Naked Fantasies

A collection by P.A. Choi

Copyright 2022 P.A. Choi

Cover design by P.A. Choi.

Table of Contents

Naked Pines

Swimming in Clothes (and other stupid practices)

The Naked Ice Cream Stand

The Naked Coffee Shop

Naked Day HOA

A Fishing Fantasy

About P.A. Choi

Naked Pines

Allie quite liked the little cabin. She had rented it for a weekend on Airbnb. It was big enough for a small family to vacation in, and way too much for her. It sure beat her townhouse, which wasn't that bad, either, but there was something about a spacious cabin in the woods.

It wasn't really in the middle of nowhere; there were still neighbors. When she brought in her things, she could sort of see the next house through the shrubbery and trees, and there was yet another house across the gravel road, catercorner to her, but directly in front of the cabin there was only woods. It felt isolated enough without being cut off from the world. Just enough for a little vacation.

This was all located inside a quaint gated community called Nature Pines. The rural version of a subdivision, except all the houses didn't look the same and were rustic instead of modern, and they were spaced decently apart. Allie now stood inside the spacious kitchen and dining area, with pale sunlight coming in the back windows that overlooked the dense woods, and she took out her phone and propped it up on a holder sitting on the kitchen table, and then stepped back to take off her clothes.

She wondered if the owner of the cabin—a middle-aged man who she did not speak directly to but who had no doubt seen her profile picture on her e-mail—had set up cameras inside the house. The thought trembled through her as she pulled off her shirt and got rid of her bra in no time after that. But as she stood topless in the kitchen, she did not delay at the thought of cameras and wiggled down her denim shorts, because afterall, she was the well-known Allie Vincent, a.k.a. Allie Vixen, internet camgirl and exhibitionist stunt lover, and being recorded was not something she was shy about. So as her panties hit the floor, she kicked them away and then stepped to her phone, brought up the camera, and set a timer. She stepped back and struck a pose, her hands on her hips and every detail of her naked body presented with nothing to hide, all for the delight of her Twitter followers. Her dark hair reached just to her shoulders, and could not hide her full, gravity-resisting breasts, and the line of her flat stomach was curved with her spine as she rested a hand on her full thigh, which led up to a delicate Venus with a trimmed rectangle of perfectly black hair. All combined into a visage that all her fans clamored for. Then the camera flashed, and she went to retrieve her picture.

Just got settled in at the cabin and ready to unwind! she posted, along with the revealing image, on her Twitter. And unwind she planned to do, though she still wanted to keep in check with her fans. And she also had another idea, though it wasn't necessarily what she had come to do. She thought it might be neat to go walking naked in these woods.

Public nudity stunts were something she did occasionally, getting attention on sites like Pornhub and leading people to her cam site. She had gotten a photographer friend to follow her around the downtown area one time and capture people's reactions to her brash nudity. It was thrilling, and they never faced any consequences for that act, amazingly. She also showed up at a pride rally to walk down the street nude and attract attention, some people even recognizing her. She even went to a nude beach with her photographer friend, and surprisingly, that's where she was told to leave (in addition to putting the camera away). Most of her work was sitting in front of her webcam nude, just chatting with her followers and occasionally playing with herself, but mostly just prancing and bouncing in her chair as she read messages. Her fans liked the interaction. And that was her job. Sitting in her room day after day (or sometimes the living room, sometimes the kitchen, and sometimes daring herself to record on her back patio but never having the guts, as it wasn't private) did take a toll on her after a while. It was numbing, it grew boring, and she decided she needed a little change of scenery, which was why she was here. It would also give her an opportunity to get some reading done, as she just started The Fellowship of the Ring, and wanted to commit to reading all three books of the trilogy, something she didn't seem to have time to do despite working from home. But here, she had pledged to be "on vacation," not doing work, and she would have nothing to do but relax and read and listen to the birds chirp.

But the excitement of possibilities called to her. When she had started reading Fellowship shortly before making the sixty-mile drive out to Nature Pines, she had been filled with wonder at all the natural beauty and expanse of Middle Earth. It made her imagine walking nude through the enchanted forests and mountains, like an elf, or a faerie, and as she planned her personal vacation, the idea of doing exactly that was always in her mind.

It was risky; it wasn't like she was in the middle of nowhere, but here, unlike at home, she didn't know anybody, and in a few days she would be gone, so it didn't really matter if she would be seen or not. She of course didn't have her photographer friend with her, but she could blog about it. It could just be a little experiment to see how wondrous it felt, and to catalogue any reactions of the locals who she might encounter. She could take plenty of selfies along the way. They were sure to blow up on Twitter.

So, with that in mind, she set her phone down on the table and stepped out to the back deck, an elevated deck overlooking the woods, and she felt the instant thrill of being exposed outside once again, though this time in the deep woods, something she had never experienced. As she walked to the railing and rested her hands on it, she looked left, where the other house was, and saw that she was completely obscured by trees, and then right, where she could actually see the back porch of the next house, much closer than the one on her left. Her heart leaped, yet she remained where she was. Could they see her? Did they even notice her? Did they even look in this direction? An overwhelming sense of giddy fear overtook her and Allie retreated to the inside, stifling giggles as she did. She stood by the kitchen table with her phone sitting there, her heart beating rapidly as she decided whether or not she really wanted to do this. Then something in her brain clicked, all the possibilities of this stunt playing through in her mind, and she decided they were acceptable, and internally she said "fuck it." She grabbed her phone and looked for something to carry it and her house key in, and maybe a bottle of water. She looked at her purse, considered it, but then put it down. It would not be large enough if she wanted to bring hydration along. What she needed was a backpack, but she had not brought one. Maybe I ought to bring my clothes, she also thought, in case of an emergency, but she decided that if she was going to go through with this, she was going to go all the way, no looking back, just as she had done in the city.

When rooting in the cupboard under the sink, Allie found a stash of plastic grocery bags. She took one of them, dropped the phone and the key with its rubber tag in it, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and dropped that in, then took a packet of peanuts from her duffel bag and turned back to the porch to head out. She would not go out the front door; that might invite too much attention. Instead, the back patio had a set of stairs that led down onto the side yard, where one could walk to the lower deck (which had a hot tub that she considered using as it grew dark—nude, of course) and a sloping hill that led down into a small cut, where she could hear water trickling in the not-too-far distance. That was her path, she decided, and she went carefully down it on her bare feet, conscious not to step on thorns or pine cones, and she left the house, glancing to her right and seeing the back porch of the next house looming overhead, feeling incredibly vulnerable to whoever might be looking from above, but as she got farther and farther down, the porch became obscured by trees, and it was as if she really were in some setting from the Lord of the Rings, just a nude forest nymph making her way through the world. Her heart beat quickly as she made her way farther and farther from safety, and by the time she was at the bottom, she knew she was at the point of no return. She stood in a little clearing full of fallen leaves, with widely spaced trees lending their shade far over her head. Every direction she turned, she could not see a sign of civilization. It really felt like she was in the middle of a dense forest. The trickling of the creek beckoned, and she went forward to try to find it.

She didn't like the sound she made, especially with the grocery bag swishing, and she feared she would get discovered right away, perhaps by somebody else in the woods. She was starting to feel like she was foolish, for this was most definitely not the place to run into, say, a burly man. What if there was even somebody down at the creek? She would probably make their day, she thought, though she also wondered how fast she could run without protection on her feet. Before she could think to turn back, she saw the dark trickle up ahead.

She came up to the edge, on a rock above, and looked down at the small waterway swiftly moving by, and all her worries subsided. She could see a moderate distance both ways, and the land was open and there was nobody there. The tree branches and the sky hung high above, and she felt incredibly dwarfed by it all. She thought how nice a picture it would make: a wide vertical shot, showing the full height of the trees, and the small shape of herself standing at the bottom, like the cover to a fantasy novel.

She could take one picture though, and, grinning to herself, she reached in the bag for her phone and turned so the long downstream stretch of the creek could be in the shot. She held the phone out as far as she could so her breasts would be in frame and prove that she was nude, and she smiled and took the selfie. Then she put the phone away and considered the creek again. It was shallow enough that she decided to walk downstream, careful not to slip on the rocks. Some were jagged, and others dangerously smooth, and she stumbled a few times. Eventually she worked her way to the other side, where the bank was clear, and her feet gathered leaves and mud. She traveled along with the creek until the bank became too narrow, and it was then that she stopped and considered where to go next. Perhaps back was the best thing, but she felt she had really just gotten started. Even then, her clothes were far, far away.

No turning back, she told herself. She was here to explore. And, at the end of the day, she wanted to be seen. And the closer to the populated parts of Nature Pines she was, the safer it would actually be. So she went inland, opposite from where she had come from, and walked uphill.

She could hear the crumbling of gravel and knew a road was at the top of the hill, though there was no engine. It may have been a golf cart, which she knew the residents liked to ride around in. Do I really want to do this? she wondered. Perhaps it would be better to remain unseen, for she did not want to offend the humble residents of this place. But as the sound of the tires on gravel traveled from right to left, it sounded as if it was moving away, and she continued to climb. She was starting to breathe a little heavy and had to fall forward onto her hands to get up the steepest point, and then she was climbing up onto the road. She stood and clapped the dirt off her hands, right as the golf cart came around the bend of the road.

She froze; there was nowhere to go. The way the sound traveled down in the hollow obviously had played a trick on her, and this was the gotcha moment. The cart came closer and slowed. At the wheel was a portly man in denim overalls and a red shirt. He would have looked like Super Mario if he had had facial hair and a flat cap instead of the camo baseball cap he wore. A younger guy, perhaps a teenager, sat next to him, and they both stared in amazement. The cart stopped, but Allie's heart sped up.

"Well I'll be damned," the old man said. "Are you alright, miss?"

It took a moment for Allie to find her voice, as she felt their eyes on her, which petrified her, even though she took off her clothes for a living, even though she had been naked in public before. She kept her arms at her sides and did not cover up anything, for there was no point, and that brave show of nudity increased her confidence.

"I'm just fine," she managed. "Just taking a nice walk."

She looked up at the trees and held up her hand to motion to the scenery all around them, as if the beauty of nature needed to be shown to them (it was, in fact, right in front of their eyes in pale colors).

"Like that?" the old man replied "You sure are brave."

"Hey, it's kind of what I do for my job, anyway."

"Hey, I know you!" the boy piped up, and his father glanced at him. He did not say anything, but Allie's face took on a grin.

"Say... you wanna take a picture?" she asked. She could almost feel herself getting ready to wink.

"Wow, sure!"

"Mind?" she asked, looking at the older man, and he shook his head. "Nah, sure! Get over here!"

It felt dangerous to do, and it electrified her skin, but Allie walked up to the golf cart and its occupants, took her phone from the grocery bag, and turned to lean against the vehicle, raising the camera to capture the two guys giving thumbs up behind her.

"Hey son, why don't you get out and I'll take a full picture of you two."

Allie turned and watched the boy's expression turn from wonder to fearful joy. "Sure!" Allie said. "that sounds like a great idea!" She thrust out her phone at the man.

"Get on out there, boy! You got a naked lady wants to meet ya!"

She watched the boy hesitatingly slide out of his seat, grinning at her from the opposite side of the cart, and he walked around the front of it, carefully, as if one wrong step would dissolve the fantasy. Allie stepped back from the vehicle so his father could capture her full body next to her happy fan.

The boy came right up to her, looked her quickly up and down as if he couldn't believe she was real, and she put her hand on his shoulder and guided him to turn to face his father, while she pulled him in for a side-hug. The father grinned and raised her phone. A few moments of silence passed as he took several shots. The boy was hot against her side, and as her heart rate calmed down, she knew that his was probably racing off the charts.

"Mind if a take a few with my phone as well?" the man asked. "The boys at work will never believe me."

"Sure!" Allie said. "Tell them Allie Vixen paid you a visit!"

The man stopped in the middle of digging out his phone. "Oh, I know you!"

Now it was the boy's turn to look at his father, as Allie glanced towards him and saw his expression change to confusion. Then the father's camera was out and she posed again, this time lifting her leg and encouraging the boy to place his hand under her thigh, as if he was lifting it. His palm was clammy and was placed treacherously close to the cleft of her butt, and she could feel him trembling. Then she had some fun and let her leg down and stepped away from the boy, but leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, which the father instantly captured. She saw the boy's eyes go wide and shift to her. Then she stood up straight, as if presenting herself to him, and patted him on the back.

"There. You can tell all your friends that I kissed you. Naked."

The boy was star-struck and godstruck and he smiled and didn’t say anything and walked slowly over to the golf cart. Allie followed him and took her phone from the father, who thanked her graciously.

"Well this just about made my day," the man said.

"His too, I bet," Allie said, watching the boy climb back in his seat.

"Hey, this might sound a little forward, but do you need a ride anywhere? You can sit right in between me and my son."

Allie laughed politely and shook her head. "No, that's alright. I'm just taking a quick walk and don't want to get too far away from my place."

"Damn, Allie Vixen has lived here all this time and I didn't know?"

"Oh no, I'm just renting for the weekend. I figured I'd grace your community with my presence."

The man tipped his cap. "Well it sure is appreciated, I can assure you that."

Allie reached down to pick up her bag and then looked up the road from where the cart had come from. It disappeared around a bend and didn't give any indication of leading anywhere.

"What's up that way?" she asked. The man followed her gaze and then looked back at her, remarkably looking her in the eyes and treating her as if she were not nude.

"Oh, I don't know if you wanna go up that way. There's a park up there. Lots of people cooking out. But then again, maybe you do want to go up there."

"I might just sneak by," Allie said with a devilish grin, for she indeed did want to go up there. This interaction had been so positive that she wanted to see how a larger group would react.

"There's kids up there, just lettin' you know," the man said next. "Not that I see any harm in it."

"Nor do I, but I'll be careful," she said.

"Well, safe travels, miss. Say goodbye, son."

The teen boy had been staring off into space as if he were pondering something, and he became suddenly lucid and glanced at Allie quickly and nodded his head. "Thanks, Allie," he said.

"You two have a great day!"

"We already have," the man replied, and then the cart started and rumbled off again, leaving Allie standing naked in the middle of the road, waiting for the next person to discover her, and leaving her with a thought about the man's warning, and with the fact that she had just posed with a possibly underaged boy, and she wondered if she should even post the pictures taken of her with him. Echoing her previous statement, she didn't see anything wrong with it. There was nothing salacious going on, except maybe him lifting up her leg, so she thought on it as she turned up the road, knowing that it was all pointless, because the pictures taken on the father's phone would no doubt be shared quickly. She might as well own it. What was wrong with seeing a naked woman? She marched on with that confident thought.

Allie moved to the shoulder, not to hide, but to give her bare feet a break from the gravel. It actually felt quite normal now, in a surreal way, to be walking openly up the road. She was ever-aware of her nudity; that did not normalize, but she no longer had the fear of getting caught. It felt as if she was supposed to be naked, and that's how she would act, she decided.

That confident attitude didn't last, however, as she rounded the bend and the road was long and straight, and through a tunnel of trees she could see the openness of the park. She could hear a distant motor, and she heard kids screaming happily. She walked further up the road until she was close enough to get a better look, slipping into the trees and watching like a savage wild woman ready to loot a campground. At any moment, she knew, a car or truck could come down the road. Not that it should matter; it's not like she hadn't just had a nice conversation with the occupants of another vehicle. But something told her to remain hidden this time. She knew, though, that this would only make things look worse. She would look like she was up to no good, rather than confident and assured of what she was doing. She wanted so much to walk into the center of the park and greet people, but an instinct nagged at her that this was not the time and place. Trusting her gut, Allie slinked around the perimeter of the park, hidden in the trees. Any astute person might glance over and see her, see the bright and bare skin through the branches, a glimpse of something more surprising and enticing than, say, Bigfoot. Allie entertained herself with thoughts of somebody seeing her in that light, as some mysterious naked figure drifting through the forest like a ghost. She could see a tent only forty yards away, and a man standing by a grill. She saw kids chasing each other in a big, open area. None of them saw her, and she continued on. She was deep in the woods again. Perhaps it was time to go home, she thought.

But the woods were not so thick, and she found herself at the edge of them, looking out at more sunlight as it made vibrant a stretch of green grass and glittered on the surface of what looked like a pond. Interested, Allie stepped slowly out of the trees.

It was a wonderful, picturesque little pond, right there before her. On the other side of it, there was a paved road, and trees and picnic tables filled the space around it. There was nobody here except ducks, waddling and quacking and some paddling into the water. A house sat across the road, up on a hill, and from there, the occupants could no doubt see the naked girl suddenly step into the open. Or perhaps they didn't. Either way, Allie felt good about this place, and let her feet pad on the soft grass, filled again with the sense of whimsy and discovery as when she found the creek. This was a beautiful spot. A beautiful spot to relax nude.

She walked along the edge of the pond, underneath the pleasant trees of some oaks, passing by an unoccupied picnic table, where she considered sitting, but she kept walking, slowly, leisurely, taking her time and enjoying the scent of the grass and the warmth of the sun on her chest and the birds chirping. Now a car did come along the paved road and went by as if it did not notice her, though it may have slowed a little. Allie could not see the occupants of the cherry-red sedan, and then it was gone. It was as if she was in the right; she was allowed to be here like this. There were no consequences. So, feeling fully comfortable, she stopped, looked out at the pond, and dropped her plastic bag, and then dropped to a sitting position. Her butt momentarily itched on the grass. She could feel some blades tickle in between her cheeks, and she brought up her knees and rested her hands on them and looked out at the water, very pleased. Time for another picture, she thought.

She wished she had thought to bring the cell phone stand so she could get a nice wide shot, but she just took the phone out, leaned back, and put her legs out so she could get the landscape of her body in with the landscape shot, and captured an image of the pristine pond, some ducks wading by her upward-pointed toes and her legs leading up to her exposed pubic hair and stomach. Proof enough that she was traveling about without a care. Then she set the phone on the grass and retrieved her water bottle, and now wished that she had brought her book along, for she could think of nothing more pleasant than reading nude by the pond, and reading is why she had really come out there for the weekend. Oh well, she thought. She would just meditate and absorb the atmosphere. And as she looked out at the pond, she saw coming off the road and over a little footbridge and onto the grass two middle-aged-looking women, dressed in jeans and blouses, looking out to their left at the pond and not even noticing Allie. But then they did, as they turned their heads and froze, spotting her from across the water. The two women looked at each other, then out at Allie, then slowly made their way along the side of the pond.

They stopped at the end of it, to look out at the water again and then observed Allie and what she was doing, and Allie acknowledged them but then looked away to take in the view as well, to signal that she wasn't doing anything suspicious and was just enjoying the amenities of the community just as they were. She was still looking out at the water when she heard their faint footsteps and then the questioning voice of one of them.

"Are you for real?" the first of them asked. Allie turned to look at them. They were not too much older than her. The one that spoke had auburn hair and an oddly-shaped face and she looked like a stereotypical secretary or real estate agent. The other had long jet-black hair that was probably dyed and she was a little thick-set, though she wore her blouse beautifully. They both gazed down at Allie with slowly-growing smiles, and Allie knew they were amused, and not offended.

"Yep, I'm for real. Just relaxing by the pond."

"Aren't you hot?" The auburn-haired woman asked, which Allie found strange.

"No, why would I be hot? I don't have clothes!"

"Yeah, isn't the sun scorching you?"

"I haven't been out in it directly. There's lots of shade here. Aren't you hot in those jeans? It's gotta be almost ninety."

The two women exchanged glances, as if asking themselves why they were wearing long and thick pants in such weather.

"No, I'm okay," the first girl said. "I'm a little hot I guess. Is that why you're naked?"

"No, I just felt like it," Allie confirmed.

"I didn't know this place was clothing-optional," the black-haired girl said next.

"It's not," Allie said. "Not that I know of."

"Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble?" The auburn girl said.

"Not terribly. I don't live here. I actually met a few people already."

Both of them widened their eyes in amazement.

"Wow!" the black-haired girl said. "You've got some guts!"

"I'm used to it," Allie said with a wave of her hand, leaving her bare knee. She felt more natural and comfortable with these two women, since their gaze was much different than the man and his son's were.

"Are you like a model or something?"

"Kind of. Amateur, anyway."

"So it's no big deal for you, then."

"No, not at all. Well, okay, it was a little scary at first, but I've modeled nude in public before, too."

"Man, I've always wanted to do that," the black-haired girl said. "Model, I mean. I don't know about in public."

"It's no big deal, really," Allie said. "It's only a big deal when people get in a tizzy over it."

"Well, I'd imagine they would here," the first girl said. "This isn't like the city, you know. I'm amazed you haven't gotten stopped yet."

"Well, I only met two people. I can sneak around," she said with a devious smile, and this seemed to ignite some spirit of adventure in the both of them.

"Boy, I kinda wanna try it," the black-haired girl said. Her friend shot her a look.

"Jill, you're crazy. She makes it look easy, but we can't do something like that."

"Oh yeah, why not?"

And so a challenge apparently had been issued, and Allie found herself grinning at what she had caused. Before them all, the black-haired girl—Jill, apparently—pulled off her blouse and let her hair fall over her shoulders as she lifted it off. Her friend stared at her in her cream-colored bra and jeans, and she wouldn't have looked too out of place still if she did not immediately reach behind herself to un-clip the bra.

"Jill! Are you nuts?" the first girl yelled, but Jill did not respond until her cups left her breasts, now exposed to the fresh air. She was full and weighty, with large areolas, and she seemed relieved to be freed of her burden, and Allie couldn't help but laugh as the girl bent down and took off her jeans. The other girl shot Allie an accusatory look right then, and then looked back to her friend, who in a span of a few seconds was now as nude as Allie was, kicking off her shoes and stepping out of her pants.

"Wow! This is scary!" Jill hugged herself and looked towards the house at the opposite end of the pond. Then she gingerly sat down next to Allie, while her friend continued to gape.

"Jill, we're gonna get caught, get dressed! Holy shit!"

Jill mimicked Allie's posture, bringing up her knees and resting her hands on them. "If she can get away with it, then so can I. They can't arrest all of us."

"They really can, Jill."

Allie didn't know what to say. She could hardly have imagined that her exhibitionism would inspire others. But here she was. And now, with another woman naked next to her, she felt normal. The other woman didn't seem to agree, though. She stood and danced on her feet, clasping her hands to her head and wondering what to do. Another car drove by. It did not seem to notice them.

"Christ, Jill, what am I going to do?"

"Just relax, Beth. Nothing bad's going to happen."

And right as Jill said that, two other people appeared down by the road, stepping onto the path that led around the pond, just as Jill and Beth had done. These were a young man and woman, and they froze at the sight of the two naked people.

"Christ," Beth muttered. As the people slowly approached, she looked left and right for an avenue to escape, but was helpless as soon the two neared, coming around the corner and approaching without pause. Allie just leaned back and looked out at the pond again.

"Are you guys allowed to do this?" the guy asked.

"Nobody's told us to stop!" Allie remarked, and she finally locked eyes with Jill and they both shared a knowing grin.

“Hey, I know you!” the guy said, his eyes suddenly lighting up. “You’re Allie Vixen!” His girlfriend shot him a frowning look.

"So is this place clothing-optional now?" the girl asked, ignoring her boyfriend's excitement and echoing Jill's earlier statement.

"I don't think so, babe," the man said.

And so they had company. The couple sat down and chatted with Allie and the others, learned what she was all about, and by the time they had gotten comfortable sitting with them, a man was seen making his way from the right with a fishing pole, and of course, he froze, too.

He stood there for some time watching them, and Allie paid him no mind, but Jill seemed almost elated, and Beth ran around in circles and still made like she was going to leave. But then the old man made his way over. It was apparent to all of them that he had an angry look on his face.

"Uh-oh," the girl half of the couple said. "Here comes trouble."

"What in the hell are y'all doin'?" the old man asked incredulously.

"Just enjoying the day," Jill cut in, taking up the mantle of spokesperson.

"Well this ain't appropriate. Get the hell dressed. What in God's Earth is happening that you think it's okay to walk around naked like this? Gods be damned."

Allie was starting to get that gut feeling again, the feeling that she should leave. She pulled up her legs and rose into a standing position, and this seemed to scandalize the old man, who stepped back and took her all in.

"I'm gonna call the cops on you!" the old man shouted. Allie already knew he wouldn't, and apparently the girl named Jill felt the same way. But Beth didn't, and voiced so.

"Oh my god, Jill, let's get out of here!"

