Naked Passion

A collection by P.A. Choi

Copyright 2022 P.A. Choi

Cover design by P.A. Choi.

Table of Contents

Intimate Sharing 4

Women of Desire

Concert Girl

The Ferry

The Great Naked Adventure

A Naked Pool Invite

About P.A. Choi

Intimate Sharing 4

Carter had lost all of his attachment to Maddie, his longtime crush since he was a teenager. That had disappeared in college, when he went on the naked 5K run with her, the whole student body, and her friend Vicky, who graced her lips on certain places and dispelled any of his pent-up romantic feelings with a sudden liquid catharsis. But Maddie still remained a good friend and it was still within him to extend an invitation to her years after they graduated to travel with him to Iceland. It had been a trip he'd been planning for a while; a friend of his had gone and described the haunting landscape and party atmosphere of Reykjavik so that it made him want to go. And since Maddie had not traveled outside the country either, he decided to ask if she wanted to come along. Amazingly, she answered yes, that she'd love to, and for some reason, that stirred ancient feelings in Carter once again...

It had been while Carter was still in high school and Maddie was in her freshman year of college that the sparks had truly begun to fly. She was home on break and he had gone over with questions in his mind of how free-wheeling and sexual college was, and never would he have imagined that Madeline would suddenly take off her clothes and that they would relax with her naked next to him, a situation that up until then had only existed in dreams. His imagination could not do justice to the warmth of her body next to his, to the visible bumps around the base of her nipples, or to the flawless sheen of her bare skin. It kept him up at night, and kept his imagination running, and he could not imagine what would happen days later when he invited her over and decided to get naked himself. And then what transpired was not just communal nakedness, but true intimate sharing, as his passion was held in her hand and his face was pressed against a certain set of lips, lips fringed by hair. Things beyond his imagination.

And then things had cooled for them after that. He started college on the same campus. Things were normal. And then the naked 5K came, and his relations with Vicky began—and he came, many many times by her hand. And mouth, and in true, loverly embrace. She was his first regular fling at college, and she gave him the bravery to date and fool around with other girls, so that when he graduated, he felt like a brave young man setting out into the world, and Madeline wasn't even a fantasy anymore, until she enthusiastically said yes to accompany him alone, just the two of them, in an exotic and beautiful country. As they drove up to a cabin that Carter had rented, a cabin way out in the sticks (well, if Iceland had trees), overlooking a damp field with houses way in the distance, he had the giddy feeling again as when he had invited Maddie over to his house for naked time. It was like he was reverting back to the old days. Just as how college felt like starting high school over again, adult life had a tinge of uncertainty.

Not that he had a question of what they might do on their vacation. They had already had a night out in Reykjavik and driven across lonely country to get to where they were now, and they had a grand time doing it all. Madeline even appeared flirty with guys at the bars in the capital city when they were there, which struck Carter with a note of jealousy, but there were many pretty girls there as well, many who gave him attention with their eyes, and Madeline didn't seem to mind. Why would she? But Carter never attempted to flirt or court any of them. And now he and Maddie were here.

They toured the warm interior of the cabin with its heated floors and got their things settled. Their next plan was to explore the country there the next day, to take some photos and hike and admire the beauty of it all. It was July, and the temperatures would be climbing into the sixties, so it would be nice and pleasant. Carter had planned it as such. But today, they would relax and find something to do with their time, to enjoy having nothing to do, to mimic, it seemed, that day they spent together in her house, just relaxing, when she had decided to take her clothes off. And it was with that memory that Carter came out from a shower to witness Madeline, who had just showered before him, standing in the open door, looking out at the countryside with its haze of fog laying over it, her hips canted, her bare butt presented, as she stood there completely nude once again. He took in a breath.

Madeline turned and presented to him a sight that was not unfamiliar but that stilled his heart anyway. The shameless way she faced him, the pure, even skin-tone of a body that had apparently bared itself plenty and erased any tanlines; the swells of her breasts, a little fuller than in the past; a faint line under her stomach, showing her growing age, and the obtuse tangle of pubic hair that had only grown since he had last seen her naked, and the delicate way her knees pressed together as her legs tapered down to the floor, all captivated him, and the smile on Maddie's face confirmed that she realized all of this. But she was not undressing to captivate him, as she revealed:

"For old time's sake, you could say? I just couldn't look out there without stripping down. It's not like anybody can see me."

"There is a house out there," Carter said, swallowing a gulp of saliva.

