments were the most dangerous.

Freely he moved, morose than he ever felt with clothes, yet more constricted, too, for he could not leave the safety of the house, what meager safety it provided. He climbed the stairs and walked about the exposed rooms above, and he could hear the whoosh of an occasional car passing on the road below. If only they knew a pudgy college-age kid with man-boobs, a lack of body hair, and a rosy complexion was poking around naked in the top floor of the house they had always noticed and already started to take for granted.

George was indeed a pudgy kid. Perhaps the main reason, besides time and money, that he had not ever visited a nudist resort was because of his self-consciousness of his body, though he knew from his readings that most people at these places were of the same build as him, and that one of the things that people always described was the feeling of acceptance; from the other nudists, but also from one's self. George had never reached that level of acceptance on his own, but perhaps if he got the chance to visit one of these places, he could.

In all honesty, he longed to go to such a place. To be free to roam wherever he pleased. Sleuthing about in the nude was too limiting; already he had done all he could do in this house and was left standing bored in the middle of a dirty floor. Bored and naked: two words George didn't usually associate with each other. Even now there was still a thrill humming inside him, because even if he was bored, he was still standing naked in a situation he normally wasn't naked in, and that was enough to make him not want to leave just yet.

How was it, he wondered, when you get used to it? He had never just lounged naked whenever he felt like it. Perhaps it was time to start. But now it was time to leave, for it was getting dark, and even though he was twenty, his parents would no doubt worry. So he went back down the stairs, gathered his clothes, but did not put them on just yet. He tucked them under his arm and walked to the door, standing dangerously close, watching the road outside, waiting for a car to come by, daring a car to come by, and eventually he grew impatient, and decided to put them on. But in a last-minute idea to be daring, he decided to put on his clothes outside. After all, it was evening, light was failing, and not that many people were out. Who would see him? So George stepped out of the half-finished house into the humid air and put on his clothes out in the open in front of anybody who would care to be nosy enough to watch, which George was fairly confident amounted to nobody, and he was sad to put his clothes back on, but also relieved, because—

"Hey there, what have you been up to?"

He was in mid-crouch, putting a leg through his pants when she spotted him: Becky, who lived up the street, who George always saw at the mailboxes, who always had a smile and a wave for everybody, and who knew George by name.

"I, uh," he stammered, nearly falling out of his jeans. And it was too late: she saw everything. She saw his little dick, not currently erect, saw it flip like a wet noodle as he struggled with his pants. If only she were seeing it erect, then she—

"Is there a girl in there?" she asked next, leaning her head in a little, a mischievous smile on her face.

"What? No! I was just..."

Struggling to find words while trying to put on his clothes in front of a forty-something total mom was not quite the thrill he'd been looking for. He was surely fucked, but Becky didn't seem concerned.

"...was walking around naked in there," he finally got out. He managed to get his pants on, leaving only his less-than-stellar upper body on display.

"All by yourself? Strange," she said, just standing there, less than twenty feet away, her arms crossed. It didn't look like she planned on moving any time soon. It made George tense.

"Yeah just don't tell anybody, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she said. George got his shirt on between this exchange and felt relieved, but no less ashamed.

"So you just like walking around naked in empty houses, huh?"

"Yeah, look, I don't really want to talk about it, so I'll just be going," George said as he sat down on the ground to put on his shoes.

"Oh, no, don't worry. It's the whole nudism thing, I get it, it's nice."

Nice? I guess, George thought, but he didn't say anything as he stood up to leave.

"Don't feel bad," she said, "I don't care, I was just surprised, is all. Carry on."

"I do feel bad. I guess I won't be coming back to this house. Or street."

"I said don't worry! It's no big deal. In fact, I might try doing it sometime. Looks fun."

"It... is. It's just something I like to do. I mean, it's something I'm interested in. Nudism, I mean."

"Seems harmless," Becky said.

"Yeah."

"Well maybe if you come back to explore again, I might be here doing the same thing."

All at once he froze up inside. Was she really proposing what he thought she was? Her toothy smile looked genuine.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll come back, then."

She leaned her head to the side like she was contemplating something exciting and chewed back a smile. "I hope so, I've never done this before, it would be good to have a partner in crime."

"Well, the evening is the best time. On the weekends."

"Like a Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"Like next Saturday?"

Cicadas buzzed in between their exchange as George's imagination ran wild.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"I might come out," she said as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"A-alright, well, I might too," he said.

"You don't have to, but I will either way."

"Alright, well, hopefully I'll see you."

See you. She smiled at that, and they parted ways, or, more accurately, George parted ways, awkwardly saying his goodbyes. He didn't look back, but imagined Becky was still standing there, watching him leave. As he got back on the road home, he walked with a more sure posture, aware of the body beneath his clothes, but no longer feeling ashamed of it. And further in the front of his mind was meeting Becky again, next week, completely in the absence of clothes.

Vignette 4: The Park

Noon. Summer. A quiet park in small town America. A small spattering of people enjoy the afternoon. A row of cars rumble as their owners sit inside with their air conditioning. At a nearby gazebo, a man sits and reads. The gazebo overlooks the lake, and a family, a father and mother and a small child, play by the shore. Other people walk along sidewalks that weave through the park. All in all, it is a warm and pleasant day, and the birds are chirping and the sun is shining.

Boats dot the distant horizon, but something much closer draws the eye of the family. On a shore diagonally across from them, on the other side of the inlet, a person steps out, and the amount of skin tone visible makes it apparent that the person is nude.

"Oh my word," the father says. The semi-distant nude figure has hair spilling down her shoulders, and a dark patch on her privates which stands out against the color of her skin, which is a golden beige.

"What on Earth is she doing?" the mother says. "Don't look, sweetie."