The couple, meanwhile, seemed charmed by the nudity, and confronted the old man, and as Allie left, she saw them standing toe-to-toe with him, backing him off while Jill relaxed innocently. Nobody seemed to notice her departure, but she disappeared through the trees.

She made her way up the barely-beaten path, skirted the park again, noting the noise of the people enjoying themselves there, and then found herself on the road leading out, and she walked in the middle of it, letting the soles of her feet take the punishment of gravel. Soon a horn honked, and she stepped off just as a pickup truck came past, and it honked again, and Allie waved. There were no consequences, she realized, and she moved on, moved on until she reached the point where she had come out of the woods when she had met the golf cart, and she stepped into them and stumbled down the hill, ever-present of her nudity again and wondering what insanity she had just wrought, and soon she was at the creek, which she followed down until she recognized the spot which she had entered. And then she climbed up towards home. The back porch of the nextdoor house came into view and she grew afraid, but she finished the trek and ended up on the back porch of her rented cabin, where she stood and caught her breath and reflected on all she had done. She eventually went inside and posted the pictures she had taken to Twitter.

Had some relaxing time by beautiful bodies of water and even met some fans of me and my beautiful body! she wrote, and posted. Then she dropped her phone and decided to take a shower. She had been sweating lightly and the bottoms of her feet looked like a cavewoman's. When she got out of the shower, she decided that she had had enough of the real outdoors, and curled up nude in the living room easy chair, no towel between her and the warm fabric, the pleasant glide of her naked limbs against each other, and she picked up her battered copy of Fellowship of the Ring and began to read by the warm lamplight. She thought that if there were somebody there to photograph her, it would be a wonderful and cozy-looking photo. That thought and the memories she had just made distracted her from her reading for a little bit, as did the fear that there would be a knock at the door. But there never was. Little did she know of the big kerfuffle she caused and left behind. She would get a hint of it later, after she had spent a cozy evening reading and cooking dinner and never putting anything on, and sleeping nude under the sheets and standing at the back door, almost afraid to step out on the deck now as she was. For all she knew, she was public enemy number one out there, so she did not spend the second day going outside, and instead looked at all the likes and shares her posts had gotten. She left the cabin with a little bit of cabin fever and actually looked forward to getting home, though it felt strange putting her clothes back on, the same outfit she had worn when coming in. All the other packed clothes were unused. It was finally, when she was home, that she heard from the owner, via text message, and it said: Hi, I hope everything went well during your stay. Say, weird question, but you didn't happen to visit the duck pond or park, did you?

She was standing in her kitchen as she read the text (clothed, in a tank top and a thin pair of shorts, which suddenly dissolved in her mind as she remembered her nude stunt). She didn't quite know how to answer it. Obviously something had happened (duh; she was there for the beginning of it). But since she was not the only naked girl outside that day, she decided to play dumb.

No, I actually didn't know there was a duck pond! It would have been nice to visit! She wondered how likely it was that the owner looked at cam girls and would see her Twitter posts, but in the end it didn't matter.

...Okay, just checking. Thanks for staying with me. That was a weird way to word it, Allie thought. She just replied "Sure thing!" and left it at that. She never did find out what happened, never got any more clues and never really did think about it again until a year or two later, when she decided she wanted to go out again after a particularly busy year. She almost wanted to invite out her photographer friend but thought against it, for she did not want to cause any more trouble, and there was no other place she knew of that would be close enough for a mini-vacation. But when she looked at the listing of the same cabin, she was surprised to see that it was highlighted as clothing-optional, which she found weird (weren't all private BnB's technically clothing-optional? Nobody would know if you hung around the house nude). But then she read on and saw: "Enjoy some sun and fresh air at our fishing pond and park, all without the need to put anything on."

Huh, she thought, and scrolled. There was not any other info than that, and some more digging revealed that Nature Pines had recently taken on the dress code of... no dress code. The entire resort was clothing-optional, and it was perfectly legal to walk around nude in any part of the resort. She saw a picture of a sea of people at a swimming pool, and hanging around tents at the park she had been too afraid to wander into. And the very duck pond which she had reclined nude by she now saw people happily strolling by in and working on their tans.

Huh... she marveled again. Had she really made a difference? Was this all thanks to her? Whatever the cause, she decided she was going to invite her photographer friend afterall. They would spend a weekend at the cabin, where she would go the whole time without wearing a stitch, much to, no doubt, his delight.

Swimming in Clothes (and other stupid practices)

"Isn't that stupid?" Josh said in the middle of the movie theater. Rocky turned his head left to look at him, but Josh was still looking at the screen, where the characters of the movie they were watching, some coming-of-age drama, were getting ready to take a swim by a scenic river, stripping down to their underwear.

Josh's girlfriend, Bonita, sat on his other side and also looked at him. "What?" she asked, though it wasn't apparent he was talking to either of them in particular.

"Swimming like that. Who swims in their underwear?"

Rocky looked at the screen again. The kids, about five young teens, only a couple of them girls, were now in their tighty whities, bras, panties, and all pale, and they ran for the river and jumped in to a rousing, adventurous musical queue.

"Well, they probably wouldn't want it to be an R-rated movie..." Rocky said, glancing around the theater, which was mostly empty except for a few people in back. Rocky, Josh, and Bonita sat directly in the middle, their usual preferred spot.

“I mean, what are they gonna do?” Rocky asked. “Always bring swimming suits with them?”

“No, of course not. Just go nude!”

"Well, they're kids," Bonita commented. “They can’t do that in a movie.”

"That's even stupider," Josh said. "And yes, they have before. It's just skin. But that's another topic altogether. I just think it's silly. Who would want to walk around with soaking underwear? I guarantee nobody has ever done that."

"Well, I usually bring trunks..."

"Shh," a voice from the back of the theater finally commanded, and they all went silent. The scene continued to play out, and the kids on the screen looked to be having fun, not uncomfortable at all as they got out and laid on the rocks to dry in another scene.

*****

It was late afternoon when they left the theater. The rest of the movie was okay. The kids' swim was the last time they hung out together, the movie flashing forward to their college years, where they all separated until the two leads met back up and finally confessed their love for each other. Oh, and there was a murder. It was a convoluted plot, but Rocky was still distracted by Josh's comment. He seemed completely at ease with the idea of swimming nude, in front of others, and saying so in front of his girlfriend, and with Rocky in the presence of his girlfriend. He didn't like being led to think about her hypothetically naked while her boyfriend, his best friend, was right there. Maybe he just grew up differently. Skinnydipping was a classic pastime, at least if other movies were to be believed (Josh remembered even more family-friendly movies that had scenes of kids carelessly and naturally skinnydipping, which was weird to him, but possibly not weird to the directors), but he had never partaken in it himself. Something, though, seemed exciting about the idea, and he almost wished to try it himself. Perhaps in private, though, and not in the company of others.

"So what do you guys want to do for the rest of the day?" Josh asked as they walked out onto the sun-baked parking lot. "I assume nobody's hungry."

"Not me," Bonita said. "Those chicken tenders were enough."

Rocky could have gone for something to eat. He always enjoyed sitting and eating with friends, but he shrugged and said he wasn't really hungry, either.

"Hey, wanna go hiking up in the wildlife area?" Josh next offered.

"What do you want to go up there for?" Rocky asked.

"It's real pretty up there. Might be nice to do some light hiking. And walk off that junk food we just ate."

"Sounds like a great idea," Bonita said, and so it was decided, though Rocky wasn't a fan of physical exertion. While Josh was in great shape, chiseled, sturdy, more or less a jock, Rocky was pudgy with a belly, and he got out of breath just going on a normal walk. Bonita wasn't exactly skinny, either, but she wasn't fat. Just... curvy. Yet, she didn't look like the type of person that liked going hiking and exercising.

Nevertheless, they were all piled in Josh's Jeep, driving just outside of town and soon going on the bumpy gravel road towards the wildlife area, and the trails interspersed throughout it. Rocky knew there was a little lake there, and wondered if Josh had swimming on his mind. Josh didn't say as much, though. He passed the time telling them about childhood adventures at summer camp, getting in fights with the resident asshole kid, catching a fourteen-foot trout, and then, he did admit to some skinnydipping.

"Just you and the other boys?" Rocky asked.

"Yeah. It was no big deal. We all knew what we looked like. And we didn't have to lay out and dry like some Malibu girl working on her tan. We just shook off and got dressed."

"Hmmm..." Rocky mused from his spot in the back seat.

"I've never done that," Bonita said. "I never had the opportunity. You sure had a nice childhood."

"Aw, it wasn't much. Just lucky enough to grow up in the sticks, I guess."

"You weren't thinking about swimming today, were you?" Rocky then asked.

"Actually, bud, I kinda was. That bug bit me after seeing that movie."

"Well I didn't bring my trunks."

"Don't need 'em."

"Oh man..."

"It's no big deal, man. Like I said, we all know what we look like."

Not exactly, Rocky thought, uncomfortably imagining Bonita free of clothes.

"Um, are you sure you're okay, and she's okay, with... um..."

"Oh, dude, you should know me well enough to know I don't care about that shit. As long as Bonita doesn’t care."

He glanced over to her.

"Well I've never done anything like this, but... I really don't mind. It should be fun."

"Then it's decided."

Oh man, Rocky gulped. He had not been planning for this.

Soon the jeep was rumbling to a halt on a grassy shoulder, just at the foot of a trail that led up past a picturesque waterfall and then to the top of a cliff, which Rocky knew overlooked the edge of the lake. He had been there before, a wallflower in a college freshman party, waving by beers as they were offered to him and looking at the fire glowing in the night and darting eyes away from the cute girl sitting across from it that he never had gotten the gumption to talk to. And now he was about to take off his clothes in front of another girl, not just any girl, but Bonita, who he knew fairly well, and who he definitely wasn't comfortable seeing naked, all things considered. But soon they were out of the jeep and marching up the path, Rocky with thoughts of what was to lie ahead swimming in his brain.

"Man, it's been a minute since I've been up here," Josh said, walking at the head of the group and leading the way, with Bonita behind him, and Rocky behind her, with nothing to look at except the undulations of her ample rear end underneath her jeans, tempting himself with imagining it unburdened in just a few minutes, along with him. Was he really going to do this?

Soon they were at the top of the trail. The trees cleared out and they were overlooking the edge of the lake, which snaked through a copse of trees on the other side and was very narrow; a private swimming hole, more or less. Josh stood and marveled at the view, and Rocky and Bonita came up beside him. 

"Look at all that," Josh pointed, and Rocky wanted to say, yes, I can see, but he was too preoccupied with thoughts of what he would be seeing soon.

And it was Josh who broke the ice.

"Well, let's jump in," he said, and he was already standing on one foot, pulling off a shoe. No one else in the party did a thing, and just watched in surprise as Josh got out of his shoes and pulled off his shirt as anybody would do when going for a swim. But then, he kept going, and in just a few seconds, his jeans were down.

Apparently Josh's views on the ridiculousness of swimming in one's underwear extended to daily attire as well, for he wore none. Rocky was not prepared to see his friend's ass (very tan, he noted) or the glimpse of his penis flipping up front before he took a running start and leaped off the edge of the small cliff. Rocky went to the edge and watched his friend land with a massive splash, and he hardly had time to gauge Bonita's reaction when he turned and saw that she was already getting undressed as well.

"Oh man, I—"

"Let's do it!" she said, opening her blouse to reveal a dark brown bra containing her large breasts, more of them than he had ever predicted he'd see, but they were soon freed as the bra was unclipped, the cups fell loose, and one-by-one, the tawny burdens were freed. There was a distinct bumpy texture to the areolas around her nipples, which were rigid and as thick as the end of Rocky's pinky finger, and he realized he was staring. But Bonita just laughed and shimmied down her jeans as if it were the most normal thing in the world, slipping them past her panties and stepping out of them so quickly that she was already stripping those down next before Rocky could think of a reply, and by then he was staring at a wide, tangly bush, blacker than the hair on her head, animated as her hips pivoted with her steps. Then her body was in motion, and she turned her side to him, rushing up to the edge of the cliff but too chicken to jump, coming to an abrupt halt and making her soft parts jiggle—including her butt, now facing him at a three-quarter view, wide, majestic, and more than he was prepared to even imagine. And then she just stepped off and dropped straight down into the water. The hypnotizing image was gone, as was the awkwardness of being alone with his friend's naked girlfriend, and he heard the sploosh. He stepped up to the edge and looked down, seeing the two tan figures wading below.

"Come on down, man!" Josh called up. "The water's fine!"

Well, at least he wouldn't have the pressure of getting naked in front of them, he thought. And once he dropped into the lake, his lesser self (that's how he thought of it, though before he had seen Josh drop drawers; he had always assumed that he himself was the smallest on the planet) would be safely hidden. Never mind that he was afraid of heights...

He stepped away from the cliff's edge and was alone on the rocky clearing, with just the birds and the bees and the people far up above in airplanes to see him, and he felt incredibly alone. He did not want to be up there. He wanted to turn tail and run back down the trail, but seeing as he had no ride, there were no other options. He supposed he could just wait there at the top of the cliff while Josh and Bonita enjoyed themselves. Perhaps they would appreciate the private time together, naked out in nature. Rocky always felt like a third wheel, anyway, though his friends never seemed to mind his company.

But no, that would not do. He would look like a prude. He would be a stick in the mud. They would know fully the breadth of his self-consciousness. He could do this. Easiest thing in the world.

Just then, Josh called up: “Hey man, you still up there?” and Rocky was on the spot. He needed to get going. He started by pulling off his t-shirt, which he already felt weird about doing even at public pools, and he now stood shirtless in the woods, a situation he had never been in.

Well, what next? he asked himself, and he kicked off his shoes. The rocky surface of the ground was hot and dusty on his soles. The dirt would get into his pants and underwear when he pulled his legs up through them. For all the convenience of swimming naked that Josh touted, getting dressed in the wilderness was still an annoying task, wet or not.

Rocky took a big breath and took down his jeans—and his underwear, all in one fell swoop. The rush of fresh air on his privates was immediate and noteworthy, and he nearly tripped on his pants as he stepped out of them, held them at his side as he stood and felt naked as a newborn baby, and, not knowing what to do, he dropped them, imagining plenty of bugs crawling in them while he was gone. And now he had nowhere else to go but down, but he was frozen in place by his nakedness. Nobody was around to see except the birds and the bees. Or airplanes. He looked up and drank in the sight of the sky connecting down to his naked existence below. There was something serene in it. He took a big breath, not out of nervousness this time, but to take in some calm. Then he stepped up to the cliff's edge.

"There he is!" Josh's voice came up in a babying tone, and Rocky felt petrified, and wanted to back away, but there he was, presented to his friends from above, a naked fat guy dramatically backlit by the sky. Thirty feet connected Bonita's eyes to his little dong, and he had the impulse to cover it, but he was more terrified of his next step.

"Just jump, dude! You won't hit the bottom!"

His bare feet teased the edge; the rock scraped on his soles. He imagined getting his feet cut on something. That would sure ruin the day, he thought. Or landing on the bottom and shattering his knees. He didn't know why people liked jumping into swimming holes from so high up. It felt like a stupid thing to do, like taking your clothes off in the middle of a public forest.

"Just jump! Swing free! Haha!"

With that last comment, Rocky thought more about his nakedness up there and less about the distance he would have to drop, and suddenly took his first step, his first step into empty air. He wobbled on the edge, almost fell forward, and then instinctively pushed off with his other foot, and he was falling. The air whooshed over his body, enveloped his skin, and he put his arms up and felt the most striking single moment of being naked, of being free, of not even the ground touching him, like floating in a void, except the trees in front of him were rising fast, and he started to look down, but—

Crash. He plowed through the water, and a muffled and bubbly cacophony filled his ears and his nostrils burned. Amidst all that, he could feel his penis flipping around in the water, free; an odd feeling. And then he was working his arms and legs to get up to the surface.

He came up with a gasp and heard the pleasant sound of songbirds and of Josh and Bonita laughing.

"Welcome!" Josh said. Rocky treaded water and turned himself to see Josh and then Bonita, both floating up to their shoulders. The water was dark and he could not see below. The only hint of Bonita's nudity was the sun glittering a hundred droplets on her strapless shoulders, and the tease of her collarbone leading to what he had just seen for a few seconds up above. It felt normal, just a few friends swimming, and Rocky was instantly at ease.

"What do you think?" Josh said, bobbing up and down and grinning.

"It's nice," Rocky said, and he meant it; hanging in the water felt pleasantly strange, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. He was used to feeling his trunks float and cling to him, but now there was nothing, and it felt like he was still floating in air. The only thing to dread was getting out, and making the walk back up to the top of the cliff without clothes, he realized.

"This reminds me of my childhood," Bonita spoke up. "We used to swim in the river, but not like this. We kept our clothes on."

"Well they'll be nice and dry this time," Josh said. "Hey, let's swim to the end there and get a view of the whole lake."

"Okay."

"Do you think there'll be people out there?" Rocky cut in, not wanting to be an exhibitionist more than he had to.

"Maybe, but what will they be able to tell? Don't worry."

And so Josh leaned forward in the water and began to breaststroke, and the entirety of his body laid out on the water so that you could tell he was entirely nude, his ass rising up and then sluiced by gushes of water. Bonita followed suit in the same way, her body elegantly rising up, her back-end a hypnotizing curve above the surface, and Rocky hurried and tried to get momentum to follow them, but he was not a great swimmer. He lagged behind.

"It's not like there's anything wrong with enjoying a little skinnydip," Josh called back between strokes.

"Yeah, but it's illegal," Rocky gasped out behind him.

"Is it?" Bonita said, suddenly worried-sounding. It was hard to hear the full conversation over the splashes, and with Josh and Bonita getting farther ahead, but Josh said: "Yeah, maybe if you walked naked in town, but—" Water splashed into his face and he continued. "Nobody's gonna arrest you for skinnydipping in the middle of the woods!"

Soon the little swimming hole opened up, and over the backs of his friends, Rocky could see a treeline far in the distance, and glimmering grey-blue water all before it. He thought he could see a jet ski skipping across the surface and his heart pattered a little faster, though it was mostly straining with the current exercise. They made their way to the shoreline on the left, before the land sloped away and opened up to the larger body of water. Josh's and Bonita's legs lowered, and they began to wade, and when Rocky caught up to them, he let his feet fall and they touched muddy ground. They were all now standing with their shoulders well out of the water, and when his friends turned, he saw Josh's wet and glittering chest and a teasing glimpse of the top of Bonita's breasts, water running between them, and the edge of an areola coming up above the surface and then slipping under. This was not very covert, Rocky thought.

Josh grinned at him and then faced out to the wider lake. "Get a load of that," he said.

"I see it. Makes me a little nervous."

"Nobody's looking."

Perhaps emboldened by his own words, Josh stepped further out of the water so that he was waist-deep in it, the surface teasing at the tops of his hip bones, the shadow of his pubic hair barely visible, and Bonita followed suit, rising out of the water and eliminating any doubt for anybody looking that she was nude, her chest majestic and dripping and her navel hovering over the water’s surface. Rocky's heart was still beating hard. He was certain they would be caught, but he rose out of the water, too, just high enough to look like a normal male swimmer, his more sensitive area still hidden. He still felt safe from embarrassment this way. In fact, it was amazing how less weird he felt about it overall. The only thing left was the fear of getting caught.

Josh didn't seem to have that fear, though, because he was making his way for the shore, now his butt rising out of the water, and Bonita was right behind him. Rocky wanted to call out, but watched in disbelief as his friends stepped onto land. He was hypnotized by Bonita's shapely frame, an hourglass shape; perfectly symmetrical.

Josh turned to grin at Rocky. "I just wanted to step out and feel like I'm free for a little bit," he said. "You'd be amazed how awesome it feels to walk around with nobody to stop you."

Soon Josh and Bonita were in the moderate cover of the trees, and it was Rocky who felt naked and exposed, standing in the water, and he hurried to join them, almost tripping on the slippery lake floor, and feeling his penis flipping free in the suddenly chill air, feeling the water drip down his thighs and feeling suddenly self-conscious again, but he approached his friends, who turned to him, but did not stare. With Bonita facing him, he was almost in awe at her perfectly-shaped features, the symmetry of her round breasts, the punctuation of her bush. He felt the threat of arousal come up as he stepped onto earth, and he had half a mind to let it show, to not be ashamed of it; it was natural and bound to happen, afterall. That mental abandonment gave him more bravery, and soon he was standing near his friends as they decided what to do next. They turned around and observed their surroundings. The forest closed in and offered a feeling of security. Rocky almost felt at home there, naked, but safe, with nobody to stop him. He felt like a character from an adventure movie, a wild person. A creature of the woods.

"Might as well get used to it," Josh said. "Because we gotta walk back up to the cliff like this."

"I was going to ask about that," Rocky said, looking at both Josh and Bonita—in the eyes, and not below. He was getting more and more used to this.

And just then, a twig snapped.

Rocky's heart launched back into its previous tempo and Josh and Bonita turned to see two young guys step through the trees. Both of them were carrying fishing rods and froze at the sight of the three naked people. Rocky recognized them right away as Pat and Paul Thompson, friends of Josh's. They were both tall and lean, but not as in shape as Josh, whose physique was now very apparent to them. Rocky's hands shot to cover his privates, which had grown a little large in his previous feeling of abandonment, and it was a little difficult to cover.

"Oh, hey guys," Paul said. "We thought we heard somebody."

"Havin' a skinnydip, eh?" Pat said, eyes drifting to Bonita as she smiled. Josh didn't seem phased, and Bonita appeared confident, though let her hand drift in front of her bush unconsciously.

"Yeah man, just havin' a dip," Josh said, his hands at his sides.

"You always were crazy, man, aren't you afraid of getting caught?" Paul said.

"I think they just did get caught," Pat replied. The two brothers were nearly identical, except that Pat stood almost a foot shorter than Paul, a near-miniature version of him.

"We didn't think it was a big deal," Josh said, speaking for his friends, but noticing their embarrassment. "Well, maybe we better jump back in."

"Hell, we'll join ya," Pat said. "It's muggy out here fishing all day."

"Come on in!"

Josh jutted his thumb back towards the water and then turned to go back in, and Rocky and Bonita eagerly followed, Rocky thankful for the sanctuary of the opaque water. And right on their heels, Paul and Pat stood on the shore, set their fishing rods down, and began to undress. It was all so surreal. And in the distance, the jet ski came skipping towards the other side of the lake, and then the two lean brothers, now naked and pale and as eye-catching as Josh, lowered themselves into the water. Rocky waded around and blushed and smiled and looked at Bonita, with her tetas bonitas hovering before him, and he blushed again, but then everyone was shoulder-deep and swimming again, with the Thompson brothers and Josh chattering lively and Rocky and Bonita just taking it all in. They talked about work, and gossip from the town, and of spending time in this lake, where Josh's antics were well-known to the Thompsons. And then they found themselves back at the hole. They spent time there just relaxing, Josh floating on his back and taking in the sun, and Rocky made himself to mimic his friend, self-conscious once again to have his limp flag presented to all and to the sun, feeling its warmth, but he no longer feared the threat of an erection, even when Bonita drifted by, casting lazy backstrokes and making her mountains move.

Eventually, it felt that it was time for Josh and his party to move on, and they waded to the rocky shore where the footpath led up to the top of the cliff, and they stood there boldly while the Thompson brothers still waded in the water, gazing up at them, making Rocky feel in the spotlight, but not as much perhaps as Bonita felt, no longer covering herself but standing brave and bold, her chest thrust out, dripping water at its summits.

"Well, we'll see you again man, thanks for the hot idea," Paul called from the water.

"No problem, man, hope you catch some big fish."

"Man, I think we're done for the day."

And with that, the two brothers turned and paddled back towards where they had all come from, two twin and pale figures half-submerged in the water, and Rocky and Josh and Bonita were left assessing themselves and the trek upwards.

"Well, let's get goin'," Josh said, and he led the way, and once again Rocky was in the back, gazing upwards with nothing to look at now but the undulating and shaking backside of Bonita, in contrast to how he had seen it, clothed, on the way in, and in that short trek, he got half-hard, though by the time they reached the top, his arousal was forgotten and a fresh sweat had developed from the exertion, but he was mostly dry as they stood at the top and picked up their clothes, awkwardly looking at each other as they put them back on, piece-by-piece. Then they walked out of the woods without a word, making their way down the trail and to the Jeep, and driving back to town with little word of the fun and boundless adventure they just had.