"I guess that adds a little bit of thrill," Maddie said, taking her hand from the doorframe and stepping into the cabin, petrifying Carter with her nude advance, something that shouldn't have a hold on him anymore, but there she was. "When I look out at that field, I just wanna run naked through it. What do you say? You wanna join me?"

Carter gulped again. Naked? Out in the open?

"It's not like you haven't already run naked at that 5K on campus," Madeline added, seeing his doubt. "This should be nothing. There's nobody here."

"You really have a thing for running around in nature naked, huh?"

"When I see a big field, I want to run naked in it," Madeline confirmed.

It was not like Maddie to want to be an exhibitionist. Even at the 5K, she had seemed self-conscious and tense.

"Just doesn’t seem like you."

Madeline laughed.

"So confession: after that 5K, I went to a nudist resort with Vicky, and it was amazing. There was a walking trail, and a lake... and just the fact that I could go anywhere naked and nobody cared... it was kind of amazing."

Carter gulped, helpless to look Madeline up and down again. "I see..."

"There's nothing more amazing than being in open country without your clothes. And this is way different than that resort. There's no trees, just big sky. I wanna go. Wanna come with me?"

Carter didn't know what to say. He was trapped in those past moments again, petrified, though he shouldn't be, as taking off his clothes in front of Madeline was no longer an unusual prospect, though he had only done it twice. But to go out into the open, fully vulnerable in the middle of the field... that was a new proposition. But he found himself saying "okay," and the next thing he knew, he was pulling off his t-shirt and Madeline was smiling. He took down his cotton shorts he had put on after getting out of the shower, and he wore nothing underneath. He was naked in the span of one whole second. Smiling Madeline passed her eyes quickly over his body before turning to the view of the open land in pre-dusk, and she stepped out onto the porch. Carter followed, followed her delectable frame, her swaying rear-end, and he would have become aroused—he in fact was about to be aroused—save for the chill of the air when they stepped out.

"It’s nippy," he said as he came to Madeline's side.

"Well we won't stay out long, then. Unless we get used to it. Let's go!"

And Madeline bounded off the porch. Carter stood still and shook his head and couldn't help but marvel at the sight of Maddie running free into the field, her body free, free to move and flex, and then he ran down the small set of steps to catch up.

They ran into the open field and to the left along a ridge, and the grass was damp on Carter's feet, and the sky was ashen and grey above, and his penis flipped free and reminded him of his 5K run on campus, but unlike that adventure, it felt as if people could see him for a thousand miles out. But they veered towards the ridge and put the one lone house on the horizon somewhat out of their view behind a rolling hill. Maddie was ahead of Carter, her naked bouncing rear end keeping him tethered to her path until they came to the top of the ridge and he caught up with her, stopping to pant and put his hands on his knees. The air was surprisingly warm and fulfilling in his lungs. He took a breath not only from the sight of her, but from the sight of what was below: a trickling creek, cold and grey in the dull dusk.

"Sure would love to swim in that," Madeline said.

"It's probably cold as hell," Carter replied.

"Aren't there hot springs here?" Madeline asked, standing straight, putting her hands behind her head to catch her breath and sending her breasts heaving forward, and Carter fought the temptation to be aroused, not that he hadn't been aroused in her presence before. What might the possibility of shameless arousal spurn, he wondered?

"Let's go down the hill," Maddie commanded. "I wanna see what's there."

"We shouldn't go too far," Carter replied.

"We can go as far as we want," said Madeline, and she tore off down the ridge and into a new part of the field, Carter watching her form grow smaller until it was just the image of a happy girl running naked in nature, and he was compelled to follow. In the next few seconds, he had to admit that he never felt more free, even compared to when he had run the 5K naked in front of his whole school. To be out in this expanse of nature while naked, running to catch up to Maddie's free form... there was something special about that. He thought back again to their first two moments of intimate sharing together and instantly counted this one among them. It was unexpected, though deep in his heart he had hoped for another moment to add to their catalogue of moments. He just hadn't imagined—hadn't dared imagine—what it would be. Shamefully, he realized he had hoped for something akin to their second encounter, for a moment of true intimacy, of touch and pleasure, for since graduating, he had not had a fling with anybody, and though he had freed himself of his fixation on Maddie (or so he thought) a repeat of their past rendezvous sounded nice. But this was so pure...

As he followed her down the gentle slope of the dull green hill, an oasis of sorts was spread out before them: what looked like a pond, pristine, glittering silver in the dull light, and as Carter got closer, and Maddie came to a stop at its rocky edge, he saw the steam rising up. A hot spring. Maddie had predicted it, and Iceland was known for them.