Their small daughter does not understand what is going on, nor does she understand why her parents are now hurrying her on to go back to the car.

The protests of the child draws the attention of the reading man, who looks up and immediately sees the bold streaker. She is closer to him, and from where he sits, he can make out a grin on her face. And then she locks eyes with him.

She waves, and he ends up waving back, which causes her delight, and she covers her mouth in a laugh, which puts further emphasis on the exposure of her body, which the man is helpless to stare at.

And then she turns and skips into the inlet, kicking up water playfully, and now drawing the attention of others.

Fingers point, eyes aim, and the girl spins in the water. People cluster on the sidewalks, stopping in their tracks; a mini-traffic jam.

The girl is now paddling across the inlet, heading for the shore where the family was. A scattered crowd now waits. As she reaches shallow water, she stands again, and lets the water glide off her body, now up close for everyone to see. And now phones are raised into the air. Her tan skin, when wet, looks like molten gold, and she shimmers like the effigy of a god.

And then, with an aloofness not very god-like, she looks to the shore, as if unaware that her swim would draw so many onlookers. She smiles, wide. She turns to her side and strikes a playful pose, one hand just above her butt in profile, the other raised up as if holding a tray, as if to say, "here I am."

And then, she dives away from them, ass then feet slipping into the water, and then the ripples settle and all is quiet. She most likely swam away under the water, but many people at the park that day left with the sense of the supernatural, and over the course of a week, it was said that the park was inhabited by the naked spirit of the mountains. Many came back to see her, but nobody ever did. What they did do, however, was go on their own swims, without their clothes, and through the trails, and soon the amount of nude people at the park outnumbered the amount of clothed people. If the girl ever did return, her presence was no longer discernible.  

Hidden Places 2

(Discoveries)

"Are you nervous?" he asks her. She sits on a little stool, which is barely suitable for an adult to sit on, and she sits completely in the nude, the wood cool against her bottom, and her beaming face and tangly pubic hair of her exposed lap framed for the camera.

"No, I'm fine," she says, though she does have a tinge of nervousness humming in her chest, the normal nervousness that comes when you take off your clothes in front of a stranger.

She would have added "casually" to that phrase, though "casual" would imply comfort, and while she wasn't uncomfortable, she wasn't quite settled yet. And while this photoshoot could be called casual, it was definitely erotic, and by that extension, impossible to be "casual."

The photographer, a young man in his late twenties, rather boyish, and quite casual with the whole affair, steps back and looks through his lens. He smiles, pleased with what he sees: a pretty young woman, smiling, healthful looking, not too skinny, and all the more healthful looking somehow because she is naked. Rosy skin, beguiling smile, gleaming shoulders and pillowy breasts. And above all, natural in her nakedness, a prime example of a human being. She would come to love these photos, where she looked different than she had ever seen herself, and yet there was something wholly familiar in it, something she recognized: her soul.

This Old Feeling

Martha simply could not get tired of the wonderful feeling of sitting nude out in the sun. Despite being a hundred pounds overweight, a condition which would deem her unfit to show her body, and a condition which had always brought perpetual discomfort, she was, in this moment, completely comfortable in many senses.

Her skin felt fresh, even though she was sweating. She had been in the water twenty minutes ago and her sweat was mixed with beaded, evaporating water. Her many folds were no longer constricted, and nothing pinched, nothing suffocated under a blanket of clothing, and for the first time in a while, she felt comfortable. She had never laid about naked at home. Only to bathe, but that was it. She and her husband had not been intimate in a long time, although their marriage was fine. In all honesty, she had not felt that self-conscious about her body in a long time, but nevertheless, she never felt as comfortable as she did now. Long ago, as a teen, however, she was self-conscious, and she wished she had had an environment like this back then.

Most of the other people at the nudist resort were not that good-looking either, though Martha was definitely the biggest one. There were many old men with pot bellies and women with pot bellies, sagging bellies, and sagging tits. There were perhaps one or two conventionally good-looking people there, including a very tan middle-aged woman. And Martha had noticed one of the youngest men there, a boy perhaps in his twenties, who himself had a small belly, and a baby's penis that was no doubt much larger erect. But all-in-all he was nice to look at; a cute young man to stand out against everybody else.

There were, in fact, not that many young people here, except for children and toddlers. Perhaps this was an old peoples' scene. Martha wondered if she could convince her daughter to come here. Being big like her mother, and as self-conscious as she was when she was her age, she would certainly protest, but it would do her some good. If she, a three hundred-pound wrinkled old woman, could come out here and bare all, then certainly a younger, less gravity-ravaged person ought to be able to as well.

With these thoughts in mind, Martha lay back and enjoyed the sun, and she considered getting back into the pool again, as she now honestly was getting kind of hot. She raised her head and saw that the young man was standing up and grabbing his bag. Perhaps he was uncomfortable here, she thought, Young people do seem to be more touchy about their bodies than their old parents and grandparents, which was a shame, but perhaps that was part of youth.

As he departed, Martha struggled out of her chair, and made her way to the shallow end. She approached the steps and eased herself into the water, and for some time, she waded around, feeling the water envelop her whole body. Nobody looked twice in her direction. She was welcome here. She was family, in a sense. When she was satisfactorily cooled off, she got out and went back to her chair. She sat there thinking about the young man, and about herself, and about the nudist lifestyle in general. And as she sat there and thought, a sight to behold for many stepped out onto the pool deck.