Rocky thought about it much when he was back home and by himself. He could not get the image of Bonita out of his head, nor the feeling of exhilaration and freedom that came from standing in the middle of the woods in the nude with his friends, or at being seen by the Thompsons, or the long walk back up to the cliff. It made him Google nudism and naturism, where he found himself reading many accounts of people making their first visit to a nudist resort or beach, going through the same feelings that he himself had experienced, though magnified. He could hardly imagine being in a setting of hundreds of people, let alone the half-dozen he had been nude with, and now he felt it was something he could do, if he ever wanted to do it.

But he would never need to. One day, months later, he had been given the invite to go hang out at the swimming hole with Josh and Bonita and the Thompson twins and several others, and it was not a secret that it was going to be a clothing-optional outing. Apparently word had traveled of their adventure, and others wanted to get in on it too, and experience swimming free without fear of restrictions, and soon Rocky found himself riding in Josh's Jeep with Bonita and looking forward to seeing others, apparently several more girls, and some guys he had never met before, and it wall made his heart beat faster, but with a different type of energy than what he had felt on his first ride up. This was more positive. Nervous, but positive, and he looked forward to meeting all these new people, and to having nothing to hide. It would be the first of many large nude gatherings at the swimming hole, and Rocky would always remember the movie version of those types of outings, with everybody instead in their underwear, and like Josh, he too would shake his head and laugh.

The Naked Ice Cream Stand

Christopher had always had a strange memory from when he was about six. It was a memory that was so strange that it had to be a dream. He remembered being out somewhere with his parents. He didn't remember how they got there, if it was close by or somewhere far away, but Christopher recalled a quiet park area surrounded by trees, a small wet-looking circle of blacktop and some park benches, and a little ice cream stand centered in it all. And, to his amazement and wonder, the employees of the ice cream stand were naked.

He remembered not finding that part itself strange, too, because he too was naked. So were his parents. That in itself wasn't too unusual, as the better parts of Christopher's memory recalled running around the house naked, or his father coming out of the shower and walking into the hall without putting anything on, but what was strange was taking off his clothes outside. He distinctly remembered taking off his shirt and pants by their car and looking around cautiously at the others who were gathered in that little area: about five other people, men and women, sitting casually on benches or walking up to the ice cream stand, all nude. He remembered being transfixed by a woman on a bench, her legs crossed, her lap a smooth "V", her bosom surreal and hypnotizing to see as she lapped at an ice cream cone and held her shoulder-length hair out of the way. She looked like his mom, albeit a little younger, but she transfixed him so much more than the familiar sight of his own kin. She was very elegant, mysterious, and—he didn't understand the concept of the word at the time, but—erotic. He remembered feeling self-conscious, until he saw that his parents were fully undressed, and it was a familiar and comforting sight. With no more hesitation, he walked between them as they made their way to the ice cream stand, where there he was in awe of the people that worked on the other side of the counter. Like the woman on the bench, they were all nude, and they were all ladies. Slightly older than his mom, all with comforting smiles and bared breasts seen above the counter, some quite large and mystifying; he could see every little bump on the maroon circle that capped one very friendly woman's breasts, and she smiled down on him like a grandmother and asked "what the little tyke" would like. He remembered her arm reaching out and his father taking the cone—he didn't remember what flavor—and handing it down to him, and they sat at an open bench and ate their ice cream and looked about the quiet little spot that felt like some locale from a dream, which it must surely have been. Sitting there naked on a bench underneath lush green trees with others milling about or doing the same thing was serenely comforting, and Christopher could not get out of his head the overflowing warmth and also shamelessness of the ladies who worked the ice cream stand.

It is a tragic circumstance, though one not worth dwelling on, that Christopher never got to ask his parents about that memory as he got older, for it certainly popped into his mind from time to time, but unfortunately, both his parents died in a car crash when he was eight. He had been in the car and was the only survivor. It was not his parents' fault; a speeding car (police chase) had sideswiped them and flipped them over. It was a terrifying time, and very tragic, but Christopher had grown from it. Now he was twenty-four, working his first job outside of college (a call center job, not what he had studied for, obviously, but he was happy nonetheless) and about to go on a road trip to Chicago with his friends, and he had a hidden destination he wanted to find.

"There's no naked ice cream stand, dude," his friend Adam said behind the wheel of his sturdy Volvo station wagon. Their mutual friend, Katya, sat in the passenger's seat. Christopher sat in back.

"I'm sure it's along here somewhere," Christopher said. "I read it. I mean who cares? It's not like we're in a hurry."

"Okay, man," Adam said as he took the next exit off the lonely Indiana highway.

"Maybe we'll find something else cool while we're wandering," Christopher added.

"There's nothing here, dude," Adam said. "We're in the armpit of America."

And indeed they were. As they took the exit, they came onto a small road lined with gas stations and fast-food restaurants typical of any spot in middle-class America, and Adam drove past them all until the road led out into open field, with little on either side except corn. It already felt like they were in the middle of nowhere.

"So what am I supposed to be looking for?" Adam asked, "related to your ice cream stand or anything worth a shit?"

"There's supposed to be a car dealership," Christopher said, "and then a really drab-looking mini-mall, and then after that there's a turnoff, a small gravel road."

"Okay dude, we'll see, but if I end up driving around all afternoon, you're paying for the gas."

"It's a deal," Christopher said.

"I think it's fun," Katya countered. "Think of it like an adventure!"

"If you wanna have an adventure taking your clothes off, we can just pull over and do it right here," Adam said.

"Oooh, that sounds like fun!"

"I was kidding."

Katya would have, Christopher knew. She was in fact a nude model, and not shy about talking about it. Taking off her clothes was as normal as putting them on, and being worshiped by strangers on the internet didn’t phase her one bit, and concordantly, it didn't phase her to be looked at in person, either. But being naked wasn't the draw for Christopher. It was just finding the source of the phantom memory in his brain.

He had done some searching online, predictably typing up "naked ice cream stand" and seeing what came up. He found a few businesses ironically using the word “naked,” other businesses that sold ice cream but had nothing to do with nakedness, and he found some stock photos of women holding ice cream cones in front of their breasts. But as he got further into his obsessive scrolling into page four, then five and six and eventually ten of his search results, he found a post from a discussion forum talking about spending time at a naked ice cream stand.

"Oh yeah, all the employees are naked, it's a bunch of ladies that run it, apparently it's a family business. They are nudists and they encourage people to come in and be nude, too."

Christopher wanted to respond to the post with questions, but it was from a discussion from five years ago, and the forum in fact appeared to be dead now. He wasn't even sure if they were talking about what he had remembered or not, for he did not know the poster's location. So he searched "Midwest naked ice cream stand," and he strangely found a Facebook page with very few posts except for a general sharing of their location and little else. "Highway Thirteen, just past the Hyundai dealership, and then a quick turn to the middle of nowhere, a.k.a, Paradise."

He had found that post mere months before his and his friends' planned road trip, which was to go see a friend of theirs at a convention, but also just to roam around Chicago for a weekend. He saw it fit to add this little search to their trip, and apparently Katya was the only one enthusiastic about it.

"There's the dealership," Adam announced. They all looked to the left and saw the Hyundai place full of identical-looking cars and a fancy sign touting the dealer's name, and it looked so out of place in the middle of nowhere. Then it passed by, and they were looking at endless field again.

"So where's the mini-mall?" Adam asked. "Who puts a mall out here, anyway?" But then the mall came into view. The land was cleared out in exchange for pavement, and like a weird oasis, the collection of shops and eateries came into view—ironically, among them, a sign for a Hagen-Daz stand.

"Alright, slow down," Christopher said. "It's gonna be up ahead on the right. I think."

"There's a car coming up behind me," Adam said.

"They can pass us."

Adam reluctantly slowed, and Christopher planted his face at the rear passenger window, and in similar fashion, Katya shielded her eyes as she looked out her window, eager to see something special.

"Ooh! There it is!" she cried, and Adam pumped the brakes. The car behind them, quickly advancing, honked its horn and slowed down.

"There! There!" Katya cried.

"Is this it, dude?" Adam asked Christopher.

"Yeah. Turn."

And so Adam did, sharply, and to their surprise, the vehicle behind them—a red station wagon—also turned. They bumped down a gravel path lined with trees. It felt like they were in a jungle. And then, pitched in the side of the road was a little wooden sign that read in painted letters: "Ice cream this way!" Christopher had the sudden feeling that they were being led along on some Pied Piper bullshit.

"Dude..." Adam muttered. "Is this for real?"

Christopher wanted to say "I told you so," but he bit his lip in anticipation and fear. Up front, Katya piped up. "All right, who wants ice cream?" she cried.

"I wasn't actually prepared to think we'd get to have ice cream," Adam said as he guided the Volvo down the trail, the red station wagon close in his rear-view, until they came to an open clearing, and a circle of pavement lined with benches, some dirt parking spots for vehicles, of which there were a few, and it all came back to Christopher: this was it. This was what he had remembered. It was represented almost exactly, and he had a rush of deja-vu.

"The fuck is this place?" Adam asked.

"Just park over there, let's see," Katya said. So Adam pulled the Volvo into a grassy spot and the station wagon went past him and pulled into a spot of its own. With the engine running, Adam turned and looked back at the little lot, and Christopher and Katya did, too, and it was confirmed for all of them that this was the place they were looking for, for right in the center of the little paved area was a young man, almost their age, walking up to the ice cream stand in his birthday suit, light and pale in the shaded light, his butt a reminder to his nudity.

"You gotta be kidding me, "Adam said. "It's real?"

Christopher was at a loss for words. he wanted to say I knew I wasn't crazy, but he was just in awe, in awe that all this time, the memory wasn't a dream, and also in awe that a place like this even existed.

"Let's get out!" Katya cried. "Time for ice cream!"

She was opening the door before Adam could even shut off the engine. He almost looked like was going to call out to her to wait, but she stepped out, and then as if she had to get rid of it right away, she peeled off her shirt.

Adam worked his mouth to say something, but he was in shock. Christopher, meanwhile, was in a daze all of his own, from the discovery of this place, and from the sudden sight of his friend disrobing. Her profession as a nude model was not something lost on him; both he and Adam had seen her pictures and videos online. But none of them had seen her naked in person, and now she yanked down her shorts and panties and tiptoed out of them, placing her feet back in her sandals and throwing her clothes on the passenger's seat, looking at Adam with an eager grin. Of course, his eyes were frantic.

"Let's go!" she said.

Adam nodded and took the keys out of the ignition, opened his door, and got out. But he did not yet get undressed. Christopher opened his door and got out on the same side as Katya, and took a moment to reel at the sight of her. She was everything that her model persona was, in the flesh, evenly tanned from head to toe, her breasts weightless, her stomach with only the faintest trace of a paunch that seemed to drive her fans wild, and her delta shaven, a peek of inner labia hanging out so shamelessly. She looked at him expectantly, obviously saying well? and his eyes drifted over to the ice cream stand, where he saw the young man from before turning with his cone, unashamedly, walking with his full-frontal frame bared to them, his penis making little flipping motions as he walked and licked his cone. And behind him, Christopher could see the bare shoulders and bare, smallish chests of the employees working inside. He took a step forward. He was ready to go get a cone, but he wasn't sure about getting naked. He hadn't lived like a nudist since his parents had died.

Adam came around from the front of the vehicle and looked towards the stand. Katya didn't even phase him now.

"Well, shall we get some ice cream?" he said.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Katya asked. Adam raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know, man, this is normal for you, but... it is a little bit weird.”

"Well hopefully they don't turn you away because you're clothed!" she joked, and she looked yearningly towards the stand and then back at her friends, and then she turned and made her way forward, Adam and Christopher hanging back just a second to get a load of her undulating ass making its way forward, just as she appeared in her online videos, but here before them now. Adam shook his head.

"Man, this is weird..." and as if finally giving up, he pulled off his shirt. Christopher's eyes shot up as he beheld his friend going bare-chested, and then dropping his shorts quickly, like a band-aid, just to get them off, and Christopher turned his head before he could see more than he wanted to. He beheld Katya standing happily before the ice cream stand, raising on her tippy-toes to read the menu, her butt perched in the air. And then Adam brushed past him, now nude, his square, more masculine ass taking up part of the scenery as he went to go join Katya. Then Christopher swore and unbuttoned his collared shirt, opening it to accept the little sun on his chest that made it through the thick tree branches, and he tossed it on the back seat and gave much thought to going about the rest. He felt just as weird as he did in his memory, as his hands fumbled on his belt buckle and then finally undid it, and the waistband slipped down over his hips and down his legs, over his open toes as he slipped them out of his own sandals, and then he was standing in his boxers, feeling like he should run away, like he should jump back into the station wagon and hide, but he took those down—quickly, like a band-aid, just as Adam had—and he was left with the most raw-vulnerable feeling as the air washed over his butt and sides and his groin, almost refreshing, and he looked back to the ice cream stand, where Katya was turning happily to see him standing there in the buff.

He felt raw energy build up; At seeing Katya, at being seen by Katya, and the phantom-est of trembles itched his penis. Please don't get hard, he thought. He tossed his clothes in the backseat and closed the door, and with trepidation, he walked across the lot to join his friends.

Katya was standing with her cone in front of her, her face alive, almost innocent-looking, like a child, except for her very adult body, her breasts framing the cone in front of them. Behind her, Adam looked up at the menu, while one of the employees waited. She was very young, a contrast to Christopher’s memory, where the ladies had been old and motherly. Here they looked like teenagers. Their frames were slender, their breasts full but small, their collarbones showing, their faces fresh and their eyes full and doey. They had a giddy energy to them, as the one in front smiled and then cheerfully responded to Adam's request for a rocky road. Christopher turned and looked over the place. The young guy from before was leaning against the trunk of his car, lapping at his cone and nodding at a new car that pulled in. A husky man, hairy-chested and pot-bellied, walked up to the side of the ice cream stand, apparently the driver of the red SUV. His eyes didn't even drift once to Katya standing there, an image of perfection and eroticism enjoying some ice cream.

Then it was Christopher's turn. Adam turned away from the counter and held his double-scoop cone, and nodded towards Katya and the new man who stepped up, and stood so casually, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. Christopher then turned to the grinning face of the young woman waiting for him. Her hair was black and shoulder-length, her skin as bronzed as Katya's.

"Hi, what can I get ya?"

"I'll need just a moment. ...This is a strange business you got here. How do you get away with it?"

"Oh, it was our mothers' business. They started it back in the seventies after they went to a nudist resort. We kinda fly under the radar. We don't advertise much, just word of mouth. And as long as we're not out here bothering anybody, nobody bothers us!"

"That's funny," Christopher said, adjusting himself to be brave enough to talk to this girl, so youthful, her breasts beckoning to be stared at, though his better self kept his eyes above. "When I was real little I remember coming to a place like this, and for the longest time I just thought it was a dream."

"Nope, you probably were here!"

"Amazing."

The girl just grinned and stared.

"Uh, cookies and cream on a waffle cone," Christopher said.

"Sure!"

The girl spun around, lending a look at her slender back as she readied his treat. Beyond her, Christopher saw the other employees, all girls as young and youthful as she, their torsos glimpsed almost all the way down to their hips, slender and alluring. He glanced behind him and saw that Katya and Adam were casually chatting, face-to-face with each other and seemingly unaware of their nudity, and when he glanced to his right, the pot-bellied man was smiling at him.

"I come here all the time," the man started speaking. "It's a nice pit stop between work and home."

"It's hard to believe there's a place out here like this."

The man chuckled.

"Yeah, more businesses should be like this."

That apparently caught the attention of Katya, who turned her head and looked thoughtful for a second. Then the happy voice of the girl at the counter pulled him back, and she handed him his cone.

"You probably forgot your wallet," she said with a laugh.

"Oh, right..."

"Don't worry. They did, too. Just pay before you leave!"

"Thanks."

She reached her slender arm out and handed him his cone, and he took it, eyes catching for just a moment the connection of her arm to her rounded, polished shoulder and the gap of her armpit, and the soft swell of her breast, with a tiny circle for an areola. he took his treat and turned to face his friends.

"Let's go sit," Katya suggested, and motioned towards an open bench, and Christopher nodded and they all three made their way over to it, the air cool and enveloping over his skin. The spot by the bench was shaded and pleasant, and when they turned and lowered themselves onto it, the cement was rough and cold on his bare butt, but not as cold as the ice cream on his tongue as he licked it and looked at his friends. The phantom tremble of a coming erection was gone, even though Katya sat right next to him, sandwiched between her two male friends, her thighs pressed together and forming an alluring "V" (much like the woman in his memory), her tongue working magic on the remnants of her ice cream. Okay, the tremble came up again just then. He forced himself to remain calm as he ate his ice cream, sitting there with his lap exposed and with no way to covertly hide it, helpless for his dick to loll over against his thigh and extend ever so slightly, and hoping that Katya did not notice it. She was more focused on her ice cream cone, which did not help matters below. For all the casualness he had had about nudity as a child, he had lost it in the absence of practice. And now he was here, the place he had been searching for all his life.

"I gotta say, dude," Adam cut in from the other end of the bench. "It was annoying hearing you go full conspiracy theorist about this place, but I'm glad you were so obsessed."

Christopher leaned forward and looked past Katya at Adam.

"You like it, huh?"

"Oh yeah. This is actually super-chill. I didn't think it would be."

"There's nothing more chill than relaxing outside naked," Katya said, looking past her cone at the circle of pavement where the people in the latest vehicle got out to head to the stand. They were a family, a mother and father and a little daughter, not unlike Christopher's memory. He watched them as they got undressed by their car, not voyeuristically, but merely observing, recalling that exact scene as he had experienced it. The parents slowly and calmly took off their clothes one garment at a time, so casual, and the little girl, even more casual, tossing everything off at once. Christopher shifted in his seat and felt guilty for looking; the girl scampered forward without a care in the world, thin and even-hued and featureless and strangely beautiful in an innocent, pure way, and Christopher reflected on the way he had been transfixed as a child by the older women fawning over him, and now as by the teenaged daughters of those women, being on the other side of the age gap, and seeing this little girl, so infectious with her joy, and her smiling parents following close behind, nothing alluring about them in their demeanor, though the mother was very shapely and filled out, with a heart-shape to her behind as she walked next to her husband and his more square and masculine backside, and it made him think of the allure of nudity, and the absence allure if one were to be accustomed to it, and he realized why this business could not survive if it were advertised too much. But if enjoyed by a small group of like-minded people... He began wondering if there could be other businesses like this outside this little hollow.

"Boy, I wonder if there's any place like this in Chicago?" Katya asked, echoing his thoughts.

"Were you listening to what that old guy was saying?" he asked her, turning to look at her bravely now, her face co close to his, her bare body right next to him, and his bare masculinity still struggling to maintain decency.

"Yeah, I agree with him, wouldn't it be great if there were a lot of places like this?"

"Maybe there are and we just don't know about them," Adam said, ruminating and looking at the family going up to the ice cream stand.

"Let's look for them while when we get there!" Katya said, growing excited. Adam snorted.

"How would we even find them? It took Chris years of snooping to find this place."

“Well, really, it was just one afternoon...”

"We'll just ask," Katya said.

"Yeah, I'm sure that will get results."

"Maybe Katya should just walk in naked to places and ask," Christopher said without thinking. Afterall, he thought, people might recognize her. Luckily, Katya laughed at this.

"You know, that's not a bad idea for an impromptu shoot..."

"I was just joking."

"No, for real, if I did that, would you photograph me with your phone at least?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and could tell that she was serious.

"Man, I don't want us to get in trouble while we're over there."

"It's just a thought. Let's play it by ear, at least."

"Okay."

And so they spent the rest of their time at the ice cream stand finishing their cones and watching people come and go and becoming so used to the environment that they didn't want to put on their clothes to leave. It was Katya who popped up the idea when they went back to their car to get their money: "Hey, what if we make the rest of the drive naked?"

"We're gonna have to get gas at some point," Adam said with a laugh.

"We can get dressed in the car. Or one of us can."

Adam only shook his head. "We'll see."

They all went over to pay and Christopher was charmed by the presence of the black-haired girl who took his debit card and thanked him for his business, and then they went back to the car and Christopher turned around and took one last look at the place, taking it all in to make new memories on top of the ones that had been such a presence all his life. And then Katya climbed in, without putting on her clothes. Adam was standing by the driver's side holding his shirt and pants, and just shook his head and decided to get in, too. Christopher laughed and jumped in back next to his pile of clothes, and the doors were closed and Adam started up the engine.

"Well," he said. "Let's hope we don't get caught." And with that, he backed out of the spot and pulled away from the naked ice cream stand. Christopher turned around and got one more look at it, the last image he would see of it and one which he would hold in his memory forever, and then they were back on the highway with the new thrilling and vulnerable feeling of riding nude, ever-conscious of people being able to see them through the windows. But they drove on like that for many miles, getting back on the freeway where they felt even more vulnerable, until they got used to it, just as they got used to it at the ice cream stand, and it was only in moments of slow traffic that somebody on their right happened to look over and let their jaw drop before Adam was able to speed up and keep going, and they rode like that until the sun got low, making them wonder if they could get away with gassing up in the nude. Katya sure encouraged it, and they all agreed they would give it a try. And they still had a hundred miles until Chicago...

The Naked Coffee Shop

It was a bold idea, and quite unprecedented for the area. One year, a quaint little coffee shop popped up not too far from the town square. It was set inside a little business strip, next to a pizza joint and a hairdresser. It may have been better suited to a separate building, like some quaint coffee shops one sees that inhabit re-purposed houses, set away from other businesses, with their own lawns and ample outdoor seating. But it was right along the sidewalk, and the first thing that caught people as odd was that the windows were now tinted. The reason for that was—and this was not something advertised on the signage but rather just spread by word-of-mouth—was that the coffee shop was a nudist coffee shop.

It was the idea of the owner, Stacey, a woman in her fifties who had been around in the world, including visiting many nudist resorts both in the States and in other countries, and who wanted to encourage casual, social, non-sexual nudity in what she saw as a stuck-up and puritan culture. A nudist resort off in the mountains was something that was accepted and often talked about with stifled giggles, but a nudist business in the middle of town? That encouraged some giggly talk as well, and some scrutiny, as it didn't take long for the shop’s reputation to spread.

Stacey also decided that it would be a requirement to be nude in her establishment. She had considered making it clothing-optional, but decided that wouldn't be the best idea, as it would encourage people who would otherwise not be interested in nudism to come in and gawk. But if required to be nude, the wrong crowd might be less inclined to come. Some bad apples would come through, no doubt, but Stacey was ready for that. She had a sign clearly stating that the business was not responsible, yada yada, and that all clothes must be discarded and set aside in a glorified coat room (really the shop was all one big room, but there was an area to hang up coats to the right of the door). The other challenge was getting employees who were comfortable being nude, because nobody, not the baristas, not even the owner herself, would be wearing any clothes while clocked in. Like Disneyland "cast members" who can't be out of character or costume while in the park, it was all part of the uniform.

Luckily, her three employees were open to the idea. Within varying degrees. The awkward part was that she had hired them before she decided to make her business nudity-required.

She had already known she wanted to open a coffee shop, and had even had the signage made: "Joe Jams," named because she had planned to have live music there regularly. Now the name seemed inappropriate in some hard-to-touch-on way. She wondered if she could get any bands to agree to perform nude.

When everything about the start of the business was in motion, Stacey read an article about a nude café in France and loved the idea so much that she proffered the idea to her new employees. There was Tina: young, pretty, and extremely outgoing. She had been extremely energetic in her interview, and she was equally energetic about Stacey's idea, agreeing without any hesitation, surprisingly, to tossing her planned uniform in favor of her own skin.

Then there was Vince. He was about Tina's age, very well-kept and proper. Stacey couldn't figure if he was a hipster or a nerd or a hardcore Christian. it turned out he was in the last category. He was very shy and looked terrified at the prospect she had hoisted upon him. Knowing that his boss, and indeed both his co-workers, were female, no doubt made him nervous. He said he would think about it, but then changed his mind and said he needed the money and that he liked the idea of working in a small coffee shop. He promised he would never knock something until he tried it, but his body language expressed uncertainness as he walked away from the counter where she had popped the idea to him, while she was cleaning up.