"That'll chase off the chill!" she said, turning and grinning at him, and without any hesitation, she turned and scampered over the rocky edge and tip-toed into the water, Carter helpless to watch, in awe, as his once long-standing crush slipped into the opaque water like something out of a fantasy. She was fascinating to watch, her back straight, her rear-end prominent until it slipped below the surface. So completely bare and shameless in all the expanse of nature, and he stood there, suddenly aware of his nudity, and of his most sensitive part hanging free and fighting a phantom throb of arousal, and he hurried to enter the water before that arousal could show itself.

He too felt like he was part of some fantasy, some wonderland in the beauty of nature where nobody cared to wear any clothes, some Eden unknown, and as the water was warm, all the cool chill went away, except for on his shoulders and neck. And with the cloudy sky above them, and the nearby horizon of the grassy hill, he felt like he was in some private paradise with the girl he bonded with so specially, and he smiled. The smile was infectious, and it spread to Madeline, and they spent some time wading through the warm water and eventually relaxing on its shores, laying out, and then slipping back in when the air got too chilly, revealing themselves and concealing themselves in an innocent game of temptation, or at least that's how Carter saw it, witnessing her taut and tan body reclining against the rocks, stretching out, her stomach flat, shallow pools of reflective water gathering on her abdomen, her breasts changing shape with gravity, resting against her body, but still pert, alert, her nipples—

He had to let himself slip in the water again. Maddie slipped back in, too, and they waded around each other until they grasped hands (Carter receiving a little lightning bolt in his chest) and turned around and around as if in a dance, and Maddie laughed, and in her laugh, Carter could see that this was the best vacation she could ever have; she didn't need to say it. And yet, in that moment of intimacy, things did not progress further, though Carter suddenly wanted to throw himself into her and embrace her in a hug, to let his arousal poke and prod into her thighs. They remained as they were, though, and eventually released their hands and swayed in the water and then tromped out onto the grass, where they stood, both exposed, dripping dry and chilly, and they decided to hurry back to the cabin to get warm. Night was steadily approaching now, and a sense of danger overlayed the coming darkness as Carter and Maddie made their way back across the field, and Carter, glancing over his shoulder, saw the distant house come into view over the lip of the grassy horizon, and there was an amber light there from the windows, and he was not so sure that they hadn't been watched that whole time...

When they got back to the cabin, they spilled into the open living room, dripping and chilled, and they both went to the bathroom to grab towels and dry off, both of them so close to each other, their bare skin almost touching, and the feeling of imminent intimate sharing teased Carter's mind. They stood there, both bare, and as the towel moved from his body to reveal his growing arousal, Madeline brushed it off with a laugh. They spent the rest of the evening moving to the living room, their towels still with them as accessories, and they put on a movie and sat on the couch within near reach of each other until tiredness and sleep overtook them. Carter in fact woke up in the middle of the night, with the TV playing some program that had been loaded in the queue, and Madeline was not there, but he was fully erect, without anybody to satiate him. He got up, shut the TV off, and took that arousal with him for the rest of his sleep, where his dreams fulfilled what he was not able to actualize in the real world.

*****

Maddie awoke stretching, nude in her bed, the sheets only half-covering her. Right then she got the wonderful, sweet realization of what a great vacation this was. Waking up in a cozy warm cabin was just the cherry on top; the previous day had been amazing. Never before, not even when she had visited a nude resort with Vicky, had she experienced something so surreal and wonderful. She would have to remember to thank Carter.

Carter. Not since the naked 5K over five years ago had she seen him naked, and that time was much different from the other two times. She laughed; it was funny that she could casually say she'd seen a male friend naked more than once. More than that... that one time. Madeline shivered a little bit, though the room was plenty warm, as she mixed that memory with her feelings last night. It had been admittedly exciting to see Carter's body again, to see how he had grown defined musculature, how he was no longer the bright-eyed boy across the street but a mature man. Almost. And she could not help but notice and look when he became slightly aroused. It aroused in her a desire to take him in her hand, to take him into her, but she couldn't do that. They had already gone far enough in the past, and their relationship had gone on normally after that. Carter even had seemed to lose his attachment to her. It was as if being intimate with him cured him of his ailment. That, and Vicky becoming his steady fling helped. Though it perturbed Maddie a little, it was a harmless pairing that lasted as long as Carter could in Maddie's grasp.