This person carried herself no differently than the others, and yet she was different in every way. There was a delicateness to her steps, a hesitation, almost, as if she were experiencing the world for the first time. Martha could not guess how old the girl was. She looked twenty, but was probably just a teen. Martha was not good at judging the ages of kids these days. But she could judge looks, and for a moment, her comfort in her body was replaced with envy for this young girl's. Martha never once in her life had a body like that. Never had her skin been so golden, her frame so feminine. The girl tussled her hair, revealing everything below shamelessly as her arms were raised. She acted like there was nothing setting her apart from the others, but she was divine. Martha had never looked upon another woman with such awe.

But, amazingly, astoundingly, at least as far as Martha was able to tell, nobody else seemed to pay any mind to her. Surely there were people who glanced a second longer than normal and sent observations from the corners of their eyes, but Martha did not notice any. Nobody in this collective of people seemed to care, or even acknowledge, that a picture of health, youth, and beauty walked among them.

And just like that, Martha's sudden self-consciousness vanished. She was again just another patron of the resort, one of many, the same as all of them, and the same as that girl.

The girl slipped into the water, and her family, up until now unnoticed by Martha, got in too. Martha wondered what the young man's reaction to the girl would be when he returned, but before he ever did, the family got out and left.

Finding Nakedtown

Jonathan was a good-looking guy, but he never was sure who was more awkward sometimes, him, or Patrick. Johnathan was also a God-looking guy; he was very religious. Both he and Lilly, though Lilly never seemed bothered about things like he did.

Just like she wasn't bothered with the party composition of their little road trip: just the three of them. Lilly was always one of the guys. Patrick, who was a little bit of a dork and had glasses, a belly, and a crush on Lilly, always went along with whatever she wanted. Jonathan almost objected, almost suggested an additional person, another girl especially, to join them, but since the three of them were usually alone with each other, and since Lilly could think of nobody else, it remained that it was just the three of them loading up in Jonathan's car and trekking out to camp on the beach a hundred miles away just for the hell of it, and mainly to get away from college for the weekend. Though Jonathan usually preferred not to be in the company of one lone woman by himself, he knew that two women would probably make Patrick flustered. So the group was as it always was. And honestly, it never really was all that uncomfortable. They were like family.

Like a family, Patrick rode in back, the kid of the group, while Lilly navigated and Jonathan drove. They were only thirty miles out and it felt like it was going to be a long way. Lilly was the one who insisted on having fun as they traveled, and they had stopped at a backpacking area to lunch at the river.

The area was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday, but they had traveled to the very end of the park to be at the spot where they now sat, eating sandwiches and looking out at the water.

"Hey, let's go for a swim!" Lilly said.

"You shouldn't go in the water right after eating," Patrick advised.

"Oh, that's a bunch of BS. Come on!"

"Where will we change into our trunks?" Jonathan asked.

"Right here of course. Better yet, let's just skinny dip. Nobody's here."

Jonathan could see the discomfort grow inside Patrick, and smiled to himself, despite that fact that he too was a little uncomfortable with the idea. But he would not be able to convince Lilly against it.

"Come on" she said, standing up. The two boys watched as she skipped over to the edge of the water and looked out. Already she was enticing to see in her form-fitting denim shorts and tank, which Jonathan looked away from long enough to see that Patrick was staring, as he usually did.

"Might as well," Jonathan said, and stood up too, despite his reservations. Patrick looked to him in shock, a look that seemed to plead for answers. But Jonathan shrugged and turned to walk to the water's edge. There, Lilly was already pulling off her tank-top, her bare shoulder blades flexing at the two young men. Jonathan appeared at her side as she stood, her rounded breasts touched by air, and he was nonplussed. He had seen her nude by accident once before, when walking in on her in the shower, and she didn't seem to mind. Now she beamed at him and began crouching out of her shorts, and that memory came back to life. As she got naked, Jonathan pulled off his own shirt and looked back at Patrick, who remained seated where he was, looking rather pathetic.

Lilly stood up in the nude as Jonathan went about taking his own pants off, and he admired for a brief moment her fully-exposed figure, her smooth thighs which she had always shown now leading up to a trim triangle of pubic hair, and he worried for a brief moment about taking off his pants and revealing a fresh hard-on. But she was already bounding into the water, so he finished undressing and went to join her.

The water was cold, but the thrill of the skinny-dip took him, and he turned to look back at Patrick. He was now standing, just sort of staring, watching the two have fun.

"Come on, man," Jonathan said, and then turned into the water. He and Lilly exchanged smiles, hers being wide and elated, and they dove in all the way.

They swam around and stood up and splashed and treaded water in the wide current, and across the river they could see another campsite that was thankfully empty, and when they looked back at their own spot, Patrick was standing there.

"Come on!" Lilly called this time, and reached up to wave at him, which seemed to make Patrick freeze, because he got a glimpse at her naked upper half. Jonathan joined in.

"Just come on in, dude, screw it."

Patrick rocked on his feet indecisively, and took turns looking between the ground and at his two naked friends. The sight of them completely bare was odd; surreal, but there was something inside of Patrick that also said "screw it," and he pulled off his shirt. His pudgy, pale frame was revealed to the sun (he was definitely going to burn), and hesitatingly, he toyed with his belt buckle, until he stood thirty yards away from the shore, naked and looking like a newborn.

He stood there, unsure of himself while his friends beckoned him, and like a hesitant child, he slipped into the water, and with time, his hesitation faded.

They had a pleasant afternoon, splashing bare and treading the water. The more comfortable that Patrick got, however, the more apprehensive that Jonathan got. But Lilly seemed nonplussed as ever, jumping up and down, throwing water this way and that, throwing her body this way and that, golden in the sun, and eventually Jonathan's reservations faded.

Soon after, they trudged out of the water and drip-dried on the way back to their picnic area, where they lounged without putting on their clothes. Patrick, who had loosened up in the water, tensed a little again, but Jonathan made efforts to keep the spirits loose, although Lilly made his reservations return with an idea:

"Hey, let's make the rest of the drive naked!"