Next was Lily, and she was a tad older than the other two, and about as shy-seeming as Vince, but always with a faint smile on her face. She was a sweet girl and very much a flower of a person, extremely polite and always seeming on the verge of laughing out of embarrassment, and her face turned flush red when Stacey asked her about the idea. "Oh gosh," she had said. "That's something new, I..." And then, to Stacey's surprise, Lily gushed: "I'll do it!" Stacey was sure Lily would make Vince incredibly nervous, for she could already see his demeanor change any time Lily was in the room with him. How much more magnified would that behavior be without clothes? She wondered if she was opening up a Pandora's box of problems, but all seemed well for her proposed nude coffee shop, and all that was left was requesting permission to hold such a business, which went through amazingly easy. And so, Stacey was ready to open her shop to the public, and await what would come of her first day in business. She posted about the grand opening on her business' Facebook page and made that the first place where the nudity-required rule was mentioned. Then she got up extra early and drove out to the town square with nervousness in her heart. She was the first one in, and upon unlocking, she walked through the shop, turned the lights on, and then went behind the counter and got undressed.

To Stacey, getting naked was as natural as putting on clothes for others. It didn't bother her. But the coffee shop was such an unusual place to do it, and the sense of strangeness reminded her of her very first time going to a nudist resort, shy and unsure and now anticipating the first person who would walk through the door. She put her clothes in the little office which she kept and then went about getting things in order, wondering about the health concerns of working with food and beverages in the nude. What would the health inspectors say? She had approval from the county though, so there should be no reason to fear. She had taken a shower first thing in the morning, and encouraged the others to do so as well, but already she felt herself sweating.

Vince was the first person to arrive, and Stacey saw him freeze in his tracks as he stepped through the door and beheld her from the breasts up from behind the counter. Any doubts he had about the reality he was walking into were now dashed.

"Good morning! As you can see, I got into things right away. Come on in and get undressed, before customers start coming in."

He gulped, nodded, and let the door fall shut behind him. With hesitant steps he entered the coffee shop and came closer and closer to the counter, never letting Stacey from his sight. It felt weird and potentially problematic to demand he take off his clothes as she did, but that was the dress code, and soon, he dropped his bag behind the counter and prepared to comply, stopping in amazement first at the sight of Stacey from head to toe behind the counter. She knew he would stare at first, and she was no stranger to it, and she did not correct him as his eyes passed quickly up the shape of her hips and up to her chest and then finally to her eyes. She smiled at him and then walked past him, brushing against him and making him quiver. She made her way to the office to allow him the privacy to go through that first step into this new world. In the office, she went over some papers, really just going through the motions of organizing things, for she had nothing to do back there. She stood over her desk and folded her arms and got used to the feeling of being nude once again, and after a few minutes, she decided it was time to step back out.

Vince was shirtless and stepping out of his pants when she came out of the office, and he nearly tripped on them when he saw she was there. But she just laughed and said: "Don't be nervous, we're all in the same boat here," and she walked to the front of the store to straighten the little chairs in front of their tables while Vince finished undressing. She went to the front door and turned the hanging sign so it said "open," and when she turned around, Vince was standing there, holding his clothes before him, his bare feet on the cold floor (it was a little chilly; Stacey had forgotten to consider sandals and made note to ask everybody to bring some), and he stared at her helplessly. He was a fine young man, physically speaking, with a trim stomach (what wasn't hidden behind his clothes he held before him), toned arms, and below, his little Vince appeared shrunken in fear, retreating into the puff of black that was his pubic hair. Stacey only smiled and regarded him as she would any normal human being, clothed or not.

"You can stash your clothes in the office, behind my desk," she instructed. He nodded and turned from her, leaving her with the humorous sight of his naked butt waving goodbye, a narrow, slightly effeminate butt, highlighting his complete nudity now with nothing to hold in front of him, and she thought that this would be a very thrilling experience indeed.

And just then, the front door chimed, and in entered not Tina or Lily, but the first customers of the day.

They were young-looking college-aged guys, and entered just as Vince had, freezing in their tracks, beholding Stacey this time in her entirety as she was adjusting chairs, their eyes widening in disbelief.

"Hi, welcome to Joe Jams! Please note the sign—" she motioned to the "please remove your clothes" sign hanging just inside next to the door. "And enjoy yourself! We'll be with you in just a sec."

Their distracted eyes drifted to the sign with its big bold letters which told them what might seem impossible for some (Stacey was worried how some people would take it), briefly regarded it, and then returned to her impossible image, as she turned from them and made her way around to behind the counter, her butt flexing before their eyes, and then her chest turning to face them as the rest of her was hidden behind the counter again.

"Uh... are we in the right type of place?" the first of them asked.

"If you're coming for coffee, then yes! Our only special thing is that we are a nudist coffee shop. We require everybody, servers and guests, to be unclothed."

The two young guys stood and assessed Stacey, then looked at each other, and right then Vince came out of the office and froze in his tracks again.

"Oh man, oh geez," Stacey heard him mutter as he fled behind the counter with her, choosing to be in close proximity to her nudity versus having two guys stare at his junk. He appeared a nervous wreck as he moved around Stacey, but she kept her focus on the guests, who, at Vince's appearance, seemed unsure about staying. But then the door chimed again.

"Sorry we're late!" Tina sang, followed by Lily, and they both stopped briefly, smiled and nodded at the two young men, and then acknowledged Stacey and Vince nude behind the counter as if they had expected to see them like that (which they indeed should have). Only Lily seemed a little taken aback, perhaps not expecting two customers to already be present, two male customers, in fact, and she shyly nodded and smiled at them as she followed Tina to the end of the counter where Stacey greeted them.

"Already in uniform, huh?" Tina asked Stacey, passing her eyes down her body too, but not in the same way that Vince had done.

"Yep. Get dressed. Or undressed. You can stash your clothes in my office," she said. "And you," she continued, turning her gaze to the two young men, "if you would like to stay, you may hang your clothes there in the corner."

The young mens' decision seemed to be shifting with the arrival of Tina and Lily, who, without fanfare, stood at the end of the counter and began undressing, all while Vince cowered in the corner of the workstation.

Tina moved faster, pulling off her shirt immediately and sitting it on the counter (probably a health code violation) while Lily slowly and nervously unbuttoned her nice blouse as the young guys stared with mouths agape. Stacey studied them carefully, not liking the situation already, and feeling dread at what she was creating.

Tina was already completely nude by the time that Lily was halfway done, and she collected her things and headed for the back door, a very shapely and animated butt the last thing the young men saw of her before shifting their attention to Lily, who, despite appearing not very well-endowed when dressed modestly as she usually was, was revealed to have a most enticing shape to her chest, two pleasant and airless swells like puffy clouds, and with her jeans sliding down past her hips, a wide, almost black tangle was revealed between vulnerable-looking thighs. And then she was bundling her clothes, blushing, casting her eyes quickly past her audience and then to the counter, where Vince was staring at the door, trying to keep her out of sight (though sneaking, perhaps, a look out of the corner of his eye) and Stacey only glanced at her, and she turned her lithe body away, gifting the young men with a comparative look at her rear-end, smaller than Tina's, more compact, and all the more maddening for it, and as she disappeared through the door, crossing paths with Tina, who came back out, full-frontal to the two shocked men (she was clean-shaven downstairs, and the view was much more visceral). It was finally then that the men nodded at each other and turned to the door. Stacey thought they were about to leave, but they made a beeline for the coat corner and began taking off their clothes. A warm smile crept across Stacey's face, and she watched Vince tear his eyes away from the corner to find something else to stare at instead of two undressing men, which just so happened to be his two nude female coworkers. He nearly slammed face-first into Tina, who greeted him with sparkly eyes that did not stray below his chest as she said "good morning!" He was not as successful in keeping his eyes focused, though it was much harder for him, with the objects of his distraction a mere foot below his face, her areolas gazing up at him like eyes. "G-good morning. Let's see how this goes."

"I think it's gonna be a great day at work already," she said, and then drifted to the counter to greet the two young men as they came up, fumbling their hands in front of themselves and carrying nothing except their phones and debit cards.

"Hello,' Tina said with a  cheery bounce (distracting their eyes briefly). "What can I get you?"

Their eyes were indeed everywhere, everywhere except the chalk-drawn menu hanging above Tina, casting glances at Stacey standing and observing, her arms folded and cradling her maternal chest, and briefly at Vince, still cowering in the corner and hugging himself now, and then Lily, as she stepped out of the office and drifted behind Tina like an erotic mirage, delicate, feminine, the sight of the two a snapshot from someone’s (now theirs) fantasy.

"Uh, I'll take a coffee, uuh... black... uh..." The first man's eyes were rapid as they darted from Tina's face to her breasts to the others in the room and then the menu and finally her face again. "Just a coffee."

The second man ordered a breakfast sandwich, which Vince began warming up in the toaster oven, carefully handling the pre-packaged food as if it were yellow cake, or rather, as if his own body were radioactive, for he held the sandwich far away from him, as far away from his exposed parts as he could manage. Then the men wandered over to a table, stared at it as if unsure they should sit on it, and then decided it was okay, and planted their naked butts on the plastic, flashing, briefly, to Stacey's attentive eye, the beginnings of two erections, soon unsuccessfully hiding under the table. They sat in silence, obviously wanting to talk, but in the empty shop, there was no privacy in conversation. There was only silence, as the toaster oven ticked and the coffee trickled, and then Tina took the drinks over to the table, making the men perk up as she loomed over them and said "here you go!" and their eyes gazed up at her, in awe, and they nodded and said thanks, and their eyes lingered a little longer as she turned from them and bounced back to the counter. When the sandwich was done, it was Vince who took it over, first looking to Tina, obviously preferring her to be the one to deliver it (and the young men no doubt preferring that), but she was now listening to something Stacey was telling her, so Vince stepped from around the protection of the counter, walking with a hot sandwich on a plate hovering just two feet above his exposed penis and man-bush, his body trembling as he approached the table of the two nude men, who looked at him much differently, who jerked their necks and nodded quickly to keep his penis out of their view, and he wasted no time in setting the plate down and fleeing back to the counter.

And from there, it was a dull and normal morning, except for the obvious differences from any other coffee shop, and soon the men were chatting, and Tina, Lily, and Stacey were, too, with Vince hanging nearby and listening. And then, their next customers entered.

This time it was two young women, a pair of friends just like the men, and just like the men, they froze in their tracks and took all the nudity in, particularly the young men. One of them smiled. The other appeared absolutely shocked, and just as shocked when Stacey stepped up, with nothing to hide her, and welcomed them and outlined the rules. Just like before, they hesitated, looked at each other, and the young men stole glances at them, as did Vince, from the farthest corner in which he could hide, and before long, the girls were at the corner, slipping out of their clothes, transforming from regular people of the street to nude human beings in harmony with the others, perfect pictures of the species, golden skin coming into view and the curves once hidden behind fabric standing out for all to see, and they were happily and nervously approaching the counter as Tina again stepped up, and the interaction between them was much less awkward than with the young men, the girls seeing Tina as an equal. They ordered coffee and then stood around, tiptoeing in place as they surveyed the room, the young men glancing at them, and then finally chose the leather loveseats in the corner of the room. Again Vince found himself to be the one to bring their orders out, sweating bullets as he stood above him with his penis right there for them to see, and Stacey noted that it was rising, treading close to indecency, though the girls rose their eyes up past it, noting, in a split-second, its new state, and laughing as their eyes met his and they thanked him. He could not mutter anything out and just nodded and retreated faster than he had with the two young men. And then he and Tina and Lily were all behind the counter, watching their customers enjoy their coffee and chatting. In the close proximity to his co-workers, Vince held his hands in front of him and nodded excessively, especially when Lily met eyes with him and smiled. Every time she looked at him, his eyes darted away, and Stacey watched these interactions and smiled to herself, hoping that Vince would find some growth from this experience (not the growth that was still evident down below, however). Stacey also watched the customers and waited for the inevitable moment when the guys would stand up and go introduce themselves to the nude girls. But they did not, and remained at their table, and just then, even more customers came in. This time it was a large group, and as before, they all froze in their tracks, and Stacey greeted them, and their decision to undress was much quicker, even though there were some in their mixed group who seemed unsure, the women in particular, but soon all of them were nude and seated in another corner. And the more and more people that came in, the less and less they felt hesitant about undressing. By noon, the coffee shop was halfway full, and all of Stacey's employees were busy taking and running orders, Vince and Lily and Tina, some customers getting a charming young woman for their host, others a nervous nude boy, but the more people that filled into the shop, the less it seemed to matter who served who, and Stacey was happy, grinning, collecting dollar bills in the register. And over that time, she noticed Vince being less and less self-conscious, and much to her approval, he was less and less erect.

The whole first day seemed to be a rousing success, though Stacey did have to call out and remind customers taking their clothes from the hooks and heading for the door that they had to get dressed before leaving. It had seemed that everybody had gotten so used to being socially naked that they almost forgot that it was not appropriate to be unclothed outside. That was the one concerning side effect, and not the worry of people acting inappropriately, that Stacey noted. Much to her approval, once the place was filled, all potential awkwardness seemed to vanish. The only thing left was the consideration for when outside the business. But maybe she could be responsible for an adjustment of attitudes about social nudity in the town. That would be the day, she thought.

*****

"Hi, this is Stephanie Willard and I'm standing outside a popular new business in the middle of downtown. It is called Joe Jams, and is a coffee shop featuring live music and, well... something else. As you can see behind me, the windows are tinted black, which is a curious thing for a simple coffee shop. But there is a reason for that, as we will soon see..."

Miss Willard was seen on the six o'clock news one evening a month after the grand opening, a pretty black woman who wore bright-colored and slim-fitting dresses as she did her reports, much to the eager attention of all who watched the news. She was a fan favorite, and she was soon to make waves with her latest story. Before the story aired, Stephanie had just finished giving her introductory report, dropped her microphone to her side, and tugged at the collar of her blue dress—slim, accentuating her chest—out of nervousness. Her cameraman, Ray, a burly man with a stubble of a beard and a backwards baseball cap, lowered his camera and they both looked at each other.

"Well, let's get this started,' she told him.

*****

It was just after the lunch rush and Joe Jams was still half-filled with customers, all nude, and Stacey was quite proud of how everything had turned out. People, men and women, sat all over the store, chatting and laughing while nude, and none seemed overly fixated on the fact that they wore no clothes. Vince and Tina and Lily had gotten accustomed to working in front of customers and in front of each other, and Vince himself appeared to loosen up, to talk more freely with his co-workers, and to be less shy about standing before them with everything in plain sight, including the state of his arousal, which now was always calm. Erections still were an occasional occurrence from the customers, however, but always unacknowledged and not focused on. They just happened, and eventually disappeared as the owners of them were seated, though a few waggling and waving flagpoles led their owners' way to the counter, where they would stand and order while looking Tina or Stacey in the eyes and visibly sweat at their temples. But those were the only awkward moments.

Stacey had even gotten a local band to agree to perform nude, and the night they showed up had been amazing. It was a hip band of cool kids, only one girl (the lead singer), and they were excited about the unique performance opportunity, and stood in the back of the store and jammed out, which was amazing to see, the drummer hitting his marks and sweat trickling down his chest, the lead guitar strumming with his instrument held just above his other instrument, and the lead singer bravely holding the microphone and hiding nothing, baring her body and soul as she sang, and everybody was into it and applauded, some perhaps fans of the band, amazed to see their favorite musicians completely nude. But it did not hinder the enjoyment of the music. In fact, it seemed to enhance it, to make the experience somehow more pure and unfiltered, or perhaps it was the spectacle, which certainly wasn't a bad thing, and the band agreed to come back again. Stacey looked forward to seeing if any other groups would follow suit.

Things had gotten so successful that the local news had begun to notice, and Stacey was about to have the town's most beloved reporter make a visit with her cameraman, and as per the rules of the establishment, she and her assistant would disrobe, so as not to set themselves apart from the clientèle. That was an important element of this idea, Stacey had told the charming Stephanie Willard; clothes put up barriers, and especially in a traditionally nude setting. People remaining clothed set themselves apart, unintentionally or perhaps intentionally saying they were better, or more civilized. In a nudist environment, it was important that everybody be equal, and that included the musicians coming to perform, and the journalists coming to report on the venue. Stacey had prepared her staff for the visit, and informed the customers still in the store that reporters would be coming, and that they may be seen on the news (whether with their faces or other parts blurred out or not, Stacey did not know). If they did not want to be shown on the news, all they had to do was ask. Only a couple got up and hurriedly got dressed, and they were walking out the door just as the reporter was entering, whereupon both parties flinched and smiled at each other, and as the departing customers moved around Stephanie and her cameraman, she was left struck as still as all the first visitors to the coffee shop.

"Welcome!" Stacey called out, coming around the counter and approaching Stephanie, watching her eyes get big in shock at her total nudity, as if she did not expect it. "Thanks for coming. We just got done with our lunch crowd, but you're fine to film."

"I see..." Stephanie said, scanning her eyes across the store, over the men and women chatting happily and uninhibited. Then she looked to her cameraman. They both shrugged.

"And, of course... no rush now, but it would be appreciated if you got unclothed."

They looked at Stacey and then at each other, and some of the patrons looked their way, recognizing Stephanie and perking up, or some just curious towards this fabulously-dressed woman, a funny situation, for nude people to be rubbernecking at a clothed person. But that distinction would soon vanish. Stephanie and Ray went over to the coat rack area and Ray sat his camera down on one of the small round tables before two comfy easy chairs, and Stephanie sat down her microphone next to it. Then they looked at each other, shrugged, and turned their backs to each other to disrobe.

People undressing was nothing unusual to the patrons of Joe Jams anymore, but nevertheless, time stood still for a moment. Stephanie stood there, unsure, as her cameraman was already unbuckling his belt. She said something to him, and he stopped what he was doing and raised his eyebrows at her. Then she turned around.

There was embarrassment on her face and hesitation in Ray the cameraman's hand as he reached forward and did what apparently had been asked of him: could he take down her zipper?

Surely she had known she would be taking off her clothes that day, and may have been able to anticipate wearing something that could be easily taken off. But perhaps there was doubt, or perhaps she just wore what she was accustomed to wearing. Or perhaps she did not really believe this would be happening. Most definitely the patrons of the shop could hardly believe it, as the blue garment was peeled away from her shoulders and what once hugged her frame so snugly as to outline her entire form now became baggy and fell into her arms, revealing her caramel skin underneath, a black bra still constraining the chest that had so hypnotically fought against the fabric on the television screen every night.

In truth, Stephanie did not get to pick her wardrobes, and wondered if today's choice was some kind of dirty prank to put her in the situation of having to undress so provocatively and with need of assistance. But then again, most of her dresses zipped in the back.

She took a step away from Ray and nodded to him and said something, and he averted his eyes as she pulled the dress all the way down, unable to take her eyes away from all the people in the shop watching her. A dozen faces looked away from her when gazes met, and when they would look again, Stephanie Willard would be completely nude, unlike anything they had ever seen on the six o'clock news, and, taking away from the seeming fulfillment of some type of fantasy for some, her cameraman stood next to her, contrasting in every way. While she was an elegant collection of caramel curves, he was pasty, hairy, and had the biggest curve of all: his round belly. They were a strange pair, and were frozen for a moment with doubt and disbelief, robbed of any authority they felt they had until they remembered to grab their equipment. Stephanie took up her microphone, and Ray readied his camera, taking a deep breath, for he apparently did not like holding it on his shoulder and making it impossible for him to cover himself with his hands. And, as he put Stephanie into frame (not sure whether to crop her at the shoulders or to film her more wide and let the guys in video processing deal with it), and with his lesser self having nowhere to hide, it became emboldened with excitement for a bit, which Stacey noted, but let pass. She came up and stood next to Stephanie as she began her report, and felt incredibly equal to her, when she should have felt a little bit star-struck.

"Well, as you can see at home, I have gotten a lot more comfortable," Stephanie said, and there was a tremble in her voice. "And I'll be honest, this isn't something that would come naturally to me... but here at Joe Jams, it is actually a requirement to be nude, not just an option. I'm standing here now with Stacey Hill, owner of Joe Jams, who may be able to explain her decision to make her restaurant nude-only."

Stacey was glad to step up and take the microphone, proud to highlight her philosophy on nudism. It was all what she had told Stephanie earlier in private, though fleshed out. She provided an anecdote, saying how her employees were nervous at first, but quickly took to it, and saying how she watched her customers transform from bundles of nerves to completely laid-back and relaxed diners. Stephanie and her cameraman then took a little tour around the coffee shop and briefly filmed some of those customers, many who looked up and smiled, others who just went about their business and pretended that the camera and a nude Stephanie Willard weren't there.

They also took a moment to meet the employees. Stacey had prepared them for that, too. Lily and Vince had been unsure, not wanting to become local nude celebrities (even though a quarter of the town had now frequented the coffee shop and saw them nude every day). Tina was the most photogenic, leaning forward on her palms in front of the counter and beaming for the camera, telling viewers a little bit about herself and why she chose to go along with her boss's crazy idea.

"Don't you feel in the spotlight having to serve others nude?" Stephanie Willard asked her.

"No, actually. At first, maybe, and maybe still a little when new customers come in. But once they take their clothes off, that all goes away."

Tina bit her lip as if she had something else to add, perhaps intending to ask the reporter if she did not feel the same way, but she held it back. Stephanie Willard was not quite at that level of comfort yet, and would not be as long as she was doing her job. Being in front of the camera and strutting around in front of the customers made her feel something like a stripper or a porn star. It didn't help that she still wore her heels, and perhaps that was part of why everybody seemed to be staring at her (or was she imagining it?), strutting around with nothing on her except on her feet, and her butt perched up because of that. Later, when they had wrapped up, Stephanie kicked those heels off and decided to get a coffee. Ray seemed eager to leave, but Stephanie wanted to experience some of this comfort that Stacey had talked about. At least she was physically comfortable. She no longer had her dress and her bra pinching her skin, and she felt more mobile than ever, and with the A/C on every square inch of her, it was refreshing after being out in the high noon sun in that dress, though it reminded her all the more that she was naked and naked for everybody to see.

She had gotten used to looking at Ray, too, as she hoped he had with her. During most of the report, she just stared at his camera lens and felt her neck tense to avoid looking downwards, but after they had talked to the one chipper employee, that reservation ceased. She did acknowledge what was below, but she didn't stare. It was just there. And soon it wouldn't be an issue, as they sat down in the corner where they had earlier sat their equipment. Stacey came walking up, and it was weird gazing up at her.

"What can I get you guys? It's on  the house, since you were so kind to give us an honest look."

"Oh, why thank you," Stephanie said, brushing the hair from her eyes and fighting the temptation to drape her arm over her breasts. "Just a black coffee."

"Same," Ray said, barely looking at Stacey and barely looking at his partner.

"Sure thing. Take your time and relax!"

"So, I do have one question."

Stacey was about to turn to step away but faced them again, rather boldly.

"Do you have to take any extra steps to remain clean here? Like the seats, for example." She adjusted her bare bottom in the polished wood seat, feeling its coolness on her cheeks and wondering how many naked butts had sat in it before.

"Oh, we wipe them down after every person is done in them. It's a lot of extra work, but making people bring towels or having to deal with constantly washing our own would be a hassle."

"Oh, that's good to know."

"I'll be right back!"

And then Stacey disappeared, and Stephanie was left sitting across from Ray, who finally looked at her.

"How you hangin'?" she asked him. He finally laughed.

"Poor choice of words, Steph."

They both laughed.

*****

That evening on the six o'clock news, many were surprised and shocked to see the coverage of a place they had not even known about, and many were shocked to see Stephanie Willard, who they always looked forward to seeing, bare-shouldered and with just a peek of bare cleavage before the camera cut off the potentially offensive sight, though people in the background sat completely in view, with very little attempt to blur or censor them, as there was too much to try to censor. Luckily, the way they were seated, very little was seen, except an occasional glimpse at a full set of breasts ironically uncensored while the reporter's were hidden.

Others had looked forward to the report because they had been there in the shop that day. The same with Stacey and her employees. They all eagerly turned on the news that night to see how they were represented, and all were pleased. Well, most were. The station got a few angry calls about the debatably racy segment, and some people called the mayor's office asking how such a business could be allowed, only to be shocked to discover that it was fully licensed and permissible. And one thing was for sure: Stacey's business saw a lot more customers after that. Soon the tinted windows seemed unnecessary, as everybody who walked by the shop had or would be sitting inside it at some point or another.

Naked Day HOA

Simon liked his new townhouse, but the one thing he wished he had more of was privacy.