She sighed again. Things had been going well, so why was she having these feelings all of a sudden? Yes, she should thank Carter soon, but she wasn't entirely sure if he wasn't expecting a certain type of thanks. Whether his mind expected it, his body certainly did, as evidenced by the subtle stiffening and lengthening while they lay at the edge of the spring, or as he fell asleep during the movie, with his betrayed feelings standing firmly at attention. Maddie had stood there, looking down at him, so cute in his unexpected slumber but manly with his new body and his thickness waiting, even more full than she remembered. How much was pent up in those inches? She had considered "thanking" him right then, of waking him up with the warm embrace of her hand, but she moved away and went to her bedroom, and laying there half-under the sheets, she greeted herself instead with her hand, going slowly, just massaging, and taking herself to sleep that way. She blushed at the thought of it now, and she threw off the sheets (damp in one spot) and got up.

She used the attached bathroom (and she really did need to use it) and then stepped out into the main room, dim with morning. Carter was no longer on the couch. What time he had woken up and relocated to his room, Maddie could not be sure, and she walked quietly so as not to disturb his sleep. She didn't even make coffee. Instead, she went to the front door, opened it, and stood in the doorframe, gazing out at the beautiful landscape in the nude. It was funny how little care she had about standing there exposed, how little need there was to put on clothing to even walk through the house, and it highlighted again the magic of this vacation, and with a different quality, she sighed again. Then she saw the house, and that sigh was rattled in her chest by a sudden, exciting nervousness.

Could whoever lived there see her? Had they seen her and Carter yesterday? Could they see her now? She reminded herself that casual nudity in other countries was much more common than in America, but in a cold climate such as this? Even now, it rose goosebumps on her arms and she was ready to close the door and go back inside. How had they walked so long without clothes yesterday, she wondered? She realized, though, that the morning would be colder than it had been at the onset of night. And the hot spring certainly helped. Humankind wouldn't need clothes in colder climates if they had ready access to hot springs, Maddie thought, and then she stood back to close the door for real this time, imagining Carter catching her in the same stance as he did yesterday, when something else caught her attention: motion by the house in the distance.

She stopped. Froze. Had a sudden seizure of panic. For out there across the rolling field, Maddie could clearly see a man standing on his porch. It was far enough that she couldn't make out his face, and the rise in elevation cut off his lower half, but she could see that he appeared to be holding a cup of coffee. And he seemed to be looking directly at her. That suspicion was confirmed a second later, as the man in the distance raised his free hand and waved. Without knowing what to do, knowing that she had to be unmistakably naked across the distance, Maddie took a hand from the doorframe and waved as well. It filled her with a sudden rush, and she smiled, beside herself.

"There someone out there?"

Maddie spun around and Carter was standing in the open living room, craning his neck. He was clothed in pajamas, and reeled back a bit as Maddie turned full-frontal to him, not that he shouldn't be used to the sight by now.

"There's a guy out at that house," she said, pointing out the door.

"You shouldn't do that," he scolded, and he walked up to her and she stepped aside so he could look out. Maddie leaned her head in, almost on Carter's shoulder, and saw the man in the distance eventually move and return back inside. Carter stepped back and closed the door.

"I wasn't planning on getting caught," Maddie said. "I just wanted to look out the door again and he was there."

"I just hope he doesn't cause any trouble." He glanced at her and then glanced away. "I'm surprised you're still naked."

"I'm surprised you put clothes back on," Maddie said, taking a playful step towards him. "I figured for this leg of the trip, it was an au-natural vacation." 

"Maybe," Carter said. "But probably not for what we were going to do today. If we're gonna check out some of the area we're gonna have to drive, and I don't think we can get away with that. Plus, it's cold." He pulled at the collar of his pajama shirt as he said this, and then gazed down at Maddie, gazed intently this time, no doubt asserting the rigidness of her nipples after having faced the outdoors. Taking a drive across the country sounded nice, but Maddie kind of wanted to run naked across the field again and take another dip in the hot spring.

"Why don't we take the morning slow," she said. "I'll be honest... I kind of don't want to put my clothes back on yet."

Carter laughed, his tension dissipating. Somewhat. Maddie’s wasn’t, for some reason. Maybe it was because Carter didn’t retreat when she had taken a step closer, and maybe it was also because she was naked and he was not, like she was the sole object of desire in the room.

"I can make some breakfast," he said, masterfully redirecting his attention. "They stocked us with eggs and bread."

"Sounds good. I laze around, you cook for me."

He chuckled again.

"I don't remember you being so gung-ho about being a nudist."

Maddie was a little taken aback.

"Gee, it's like you don't remember our time together before you started college."