Patrick made an awkward little sound, like a laugh, and Jonathan frowned.

"I don't like the sound of that," he said.

"Aww, no fun."

"What would we do if we get pulled over?"

"Well that would be part of the fun!"

"You have a weird idea of fun."

"It's about thrill."

"I'll admit it was nice swimming, but beyond that, it would get a little weird."

"What's the matter, are you uncomfortable being naked around a girl? Come on, Jon, don't be a prude. We aren't doing anything kinky, you know."

"Well no offense, but I don't know if I want a bunch of naked butts on my seats. Sorry, Patrick."

He singled out Patrick because of course he really wouldn't mind Lilly's naked butt on his seats, but of course he didn't say that. And yes, the idea did make him uncomfortable, because of the possible situations it could introduce. Also because Patrick seemed to be secretly enthusiastic about the idea (he was getting just a tad bit hard). Lilly, however, quickly dashed this defense:

"We have towels, don't worry," Lilly said.

Shit.

"Besides," she added, "there are more germs in your mouth than in your butt!"

"So what, we go the whole drive to the beach naked?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah."

"And we get out and camp naked there?"

"Well, if there's nobody to see."

"I see."

"It might be fun," Patrick finally said, and his enthusiasm was obvious despite how he tried to play it off.

"I don't know," said Jonathan. Patrick looked down as if ashamed. A silence passed over the group as they sat and thought, and so deep did they think, that they did not notice the family walking by, until the shout of their excited child "Mommy, look, they're naked!" shook them out of their internal debate.

"Shit! Shoot!" Jonathan cried. Lilly and Patrick were already on their feet, dashing to the car, as was Jonathan. He opened the door and slid behind the wheel, his keys already in the ignition.

"Shit. Shoot."

"Go!" Cried Lilly.

"Wait, this is too perfect," Jonathan said.

"What?"

"Our clothes."

"Leave 'em."

"No, come on."

"Well, you can get back out and run and get them. Naked," Lilly said.

Jonathan stewed behind the wheel. The family, rather than running away, was getting closer, curious. The father's brow was stern. His face: red.

"Anybody's wallet out there?" Jonathan asked as he started the engine.

"Mine is in my bag," Patrick said.

"Purse is right here," said Lilly. "And you?"

Jonathan sighed. "Glovebox."

He pulled out of the parking spot just as the family reached them, and Lilly cheered. As they wheeled the car around, she rolled down the window and waved. The child, a little boy, looked like he had just seen Santa Claus.

"Don't do that, put the window up," Jonathan said, but it was a moot point, as they left the family behind. They traveled down the bumpy road out of the park and quickly found the highway, where Jonathan wasted no time in pulling out and speeding back on their course. It was late afternoon and the sun was high in the sky, and they felt illuminated and exposed.             

"We should head back to campus," Jonathan said, looking stern behind the wheel, like an unhappy father on a road trip.

"Aww, boo," Lilly said, and folded her arms.

"We can get somebody from the dorms to bring clothes down to our car."

"What if we can't get anybody? That would be fun in its own right."

"We'd find a way."

"You don't really want to, though."

"Why do you say that?"

"If you did you would have turned back the way we came."

*****

Thirty miles later, the sun did not look like it was any closer to the trees, though it was by a little bit, and the trio drove on, Johnathan mostly silent and Patrick sitting up straight, excitedly glancing out the window and at the curve of Lilly's breasts as seen from his vantage point behind the driver's seat. She glanced back at him several times, grinning. At one point, she put the window down and stuck her arm out, running her hand in the wind.

"Put that window up," Jonathan said.

"Oh, don't worry."

"My car, my rules. You know you can get pulled over for indecent exposure right?"

Begrudgingly, she rolled the window up.

"You're gonna make this not-fun."

"You care to pay the fine?"

"I could afford it, it's no big deal."

"How about being slapped with a sex offender status?"

"Oh come on, that doesn't happen."

"Oh yes it does."

"What, for real? For streaking?"

She looked at him, then back at Patrick, who nodded his head soberly, as if this were something he'd researched.

"Well that's some bull."

"Now you know why I wanted to get the hell out of that park."

"Yeah, with the kid there too and everything."

"Yeah."

"Well damn, I'm sorry. That is indeed a good concern."

"So are we turning around?"

"Hell no! The stakes are higher now."

Jonathan groaned and his eyes rolled upwards.

"We'll just be careful, that's all."

Pop! The car veered to the left, fishtailed, and Jonathan fought to keep it in control as he heard the distinct thud-thud-thud sound of rubber slapping pavement.

"Shit. Shoot."

Lilly gripped the door as the car slowed and coasted onto the shoulder. Jonathan turned his side-view mirror downwards and grimaced.

"Flat?" Lilly asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"You have a spare, right?"

"Yeah, I do, but are we really gonna get out and change it like this?"

"And what do you want to do? Call a tow and explain to them why we're naked?"

Jonathan groaned again and put his hand to the bridge of his nose.

"It's not a super-busy highway, anyway. If we hurry, we can get it changed before anybody comes."

"I don't know how to change a tire, though."

"Oh come on, really?"

He nodded, still touching where his sinus headache was growing.

Lilly looked back at Patrick, who shrugged.

"Oh for Pete's sake," she said, and opened the door.

Jonathan shot his head back up. "What are you—"

"Pop your trunk," Lilly said.

"Lilly!"

"Pop your trunk!"

She scampered along the passenger's side to the rear, and Patrick, in back, followed her with his eyes until the open trunk blocked her from view. All the while Jonathan returned to his sinus, whispering "oh my god, oh my god." The sound of Lilly's rummaging carried through the cabin, and then she slammed the trunk. She appeared at Patrick's door, where the flat was.