It was the first time in a while since he'd been able to live on his own. He had built up to this, and now he had his own abode. And one thing he enjoyed doing, since back when he lived in a little studio apartment, and even during the days he spent staying rent-free at his friend's house until he saved up enough money, was to lounge around naked. When he stayed at his friend's house, the weekends that had to himself were naked times, unbeknownst to his friend. But those days did not offer much of a feeling of freedom. Simon was limited to the house, and could not walk by an open window and had to put clothes on to even peek his head out the door. It was infinitely more restrictive at his old apartment. But now he had near-complete freedom. He did not have to worry about a roommate suddenly coming home. Yet he was still restricted.

The one saving grace was that he had a private patio. The first thing he did when he moved in was sit out on it as the sun passed over. But he could not stray too far away from the patio door, for to take one step too many out into the middle would put him in view of his nextdoor neighbor's second-story windows. Even from the vantage point at his chair, he could see the corners of those windows, and he wondered if the neighbors above could see him even then. Surely they could if they pressed their faces against the glass and angles down and to the side. But who would do that? He was even paranoid about just sitting there with the paranoid possibility that he could be seen through the narrow slats of the fence that separated his patio from his neighbors', and every time he heard their back door open when he was sitting out there, he froze and waited for them to disappear.

All this frustration at wanting to be nude more freely was capitulated with the discovery of his neighborhood's pool. Summer was about to arrive, and the pool would be open, and Simon looked forward to using it. He had never had such an amenity before. Well, that wasn't true; his friend, whom he had lived with, had a pool in his community, but Simon had never used it, seeing as he wasn't officially a resident. But now he had full access to one. The only thing was, he really wished he could go to it nude.

Why was he so obsessed with being nude? It was just the way Simon had gone through life. Since adolescence, he had had a fascination with nudism, which he shared with his best friend. It probably stemmed from the erotic pull of seeing women freely naked on nudism websites, and imagining a setting where everybody was free to be naked; so shocking, so daring. He and his friend had experimented with the philosophy, taking nude walks in the woods and experiencing the thrill of possibly getting caught. So nudism became a fascination and a philosophy with him up to his adulthood. Whether he was spending his naked time with others or not, Simon found that he enjoyed being nude, of being freshly showered and not having to put anything on, of not having to worry about laundry, and of going to sleep nude, and rolling over into any position he wanted without the resistance of clothing. It was the way he lived. But he yearned for sun. Relaxing on his patio granted him some of that, but it was freedom he truly wanted. When he went to the pool for the first time, it felt strange and alien to be wearing trunks. It felt right when he took his shirt off, but it turned to wrong when he had to get in the water and feel his trunks fill up with air and then get pulled and tugged by the water. And he had gotten to experience swimming nude in his teenage days when he and his friend had found a small pond. Swimming naked felt amazing, freeing, like you were flying through the air. Never would Simon ever swim with trunks on, he had then sworn, but here he was. And it irked him.

So, after his first swim at the pool, which wasn't bad (there weren't a whole lot of people there; one or two random residents, and one small family, and the pool was very comfy in atmosphere, situated at the bottom of a hill and surrounded by a thick grouping of trees), Simon had an idea. He would e-mail the HOA and propose a naked day at the pool. He wanted to get more involved with the community, anyway, now that he was a homeowner there. It behooved him to probably make an appearance at the monthly meetings, and he would probably-definitely do that, even though the thought of it made him nervous. The next meeting wasn't due for weeks, however, and this matter was too pressing to wait. And probably better done behind the safety of his keyboard and computer screen. What a way to make a first impression on his fellow residents.

Dear board members:

Hi, I am a new resident at Clover Cove, and I really love it here. The grounds are very clean and the neighborhood feels very safe. I love all the amenities you have, though I might have a suggestion for one of them, which is why I'm writing you.

Would it be too forward to suggest that the swimming pool has a clothing-optional or nudist time, say, on certain weekday evenings? I ask because I am a nudist and prefer to be able to swim without swim trunks.

I am not suggesting anything adult-related.

Please let me know!

- Simon Portman

With satisfaction, Simon hit enter and felt the rush of nervousness in his chest as if he had just asked a girl out. Welp, now they knew he was a nudist. The cat was out of the bag. Hopefully he wouldn't be kicked out of the community.

The reply was surprisingly quick. That is, sooner than Simon had expected, at least, because an hour later he was taking a walk and his phone buzzed, and he took it out to read the board's reply:

"Thank you, Mr. Portman, for your suggestion, and we are glad you love our community. However, we don't feel that a clothing-optional hour at the pool would be a good idea. We hope you will please wear appropriate attire if you should use the pool. Thank you.  - Debbie Townsend, Board director."

"Hmmph," Simon grumbled as he walked and read and nearly tripped on a curb. He regained his footing and looked around, blushing, wondering if anybody had seen him almost fall, and wondering who in those dark windows all around knew who he was and were watching him read the e-mail right then.

It was obvious they had no interest in entertaining his idea. He wondered if they didn't believe his "no adult stuff" assertion. He didn't like the tone towards the end, though. Please wear appropriate attire, as if he had urges to strip off his clothes that he could barely control. Yep, now they definitely knew he was a nudist now. Or a pervert. But what if he fielded the rest of the community for thoughts? It was right there, as he was walking back home, that Simon continued holding his phone in front of him and searched to download that app he had always heard older people talk about: Nextdoor. By the time he reached his front door, he had already set up a blank profile with his name and e-mail and he plopped onto his living room couch and finished setting up his community. Then he was greeted by dozens of posts from people all in the area, complaining about loud music, loose pets, or posting instead "a big thanks to so-and-so" type posts, and all the like. Without even waiting for the dust from his board e-mail to settle, Simon was punching up a message to the community.

"Hey, I'm new here, but I had an idea: what if the swimming pool in Clover Cove had a clothing-optional hour? Not like a sexual thing, but just a block of time where you can swim nude?"

He hit "post" and before any replies came in, he already had about five "waves" from other neighbors. He waited there on his couch for the first reply, and it came in seconds.

"I don't really think that's an appropriate thing for the community. Welcome to the neighborhood, though."

Simon frowned, and his heart sank. He knew the rest of the comments would be the same, but he waited anyway. Maybe he was just weird, he thought.

It seemed that the sole reply—belonging to "Sheila Thompson"—was the only one he was going to get, as if Sheila had the final say on everything (maybe she did). So Simon sighed and got up and went to the kitchen to go about making some lunch. And of course, he took his clothes off.

After he ate and went out on his patio to sit in the sun, Simon looked at his phone again and saw a flurry of updates from Nextdoor. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the sun scorch his chest and even his lap a little bit, and he crossed his legs to protect his most sensitive part from sunburn as he looked to see what was new.

"This isn't that kind of neighborhood, just letting you know."

"Do you really think that's a good idea? Do people here really want to see their neighbors with it all hanging out?"

Then, surprisingly: "A nice idea, but I don't think it would fly."

He also surprisingly got a few "likes" on his post. Well, that was something. Perhaps it was people who agreed with him but were too afraid to speak up. That told Simon one thing for sure: that the opinion on the matter wasn't unanimous. He sat down his phone and looked up at the trees and the sky above his fence and smiled to himself. Whether or not the board took him seriously, he at least got people talking about his idea now.

He had been impatient to wait for the board meeting, but by the time its date arrived, he had built up enough bravery based on his Nextdoor post, which had petered out in discussion but which continued to get likes. So on the day of the meeting, he walked down to the clubhouse, where the pool was situated beside, and he looked at the clear blue water glimpsed through the trees and imagined people skipping about nude in it. Then he went inside, where he was outnumbered by older people, though there were a few middle-aged guys and one or two young couples his age. They all settled down and the board members who sat in front went through the order of business, and Simon sat and listened to addresses over litter problems, pet rules and the like. It seemed to go on forever. But finally, they opened up the floor for questions and comments, and Simon's heart began beating fast. A man stepped up and said that something had to be done about loose dogs in the neighborhood, for he felt unsafe walking his own dog if another one could come and start a fight out of nowhere. A middle-aged woman stepped up and gave her thanks to the board members over the improvements on the landscaping and trash cleanup, and the audience applauded. After that, the raised hands began to dwindle, and Simon knew he was only stalling. A jolt of bravery made him put up his hand.

"Yes, the young man there."

He stood. He walked to the front of the room and turned to look back at all his neighbors, many of who were probably on Nextdoor. Some of whom may have even liked his post.

"Hi... I recently moved into the neighborhood. My comment regards our pool..." His eyes glanced over to the side of the room, where the patio could be seen through a set of glass doors. "I would like to propose that for a certain stretch of time, on a certain day of the week, use of the pool can be clothing-optional."

A rustle of murmurs traveled through the crowd. He saw some frowns, but also some thoughtful looks. He dared not look at the board members behind him. "I suggest this not out of any perverted desires, but as a practicing nudist. I have been a nudist since I was a teenager, and, well, it's just silly to have to put on clothes to swim, you know? There are some misconceptions about it, but I can assure you that it is a wholesome and harmless lifestyle. I only hope that people like me might have our own space of time to enjoy it. That is all, thank you."

Blushing, Simon lowered his head and quickly made his way back to his seat amidst the stares of the community, but before he sat, someone actually clapped. Then another. At least a half-dozen claps rose and then subsided as Simon settled into his chair and finally saw the frowning faces of the board members. One of them cleared their throat.

"Anyway... are there any other issues anybody wants to bring up?"

Someone else stood and gave a comment about the upkeep of the clubhouse, and soon it seemed like Simon's awkward moment in the spotlight was forgotten, and it was business as usual. Soon after that, the meeting was over.

Simon shuffled out of the clubhouse without looking or speaking to anybody and went straight home, walking quickly, wanting to get away before somebody stopped him. When he got home he could not calm himself, and he paced around his house, excited at what would come out of all this, but also wondering if he was about to face the social consequences of revealing too much about himself. It was weeks later, after nothing seemed to have changed and no chatter about his appearance was on Nextdoor, that Simon saw the latest printed newsletter at the mailboxes, and as he stood there and scanned it, one of the paragraphs in the president's column jumped out at him:

"In other news, after a number of e-mails inquiring about it, we will be holding a vote as to whether to allow the community pool to have a  clothing-optional time. An e-mail will be sent out to all residents with a link to a survey. Please participate so we can make a sound decision. Speaking of decisions, we have also got funding to repair many of the old pipes in the community, and..."

Simon could hardly believe it. He stood there holding the newsletter before him with his mouth hanging open, and after a moment, he felt self-conscious. He looked up to ensure nobody was staring at him, for surely now they knew who he was, and if someone was watching, they would know what he was reacting to. But nobody was there. How many hidden eyes inside their houses were looking at him with contempt, and how many with agreement? He folded the newsletter and quickly went back inside, anticipating the coming e-mail.

It didn't come until three days later. Simon was sitting in his living room, watching random Youtube videos on his TV, when his phone buzzed. It buzzed about fifty times a day, but he always excitedly looked at it when it did.

This time it was an e-mail from the board. He opened it and there was the message: Please follow the link to take the survey regarding a clothing-optional policy at the pool. Thank you.

He clicked on it and instantly started taking the survey. It was more extensive than a simple yes or no. The first question was, of course, whether the pool should have a clothing-optional time. Of course, Simon said "yes." But then there were follow-up questions: "If a clothing-optional time were introduced, what would be the best time period?" And the answers were an hour, an evening, an afternoon, or a whole day. Simon was floored; he had only considered being able to swim nude for a few hours at the end of the least-busiest day, but with the option available to him, he voted for a whole day. The next question was what day of the week would be most appropriate? Simon's initial instinct had been to vote for Thursday, as that would probably be a day where the least amount of people would want to come to the pool, but with the option available, he picked Saturday. Then he changed his vote to Sunday, which seemed more sensible. Saturday would have a lot of people, probably too many. He didn't want to intrude on others' weekend time.

The next question was an awkward one: "Should the clothing-optional time be 18-up?" Simon had to think about that one. He had stressed that his proposal was not an adult entertainment type of affair, and reading up on nudism all his life, he learned and appreciated the stress on the non-sexual nature of nudism and its inclusivity for families. Yet he had never had a social nudity experience outside of with his old friend. He had never been to a nudist resort. He had never had the situation of being nude in front of a child and whether that made him feel awkward or not. He was sure it would, but he wanted to stick to his principles. He was hesitant, though, because he thought about the possible shitstorm that an all-ages nudity time would create in the neighborhood. People already looked at nudism the wrong way, and with this, the fear-mongering and accusations would be inevitable. And there was also the possibility of unsavory individuals in the community coming to the pool for the explicit purpose of seeing others naked. Simon didn't have a plan for how to deal with voyeurs. Could the community be held liable if somebody were to act poorly? He was sure they were already prepared for that. So, holding to his convictions and despite his reservations, he clicked "no" on whether the pool should be 18-and-up during nude time. And that was the final question. He tapped submit and then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

The announcement would come weeks later, in another newsletter, the fourth that had been printed since the announcement of the survey. And the results were surprising.

"We are pleased to announce that after July 4th, the community pool will host a ‘nude day,’ to be held every Sunday of the week, for the entire day. Response to the survey was overwhelming, The ‘nude day’ will be open to all ages, and per normal rules, all children must be accompanied by a parent or guardian. All other rules apply, save for the dress code. Swim at your own risk, and have fun."

So that was it. Simon's insistence had paid off. As he stood there staring at the newsletter, waiting to get back to his patio so he could be nude, Simon imagined that he was standing there nude right now, and through the bravery to ask, he might as well have been. In one week, he would be able to go in the full brightness of the day and swim nude. He eagerly looked forward to it, and with some fear, for besides his adolescence, this would be the first time he would be nude with others.

*****

The first Sunday arrived, and it was a sweltering hot day as Simon walked out his front door and went around the side of his building, where a little trail led to the steps that went down to the clubhouse area and the pool. He did not know what to wear; should he just go down in bum-around clothes (which he obviously never wore inside his home) or should he dress like he was going for a normal swim? He chose the latter, his pair of Hawaiian-patterned swimming trunks and a nylon button-up, and his towel. And a bag with his key card and some sun-tan lotion, some water, and a Kindle if he wanted to lay out and read. If he chickened out, at least he would be already wearing something to swim in. His heart thrummed as he went down the concrete steps and saw the top of the clubhouse come into view. It was noon. He listened for splashing and activity, but so far he heard nothing to suggest that there was anybody at the pool. He felt eyes on him, citizens watching the campaigner for nakedness marching down to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And then he was at the gate.

He didn't know whether to be disappointed or not, but there were only two people at the pool. A lone, older gentleman sat in a lounge chair, fully dressed, in shorts and a button-up shirt similar to Simon's, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and the shade of a straw hat. He had a glass of tea sitting on a plastic side table. Swimming laps in the pool was a woman, about the man's age, possibly his wife, in a dark blue one-piece. Simon's chest tightened. Would it be weird to get into the lack of dress code that the pool now allowed?

The man nodded at Simon as he slowly made his way around the pool and found a suitable chair, off in the corner, under the shade of a big oak's branches hanging over the fence. The air was thick but somewhat cool here, and Simon sat down his bag, laid out his towel, and turned to the pool to watch the woman reach his end, let out a breath, meet eyes with him for a second and smile, and then turn to swim to the other end. The man wasn't paying him any attention. Simon went ahead and unbuttoned his shirt. He un-draped it off of his shoulders and let it hang over the arm of a plastic chair. Then he stared out at the pool, at the woman gliding through the water on her laps, and the man sitting still and content in his lounger under the burning sun, and all semblance of normalcy ended as, instead of going towards the water like a normal swimmer in his trunks, Simon hooked his fingers on the waistband and pulled his trunks down, his heart hammering as they slipped down his thighs, his mind screaming what are you doing? as he kicked off his sandals and stepped out of his shorts and felt the kiss of the air on his cheeks and on his groin, and the potential eyes of the soon-to-be-shocked residents staring lasers.

Neither the man nor the woman seemed to notice yet, and Simon slipped his feet back into his sandals and held his useless trunks before him, regarding them, and then he draped them over his shirt and he stood there as if there were nothing out of the ordinary. And then he faced the pool again, feeling the heightened vulnerability of his penis exposed, free to flip and move as he walked, walked towards the steps of the shallow end, and it was then that the old man casually turned his head and did a double-take.

Simon wanted to freeze, but he stepped into the water. The old man's jaw fell open. When Simon was waist-deep, the woman had turned and was beginning her lap back towards the shallow end, and she probably had no idea that Simon was naked under the water, if not for the shimmering image of his bare pubic hair under the surface, would she pause enough to notice. The old man finally spoke up before his wife got near Simon.

"I'll be goddamned, they were serious about this clothing-optional thing? I thought it was a joke."

Simon stopped and looked at the man, and felt himself shrinking inwards. His shoulders slouched. But at least he was half-hidden under the water.

"It wasn't... at least, I hope it wasn't. I was the one who brought up the idea."

The old man laughed and shook his head. "I can't believe it."

"Y-you don't mind, right?"

The old man's gaze was still partially hidden behind his sunglasses, and his head moved slightly to the woman nearing Simon. He turned to see her, breast-stroking and slowing down as she saw him in her path, and her chin lifted above the water for a moment and her eyes fell upon him and then lower, below the surface of the water, and then they widened.

"Oh my!" she said. "Are you naked?"

Simon instinctively lowered his hands under the water and covered himself up.

"Y-yeah..."

The woman laughed and looked up at her husband with a grinning look that seemed to say wow, can you believe that?

"It's naked day, remember?" the man said.

"I didn't think anybody would have the guts to do it."

They both turned their eyes to Simon, who nodded and smiled, and then, taking his hands away from his privates, he turned to push forward in the water, leaving his gleaming bare butt for them to see as it broke the surface. But he swam like normal, doing a lap just like the woman had been doing. When he reached the end and touched the pavement and turned around, the man and woman weren't staring at him anymore, but the woman was leaning against the edge, looking up at the man. They appeared to be talking over something. Simon hovered at the end, resting his arms against the edge and feeling very exposed despite the shimmering blur of the water hiding his private parts. Nobody was paying attention, though.

Then two things happened: the woman pushed herself out of the pool, rising, dripping, hands moving towards the straps of her one-piece, stripping it down to bare her chest, abdomen, her healthy ruddy skin, while her husband's jaw dropped. The second thing that happened was the gate squeaked, and someone entered.

Simon turned his head to see a young man, about his age, shyly enter the pool, look over everything, acknowledge the nude woman, and quickly close the gate behind him. He did not stare and hardly seemed surprised at what he found. He just quickly went to a corner of the pool, passing by Simon's chair slowly, as if he would have picked that spot too, and then he moved on to the next corner. The woman, meanwhile, walked along the edge of the pool, reaching up and tossing water off of her hair as she walked, which made her look like some sort of catwalk strutter, one thigh moving before the other, naked and covered with beaded water droplets, the hairs between her thighs fine and sparse, her stomach protruding only a little, her breasts protruding a lotlle, full and somehow gravity-resisting even at this woman's age, and her smile at that moment was as youthful as ever. She loomed over him, and Simon couldn't help but be in awe. But she was not showing off, nor trying to be near him. She was just jumping into the deep end. And there she went; splish. Through the curtain of falling water drops, the young man at the opposite end of the pool was already kicking off his sandals, and his shorts. The old man, who was leaning forward in his chair, turned his head due to some sixth sense (either he noticed Simon's eyes move to the far end of the pool or he sensed movement—or nakedness) and he physically reeled when he saw the young man, thin, completely pale, except for a puff of black that was his pubic hair and a wink of flesh that was his penis. The old man's head was on a pivot between the naked young man and his own wife, innocently and lazily paddling now through the water with the sun on her gleaming back and a smile on her face. Simon watched; the young guy stepped into the shallow end, in no hurry, not shy about his penis being above the water, not shy about looking at the woman circling by, and Simon was sure that the old man was not comfortable with his wife being in the pool with two naked guys. Simon looked over to him, and the old man locked eyes with him, and then he just shook his head and then leaned back in his chair. His brow was still furrowed, but he was resigned to let things go as they were. The woman was oblivious to the naked young man in the water with her, even as she rolled onto her back, closed her eyes, and paddled backwards, slowly drifting through the water with her breasts buoyant before her. Simon pushed away from the wall and swam slowly to the shallow end, passing the woman on the way, and passing the other guy, who was at the opposite side from him as he made his way towards the deep end, parallel with the woman's course. He paid Simon no mind. When Simon got the to the shallow end, he crouched in the water and turned, saw the young man stop at the opposite edge and prepare to swim towards the shallow end again, while the woman hoisted herself up on the lip of the pool and leaned back with her arms outstretched on the pavement, looking happy to have her chest bare and being warmed by the sun. And the husband said nothing. Simon decided to turn and get out of the pool, and he lifted himself up out of the water and was shocked all over again by the sudden feeling of nakedness that came with stepping into the air, and he was over by his lounger before the other young man reached the shallow end. Not that he was trying to avoid him. Simon picked up his towel and stood there drying his face and chest, which interestingly made him feel more naked than ever, and then he laid the towel back out and sat. There was nowhere to hide; he was laid out for all to see. Even in the shade, his skin was quickly warmed by the heat, the water evaporated, and Simon dug into his bag for some water and for his Kindle. Every second spent laying nude in the chair felt like he was on display, like he shouldn't be here, and he even felt the faintest lengthening of his penis, as it shifted from a stubby, water-shrunken state to a relaxing spot in the crook of his thigh. But he paid it no mind and took a big gulp of water, opened his Kindle, and searched for something to read, and by the time he had chosen an old book he had once started but had never finished, he was supremely comfortable. There was something absolutely serene about sitting out in the open air in the nude, something that didn't even match laying in his patio. It wasn't even like his adolescent adventures in the woods and ponds with his friend. Here he was allowed to be naked, there was no danger of being "caught," and he could let it all hang out as much as he wanted. And the benefit of the fresh air and invigorating sun on his skin was undeniable. He actually let out a pleased little sigh. This was the life, he thought. He was glad he moved here. No, he was glad he was forward enough to suggest this idea. Before he got involved in his book, he looked up at the pool.

The young man was still swimming laps, back and forth, and apparently oblivious to the woman as she stepped out of the shallow end, something of a vision; she almost exited in slow motion in Simon's mind with how glamorous she looked, with how the drops fell from the slopes of her breasts or the tips of her fingers, and how her hair was plastered on her shoulders and her face was calm and content. But maybe she was just walking slow. As she turned the corner, showing off the undulation of her rosy cheeks, her husband stood, grabbing a towel. He looked like he was ready to leave. The two chattered quietly amongst each other. The old man held up the towel like it was important, and finally the woman took it to dry her hair, standing with the rest of herself exposed, much to the impatience of the husband, who looked on irritably. And the young man in the water swam and swam.

Simon read about half a page before he looked up again and saw that the woman and the man were apparently leaving, the woman walking ahead, nothing but the beach towel wrapped around her, and the husband following behind, holding her discarded suit like he was trying to catch up to her to remind her to put it on. As they passed around the end of the pool, the woman looked at Simon and smiled, and he felt like a cornered animal with his nudity all laid out, but that didn't seem to phase her. She just smiled and passed onwards. The husband looked at him and scowled. And then they were both headed for the gate. Soon it was just Simon and the other guy, a situation Simon admittedly didn't know if he was looking forward to, but the young man minded to his laps and Simon prepared to get lost in his book and the sensation of laying out in the sun, but one more look up at the gate caught him a quick and exciting sight: as the old couple left and the gate fell shut, another person was standing there, peering in. It was a young woman, also around Simon's age by the looks of it. She had long raven hair that hung down to her chest and evenly-cut bangs. She was beautiful, and she had a smile on her pink lips as she peered in and saw Simon laying there. And then she moved on. Simon could see her pass from behind the shrubs and trees that surrounded the fence, and then she was not there.

*****

Simon had spent the rest of the time on that first day reading until the other young gentleman had gotten out and walked to his corner, glancing at Simon briefly and nodding politely. Then he dried off, got dressed, and was gone. Simon then felt like he had the run of the entire place, and he had set his book aside and gotten up to take a few laps, and then had decided he would dry off and go home. A couple of hours had passed altogether. So the first day of naked pool time had gone off without a hitch, albeit not with an outstanding turnout. That would change the following week.