"It was different then," he said. "You weren't about being naked all the time, just..."

"When you were around..."

Carter gulped, then found his footing deep inside himself and announced: "Well, I'll go start breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled. And Carter..."

He was already on his way past her to the kitchen, and he stopped and turned to her.

"Yeah?"

"I'll let you cook breakfast for us, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You gotta do it naked."

He laughed again, but nervously this time.

"Sounds unsanitary."

"Nonsense. There are naked chefs."

"Get out."

"Yeah."

"Why do you want me naked, huh?" he said with a brave smirk, and Maddie didn't like it. It suddenly wasn't the Carter she remembered.

"Because I don't want to be singled out," she said. "Nudity is the great equalizer."

Carter's smirk faded and he raised both eyebrows now.

"Interesting..."

"So get in there and..." She took a step forward and reached down, grasping the waist of Carter's pajama bottoms. "...Scramble some eggs!" She yanked down and the pants fell to his ankles, and all his confidence went away. His pajama top hung just above the start of his penis, which looked little now, and he stepped out of his pants—one, then both feet—and said: "Alright..." He pulled off his shirt, leaving Maddie to marvel momentarily at his toned torso being revealed before he passed the shirt over his head and she could no longer look unashamedly. But they were both grinning.

"Now we're equal, okay?" He said, and the smirk came back. So did a hint of arousal, ebbing there. "Now I'll go see about those eggs. Good thing there's no bacon."

"Be careful either way!" she called after him as he left for the kitchen, his rather curvy and almost feminine butt flexing in his wake. Madeline couldn't help herself; she was aroused.

She settled herself on the sofa in the living room, with no towel to provide any barrier between her skin and the leather, nothing to block the imprint of dampness she may leave, and she plucked up a magazine and flipped through it while she listened to Carter pull out drawers and open the fridge. She flipped through the pages, looking at the beautiful scenery of Iceland and imagining herself standing naked in all the different settings, when she heard Carter say "Dammit."

She leaned back and looked over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of him, but the kitchen was tucked away from the main room and she could only see the ebb of its bright lights.

"What?"

Carter appeared from around the corner of that ebbing of light, shoulders hunched. Even his penis looked disappointed, pointing—shortly—straight down.

"There's no butter or oil to cook the eggs with."

"Oh." Maddie planted her legs on the floor and leaned forward on the couch and turned more. "Well we can make do. Is there a non-stick skillet in there?"

Carter shook his head. "No. Cast-iron. Can you make scrambled eggs without butter?"

"You could if we actually had bacon to cook," Madeline said with a smirk and a playful glance down at Carter's sensitive areas again. "Dangerous as that would be."

Carter sighed and entered the greater room so that Madeline didn't have to be turned around in her seat to see him.

"I guess I'll have to go out and get some. There's a little grocer at the bottom of the hill."

"Or we could just get something to eat while we're going about our day," Madeline offered, leaning back again and crossing her legs. Carter seemed unaware of his own nudity now, and hers, but Madeline, for some reason, was hyper-aware of all of it, and once again, she didn't like the idea of putting her clothes back on to go out, even though she offered up the idea.

"We're in the sticks," Carter said. "There aren't exactly any McDonald's nearby."

Maddie leaned forward again as Carter paced across the room and made a grumbling sigh, making to go for his bedroom and (presumably) his keys—and clothes.

"Well what about the house out there?" she asked. Carter turned around.

"Gee, I guess. It's a little weird after they saw you..."

"I don't think they'll care," Madeline said. "Plus people are more hospitable here."

"They are?"

"Sure." Maddie didn't actually know, but she assumed. She stood, and she slowly walked over to the front of the cabin to peek out the window at the house, and Carter followed. He was tense when she looked back, as if he was afraid she would open the door and rush out there naked, and her mind grabbed that image and it made her smile. Carter seemed very nervous by that smile as he came to look out with her, their bodies very close now.

"Well, I guess it can't hurt to ask," Carter said. "I'll go."

He moved away from the window. Madeline turned. Her arms were tense and her body poised because she wanted to do something crazy. But she watched Carter, half-expecting him, half-hoping for him to go straight to the door without putting anything on. He obviously hadn't forgotten about their nudity that much, especially standing just inches from her right then, and she called to him as he walked towards the bedrooms.

"Putting clothes on to go?"

"Duh."

"I dare you to go visit them naked. I'll go with you if you do."

He turned fully around. "Hell no." His face was shocked. His lesser self seemed to think differently. Maddie was biting back that grin like it was a demon trying to take her over. She let the smile show, and her body moved, ever-so-subtly, like a lion about to pounce, only her intended prey was the door.