"Well, what are you guys doing?" her muffled voice came. "Get out."

"What?" Jonathan shot, looking up again.

"I can't jack up the car with you guys in it. Plus, I'll need your help."

"Oh for chrissakes," Jonathan said, and threw open the door. Patrick opened his carefully and danced on the balls of his feet, the gravel of the shoulder rough on his soles and his self-consciousness completely dominating him. Lilly crouched down, displaying her crotch shamelessly while she slid the jackstand under the vehicle. Jonathan meandered over to the opposite side to hide himself from any traffic.

"Here," Lilly said to Patrick, "jack it up for me."

Patrick stood there dumbly for a second and then flinched.

"Oh! Yeah, sure." He crouched next to her and paused for a moment, his eyes obviously passing over Lilly's fur before he grabbed the handle and started pumping it.

"It had to be the side facing the road that blew a flat, didn't it?" Lilly said, ignoring or not caring about Patrick's wandering eyes. She smirked at Jonathan, who was hiding. "Come on out! Look, Patrick isn't afraid to show his big booty!"

Patrick blushed and did not say anything as he jacked the car up.

"Okay, done," he said, breathing heavy. He stood and Lilly picked up the lugwrench and went to work, awkwardly close to Patrick's stubby penis, much to his apprehension. She didn't react at all. She sweated and soon rolled the flat away, and was gripping the spare when the sound of an engine grew louder.

"Aw damn," Jonathan said from his hiding spot.

A horn honked next and Lilly stood and turned as a van passed and several faces stared at them as it sped by. Hoots and hollers came from the open window, and Lilly grinned and waved.

"Jesus Christ," Jonathan spat.

"Language. Quick, let's hurry up," Lilly said, and resumed her spot by the wheel. Another car came by and was treated to her bare ass pointing out at them, and the lumpy profile of Patrick helplessly watching, and they honked, too.

"Better hope a cop doesn't come next," Jonathan said.

"Almost done," Lilly grunted, tightening one nut, then the next. Then, without asking, she let the jackstand down as carefully as she could. The car thudded to rest and she scooped up the tools and rushed to the rear.

"Okay let's go, let's go, pop that trunk again!" she yelled. Jonathan got into his side as fast as he could without exposing himself to anymore travelers.

"What about the tire?" Lilly called.

"Leave it!" Jonathan released the emergency brake and started the car at the same time. Patrick was already in, and two seconds later, Lilly's door opened and she spilled into her seat. Jonathan didn't wait for her to say go and sped back out onto the road.

Lilly and Patrick both panted with their exertion, while Jonathan's heart wouldn't stop beating.

"Now that was awesome," Lilly said in a breath.

"Like hell."

"Ugh, I'm all sweaty," she said.

"I'm gonna have to shampoo these seats," Jonathan said angrily.

"Nudist lifestyle isn't all glamorous, is it?" Lilly said, and laughed. She laughed for several more miles.

*****

Finally, the sun fell, and Jonathan felt less vulnerable, his naked body hidden by the cover of night. Passing headlights cast moving stripes across the contours of Lilly's breasts occasionally, and she seemed to have fallen silent; tired, or perhaps bored.

"We probably won't be able to make it to the beach on my spare," Jonathan announced.

There was a silence that made him think she was asleep, or perhaps displeased. Eventually she said:

"So you want to turn around?"

"We probably should."

"Well, we don't have to go to the beach to have fun."

Jonathan sighed. He should have figured that Lilly wouldn't be defeated that easy. From behind him, the seat squeaked as Patrick sat up, interested now in the goings-on.

"Well, I guess I'll turn around when there's space."

"We could still camp somewhere," Lilly suggested.

"Oh yeah? Like where?"

"We're surrounded by woods, dude."

"That actually sounds fun," Patrick chimed in. Jonathan chewed his lip.

"Maybe, but first, we're gonna need gas."

"Oh shit," Lilly said.

"Yeah."

"Well look at that."

Up ahead was the cold florescent light of a gas station. Jonathan slowed the car.

"So what do we do?" Patrick asked.

"Lilly?" Jonathan said.

"Yeah?"

"Get my wallet out of the glovebox."

He didn't see her smile in the dark as she retrieved his wallet and handed it to him, but soon the lights of the gas station washed over them and they were all illuminated, pale, naked and very exposed. And he saw now that Lilly was still grinning.

"Luckily it isn't a big gas station," Jonathan said. There were two cars parked by the doors, and none at the pumps. Jonathan pulled next to the farthest one and took his debit card out. He prayed that the card reader was working.

"Whoo, alright, get out there!" Lilly shouted, and Jonathan put his finger to his lips before he opened the door. There was the smallest trace of a smirk in the corner of his mouth, but it was gone as he turned around and Lilly leaned back and admired his tight butt raising out of the seat.

Quickly, he opened the gas cap and placed the pump, and as he worked the card into the card reader, his hands shook. His whole body buzzed, as if the air were electrified. The cold lights from inside didn't reveal anybody standing there, but he knew he was being watched. He just had to have been. And there was no hiding his obvious, uninterrupted skin tone, his nude side-profile, dotted by a puff of pubic hair, and cock hanging loose from it.

The gas pump churned, and Jonathan looked at the car windows, where both his friends watched him anxiously, occasionally glancing back towards the front of the store, just as he kept doing. Lilly held up two thumbs and made a big open-mouth grin. Then the pump clicked, and he wasted no time in putting it back, closing the cap, and getting back in.

"You having fun now?" Lilly asked as he started the engine.

"Don't assume I am."

"Well if you weren't, you would have gotten back in while the gas was pumping," she said with a sly smile.