Simon waited in anticipation for next Sunday, when he could be free again. He almost thought about altering his proposal and suggesting that the pool have a specific naked hour every day, but he figured that would be pushing it. One entire day at the end of the week would be enough. In the meantime, he enjoyed his spot on the patio, but it was not quite the same. When the next fateful day arrived, he walked out his door with a pep in his step, eager to get down to the pool and toss off his clothes. It was early in the morning, and there was not a soul at the pool. That was just fine. He at least could enjoy it freely, without a care in the world. And he did, quickly going over to his corner and stripping down and running across the pavement naked and free as a careless child until he just jumped in. The sharp splash, and then the weightlessness, and he was in paradise. He laid on his back and paddled just as the woman had done the week before, not caring whether his privates were on display, letting the sun drink the water off of them, his penis very flaccid and laying against his thigh. And then the gate creaked and the first morning lap swimmer entered, a middle-aged man, Simon noticed when he opened his eyes and glanced upwards, a middle-aged man who looked somewhat surprised and then nodded his head as if he had remembered the new rule. Then he came down, set his things on a small table and stripped down to a speedo, and stepped into the water. He did not get nude, but Simon would not be the only naked person there that day. After he had swam a bit, with the lap guy passing by and acting like Simon was not there, Simon laid out to dry and soon considered leaving, until the gate creaked again and a whole flood spilled in. This time it was a big family, with kids. There were four adults and four kids; two sets of parents it seemed and one boy and three girls of about eight, who ran screaming with joy to a row of vacant lawn chairs and began tearing off their clothes while the adults caught up. Simon brought his legs down and swam forward, heading back towards his chair. As he neared the edge, the adults passed by his end, and one of the women, wearing a straw sun hat and a homely, loose dress, looked down at him and smiled. It seemed to be in recognition, like she was thanking him for making this all possible. He only felt the slightest bit weird as he walked up the pool steps and onto the pavement, nude and dripping, as the children hurried past him and stumbled down the steps into the water, splashing and shrieking and bare as the day they were born. Simon looked up and saw the adults calmly setting their things down, and the lap-swimming man standing near his chair, concern on his face as he looked towards the children, then to the adults, and then the children again. Simon grabbed his towel, dried off, and laid down on his lounger as before, and suddenly he felt a lot less weird. The adults stripped off what they had on, the sun hat lady taking off her covering and simply lifting her dress up and off her body, suddenly nude, and the two men bending down and taking off their shorts. They all looked right at home, and their skin was a nice and even tan. They were obviously used to this. Simon smiled and grabbed his Kindle and water and overheard small snippets of conversation as the lap man, standing with an open shirt on now and his groin-strangling speedo, confronted the other adults.

"Don't you think it's a little inappropriate to bring the kids here now?" Simon heard the man say. He looked up again. It was striking how more lascivious the lap man looked with his bulge barely contained in his speedo while the two men and women calmly stood next to him with nothing to hide.

"No, we are nudists. They've been to resorts all their lives. It's nothing unusual to them."

This silenced the man, though his eyebrows were raised in disbelief as the group walked around the end of the pool for the steps, and the lap man's eyes followed them. As they passed, the sun hat woman, hatless now (along with every other article, of course) again looked at Simon and smiled. To say that it was the most striking moment in his recent memory would have been an understatement, as her nude visage looming above him, her prettiness and her friendly smile, made his heart flutter and was captured in snapshot in his mind. Then she turned and slipped into the pool, her nude back and butt disappearing slowly into the clear water. Then the scene was suddenly un-erotic as the four adults quite naturally joined their children, wading around and batting around a beach ball that had suddenly materialized. The lap man, meanwhile, had grabbed his bag and walked, still in his skin-tight speedo and open shirt, around to the end of the pool and towards the gate, passing Simon as well and giving him a dirty look not unlike what the other man had given him on the previous Sunday. Oh well, Simon thought. He was bound to have some haters.

He was about to lift up his Kindle and start reading, at perfect ease now, when the lap man exited the gate and, much like the previous Sunday, he was replaced with another visitor, who stood at the entrance and peered down at the pool. But this time, the raven-haired girl with the bangs stepped inside.

All the spiritual comfort that Simon had gained suddenly vanished, and his heart was now pumping madly in his chest. The raven-haired girl came down the steps onto the patio, carrying, this time, a towel and a canvas bag. She wore a simple blue summer dress that ruffled in the wind and clung in parts to her skin. She brushed her blowing hair out of her face and met eyes with Simon very briefly as she approached, turned, and made her way around the end of the pool to the opposite side. Against all chaste and chill notions of nudism that he had agreed with and adapted, Simon now was eager. He was now distracted from everything, from his comfort, from his book; everything centered around this girl who had smiled at him one week ago and now saw fit to join in on naked pool day. And just like that, she dropped her bag and the dress slid up her body, revealing the breath-stopping heart shape of her behind, and the slender line up her back, and the definition of her shoulder blades before her black hair spilled down over them. Her skin was porcelain and flawless; she did not look like someone who spent a lot of time in the sun. And then she turned around, twirling her long hair so that it whipped around her and lightly, featherly, slapped her shoulder, and her front was presented, the twin swells of medium-sized breasts with the softest pink accentuating them and the softest appearance that drove Simon's mind mad imagining their feel, and below the trim line of her stomach, a puff of black, barely discernible as a triangle, more an obtuse wedge of curls, and tapered down from that, her thighs in frame, and her knees, pressed together; she stood like some Greek goddess, and Simon, beside himself, stood as well, or rather, part of him did, and alarm bells went off in his head as he wondered what to do. There were kids, God, Christ. He drew up his knees. There was nothing else to do. He felt humiliated, to have such little control over his impulses. This wasn't supposed to happen, right? He had read many stories of erection fears online, but those fears had always been dashed by the authors. But here he was. Luckily, the girl would probably be getting in the water and ridding him of the tempting sight of her, allowing him to take in the pool as a whole, and perhaps allowing him to get lost in his book. But instead, the girl approached the edge of the pool, eased down onto her butt, and let her feet dip into the water. And there she sat, like a Victorian bather, her legs wet up to the knees, her hands rested on the cool and shaded pavement behind her, her black hair trailing down like a curtain, her chest thrust out, and the upward-scoop of her breasts perky and almost obscene in their carelessness, her lap a neat, prim wedge of dark contrasted against her pale thighs. The smile on her face was of calm and serenity; the opposite of what Simon was now feeling. It seemed that he was the only one out of sorts amongst this sizable group of people enjoying the pool without their clothing, just as he had envisioned, which was ironic. He reminded himself of all the stories and accounts of first-time nudist resorts he had read online growing up, and he reminded himself of the times spent with his friend, both naked, feeling awkward at first but soon getting used to the presence of the other. They had been carefree and in the moment. Simon was definitely in the moment now, but with a big breath, he tried to cast out all the cares and worries. It halfway worked. His book waited, above the lighted words of which was the vision of the raven-haired girl sitting so calmly on the edge of the pool, breasts pointed forward, eyes watching the kids with a smile. She seemed perfectly at home here, as did everybody else. This succeeded in calming Simon's soul just a bit, and he looked down at the words on his Kindle screen.

He started out by reading a few lines, then looking up, then a few more, then looking up again, wherein the scene before him didn't change. The kids still splashed about the pool with their adult compatriots, and the raven-haired girl still sat on the side of the pool and watched. It was like the snapshot of a perfect afternoon. If Simon had had a knack for painting, this would have been his inspiration right there. But he had nothing to do with the image and its atmosphere except to cherish it, so he returned to his book, and one line became five, five became a whole page, and soon, when he finally looked up from the Kindle, much had changed, because the adults were now lounging by the deep end of the pool, the kids were out and eating snacks by their chairs, rejecting any coverings of a towel or clothing, and the raven-haired girl was drifting through the water, her eyes closed, her mouth turned in a faint smile, her hair trailing behind her in the water.

And so the second naked day at the community pool went off without a hitch, and this time, there were plenty of visitors. When Simon finally got absorbed into his book, a half hour or more had disappeared, and now it seemed that the people had multiplied. There were some older, plump ladies now, walking around with nothing but a pair of sunglasses and a smile, unashamed of themselves. There seemed to be more kids all of a sudden, as if they had multiplied like gremlins in the water. It might have been the busiest the pool had ever been, though Simon had not lived in the community long enough to be sure of that. The only thing missing was the raven-haired girl, who he could not see amongst all the less distinct bodies in and around the water, until a presence entered his peripherals and a pleasant, rosy voice said: "Hi!"

He turned his head just a few inches to the right and there she was, standing by a nearby table, shielded from the sun by a giant umbrella, suddenly less vibrant in her paleness, and more faint, like a ghost, an image he hardly believed was now looming over him, smiling (something that seemed to happen to him a lot at these naked days). "You're the guy who thought up this idea, aren't you? I gotta say, it was a great one."

"Gee, t-thanks," Simon managed, trying to control his sudden stutter and trying not to hold his eyes too long as he panned up the girl’s body—and the sensitive, subtle movements of her breasts as she moved. "A-are you a nudist too?"

"Only part-time," she said with a laugh, and she folded her hands in front of her, right above her wide patch of black (Simon's eyes drifted only momentarily). Unfortunately, this all caused a reaction down below. He felt it, dared not look at it, and drew up his knees in a vain attempt to hide it. None of this seemed to phase the girl though, who rocked on her feet and looked around for a second.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked. A swell of heat filled up Simon's chest.

"Sure! I mean no, go ahead."

The raven-haired girl suddenly smiled wide and she released her hands in front of her and turned to pull over a lounger, presenting for a moment the full shape of her butt just mere feet away from him. He drew his knees even closer in.

As the people in the pool walked around or splashed in the water and chatter rose up in the air and a radio began playing, the girl slid over a lounger and sat down on it—sans towel. She leaned back and splayed her body next to Simon's, stretching out, unlike him, who was curled up like a ball.

"I've only ever been to a nudist resort once. I went on a dare with some friends, and it was great. I never felt more free. it's nice to relive that again."

"Y-yeah..." Simon's eyes drifted over to her, laid out like a model, and quickly darted away to look out at the kids and adults playing in the water.

"Have you ever been to a resort?" she asked. He looked at her again, in the eyes this time, the rest of her just an out-of-focus mirage.

"No, actually. I, uh, used to run around naked in the woods with my friend as a kid. Back when we heard of nudism and wanted to try it out."

"Oh really? That's wild."

"Yeah. it was always kind of scary. We were always worried we were going to get caught."

"That's kind of unusual, isn't it? For guy friends to be running around naked? I always thought girls were more okay with that than guys."

"Well, for a nudist it's not weird."

The girl laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"It's not something we shared with others, of course," Simon added.

"Yeah, of course. People would misunderstand."

He was beginning to regain control of himself, able to look next to him at the girl without feeling the tremble of an erection's arrival. He was beginning to feel calm, like this is where he belonged. He let his legs relax.

"Anyway, it's nice not to worry about getting caught now," he said. “I can’t even enjoy my back patio without feeling paranoid.”

The girl suddenly sat up a few inches and turned her body over enough to face Simon.

“Really?!” she beamed. “Me too! I mean, I’m not paranoid about it, just that I sit out on my patio all the time. When it’s warm anyway.”

Simon laughed and smiled. The sight of her now laying almost on her side with her hand gently resting on her bare hip was almost too much.

”I'm Grace, by the way." She stuck out that hand, and as Simon looked at her, supine, relaxed, her slender fingers pointing towards him, he took her cool grip, and the threat of erection presented itself all over again. To touch her, to have her here right next to him. There may have been a tremble in his hand that he hoped she did not feel.

"Simon," he said. "I live just up the hill at 372," he blurted out. Grace smiled, and they released their hands.

"I'm just down the hill," she said. "I can walk here. It's great."

"Yeah, me too. I'll be here every Sunday if I can't help it."

"Same," she said, and suddenly pushed herself up. "I think I'm gonna get back in the water again for a bit. Wanna join?"

Simon looked longingly out at the pool, absolutely full of people now, and then glanced down at his lap, where he no longer felt the contact of his penis against his thigh, because he was standing rigid at attention. He quickly tore his eyes away from it and looked at Grace again, whose eyes traveled down, and then she smiled.

"I see. In a little bit, maybe, huh?"

Simon didn't know what to say. He had gotten caught. Just when he had said he was relieved not to have to feel that way. Grace swung her legs off the lounger, pointing her knees towards him, and rose, looming above him again, doing nothing to quell his arousal. "See ya," she said, and she turned, took a few steps forward, but glanced down at him, no doubt at his lap, and smirked a bit, and then walked off, her hips and her heart-shaped butt swaying with her steps until she lowered into the water and joined the others. Simon let out a breath. Finally released, his legs extended, but then he pulled them right back up to hide his erection. he sat there for some time, unable to read, unable to think, able only just to stare at the water, where Grace disappeared into the mass of bodies, and only then did his arousal subside. Eventually he did relax his legs, set aside his Kindle and stood, still feeling the ebb of what rigidity his member had, but shy no longer about walking with it presented. Soon he was in the water, where he sought out Grace amidst the splashing kids and the red-skinned, pot-bellied adults, and he felt normal all over again. He did find Grace, engaging in batting a beach ball back and forth with some children, and the way her slender, hypnotically feminine frame contrasted with the small, featureless kids was strangely beautiful in a non-erotic way. She seemed almost maternal, and the other adults smiled as the beautiful girl played with the kids, and then Grace saw Simon and motioned him over, and soon he was jumping up into the air, not conscious anymore of his sensitive region lifting out of the water as he batted the ball, and the next half hour was spent in sport, until the sun began its late-afternoon trek past the trees and the light on the pool patio grew dim. When he broke from the game, he went back to his lounger to dry off, and then he lost sight of Grace, turning around and seeing groups of people leaving. All that remained were some older folk and one or two kids, but there was no beautiful girl there. She was gone, as if she had been a vision. Simon went ahead and packed up, regretfully put on his clothes (trunks and his button-up, which he left unbuttoned, so it didn't take long to get dressed) and he walked to the gate and then walked home in sort of a daze, as if he had left a dream. When he got back to his place, he dropped his things, didn't even undress, didn't even shower, but collapsed on his couch and fell asleep, and then did dream. He dreamed of being naked at the pool, and it was full of people, more than was even possible, and a girl similar but not exactly like Grace was there, and he walked around trying to cover up his erection in her presence until he stopped caring, and he got weird looks from the other guests.

*****

He awoke in the early evening, just as it was starting to get dark outside, in his dim home. He got up and prepared some coffee and went up for a shower, thinking the whole time of what the next Sunday would bring, and if he would see Grace again. The following week was spent looking forward to that day, amidst going through the motions of work in front of his laptop, until Saturday came and he spent a day lazing around the house, and there was a knock at his door. Alarmed, he got up and found some clothes to scramble into as the knock came again. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a ratty t-shirt and went to open the door, but he soon found his haste to get dressed was needless, for standing on his doorstep was Grace, exactly as he had seen her at the pool. That is, completely naked.

"Hi!" she beamed. "I couldn't wait until Sunday, so I thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted to spend some time on your patio together!"

It was all Simon could do to collect his jaw off the floor, to ask her if she really walked naked all the way to his house, and he couldn't say anything, so he just stepped aside to let her in, and the naked girl entered his house. Simon quickly closed the door, craning his neck for any rubbernecking neighbors, and turned around and drank in the surreality of Grace tiptoeing down his foyer, her heart-shaped butt the center of his attention in the narrow corridor. She followed the hall into the kitchen and dining area, saw the entrance to his back patio, and twirled around, smiling. The up-close full-frontal view in this new setting activated all his arousal neurons, and he feared getting undressed.

"Yours looks so much different from mine," she said, facing him for a second as if to highlight the differences between them, then spinning around again, offering him another view of her butt, but he looked beyond her shoulders at the view out the window as she commented on it.

"If you got some more furniture out there, you could host some killer patio parties. I'd come! Nude, of course."

She spun around again. Simon had not moved from the foyer.

"Did you seriously walk here naked?" he asked her.

"Yeah. It's no big deal now, right?"

"Well, I figured that was supposed to be limited to the pool..."

Grace waved a  dismissive hand. "Oh, well there were so many people at the pool last week, I figured it didn't matter anymore. Nobody stopped me."

"I bet not. ...Would you like anything to drink?"

"You mean a drink or a drink?"

"I got ginger ale. And beer."

"What kind of beer?"

"You like PBR?"

"Sure!"

And so Simon maneuvered past the naked girl in his dining room and went to the fridge to get two PBRs. The strangeness of him being clothed and her being naked was not lost on either of them, for while he was adjusting to the new company, his heart rattling in his chest, Grace piped up: "So you're gonna get naked too, right?"

He closed the fridge and looked up at her, fearfully. She stood in the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the wall, her body at a delectable slant. He handed out a sweating can of PBR.

"O-of course. Let's go sit on the patio."

She smiled and took the can and un-propped herself from the wall, popping open the beer and looking perfectly comfortable and not even erotic in that split second, just a naked girl getting ready to enjoy a beer. Simon wanted to move into the dining room and towards the back door, but she was blocking the way. He put out his hand.

"This way."

She smiled and backed out, and he slid past her, unable to avoid her chest brushing against the fabric of his shirt. He trembled, through his whole body and through one particular organ as well. When he got to the dining room table, he sat down his beer and fumbled with his shirt. He could sense Grace standing behind him, waiting, and as he got up the gumption (funny that he was learning to get naked in front of others all over again), he could hear her moving to look out the back sliding door.

"So what did you do with your keys?" he asked her, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, I left them in my place. You can leave your door unlocked here. It's a pretty nice neighborhood."

She spun around as she said that, just in time to see Simon take down his shorts, where he could not hide the angry erection flipping out. There was nothing to do but step out of his shorts and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary, though he blushed. He saw her eyes flit downwards and that smirk appear on her face again, and he grabbed his beer and nodded towards the patio.

"Shall we go?"

She smiled and turned and was the first to open the door. They stepped out into the bright sunlight and Simon pulled back his chair, then stepped around Grace—careful not to let his stabbing dousing rod grace the back of her thigh—and he grabbed a chair for her. He had to step just far out enough from his door to make himself nervous, lest he be seen by his neighbors from their second-story windows. Quickly he pulled the chair cater-corner to his own at the table and motioned for Grace to sit, and she smiled and obliged. They settled down, quite near to each other, and Simon was thankful to be partially hidden behind the surface of the table as he sat, though Grace slid her chair back to align it nearly beside him, away from the table, and though his heart fluttered, he quickly realized it was to get herself out of view of the upstairs window.

"So tell me about you and your friend running around naked when you were a kid," she said, and then took a sip of her beer. She semi-slouched in her chair so that her breasts settled casually against her breastbone, and her black hair fell around them, framing them. Simon took a breath and tried to ignore his arousal as well as Grace had been doing, and recounted the stories that were only told between him and his friend.

"Well, we both kind of found out about nudism at the same time," he began. "Thanks to the internet. Most of it was thinly-veiled porn sites, you know? But there were lots of stories, accounts of people visiting resorts for the first time, and a lot of philosophical stuff. It was all new to us. So we decided to go around in the woods where we lived, au-natural.

"It was a little weird. Neither of us was gay or anything, but we were real self-conscious. We actually would separate ourselves between a group of trees just to give each other privacy, but after a while, we stopped caring. I guess that's when we became nudists."

As he talked, he found himself becoming less aroused. He could feel it waning, fighting gravity in its slow fall to his lap, and all the while, Grace listened intently. During his recounting, the back door of his nextdoor neighbor's opened, and he fell silent, waiting for them to come out and do whatever it was they were doing. He heard some furniture move around, and then a hose turn on as they watered their plants, and then, finally, the door fell shut.

"And anyway, we were bonafide nudists at that point," Simon concluded. As he did, he felt his quickly-limpening dick touch his thigh, and that only reinvigorated his awareness of it, and when he looked to Grace, who he had been looking away from while he told his story, his vigor was renewed. She was all smiles and sunshine.

"How about you? What was your first nudist resort trip like? Like I said, I've never been to one."

Grace brushed her hair off her shoulders, tracing her right breast with the ends like a feather brush, and she took in a breath.

"It was great. I didn't think I could do it. It was a dare, like I said. I was so petrified when the other girls were taking off their clothes like it was nothing, and here I was standing in front of a whole mess of people—mostly old men—and something in me just said screw it, and I took off my shirt. I took off my bra before anything else, just to get used to being topless first, and by that time, my friends were already running into the pool, completely bare-assed and loving it. I had never seen them naked before, but there they were, running into the water like children. So I just took everything else down, all at once, and ran to the pool as quick as I could, so nobody would stare. I think I burned my nostrils jumping in, but when I came up, I felt as natural as I could be. I forgot all about my shyness when I was in the water and I really began to enjoy myself. It wasn't until I got out that I remembered that I was naked, and that I was on display as I walked around the edge of the pool, dripping water, and I mimicked my friends and stood under the outdoor shower to rinse off, and I felt goddamn glamorous, throwing my hair back and thrusting out my chest, letting the cold water rush down me, and I knew everybody was looking. They had to be. But I don't think they were. Some of them had to have been, though. I was something to see. And it was at that moment that I liked being seen. Like I was a model in a video. I knew I looked good, knew I knew that I could go anywhere I wanted, so after that, I think I walked with a strut in my step, into the clubhouse, where there were definitely old men looking. I loved it, Simon, I really did."

Simon listened, sensing that Grace's journey was much different than his, down to her spirit, and in hearing the tale, his arousal had fully renewed. And then suddenly, her fingers were gently wrapped around it. His member pulsed and he nearly sat up.

"Anyway, that's how I became a nudist," she said, lazily fondling and batting around Simon’s penis. She was just playing with it. It was almost like she didn’t even know she was doing it. Simon took in a sharp breath, and Grace let out a sigh. "That was the only time I've been naked in front of others. Until last week, of course. It's nice."

Her gentle touch turned to batting his rigidness between her thumb and fingers, and then they closed around him again, a little more firmly this time. "So you're more of a nudist than me," she concluded.

"I, uh..."

She looked down, as if she suddenly noticed his dick was in her hands, and she laughed. "Oh, sorry, it's a reflex. I see a dick and I want to play with it."

Simon managed to form some sort of recognizable word with the passing of his laboured breaths. "Oh."

"Dicks are fun," she said, and for some reason, that echoed in Simon's mind. He seemed to remember someone saying that at some point, in entertainment, adult or otherwise.[i] And Grace capitalized on her statement by traveling her fingers up his shaft to fan over his head (he squirmed) adding: "And they're funny. they're just these cute little things—they start out so small but you give them a little bit of attention and—sproing—they extend into your hand like an eager puppy, until they spit—spew!—it's just funny. I don't know how you guys walk around with those things."

This time Simon did remember the reference. It was something Elaine said on Seinfeld. And at that moment he burst over Grace's graceful fingers, launching an ivory shot up into the air and almost in front of her delighted eyes, and oozing the rest down her knuckles, and he choked on a groan that he did not want his neighbors to hear and he could not keep the sight of Grace from his attention, that perfect and relaxed nude feminine figure with his masculinity in her hand, spurting out its last. He scrambled around in his chair and flailed his arms and legs and leaned his head back. His beer fell out of his hand and clattered on the pavement, spilling its own contents.

"Whoops!" Grace cried. "That happens."

"Guh," Simon could only spurt out, just as Grace's fingers draped around his raw-sensitive head, pushing an exasperated breath from his mouth.

"Shall I get a paper towel?" she asked, her hand suddenly releasing his penis, which twitched in her absence.

"It's no big deal," Simon said, thinking of the river of foamy beer on the ground and not of himself. Though he wasn't too keen on standing and waving his dripping thing about, either.

"Allow me," she said, and she stood, lifting her hand with the shiny white tracks on her knuckles and laughing. Then she opened the door and disappeared inside. Simon collapsed limp in his chair, the sole non-limp part of him waving in exhaustion. He listened to the birds. He heard the sink inside run. then in a few moments, Grace was back, and she pushed aside her chair to lean down over him. He instinctively moved his hands and tensed.

"Here," she said, and she wrapped the warm, moist paper towel around his penis, and the pleasure was unbearable. He hissed through his teeth and kicked his legs, and Grace just laughed. She wiped his crown and gently squeezed, released, and squeezed again, and then she dabbed his pubic hair thoroughly while his penis began to fall against her hand like a drunkard.

"I bet that never happened with your friend, did it?" she asked, and Simon couldn't help but laugh.

"No," he said, and loosened up again. He slouched in the chair as Grace stood to full height, and he was no longer self-conscious about his dick waving in front of her.

"I'll be right back," she said, and again she disappeared inside to dispose of the paper towel. He heard the kitchen sink run again, and he listened again to the birds and felt supremely comfortable. Then Grace was back, carrying two new beers. She sat them down on the table in front of them and then turned to close the patio door. Her breasts gave a little shake as she plopped down in her seat. What rigidity Simon’s penis lost, he slowly regained again for the moment.