"Don't," Carter said. It only made Maddie smile wider.

"Dare me," she replied back.

"I won't. Just don't."

Then stop me, she said internally, and she made her move. She never saw Carter move so quickly before. By the time she got to the door, he pressed against it, beside her, and he gripped her arm. She froze. Her eyebrows went up and her smile started to fade. He was gripping her tight. She opened her mouth to say something, imagining a future Carter that she completely didn't recognize, when he pulled her into him and took advantage of the open mouth. He kissed her. His lips suctioned to hers and he practically ate her mouth, his tongue only slipping across the tops of her teeth to meet the tip of hers. His hand let go of her arm and gently rested on her back, and she let herself press against him and kissed back just as forcefully. Years of pent-up attraction released itself once again, but ironically, this was the first time they had ever actually kissed.

Her arms went to his back—that very hard, solid, and toned back—and they released the kiss just to momentarily brush their lips over each other's and gaze directly into each other's eyes before walking backwards, dancing and turning in a poorly-choreographed embrace, until they hit the couch and fell into it, Madeline in the seating position, Carter on her lap. They embraced again and turned over, but in their turning, they just slid to the floor, and there they locked together and rolled over and over until Maddie was on her back, and Carter descended upon her and into her. As they were both naked, there was no foreplay of undressing to be done, and the whole evening and morning had been teasing enough so that they both cut right to the chase. Again, a first: what had before been just innocent play had now become passionate intimacy. Maddie tensed and felt Carter slide and expand in her and she gasped, not that this was the first time she'd had a man in her and not that Carter felt significantly better than the others, but because the personal feeling of just who it was between her legs made it all the more vivid, raw; emotional. She almost wanted to cry, but not out of pain and sadness. Not out of being overjoyed, either. It was a difficult emotion to pin down, and she had never felt it before with any man. But here was Carter, the boy who had followed her around like a lost puppy, the high school graduate who trembled at the reveal of her mysterious body, the soon-to-be college freshman who had buried his face between her legs, whose cock had burst in her fingers… he was now in a more sweet embrace, kissing and clawing, and that same shy cock from long ago mined for her pleasure. She let it be voiced in a moan that reached the ceiling, and Carter half-panted, half-laughed, in return.

She gripped his back and they found themselves turning over and over again until they met the edge of the area rug and Carter lay flat on his back and let his hands splay out. Madeline now dominant, she planted sweet kisses on his mouth and leaned away from him, arching her back and now doing the work, and Carter gazed up at her with a silly grin on his face, and he was the same old Carter again. It filled Madeline with a sense of love, and a sense of deviousness, as she worked her hips and was in command of Carter's pleasure, and hers, which came to a near-crisis and made her freeze her hips and moan. Carter's hands were reaching for her as she looked to the ceiling. She looked down and took them both, placing one on her breast and the other securely kept in her own hand, and she resumed bucking her hips to get past her threshold, and Carter did, too, and they came together. Their moans came out exactly in sync, and Madeline stretched her back as if to reach all the way up to the ceiling, and then collapsed to the side, with Carter turning with her, and they each hugged each other close there as the euphoria left them.

"Now," Madeline said when her senses returned. "Maybe I'll go get the butter."

*****

The man's house was dim and dingy. He had a small little kitchen-dining area with a rickety table. He lived alone. He was young, but older than Carter and Maddie; probably in his late thirties or early forties. He was tall and very lean, and had a weathered but still virile-looking face with an easy smile and a peppering of scruff, and sandy boyish hair. He was even more lean and athletic-looking with his shirt off. More physically trained than Carter. And, with his pants off, more well-hung. But it did not hang for long. Carter watched as the man's rising length slid into Madeline from behind as she braced her elbows on one of the kitchen chairs.

The jealousy didn't sting; it seeped into him and sunk his spirits low as he watched Madeline's face react to each increasing thrust. She inched forward with each several inches plowed into her and pulled out, and her breaths came in pants, but still she looked at him. She looked at him and reached out her hands the best she could with her elbows pinned to the chair. She called his name. Helplessly, though the scene before him offended him, Carter found himself coming closer. He pulled off his pajama shirt with ease, flexing his chest to try to out-show the tall man. Despite his despair, his penis pitched a tent in his pajama pants; there was no hiding what his soul desired. He pulled them down and released his display and Maddie looked longingly at it as he slipped his bare feet out of his pant legs and then stood before her. She beckoned with her fingers again, and he stepped closer.