When they pulled out of the gas station, Jonathan saw out of the corner of his eye the shape of somebody at the plate-glass doors.

They turned left and headed back from where they came.

*****

The night was warm, so they rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh air rushing against their skin. There was no plan now, but nobody cared for once. Although they did wonder aloud if a call to the police would be made, or if the gas station had cameras (they agreed it probably didn't). They didn't keep on that subject for long.

Lilly put her seat back all the way and stretched out, not necessarily to sleep, but rather to just lay out and relax, and let the wind wash over her body. Patrick, in the seat behind Jonathan, allowed himself several looks at her pleasant features, not discretely as he thought, as she rolled her head over and dreamily smiled at him. But he did not stare. In fact, he was used to this state now. Her, naked, and beautiful, within arm's reach at all times, and Jonathan, naked, and attractive for a man, but who no longer seemed like something he needed to avert his eyes from. And his own body, chubby, stocky, and pale; it did not bother him to have it exposed any longer. In fact, he was never more comfortable than he was now.

They drove on this way, drunk in the pleasant atmosphere they had created for themselves; the endless night, the drone of the car and the road. After a time, they passed a big open field, which the moonlight painted in silver, and Lilly sat up at that moment and noticed it, and let out an "ooh."

"What do you think?" Lilly said.

"What?"

"For camping out."

A contemplative look materialized on Jonathan's face; soft, but noticeable. Noticeable too was the car slowing even more.

The field was out on the left. They had not noticed it in the day, and they weren't looking for it then, but now, it stood out like a message from God. Jonathan crossed to the left lane and pulled far onto the shoulder, which was grassy and provided ample room. Then he cut off the engine and the three of them got out into a hauntingly quiet night. Only a few crickets chirped softly, and no cars were heard in the distance. The three friends aligned on the driver's side and looked out at the expanse before them. Stretches of shadow crawled across the land from the sparse clouds above, and the ghostly-lit field was peppered with clusters of trees and brush, and not a soul moved out in it. Never before had any of them thought there could be such a peaceful place as this along the highway leading out of school.

"Hey Jon," Lilly said. "Pop your trunk."

He looked at her, getting ready to say "huh?" and was struck by the strange quality of what he saw, Lilly's naked shoulders and her face, which was lit up with whatever was turning over in her head, and lit by the moon.

"Okay."

He opened the door and with a pull of the lever and a soft, clunking sound, the trunk opened and Lilly was standing at it, the unnatural light inside offending the night and painting her abdomen orange. She hoisted out her bag and left the trunk open.

"Let's go. Let's find a place to make a fire."

Jonathan didn't stand there for long, and the smile returned to his mouth. He retrieved his pack as well, and Patrick followed wordlessly behind. Then the trunk slammed shut, the car beeped shrilly as John locked it, and the three of them marched through the brush towards the center of the field, their packs digging into their exposed shoulders and Jon's keys dangling and making the most noise in the night.

They walked in single file, Lilly at the front, eyes wandering on her but also on the picture as a whole: their friend, with only her backpack, lit up by the moon, her skin the brightest thing in the night, brighter than the stars. Then she turned around, and they all slowed their step, and came to a stop side-by-side by a bare spot of earth, which was surrounded by high shrubbery, and which looked downright comfortable.

"Here," Lilly said. She dropped her pack at her feet, and the act in itself almost seemed like disrobing, for Patrick once again found himself flustered at the completely nude sight of her.

"So we just unroll our sleeping bags and spend the night here?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah. Nothing will bother us out here. This is perfect."

Jonathan looked back where they came, and the car was a distant gleam from the moon. It made him feel isolated, and vulnerable.

"I like it," he finally said, and unslung his pack.

Each of them began unrolling their sleeping bags in a circle around the spot that was to serve as the fire pit. Lilly finished first, and announced that she was going to gather firewood. They watched her figure get farther in the dark. Then they went about setting up their spots.

"So how you doin' man?" Jonathan asked Patrick finally.

"I'm doing good. Actually I'm doing real good."

"You've been pretty quiet."

"I'm usually pretty quiet."

"Yeah, but I was just wondering how you were taking all this in."

"I'm taking it all in, alright," he said, glancing up at Lilly, forty yards away, holding branches in her arms like a baby, her bottom exposed and the faint dark patch of her pubic hair against her pale skin visible in the darkening night.

He looked back and saw that Jonathan was frowning a little.

"Sorry," Patrick said. "That's why I don't talk a lot."

"Don't worry, it's natural."

The knot in Patrick's chest loosened and he smiled. Lilly came back and dropped a pile of thick branches on the ground and brushed her body off.

"The one thing I regret is not packing some sandals or something," she said, and looked over both the young men as they sat there. They looked funny, like children, kind of cute. Especially Patrick, who looked like a giant baby naked, except for his penis, which she noted was half-erect. She smiled at that.

"So are you guys going to help me gather some more? I don't have to do all the work myself now, do I?"

Without a word, both of them stood up and set out in the direction she had come from, and she followed. All three returned to the campsite with armfulls of twigs and branches, more than enough to keep a fire going for as long as they planned to be up, which probably wouldn't be that long, as they were all tired.

Twenty minutes later they all sat on their respective sleeping bags, watching the flames and looking at each other bathed in orange.

"You know, Lilly, I will admit, this was a good idea," Jonathan said, raising his water bottle in a toast.

"You're welcome."

"Yeah, even I'm having fun," Patrick said.

"Here's to that," Lilly said, raising a bottle of something that wasn't water.

They almost didn't notice the first snap of a twig not far away. The second sound, a kicking of of some brush, sent gooseflesh running all over them.

"So who's out here?" A voice called out.