"Don't expect that to happen at the pool tomorrow!" she joked, and took up her beer. Simon cracked open his fresh one and knew that he needed it. He kicked it back and felt it course cold through his veins, and he loosened even more. Embarrassment vanished. They began to talk some more.

"I take it you're coming tomorrow."

"Are you offering?" she asked with a smile, and it took Simon a moment, but then he laughed, and he began to be uncomfortable again, so he took another sip of beer. That would have been his move to return the favor she had given him, but he was petrified. Grace ended up steering the conversation elsewhere, asking him about his job, and whether he worked from home, and he told her, his erection lessening again, unnoticed until he realized he was small and limp once more, and then he forgot about it as he asked Grace what she did, and she said she freelanced. They talked as naturally as if nothing had ever happened, or as if him cumming in her grip were as normal as shaking hands, and then eventually, beers finished, Grace stood up and said she had to go. Simon followed her inside and led her to the front door, where he asked her: "Are you really gonna walk all the way back nude?" and she responded: "Sure am. There's nothing else I can do, and nobody seems to mind."

"I can grab you some of my clothes if you want."

"Don't worry, I'm not scared!" And with that, she opened the door wide, turned to him and thanked him for the good time, and stepped out onto the front stoop. Simon stepped into the open door and stood there, almost forgetting that he too was nude, as he looked out at his neighborhood for anybody that would see. Grace made her way down the sidewalk, with an alluring gait that made her slender back swerve and her bottom swing like a pendulum. Then she took a bend around a set of trees and was almost gone, glimpsed only briefly through the branches, catches of pale skin through the green. Then, as Simon's eyes left her, he spotted someone standing at the end of the sidewalk, past the bend, right before the next bank of townhouses. This man’s eyes followed Grace, and then turned and leveled at Simon. Simon quickly shut the door.

*****

That night, he dreamt of being in a socially nude setting, except that in this world, handjobs were as normal as handshakes, and he would walk with his erection proudly leading the way, to fall into the hands of the nearest young woman, once again not Grace, but charming all the same, of similar build, but with curly auburn hair and a winning grin. The woman would gently squeeze her fingers around him and he would burst onto her thighs, and she would smile and go on her way. Then he would go on to be greeted again, and again and again, over and over for the duration of the dream, which may have only been a blurred impression and not a sequence of events. Simon awoke naked under his sheets with the distinct feeling of moistness in his lap and on the sheet. He was incredibly embarrassed.

*****

The next day at the pool was very awkward. Simon hardly wanted to leave his house, afraid to show his face. But he told Grace he was going to be there and he was not about to give up the naked time he had earned by being so bold as to confront the HOA. So he donned his usual trunks and shirt and walked out the door.

When he got there, there were plenty of people, adults and children, mostly older people, and Simon felt a little out of place. he had renewed hesitation at getting undressed, but once he was naked and in the water, he felt more relaxed. He was in his usual spot in his lounger when Grace arrived, and her arrival was heralded by a small chorus of murmurs, because she arrived at the gate fully nude. A few eyes watched her walk down the steps onto the patio as she saw Simon and waved, making her way over to him. he thought he saw a few people lean into each other and exchange words, then they cast looks at him. And then Grace was looming above him.

"Hey there! Wanna swim?"

"S-sure." All his nervousness around her was renewed, and she noticed, but didn't say anything. As he stood, she actually took his hand and they walked side-by-side to the shallow end of the pool, with many eyes watching them go. he felt a little tremble of arousal at walking nude hand-in-hand with this beautiful nude girl, but soon he was in the water.

And it was from there that his arousal refused to leave. Wading in the water, occasionally batting a ball, and swimming back and forth, he was fine. But when they were just standing, Grace keeping close to him like white on rice, he could not help but be aroused. Just being there with her, remembering what she had done to him, and being awash in her presence the whole time, water glittering on and dripping off her breasts, which at one point she swiped clean with her forearm, casting up little jiggles, drove him mad. He waded through the water in a constant half-state of hardness, and with the feeling of the current from the water jets rushing over him, he maintained his hardness, and wobbled his way around the pool, terrified of brushing it against somebody. He had to swim a few laps before getting out, just so he wouldn't be on display, but when he exited, with Grace at his side, he was in definite half-chub state, and people were sure to notice, as his soft state was significantly smaller. Nobody said anything, though. He and Grace retired to their loungers, and as before, Simon brought up his knees. He had no reason to hide his arousal from Grace, however, who looked over and laughed through her nose, and then reached for her phone that was sitting on the nearby table. They sat like that for a while, Simon taking out his Kindle but not committed to reading. Instead he watched the crowd, and his arousal did wane slightly. At one point, Grace raised her hand and moved it towards his lap as if she were about to take him in her hand, but then she retreated. That kept him from going completely soft, and made getting up to get dressed a quick and covert affair, as he faced the fence to avoid flashing the guests of the pool.

Grace packed up her things at the same time, and much to Simon's annoyance, insisted on walking out with him. So Simon was seen, before all the others, going side-by-side with Grace, he clothed, she still nude, and they went up and out the gate. Outside, they walked up to the steps that led to Simon's house, and his head was on a swivel, looking for somebody to be scandalized by his friend's public nudity.

"So you really aren't afraid of getting in trouble, huh?" he asked her.

"I believe in shoot first and ask questions later," she said. "So, what are you gonna do now?"

"I actually agreed to work a little this evening," he lied. He couldn't believe he was trying to get out of having a naked girl come up to his house.

"Oh, that sucks."

"It's not too bad."

"Let's hang out again sometime."

"Sure."

"Well," I'll get going!"

She paused there, as if waiting for a kiss, or even looking like she might lean in and plant one on him, but she had hesitation, and then just smiled and turned to walk down past the pool, her butt swaying, people coming out of the gate and staring at her as she walked by. She waved.

*****

There were consequences for Grace's exhibitionism (or was it just carelessness?). An e-mail was sent out a day later, advising people enjoying naked day at the pool to please get dressed before and after visiting, for the new dress code did not extend to the rest of the community. Simon wondered what Grace thought about that.

He didn't see her all that week. They hadn't even exchanged numbers. And the following Saturday, he went out of town to visit friends. He wondered if Grace had knocked on his door in his absence, and wondered if she was standing out there waiting in the nude.

He did not go to the pool that Sunday. He was too ashamed. He did not want to be associated with her carelessness. And, in the late afternoon, she came knocking. He answered the door nude once he confirmed his suspicions through the peephole that it was her. She was clothed. Her eyebrows raised when he opened the door.

"There you are. I see you're dressed accordingly."

"Gave up on walking around naked, huh?" he said, standing quite boldly himself, though she blocked anybody who might see him from outside.

"That e-mail scared me a little, I'll admit," she said. "You doing anything? You busy?"

"No, I was just chilling. you can come in."

She stepped inside and once he closed the door, she immediately pulled off her shirt. As she went to the kitchen, she wriggled out of her shorts, and was dancing out of her shoes and stepping into the nude, just as Simon was accustomed to seeing her. She was fantastic-looking in what light was left that came through the back patio door now that the sun was up and over his roof, the faint glow illuminating the down on her arms, and the faint impression of sunburn on her smooth skin. But he did not get a response down below this time.

"Say, did you want to watch a movie or something?" she suggested as she turned around, dropping her clothes in an open seat and standing there presented to him in all her glory, surreal to see in the middle of his dining room.

And so they spent their afternoon like normal friends, albeit nude, and no sexual activity occurred that day, though they sat close, on his couch, their naked hips touching. Occasionally her hand would fumble with his penis while they watched the movie, and he rose to a half-hearted response. Towards the end of the movie, her head was almost on his shoulder, but not quite. Almost. And after that, they parted ways. Man, I'm bad at this, Simon thought as he stood and led her to the door. She grabbed her clothes, but she did not put them on. "It's dark," she explained, and she disappeared out the door and into the night like a naked ghost.

*****

An unfortunate e-mail came in the middle of the next week.

We are sad to say, but the naked day at the pool is as of this day, ended. It was a nice experiment, but the conduct of some of the guests has led us to confirm that it was not an appropriate idea. We apologize to those who enjoyed the privilege, but because of the behavior of some of your neighbors, we have chosen to put a stop to it. Have a safe rest of the summer, and we hope you will still enjoy the pool. With clothes, of course.

Simon's heart sank when he read it, and he knew exactly what neighbor had caused the naked pool day to end. She must have still showed up to the pool nude on the day he wasn't there. Would she show up to his place nude after that? He didn't go to the pool that following Sunday, or any day. Instead, he lost himself in his work, and idly watched Youtube on his TV after that.

Then one Sunday, he had a knock at his door, and he got up to answer it. For once, he was wearing clothes. Living nude had suddenly lost its appeal now. At the door was Grace, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, what little of the shorts that could be seen below the low-hanging top effectively making her look bottomless, just her now-tawny thighs trailing down from the hem.

"Hey, how're you doing?"

"Okay, come on in."

He stepped aside like usual and she entered, but did not get naked this time. Simon closed the door.

"I'm sorry about them calling off the naked pool day," she said, turning to face him as he turned away from the door. "It's all my fault."

Simon sighed. "That's okay. It wasn't gonna last anyway."

"At least you still have your patio," she said.

"Yeah..."

In truth, Simon had not made use of his patio either, since the cancellation of naked pool day. He felt somehow guilty, he felt definitely paranoid of his neighbors.

"Wanna go sit now?" she asked. Simon narrowed his eyes, then loosened up.

"Sure. I'll grab some beers."

So he went to the kitchen and grabbed two cans out of the fridge and followed Grace as she opened the sliding glass door, and then, as she stepped out on the patio, she finally pulled off her shirt. Simon watched the billowing fabric lift and reveal her toned back, and the very tight shorts she wore below. There was no bra, and no mark of a bra, and facing away from him, she leaned forward and took down her shorts, the fabric sliding over the domes of her butt pointed back at him, the glimpse of a puffy vulva between her legs stirring desire once again, and Simon's pants became tight. But he stepped forward and sat down his beer and pulled off his own shirt, and then his shorts, not caring at all how his fresh erection flopped out in front of her, as she turned, smiled, and pulled up her chair. They sat and clinked beers.

"It was a good experiment, though," she said, taking a noisy sip.

"It'd be nice if there was a nudist resort nearby that we could chill at," Simon said.

"The one I went to is actually an hour away," Grace said.

"Oh, really? That close?"

"Yeah, there are actually a couple not too far away. Wanna go sometime?"

Simon took a sip of his beer, relished his nudeness again, and smiled.

"Sure, that'd be fun."

"Goodbye, pool."

"Goodbye, pool."

They drank in silence. Simon could hear the beer gurgling down Grace's throat. They moved on to other topics. Grace asked about places to eat in town, Simon admitted that the streets outside their community were kind of sketch. They told stories of being out in the city at night and coming across unsavory characters. At some point through all that, Simon's erection waned. Until Grace sat down her can on the table and stood. Instead of going inside, she put herself between the table and Simon's chair. She leaned in and straddled him. Her black, bushy pubic hair came forward to his currently-unexcited lesser self, which twitched with the proximity and contact. She braced her hands on his shoulders.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to say anything as she straddled close, and he felt her hairs tickle his trunk and she rose. She reached down and played with him, urged him into suitable hardness, and then she lifted her hips. His tip prodded and traced, and fell into her warm embrace, and she fell onto him, and then leaned into him, pressing her chest against his, and he felt an infinite amount of friction and pleasure compared to her hand. Their faces met, and with him firmly inside her now, they finally kissed. Her lips were trembling and eager, and they chewed on each other as they rocked to the motions of love. How strange, for this to be the ultimate romantic moment, after their casual congress weeks before. How weird for his first kiss with her to happen moments after he entered her. But he tossed that all aside and lived in the moment, and she rocked against him and he lifted his hips to meet her motion, and the chair creaked as they made love on the patio.

He lasted an incredibly long time, even impressing him. In the few seconds that it had taken for him to burst in the grip of her hand, he, in comparison, was lost inside her now, drinking her in, pushing past the wall of potential release into a plain of bliss. They must have made love on his patio for an hour, and he savored every minute of it, though his back hurt in the uncomfortable position in the chair. He heard the birds again, above Grace's labored breaths, hot on his lips, which tore into hers, and with their mouths pressed together, he came, forceful, painful, excruciatingly serene, and he melted away into her and heard her groan right in his ears, and he suddenly was aware of her body pressed into his, her soft breasts collapsed into his chest, and with his final, blissful breath during that hot instant, he came back into reality, with this girl trembling in his lap, and at that moment the door on the other side of the fence opened, and his neighbor came out to water her plants.

Simon and Grace sat there in their embrace, completely still, listening to the pitter-patter of the garden hose until it squeaked shut and the neighbor's footsteps went back to her door and it slammed shut. Then they released their tension and broke into laughter, and they sat there in their embrace, laughing, for some time. And when they released from each other, Simon was no longer disappointed that the naked pool time was over, for he had all he needed right there, from the pure innocence of simple nudity to the erotic avenues that were parallel to it. And at the end of the day, he would always be able to be socially nude every Sunday of the week.

A Fishing Fantasy

Bud hadn't fished in a very long time. The last time he could remember was when he went with some friends to the Florida Everglades and caught gar and catfish and watched alligators float and follow their bait. That was way back in college. He was fifty now. When he was a child, he would go fishing in the mountain streams with his father and some of the other kids when they stayed at their hunting lodge way up in The Appalachians. Now he drove through the sleepy town just outside the entrance to the winding mountain road that led for twenty miles into the wilderness, no shoulder and no turnaround spots, until it eventually took one to the gravel road that led another mile towards the old camp.

The town now looked like a faint memory. It had expanded; Bud depressingly drove by business strips with McDonalds' and Starbucks and gas stations, and it was so unlike the town he remembered growing up, where the biggest hangout was an IGA grocery store. Driving through the historic downtown was a little more pleasant, with the sidewalks and storefronts almost exactly as he remembered them, although they were cleaner and more polished now, and instead of drug stores and hardware shops, there were antique stores and sushi restaurants. It was all ritzy, but still it seemed sleepy. Hardly a person was out, even though the weather was still somewhat warm.

Fishing had honestly been a little boring for Bud when he was a kid. It was something his dad insisted on doing, and when he managed to hook a trout, especially a big one that bent his rod, it was indeed exciting. But either he was not a good fisherman or there were just not a lot of trout in the streams, because there were long stretches of him just casting out, letting his bait drift, slowly reeling in, and casting out again. Sometimes his father would work his way downstream and Bud would be mostly by himself, with his father just in earshot, and it was in those moments that he daydreamed, as most kids do.

He daydreamed about many things. He played movies in their entirety in his head. He listened to imaginary music. He thought about playing pinball with his friend Freddie at the local soda shop in the evenings after school. And, embarrassingly, and perhaps predictably, he spun up fantasies that could only be spun up by a horny and fancied preteen mind. He used to imagine a naked woman, inexplicably floating down the shallow current as if she were riding down a set of rapids, sliding down small waterfalls and circling in the stagnant pools, floating perfectly on her back, with most of her bare body above the water, breasts glistening with hundreds of droplets and shining like gold. His mind would usually accompany the vision of her with a rock riff, something catchy, like what would be heard in a Playboy video special like the ones he and Freddie had pilfered from the back of the family video cabinets. Bud would just stand there at the water's edge, his eyes following the invisible path of the nude woman as she flowed down the river past his line to the tune of some sexy guitar. She would hardly look at him, lost in her own world, a world that was not connected to his, but maybe, sometimes right as she passed, she would glance at him, and the power of his imagination would send his heart fluttering, and then his dad would holler over to tell him his line was tangled in some low-hanging branches and to quit daydreaming, and the woman would vanish. But she would reappear at the next spot, following him and his father on their downstream course, and her image entertained him in between bites on his line.

He would even have some fun and tell the other guys' kids who were staying at the lodge that he had seen a naked woman floating down the creek, and he had them pretty convinced that some wild or otherwise uninhibited woman inhabited those woods, swimming and floating and walking around nude, to be seen by only a lucky few. He had Freddie and the others eager to go out fishing with their fathers in hopes of seeing the mysterious woman of the woods. The memory now made Bud smile as he took his pickup up the winding mountain road, lost in his memories until he got to the camp.

There was nobody there when he got there, as expected. It was sort of an off-season, but besides that, attendenceship at the camp had declined in the past few years, with the old guard dying off and their children more interested in their city careers, and their grandchildren more interested in video games and social media. Joe Kirsch, one of the sons who still lived in the area and enjoyed the outdoors, had said he might stop by. Bud had told the last remaining members of the camp that he was coming just to spend the night alone in the big two-story stone cabin, just to re-embrace his childhood and to collect his thoughts and meditate. He had not been there since he was a child, and unlike the town, the camp hardly seemed to have changed. The wide-open lawn still overlooked the shallow creek, across from it was still the shot-up .22 target he used to plink cans on as a child. The wraparound porch still looked sturdy and shaded the film-covered windows that were dark and hid the camp within. At the edge of the yard was still a well and an outhouse (even though the camp had its own restrooms and plumbing) and a little path beyond that still led undoubtedly to the little fishing pond that was no doubt still there. Bud pulled his pickup right to the gravel spot in front of the porch and got out, heading to the door to enter the security code Joe had given him, the only high-tech addition to the camp in lieu of keys. Soon he was in, and it was as cold as a cavern inside, and Bud went about touring the kitchen and dining area, where the old guys would make breakfasts of runny eggs or dinners of overcooked steak or where they rinsed out the gutted fish from their small trips to be cooked over a frying pan and feasted on in front of the row of windows that looked out over the wooded backyard, where as a kid, Bud remembered sitting and playing cards with Frankie and being afraid of what was outside those windows at night. The poker room with its fireplace was as it always was, and the staircase was still there, leading up to the bedrooms (really one big room full of beds with side rooms for the elite members). Bud did not check them out, instead looking for matches to light the gas lanterns fastened on the walls, for the camp only had electricity via generator during the winter, when deer season was in. He went about bringing light to the cold and dim rooms and then went to bring his only bag in. After about thirty minutes of getting settled, he thought he'd take a walk right away, to visit the creeks where he and his father had fished. When he got back, he would make a fire and get warm.

*****

The fishing spots were up the gravel road where he had taken his truck down. All one had to do was step off and you would be tromping through the woods until you heard the familiar trickle, and Bud did, and all his childhood came back, along with those fanciful fantasies of his child-mind. Though the woods all looked the same to some, Bud instantly recognized his old haunts, and navigated the hills as one would navigate one’s old hometown. Soon he was at the edge of the creek where he had stood mystified by his fantasies while his line got tangled in the branches. The branches were now cleared, but otherwise everything looked the same. He took in a big breath and let out a sigh as he recalled his childhood spent here. It was almost as if he had never left. And strangely, he felt as if he had seen all he needed to see. He had discovered a setting of distant memory, but now what? He did not see any point in lingering, and he did not have a fishing pole with him. Yet he did not want to leave. He supposed someone with a more rested spirit would be able to sit there and observe the water and the sounds of the birds and everything around them and drink it all in. Meditate, basically. But Bud was not of that type of mind. All throughout his adulthood, he had always been rushing everywhere, and he hated sitting still. It made him feel anxious. Well, he knew, when he went back to the camp there would be more of that. This trip would teach him to slow down and embrace boredom.

Too anxious to sit but not wanting to leave just yet, Bud looked to his right, upstream, where the side of the creek was very walkable, and he decided to go for a stroll up that way, to see if any other memories came back to him, small spots that may be locked away in his subconscious but which would reveal themselves once he found them. So he stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled, trying to take in all the sounds and sights as somebody with a meditative mind would. Though the anxiousness tugged at him, he could feel a sense of serenity as he carefully stepped around some tree roots and avoided getting his shoes wet in the soggy mud at the base of the water. He looked up and stepped up a little slope into the woods to navigate quicker, then worked his way closer to the water again, going slow, taking it easy. He was having trouble recalling this stretch of woods now, though he knew he must have walked through it at one point as a child. His attempts at recollections were dashed with the simple sound of a sploosh, like something slipping into the water. His eyes drifted to the left and he stopped walking immediately.

There, standing in the creek, was a vision straight out of his childhood. Gleaming wet skin shone in the gentle sun as a woman, very thin and fair, leaned back and let her dripping hair fall behind her. Her back faced him, and her youthful backside was a perfect rounded square of firm form. His breath caught in his throat; never with more detail had he gazed upon a woman so, never in all his affairs and strip club visits and chance encounters, and never in his child's mind had he spun up something so detailed. This woman was no phantasm; she was very real. He could see the muscles work underneath her skin as she stretched her arms to the sky. Past her sandy blonde hair, he could see the line of her back, and the subtle way her butt flexed and jiggled as she stepped carefully in the shin-high current. And then she spun around, her hair twirling around her body and sending out a fine spray, and she faced him, in mid-step to dip down in the water, when she froze. Nothing moved except the water. She seemed to be analyzing Bud, seeing if he was a threat, and in this moment of stillness, he took all of her in as he did the other nature around him. She was incredibly slim, but fit. Her ribs did not show on her sides and she seemed to be made up of ethereal skin, her breasts very small and pear-shaped, brilliant pink at their summits, and the outline of her profile made a pleasant slim hourglass shape, with a Venus at the epicenter marked by a very thin line of hair. She was much different from his childhood conjurings, which were inspired by voluptuous Playboy models with huge breasts and wide curves. This girl seemed more youthful, almost innocent, mundane; there was nothing alluring about the way she carried herself. She just appeared to be enjoying herself nude at this creek. And then, breaking into a small smile, she smoothed out her hair and proceeded to dunk herself in the water, going down to her chin and then coming up again with water sheening down her body, making Bud's jaw drop. Her eyes flitted to him again, and she seemed to hold back her smile from going wider, and then she turned sideways, then fully away from him, that butt looking back and moving more animatedly as she traversed the waters, and she angled towards the shore, where she stepped out, shook her feet dry, and tiptoed into the woods. Through the gaps in the trees he could see her go, making her way slowly, carefully on her bare feet, until he lost sight of her, like Bigfoot, a mystery vanished into the woods. But, unlike Bigfoot, Bud knew there was nothing to fear, and he followed.

Or maybe there was something to fear. Bud thought back to his childhood and the stories he would tell. The other kids, eager to see his erotic woods-dweller he had fancied up, got themselves worked into a frenzy about it. It had seemed that Bud was responsible for creating a local legend. And like all legends, it grew, to the point that one kid claimed he had seen her. But he was a habitual liar, so the smart ones knew not to believe him. The rumor persisted, though, and it only increased the intensity of the Holy Grail search. That was Bud's first experience understanding the concept of mass hysteria. If enough people believe in something, then to them it is completely real. He was almost scared by the power he wielded. Thinking back on it now, as he resumed walking softly into the woods, he suddenly wondered if it was possible to bring beings into existence in this way. He remembered a story of the writer of The Shadow radio show, who visitors to his home claimed to see someone else there. Was it possible that Bud had created an entity of his own, strengthened by the belief of all the other kids? Could this girl be a being such as that? Afterall, seldom does one see a woman so freely enjoying the outdoors like her, especially out in these mountains. But he tossed the idea. She didn't look like his imaginary woman, for one. And on top of that, he had not been to this area in over thirty years. And yet, a nervous energy propelled him forward, as if he did not know what to expect.

As he broke through some trees, there she was, her torso bending down gracefully so she could pick up her clothes, and her eyes shot to him and she gasped and took up her shirt and held it in front of her. Bud put up his hands.

"Sorry. I was just curious."

"I didn't mind giving you a little show, but I didn't really want you to follow me," she said, her voice high strung but smooth as whiskey-soaked oak.

Bud felt embarrassed. He didn't want to come across as a pervy old man, but he supposed there was no way not to look like one. He took one step back, but could not take his eyes off the girl, the only skin now visible being her bare shoulders and collarbone, and her shins downward.

"This is gonna sound a little weird, but... you're not a spirit, are you?"

The girl cocked her head.

"What?"

"Okay, I guess you're real."

"Of course I'm real. But I guess I can't blame you for thinking I'm something more."

Bud found himself letting out a little laugh, and it cut all the tension, at least for him.

"It's just that I used to fish around here as a kid, and well, it's funny, but I used to fantasize that naked ladies were floating down the creek, just to pass the time."

The girl looked at him as if he were crazy. Her eyebrows raised a little, but then a small smile crept up on her face.

“I guess I thought you were something from my imagination for a moment," Bud concluded.