Raising his eyes, his face was very near the tall man's as the man pumped into Carter’s beloved. The man's eyes were squinted, but he opened them enough to acknowledge Carter. Go ahead, man, he said. Let's double-team her.

Carter looked down at Maddie again and through the wincing pleasure and constant jostling of her head and shoulders, it looked like she had nodded. Carter stepped closer, his prominent and proud erection waving in her face, until it stabbed into her lips, pushed past her cheeks, and tickled her ear. Without the use of his hands, he directed his cock over her nose, along her other cheek, under her chin; he felt her face as lovingly as he would with his hand, which did not have the sensitivity to truly feel her. This was the perfect extremity with which to caress her, and as he rubbed her throat and popped his crown against her chin, it met her lips again, and they parted and her tongue came out to taste. Tentatively it touched the cleft of his crown, arcing back and taking a hair-thin trail of pre-ejaculate with it. Just a taste, a preview. She smacked her lips and smiled, smiled amidst her body being thrust forward and back over and over. As she came forward in her revolutions, Carter stabbed into her soft lips, and there, with the aid of the tall man, her mouth went forward, back, forward, back, sliding over his raw-sensitive head. Her eyes closed. Suddenly she wasn't the Maddie he had known for so many years. She was now a nameless porn star in a seedy, amateur production, at the whim of two horny men not for pleasure but for business, but despite that, Carter began to thrust...

His eyes fluttered open in the dark bedroom and he realized where he was, staring at the once-unfamiliar but now recognizable ceiling of his cabin bedroom. He came back to Earth, and he didn't even get to come. But then he felt the heat next to him and the hand on his chest and the hair brushing against the side of his head and he realized the full reality of where he was: Maddie lay naked and asleep next to him, just a thin sheet over the two of them, her shin touching against his, their toes entwined. He let out a sigh of relief, not that the dream wasn't real, but that it partially was. They had made love in the open living room; he had to repeat that realization in his head twice. Despite all that he had experienced with Maddie in his young adulthood, this was the final realization. They had not just been platonically intimate, they had not just playfully aroused each other. They had consummated some part of their relationship that would stay now forever. Those few moments on the living room floor were like from another life, and now, even as Maddie lay against him naked in bed, Carter felt like he was his normal self again, with this new life thrown in his lap and he unprepared. He could hardly think that the rest of their trip would be spent as a couple, but with her voluntarily sharing his bed, it seemed it would be. Did that mean they were officially girlfriend and boyfriend now? It didn't matter. He was changed no matter what, no matter what life would be like once they returned to their country. It made him think about the setting of the dream. All that jealousy.... it had manifested into that fantasy. No such threesome ever did happen between Carter, Maddie, and the man in the cabin. They did meet him, Maddie did go over to request to borrow some butter, but she had done it clothed, and Carter was beside her, and he was driven mad by the way the man looked at Madeline, looked with eyes that had seen her nude in the distance, and imagined her nude close-up. That man's face, though Carter had only met him for a few seconds, translated so vividly in his dream, and the situation...

The situation was not entirely fictitious. Back in college, after the naked 5K, he had taken his roommate Kyle to Maddie and Vicky’s dorm, where some casual nudity did occur, but not the shameless Eiffel Tower that he could only fantasize about and replay in his subconscious.

His train of thought was broken when Maddie's hand moved, gliding over his chest, and she squirmed next to him and her eyes opened and shone in the darkness. She smiled. It was such a sweet, pure pleasure to wake up to, a pleasure that expanded his chest with love. But Maddie’s other hand, under the covers, found something else that had expanded as well, and her fingers closed around him and she laughed a little breath of a laugh. Then she sat up and rolled over onto him and guided him into her. He braced his hips and went to work, slowly, savoring it, admiring the beauty of her arched back in the pale moonlight, but still thinking of his dream and his secret fantasy and looking forward to what could be in store for them when they went back home.

Women of Desire

Some might call me a woman of desire. Or a hedonist. At worst, a whore. None of those monikers would be accurate, except for maybe the first one. I quite like it; it has a nice ring to it. And there are many women of desire that walk through my studio doors every day and who are captured by my camera lens, and by my artist's eye. They are not like me, not always, but they are women of desire. They are women who stir my desire, and who inspire my desire to share them with the world, as I see them. That special quality, almost invisible, like an aura around them that sparks just the right feeling when they move a limb a certain way, or when the light catches a naked rear-end in an illuminated crescent and adds delicate shadows next to it. It's hard to forget that I am a straight woman. Or, at least mostly. My attraction to my women subjects is mostly visual. And who can deny the appeal of a beautiful naked woman? That is why I do what I do, and I am in the best place to do it.