"Shit," Jonathan hissed, grabbing his sleeping bag and not sure whether to bundle it up and run or to bundle himself inside of it. The others froze.

"Hey don't worry, we're just seeing what's up out here," the voice said, and through the brush came tromping a young man, followed by another young man, and a young woman. Jon didn't recognize them from college; they were probably locals, but it struck him how close in parallel they were to their own group.

"Didn't mean to disturb yah," the young man said. His voice was laced with a country accent—definitely a local. "Just that we never really see anybody out here, even though it looks like a great place to camp. So watchya doin' all the way out here? Just havin' a relaxin' night? Well—oh."

He cut off right as he put enough visual stimuli together: Jonathan hiding under his sleeping bag, and the others now too, but bare shoulders poking out gave them away.

"Well, ya'll are having an all-natur-al camping trip, I guess."

"Yeah, sort of," Jonathan said.

"Well hell, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge into you guys, then."

"That's okay," Lilly said, and then, without a care, she opened her sleeping bag and resumed being comfortable. Jonathan and Patrick looked at her in shock, and the visitors' eyes widened. Things stood still for a moment, with Lilly the sole focus, glowing in the moonlight. Then, Jonathan and Patrick followed suit, and opened their sleeping bags.

"We aren't interrupting, um, that kind of meeting, are we?" the visitor asked.

"No, we're just chilling," Lilly said. It was amazing how instantly she regained her own chill, just laying out under the moon plain as day for them to see.

"Well hell, mind if we join you?" the man asked. The three friends exchanged glances, and then shrugged.

"Sure, if you'd like."

With that, the three strangers began undressing, taking off their shirts and pants casually, slowly, in front of them. The lead man was pudgy and hairy, while the other one was thinner, although not as toned as Jonathan. The girl was a looker, and more visual delight for Patrick, who briefly assessed her voluptuousness and then resumed to treating the whole affair as normal, which it became, as the three new people sat down around the fire, and then the naked party grew to six.

And that began the start of legit parties on that field. The two groups of friends chatted, found out where each of them was from, talked about where they had been and what they liked to do, and talked about their appreciation of the outdoors. Then some of them intermixed and took walks; Lilly, Jonathan, and the chubby lead man went off together, and Patrick joined the new girl and the thin guy. They all explored the edge of the field, daringly going far away from the safety of their sleeping bags. Lilly and her group reached an overlook and were able to see the twinkling lights of cars on the highway below, their noise a quiet hum.

Patrick, as he walked with the other two, let his eyes dart to the girl's full figure, and his looks were noticed.

"I guess I can see why you like this nudist thing, huh?" the skinny guy said, and Patrick went pale (paler than normal, anyway). The girl smiled.

"Was I staring?" Patrick asked. "I'm sorry."

"Only a little," the skinny guy said. "I imagine that's something you have to get used to."

"You guys seem okay with it."

"Well.. we've already seen each other naked," he said, and laughed.

"Oh man I didn't know you were dating, sorry!"

"Don't apologize," the girl said. "We wouldn't have taken our clothes off if we minded someone else knowing what we look like naked."

Patrick calmed a bit.

"That girl, is she and the other guy dating?" she asked.

"Nah."

"That probably makes it less awkward."

"A little."

"Hey, nothing wrong with enjoying being in the sight of beautiful people. Everybody does. Just don't make a big deal about it, and you won't find yourself staring."

"Gee, you guys know more about nudism than I do," Patrick said, and they laughed.

"Well, we've been to a nudist resort once or twice," her boyfriend admitted.

Through the rest of their walk, Patrick asked them about what it was like at a nudist resort, and found out he knew much about how it was like already. Not from their experiences so far, but from the time out here on the field.

When everybody returned, Lilly, Patrick, and Jonathan admitted they were getting tired, and the new group moved on, getting dressed regretfully and then hiking back to wherever they had come.

For a while the three of them were worried that they had suddenly been set up, and that a group of kids would come out and shine spotlights on them and make their stay there a giant bother, but it was clear to them that those three were just as adventurous and curious as they, and they realized they could trust them. They slept peacefully under the stars and awoke to the brightness of day with a new, exciting feeling of exposure.

They didn't want to leave. They laid out in the sun and broke open some snacks for breakfast, and drank in the morning. They had found their spot, and they would be back. When they left, they took it with them, though it was always there, inside them. The clean feeling of the morning air and sun on their skin as they marched back the way they came; the thrill of the realization that they stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the field in broad daylight as they neared their car, so close to the road; these things kept them energized and ready to move on to the next adventure, as they piled into the warm vehicle and rode off, back to campus, where they would have to figure out how to get back to their dorm rooms undetected.

What they ended up doing was not covert at all. They bolted straight into the dorms and ran to their rooms. Their stunt became instant legend, and so did the place they had found, as when people asked where they went, they told them, and the next trip they took, they took with several others, and there they would find the group of locals as well, and a naked tradition was born.              

There would be many get-togethers out on that field.