Now the girl laughed, just a little, and she almost let the shirt drop from covering her, but she caught it again just before it passed the tops of her upward-facing areolas.

"That's kind of cute," she said. "But no, I just like swimming out here. I live at the bottom of the mountain, and I like coming up here. There usually isn't anybody to catch me."

"There's a hunting camp just an eighth of a mile down the road," Bud said. "My dad used to be a member."

"Ah. I guess nobody comes up here much anymore."

"I know," Bud said. It was depressing to address, but there it was.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed and get going."

Bud blinked, beheld her, and thought stupidly and insensitively: What was the big deal? He had already seen her in her entirety. But he nodded, and began walking backward, but stopped again.

"Why do it, though?"

The woman now blinked at him and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I'm ready to go, that's why."

"No, I mean, why swim naked in the creek?"

Her expression softened.

"Because it feels great. All I have to do is dry off and I don't have any wet clothes to deal with. And if you've never just sat naked by the water and looked up at all the trees and clear your mind, well... I suggest you try it."

Bud thought on that and opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say, instead imagining just moments ago when he was trying to take everything in, just to meditate. How different would it be naked? He didn’t think that would be anything he would ever do. He'd surely get caught, too, probably by one of the sons that still checked in on the camp, and he would forever be known as the weird guy who took off his clothes in the woods.

"Well, privacy, please."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry."

Humiliatingly, Bud retreated from the little grove where the girl stood. He beheld her one last time standing there with that meager shirt covering her amazing features, wishing, selfishly, for one last glimpse at the uninhibitedness that he saw when she was standing in the water, but then she was out of view, and before he turned around, he heard her moving in the brush to get dressed, and as he turned, he heard her hurried footsteps making their retreat.

He walked down to his childhood spot and then took the path that led to the road, his mind a blur as he walked, playing over those last few moments, which almost seemed to be a memory from a dream, and not reality. He found himself kind of lucky to have decided to make the trip all the way up here, and to happen to have wanted to take a walk, and to happen to be by that creek at the exact moment when that girl took off her clothes and stepped into the water. It was an undeniably charming sight and encounter that would stay with him for a little while and distract him from his melancholy as he prepared to spend the night in the cold and lonely camp. If only she would have decided to stick with him, to follow him down. He could have invited her with him to sit and talk and he could potentially have someone to keep the bed warm at night. But that was a dirty old man thought. The girl had to be in her twenties, young enough to be his daughter, and as he was not David Hasselhoff, and also not rich, and he knew she would have no interest in entertaining his base desires. It was a selfish thought to entertain, and he dashed it and accepted the encounter as something innocent as he stepped onto the road and made his way back down to the camp, thinking again of his childhood conjurings of Playboy models and their full bushes and breasts.

There was a white pickup sitting next to Bud's as he came back into the property. When he got near the front door, he found a faintly familiar face coming out. It was Joe Hirsch, and he tipped back his baseball cap as he watched Bud walk on in.

"Well there you are. I was wonderin' what happened to you." 

"Just went out for a walk," Bud said.

"I gotcha. Catchin' up on all the old memories, huh?" 

"Yea, more or less."

Joe was several years older than Bud, and was not part of his friend circle when he used to spend time at the camp. He was not privy (at least, as far as Bud knew) to the rumors of the naked women of the waters, and there was little nostalgia that could be shared between the two men, which was why it was surprising when Joe said:

"Hey, you remember how you used to say there were naked women floating down the creek back when we were kids? It's funny you are here, because just coming in, I decided to stop and walk in to see how the activity is," (meaning the trout activity, Bud knew) "and I see this naked girl, no shit, just walking up the middle of the creek."

"No shit?" Bud said, deciding to play dumb for some reason.

"No shit. I was damn stunned. She was just walking up the creek, like she owned it, and she was full-on naked. Had to be some young college girl or somethin'. I ain't never seen anyone like her up in these parts. She was real slim, damn attractive. She didn't have big tits but they were sure shaped nice. And then she turns around and starts walking back down the creek. She never did see me, I was just standing there watching her ass go back down."

Bud took all this in, realizing that Joe had probably seen the girl right before she had come back down and got caught by him.

"Ain't that somethin'? It's almost like all those stories you told as a kid were true."

"That sure is weird."

Joe studied him, as if he was suspicious that Bud was hiding something, and then his expression loosened up. 

"Anyway, I wonder who she is."

"Could be anybody. I guess lots of people come up here now that things are a lot more quieter, huh?"

"You bet, buddy.  A lot of kids and no-good troublemakers. I think they come up here to do drugs and fuck. But if girls wanna come up here to skinnydip, well, I don't mind."

Bud nodded, in firm agreement.

"Anyway, you get settled in okay?"

"I just barely got here. It's like I never left, though."

"Well, the generator's there if you want electricity, but I see you lit the lamps."

"Yeah, I'm not so spoiled that I need power outlets. Well, I guess it would be nice to charge my phone. Not that I would get any reception out here, anyway."

Joe laughed. "You got that right, buddy. No need for it out here. Well you get nice and settled, I was just comin' in to check in on ya. I'll be back tomorrow to bring in some firewood. There should be enough for you tonight though if you want a fire."

"Thanks."

"And maybe you should take another walk. You might just run into that naked girl!"

"Now that sounds nice," Bud said, and still held onto her fair image as he saw Joe out and got settled into his new residence for the evening.

*****

He didn't think he would need a fire, but the camp was still bone-cold inside and it would only get colder as night fell, so Bud got one going, feeling somewhat nostalgic to be crouching there and warming his hands. He recalled memories of him and Freddie throwing paper airplanes into that same fireplace to watch them burst into flames.

He stood and went to the kitchen to look through the pots and get the wood stove there going so he could make himself some chili. It was a cold and quiet night, and Bud ate the chili by the dining room windows where he and Freddie used to play cards, watching the shadows and the night outside the front door window. Being in the camp all alone at night kind of creeped him out a little. At least in his childhood, he always knew the adults were near. But now he was alone as he could possibly be. He passed the rest of the time in the poker room with the fireplace, sitting at the table and staring into space. If he were a reader, now would have been the perfect time to get lost in a book, but he did not entertain himself with anything other than television, nor had any creative hobbies like writing or drawing that could occupy him in this solitude. Prepping the fire and sitting just outside its warmth made him think of so many movies about writers who go into the mountains to be alone. Many of them were Stephen King movies. Bud tried not to think of any scary scenes from those films. He decided to go upstairs, where he found the sheets and blankets on the few made beds smelling musty, as did the whole room, but he soon got used to it, extinguished the one lone lamp he had lit earlier, and drank the darkness.

He laid there for some time, listening to random creaks in the cabin, and branches and acorns hitting the roof, or night creatures occasionally scuttling across it. These noises kept him up, and he wasn't sure if he ever did fall asleep before he heard the next alarming noise: the distinctive creak of what sounded like the front door opening downstairs.

He shot up in bed and sat still and listened. There was a second sound, with a definitive pop as the front door was closed. His blood coursed through his ears and made it hard to listen. There were no footsteps, and no other sound followed, not even the usual night sounds on the roof. He almost called out, but something told him not to. He waited, and the wait was agonizing. He expected the stairs to creak next, remembering the old Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark tale where the ghost ascends the stairs yelling "where is my toe?" that used to terrify him when he spent nights in that very room. But there was no ghost. Maybe Joe had come back to deliver the firewood, but at this hour? And he did not hear any moving around from downstairs, no logs being dropped or boots scraping on the stone. So he turned around in his bed so that he was facing the stairwell, and there she was.

She, because even in the dark, her shape could be made out, and Bud saw fluffy, full hair above the shoulders, and a distinct, feminine shape that, by the moon outside the window, was accentuated with traces of silver, contouring a naked breast, and the bumped cap around a nipple. Bud scooted back in the bed and grabbed for a box of matches on the hanging shelf above as the figure moved closer and disappeared from the light of the window.

"Who's there?" he called out. "Who are you?" He fumbled a match out of the box in the dead silence, struck it, and in the small halo of light, the woman appeared, like the ghost at the edge of a campfire. She was smiling, warmly, and not threateningly as a menacing spirit might. She had curly dark hair that fell in heaps on her bare shoulders, and the rest of her was lost in shadow. Then the match went out. With shaking hands, Bud fed it back into the box and fished out another one, sitting up on his knees so he could reach the nearest wall-mounted lantern, and as he struck it, the woman was closer. He kept her in the corner of his eye as he touched the match to the lamp's wick and light came into the room, and she came into vision.

In the remarkably pale light she stood, quite pale herself, fully nude, her skin as white as ivory, contrasting with her black hair, both above and below, as she had a full, wild, unruly bush, and her breasts were full and maternal-looking. She was just like the Playboy models he ogled in yesteryear.

"What—"

"I am only curious," the woman said, and her voice was like honey, and filled his ears as if she were right next to him, but she was still eight feet away. Now four feet. She approached the bed.

"How did you get in? Are you one of Joe's friends?"

"I don't know any ‘Joe,’" she said, accentuating the name as if it were unusual to her. She put her knees up on the bed and scurried in, kneeling right next to him. She reached out her arms and braced his shoulders, and her breasts gently pressed into him. "I only come because I sensed you."

Bud shook his head in confusion. He did not understand a damn thing. Maybe this was a dream, but it sure didn't feel like one. She began to nudge him down so that he was laying on the bed.

"Relax," she said. "You are cold and distraught. There is no reason to be."

He obeyed, because there was nothing he could think to do, and the woman loomed over him, her breasts hanging right above his face, and he so wanted to lean up and bury himself into them, but the woman instead leaned down, her breasts collapsing on his chest, and she planted a kiss on his lips. She felt as warm and real as any woman he had ever known.

"Relax," she said as her lips left him, and she kissed the base of his throat, then down the buttons of his flannel shirt, moving downwards. Then she sat up and seemed to laugh in finally a human way, and she reached down and plucked at his buttons. Bud got the message and quickly got his shirt off. The woman’s hands came down and massaged his chest, and he was already working at his pants as her hands crept down and fumbled his belt buckle. She moved back as he lifted his hips and fed his lower half out of his pants, then quickly stripped off his underwear so that he was waving freely before her, ready to enact the fantasies he didn't expect to experience that night.

She descended down on him as if his dick was a treasure. Her hands hovered around it and then gently closed in, wrapping him in warmth. She leaned down and pecked his crown, and then parted her lips slightly to suckle on his head, and Bud moaned.

"So urgent," she said, her breath hot on his head, and she nuzzled his erection as if it were a puppy, pressing it into her cheek, and Bud let his head back and sighed, still feeling himself in her grip and embrace. Then he felt something different, and he leaned his head back up. The woman was laying against him and brought up her breasts to meet his dick. She gently placed it between them, and then pressed them in.

"Would you like this?" she asked, and of course Bud nodded, and she slowly massaged his member between her breasts, moving up and down so that his crown would pop up from between them to taste the cold air and then sink down into ecstasy. He groaned again, and tried to re-adjust himself so that he could not lose sight of this event. He reached behind him and stacked the pillows so he could lean against them, and the woman worked him between her motherly breasts, which were as warm as the fire on his hands. A fire built up inside him as well, a fire he did not know if he could contain, and he felt the swell of a premature ejaculation come up, simmer, and then fall, and he was hung in euphoric suspension, almost numb now as his most sensitive extremity was massaged between two heavenly spheres. He wanted to touch them, but he could not comfortably lean forward to do so. The woman sensed his eagerness though, and let his dick go, and he instantly sat up, and she did too, and he leaned into her and buried himself into her, feeling familiar warmth and life. If she was as real as the girl at the creek, she was still much more mysterious. But he didn't care about any mystery now.

Strangely, she reached her arms around him and stroked his hair as if comforting a child, and he nuzzled against her breasts as if he were a child that needed comforting, and he almost wanted to fall asleep against her softness and tender touch, and for the briefest thought, it felt humiliating, as he was not a man conquering a woman, but a boy being mothered. He did in fact fall asleep against that woman's breasts, for what followed could only have been from a dream. He was in a black void with her, just him and her and nothing else in the world. It was as if they were floating in space. He was still embraced with her, but he leaned back and they both joined hands, and then they pulled themselves into each other, and he felt his way, below, past her thighs, over her bristly hair, and at the edges of her ridges, until he pressed in, and they floated in space, him inside her, where there was all the warmth in the world. They floated in the embrace until he found himself lying down again, against what, he did not know, but it most obviously was the bed, though he did not see the wall or the lamplight; only her, illuminated by some unknown light, and she rode him, gently, pressing her hands on his chest and arching back, giving him all the pleasure in the world but seeming to take some for herself, and then she leaned down on him and kissed him again, and they were entwined, and Bud's second wind was waning, as he felt incredible pressure brim up and threaten to burst. Then the woman withdrew his weapon out of her, laid along his side so that he felt himself tracing moistness on her thighs, and she reached down to massage the last pleasure out of him while she embraced her other arm around his shoulder, and in the darkness, he felt her fingers work, leaned his head in until it found not her mouth but the base of her throat, and he felt the laugh travel through her vocal cords as she gently squeezed and white-hot pleasure left him and he sensed it splattering her thighs, and he let out a sigh, she laughed, and he collapsed into her. Before his eyes closed, the bedroom returned, faintly, but then all was black again.

*****

He slept like the dead, and it was the full bright of morning when he awoke. What had awoken him was noise from downstairs: shuffling, something being moved. The woman was not in the bed with him, and as he tossed off his covers, there was no evidence of his mess, but he was still completely nude, and his clothes lay crumpled beside him, as if not he, but someone else who had worn them had suddenly vanished, just like the woman.

Sensing she was downstairs, Bud sat up and stretched. He felt groggy but rested. He did not know the last time he had slept so well. He reached for his phone where he had put it on the shelf and saw that it was nine a.m. For some people, that might be early, but for Bud, that was an ungodly hour to sleep 'til. He saw the lamp was still burning to the left of the shelf, and he blew it out. Then he got up, stretched some more, and walked boldly to the steps without putting anything on. It wasn’t like the woman would be shocked by him. She was probably still naked herself.

It felt weird and thrilling to take the steps down, feeling his penis flip and flop with each footfall, and the sensation amused him and urged his lesser self to expand slightly, with anticipation of coming across his wonderful visitor in the full morning light. That was not what he was met with, though.

A man was crouched in front of a crate full of firewood, dropping the last split log into place on the pile and then standing, brushing off his jeans, and then Joe Kirsch turned around and jumped back.

"Damn!" he said. "Scared the hell out of me!" He scared the hell out of Bud, too, and Bud instantly covered his half-indecent self.

"Shit, I didn't think it was you!" Bud shouted, and already stepped back into the landing. But Joe Kirsch was laughing.

"Who else would it be?" Joe asked, but then his eyes took on a knowing look. "Aaaaah, did you meet that girl from the creek?"

"Not exactly. One moment."

Bud rushed up the stairs, with Joe's ragged chuckles growing faint behind him. Upstairs, he pulled his clothes out of the bed and hurriedly got dressed, really needing to piss, wishing Joe could wait for him to come back down and use the bathroom before he told him about last night. Joe was standing there, arms folded and with the most amused look on his face when Bud came back down.

"So how was it? Had a grand old time, eh?"

"You could say that. Hold on, I gotta piss. Hey, you wanna make some coffee?"

"Sure, buddy. You go do your business."

Bud was glad and rushed to the bathroom beyond the poker table to relieve himself. He hated the thought of having to tell a long story over the pains of a full bladder, and hated even more standing and talking without something to occupy him. The coffee was still dripping into a little percolator when he came out of the bathroom.

"So how was she? Was she as good as she looks?"

"It wasn't the creek girl," Bud said. "It was some other woman. Older."

Joe raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

Bud didn't know how much he wanted to say.

"I don't know... It was weird. I was already in bed, and she just came up the stairs, and she was nude.”

"Damn, did you leave the door open?"

"No, it was locked and everything. I thought it was somebody you knew, somebody that had a code."

"What'd she say?"

"I don't know, she was saying real weird things, like she was there for me. It was like something straight out of a wet dream. Then she laid down with me and we screwed."

Joe grinned and shook his head, then looked at the percolator and got a cup out for each of them. "Sounds like you did had a wet dream, pardner."

Now Bud shook his head.

"No, it felt real." He paused, remembering the almost painful burst onto the woman's thighs as she pulled on him, and the heat of her skin on his lips. "Believe you me."

"I don't know, buddy, if she was real, then where did she go?"

Bud just shrugged. It wasn't unimaginable that she had just gotten up and left. But then, how did she even get in in the first place?

"You know what, buddy," Joe said, taking his coffee to go sit at the long kitchen table before the windows. "It's almost like one of those women you told tales about turned out to be real."

Bud froze there with his coffee. It was funny that that thought had crossed his mind when meeting the girl at the creek, but not in the bedroom upstairs. He had taken for granted that she was a strange, randy woman that just wanted to come and jerk off a lonely guy in the night. Now that was a silly thought.

"Man, now that's a creepy thought," Bud mused.

"I don't know, sounds pretty great to me. I'm envious of you if that's the case. Hey, remember when the Miller kid swore up and down that he saw her? Maybe he wasn't lyin'."

Bud mused that over, and thought back to the past. He thought about the feeling of power he had at influencing all those kids, but now considered if he had the power to literally summon up a being out of nothing. Once again, it was a silly thought, and he dismissed it as such to Joe.

"Gee, Joe, I didn't know you believed in ghosts."

Joe waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, I don’t. I think you were just horny after hearing about that girl."

"Funny that she didn't look like her," Bud said, instantly realizing he had never confirmed with Joe that he had met her. Joe didn’t seem to pick up on that, though.

"It made you remember those women you made up as a kid. The subconscious is funny like that, isn't it? Well, don't be embarrassed about having a wet dream as an old man. It happens, you know? Especially if you haven't... well... you said you never married, right?"

Bud winced. "No, but I've gotten around."

"I'm just saying, if you're really horny, well... sometimes you're fourteen forever."

"Yeah, I guess."

Joe took a big final gulp of coffee and then slid the mug onto the table.

"Well, I best be going. I have some firewood to deliver to some people, and then my son has a basketball game. Man, I sure wish I could get him to come up here, but he's not interested in any of it. At least he's active, I guess."

"Yeah..." Bud stewed over his coffee, thinking of the creek girl and of The Shadow.

"So, you leaving today?"

"Yeah, maybe. I really don't have a plan. I just wanted to revisit. It hardly feels like I've been here long."

"Well, you got plenty of firewood in case you wanna stay. Hope you got plenty of food. All we have is pork and beans in the cupboard. But Walmart's a half-hour away."

"I'll play it by ear."

Joe smiled and clapped Bud on the shoulder.

"Well I'll see ya, pardner. Have a nice time."

"Thanks, Joe."

And with that, Joe saw himself out and Bud was faced with the rest of the day looming, to be spent alone, and with his swirling thoughts and the residual embarrassment of having been seen naked by Joe. He had the whole day ahead of him, and though he had initially planned on staying only one night, he was telling the truth when he said that it had barely felt like he had spent enough time there. So he decided to stay. He had enough food. He did not need to go out, though with the entire morning and afternoon before him, he had no clue what to do. He considered taking a walk to the creek again in hopes of seeing the girl from the day prior, or the woman from that night. Or another of her ilk. Or maybe he was just crazy. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe his mind would conjure up someone for him.

After a breakfast of pork and beans, which, combined with the coffee, didn't sit well with him, Bud decided to take that walk (after being stalled in the bathroom for a bit and feeling disgusting and in need of a shower). It was less peaceful than the previous walk, his mind more urgent, searching, waiting for the girl to appear, but of course she didn't, because she was real, and she would no doubt not choose to skinny-dip two days in a row, especially after getting caught. He may never see her again, he realized. He did not walk far and instead returned to the camp and walked up past the water well and up towards and pond and drank in the childhood memories of cleaning fish by there and playing with their eyeballs and running around in the evening with his friends playing a modified version of hide-and-seek where one of them was a monster. And, feeling silly, he imagined a nude woman wading in the pond, her palms tracing the surface and her buoyant breasts hovering in the air before her, her dark, curly hair slightly wet and clinging to her shoulders. And then she would change into the girl from the creek, becoming thinner, her hair lighter, her breasts smaller and more uniquely shaped, and she would step out of the water to reveal herself in full, coming towards Bud and looking him in the eye with a smile before she vanished. And then Bud would go back to thinking about other times by the pond, like when he got in a fight with some kid he didn't know very well right on the grassy shore, and after a while he turned and walked back towards the camp.

He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the poker room, thinking, and then making himself a lunch of cold cuts in a sandwich, and then he investigated the poker room and found some books stashed away in a drawer, old men's adventure novels with hairy-chested adventurers and scantily-clad women on the cover, and he passively read the beginnings to several of them and then lost interest. He also found an old Playboy magazine stashed in a storage compartment and was instantly taken back to his childhood again, when he and the other boys would covet the issues they found, and he flipped through it, stopping and staring at the glossy photos of models straight out of his experience from the night before, including one woman that looked like the spitting image of his late-night visitor, enough that it gave him a shock. But that was something that happened in ghost movies and not real life. Still, he held on to those images, and formed perfect afterimages in his head, and then he continued flipping through the magazine, pausing at articles that seemed interesting and reminded him of a world that he was not fully aware of when he was ten, twelve, or even fourteen years old; politics and social issues of the time. He found some fiction stories within the pages and read them with even more difficulty than the adventure novels, but still found them mysteriously interesting. He almost completed one full story before the light outside the windows was getting dim, so he got up, thought about what to make for dinner, considered driving out to Walmart, but decided to make more pork and beans, combining it with some bell pepper he had brought along. After nightfall, he was sitting by the long dining table, letting the food sink into his belly. And then he went out onto the porch, through the door in the poker room, leading him out to the railing where he looked at the shot-up .22 target across the little creek, hidden in shadow but still visible by its stark white-and-black rings, and he leaned there and thought. He stood there for some time, and before he moved, there was other movement, from the trees behind the target.

He froze and watched, and what came out was not a bear or a Bigfoot, but a slender and pale creature, a woman, a young woman. A girl. The girl from the creek. She was recognizable by her hair and the odd shape of her breasts. She was just as he had seen her on that first day. He was stunned; was she really coming back to visit him? She stepped across the shallow creek past the .22 target and stepped up onto the lawn of the camp, and looked to the left and then the right, assessing her surroundings, and then she looked towards the porch, and Bud could not tell if she could see him or was just scanning in his general direction. She was like a ghost in the darkness, her bright skin making her stand out against the shadows, her feminine gait and slender thighs moving cautiously as she walked across the lawn. There was something different about her demeanor. She moved with extreme caution, but also confidence, as if she owned these hills. There was definitely something different about her. Then others stepped out of the woods.

Bud saw the voluptuous woman from the night before, thicker than the girl, more endowed and shaky in the front, her black curls bouncing on her naked shoulders. And to her right, past the thin girl, came another figure, another slightly-older woman, with long chestnut hair only faintly lighter in the dark, with a full chest, smaller than the black-haired woman, but prominent all the same, and with an elegantly-shaped Venus of furs at the base of her thighs. She was slightly thinner, and had the utmost grace. Bud could make out her face looking to the side to meet eyes with the black-haired woman. And more figures still emerged.

There was another young girl, perhaps even younger than the girl from the creek, very thin, short, with shoulder-length dark hair and a maddeningly frail and slim frame, yet with bursting breast and a thick and dark acute bush, and skin appearing so tender to touch. And from behind her came another girl, full in figure and with wild, curly hair growing out like a halo, and she was rosy and tawny and her areolas were like two large cherries floating against her skin. And by this time, they were all assembled on the lawn, drawing nearer, and looking like something out of Night of the Living Dead, but Bud felt not fear, but gladness, as they now did indeed see him and met eyes as even more women spilled out of the woods. Bud leaned back from the railing and unbuttoned his shirt to greet them as they arrived at the porch.

It’s naked time in these other P.A. Choi collections!

”Why Be Clothed?” “Naked Adventures” and “Naked Inspiration”

About P.A. Choi

P.A. Choi has had a long, proud career of writing erotica for seven years, where he has mainly pursued his favorite themes of exhibitionism, public nudity, and the fine line between naturism and eroticism.

Press flesh with P.A. Choi at:

twitter.com/PAChoi4

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Or shoot an e-mail at pachoierotica@gmail.com

[i]It in fact comes from Nako Takoyama, spokesperson of Naked Smash, in her appearance in the short story collection Naked Night!