Vignette 5: The Fountain

It is one of those days where you can practically swim in the air. The temperature isn't the problem, but it doesn't help. Business runs as usual along Pryor Street (bisected by Richard Pryor Street). Cars, a surprising many with their windows down and smoke coming from the cabins, crawl along, and men in ties, women in summer dresses, girls in tanks and boys in tees, hurry this way and that. None of them look comfortable. On a stairway, several teens are splayed out, drinking soda (the worst thing to drink in this weather) and looking stuffy in their denim shorts (the worst thing to wear in this weather). Everywhere one looks, one can imagine and well see the buckets of sweat soaked up in these fabrics. There is one smart man among the whole lot; he wears loose, well-worn khaki pants, flip-flops, and a light-weight, baggy Hawaiian shirt, all complemented with a straw hat. He affects the nomads of the desert, and one can see how the breeze (merciful breeze!) flows underneath his sun-shielding clothes and cools him. He is definitely the most comfortable person on the street. But he is about to be up-staged.
The generous powers-that-be were nice enough to set up spray-fans on the sidewalk of Pryor Street (bisected by Richard Pryor Street). Regularly they spit out a fine mist for the weary passer-by. Currently a pair of children dance under that spray. Then comes walking down the street two carefree-looking women, both in airy dresses, and both with eyes locked on the oasis fans.
One of them darts ahead, her dark hair flowing over her bare shoulders, and without a second thought, she raises that dress over her head, strips it off so quickly that it seems she had been ready for this. She must have been, because she is completely bare underneath. She kicks off her heels and steps nude into the spray, the kids stepping out of her way, and staring. Everybody is staring, and it is indeed a sight, slim and beautiful as she is, her golden skin dappled in droplets. They cling to her thighs, sparkle in the dark of her hair down there, and when she spins, it fans out in a spray, which showers the displaced children, so that she is like an extension of the fan itself, a naked, beautiful woman extension, the best extension, and in seconds, the second woman serves as an addition. Her dress comes off no less quickly, her items cast aside on the sidewalk as she skips into the water, where the sun casts rainbows and makes the down on her arms glow before disappearing.
The kids retreat, and protective adults slowly group in. Or perhaps selfish adults, for nobody really cares to stop the two streakers. In fact, everybody knows that the women have the right idea.
When the two ladies have their fill of the fans, they step out of the wet circle and tiptoe on the hot pavement to retrieve their things. They put on their heels and nothing else, and go along their way, air-drying and acting as if it was the most normal thing in the world to walk about in public naked. And in their place, the children return, and, newly-inspired, throw off their clothes and throw themselves in the path of the fans. The businessmen in their stuffy suits seem intent on joining, but uncomfortable with the situation, and they go about their way, where they will sit all day with the muggy feeling of sweat on their balls.

Beyond the Blue Wall

(and conclusion)

Chrissy stepped out onto the sand, from the brush which she had been walking through. The beach was empty, save for her, and she was naked, save for nothing. Not even shoes adorned her feet, and the sand was hot, but she wanted to get closer to the ocean. It went on forever, literally forever, and there was the illusion that the horizon curved upwards, like she were standing in the center of a giant bowl. And the sun cooked her like rotisserie, and she drank the warmth into her skin, and it energized her, so much so that she began to float. She floated up into the air, and outstretched her arms, and closed her eyes only briefly, and when she opened them again, she was far up enough to see the entire beach, and scattered on the sand were the dots that were people, all of them come out to see her, and when she looked up at the horizon, she saw that the ocean did indeed curve upwards like a bowl. On all sides was a massive blue wall, a wall of water, and Chrissy leaned forward into the air and flew towards it, the wind rustling her hair and enveloping her whole body, and it was cold on her naked skin, but she kept going, because she wanted to know what was beyond that blue wall. She imagined it was a place more fantastic than the beach, made entirely of water which you could walk on, and walled with waterfalls, which would tickle your skin with their spray.
She dreamed of this place, and the dream of the beach faded away, and when she awoke, Chrissy regarded that dream as real, to the point that she walked out her front door in the nude, expecting azure beaches and being greeted by the street in front of her house.

Where is Nakedtown?

There is a place that stretches as far as the eye can see; mountain ranges loom beyond vast fields. The sun fills the grass with a vibrant green. At the outskirts of these fields and forests are facets of civilization: small homes, small areas of recreation. Gatherings of people lounge and play, and wander through the expanse of nature. Unhindered by distance, going as far as they care to go, and unhindered by clothes, naked they go, out into the sun, and into the shade. It is the perfect paradise; absolute freedom. A woman crosses the field, her skin golden in the sun. A young man tromps through a trickling stream, somewhat effeminate in his wonderment of nature. A group of children shriek and sprint by a clubhouse, all of them free to be bare as they like, and run as far as they like. A group of old men sit on a porch as the kids go by, and they chat about local gossip and scratch their sun-reddened skin.

The woman in the field comes to the edge of the forest, and enters. She walks naked under the canopy of leaves, and goes until she comes to another clearing, one she has not seen before, and here there is a wide pond, and she skirts the shore, kicking the water with her toes, and feeling the warmth of the day absorbed into her body.

These pleasant scenes are playing out right at this very moment, but where? Why, everywhere. In some instances, in areas as wide as the sea, in others, as small as your bedroom.

Imagine a city, sunken long ago, but spires and mounds still project above the surface. The largest of these may form an area as described above; the smallest are private rooms, quiet corners of the forest, your bathroom when you take a bath. And these spires can move, or appear or disappear at will, or spontaneously. They arise when you undress at night, and submerge when you get ready for work. And everywhere you go, you walk over this submerged, epheral city, this transient place called Nakedtown.

Nakedtown you take with you; it is everywhere you go, hidden away in your pocket, and any time you wish, you can take it out and take a trip, take a trip to Nakedtown. And the more space you have, the more it unfolds from your pocket. It can spread out forever if given the chance, as endless as the seas.

If you have trouble finding Nakedtown, all you have to do is take off your clothes, and you will be there. Toss away your cares. Free your derriere. By yourself, or in the company of others, in whatever manner you can manage.

Nervous? Natural. But don't fret. A little caution is always good, but don't let it consume you; a little carelessness is good, too. If there are no legal consequences for taking off your clothes, then pay little heed to the rest. Give yourself an opportunity for adventure. Venture to that secluded spot. Go to that nudist spot. Go to that parade. Or parade around naked in your home. Once you take the first step, the rest is easy...