Mari Gras. Here, I am alive. The undying spirit of the people, even after the onslaught of the pandemic, has not died. Not even Hurricane Katrina was able to stop it. Mardi Gras has only been canceled fifteen times, and last year's was the most recent time, right around when I decided to move here. It is such a joy to see the city unleash itself again, and the beauty of everybody enjoying themselves, the artistry of the elaborate costumes, beautiful women in glittering scales of gold walking the line between decency and lewdness but embraced by all. It is a beautiful thing. It is more than what we see. It is the expression of what we feel, that unchained expression that is the important ingredient. That is at the bottom of my work. There is a spirit to my desires, and without that spirit, then it is for nothing.

As darkness falls, I walk the streets with my camera hanging off my neck and drink in the atmosphere with my own eyes and all my other senses. I don't need to be taking pictures all the time, though I do want to chronicle the grand return of the festival to New Orleans' streets: the grins on people's faces, the lines of people on balconies above, throwing beads down to women who have the bravery to lift their shirts and display themselves. It's so curious how fixated we've become on women's breasts, not even a sexual part of the body by any means, though evolved to be as such, and in their unique way, beautiful, though a woman's beauty can only be appreciated as a whole, not by focusing on only one aspect, as if it's the biggest thrill to see a tiny little nipple. But the energy and love of this ritual still has that spirit that I hold to, that energy I look for in every one of my studio sessions, an energy that comes with taking off your clothes.

Greg certainly loves it, at least on a carnal level. He loves seeing my work but he doesn't necessarily love my work itself, and while he's lived in New Orleans for many years, he confesses to not really caring about Mardi Gras, though he's never been one to turn down an opportunity to go out and see some titties. He is an animal of a man, with no higher thought, but he does make love like an animal, too, and for that, he is worth keeping around.

The limits of my desire were passed one day, a month after that great festival, when Mandy came to my studio to be photographed.

I say my studio, but really I rent it. A young man named Zachary runs it. He is what some might call a "hipster," I guess. He has long, wavy hair that he ties back in a ponytail, but he doesn't look too hip. Rather, he is sensitive and shy, certainly around me, because he knows what I shoot in that rented space, his mind no doubt imagining the robes slipping off bare skin and a naked body standing uninhibited in the sunlight coming through the galvanized window. Sometimes, his assistant, a young girl named Shelly, runs the studio, and she seems more acclimated to the nature of my work, as most photographers, at some point or another, revel in The Nude. Though she is still shy. She strikes my curiosity as well; I can almost imagine her being brave enough to step in front of my camera, if she hasn't already stepped in front of someone else's.

But she was not there on the day that Mandy, my new muse, entered with me. It was Zachary, with his mouth almost falling open at the stunning beauty that walked by my side, like she was my date.

I wasn't even as captivated as he was. I wouldn't be held in her trance until moments later, when her clothes were unceremoniously removed, but it was the greatest ceremony for me. She enticed my curiosity with her carefree approach to modeling nude, her first time. Parallels to taking her virginity were not outside my mind.

She was a country girl from Alabama, with wavy blonde hair that billowed around her like a halo, complimenting her ruddy face, neck, and shoulders, blonde upon bronze. She had a babyish face, with pouty lips and her cheeks still chubby, cheeks one would want to reach out and pinch, and her blue eyes were alive and observant. The nervous way she fought back a grin as we talked about the inevitability of her being naked in front of me was offset by those serious eyes, which were more brave than the set of her mouth made her appear to be. Yet it was hard to imagine her naked. She dressed conservatively, in a rather baggy shirt and hoodie, though her jeans previewed the form of her hips and butt, moving with delectability as she stepped out of the cold with me and held Zachary's attention. You could see the images working through his mind, of those jeans no longer previewing the form underneath, of her body being unveiled, and I smiled at him, knowingly, and took this precious prize to my den of desire.

I would say I was only a little nervous. There was anticipation to see if Mandy had the magic, that aura, or not. Not every model did. I was maybe a little more anxious than normal this time. Maybe it had to do with her willingness, despite her inexperience. It was that spirit, once again. And, in less than a minute after we were behind closed doors, that spirit revealed itself.

I had only a basic framework of the shots to take. Just a white backdrop was my setting that day, white to contrast against her gold. The second I told Mandy, "go ahead and get ready," and turned to inspect my camera in order to give her a feeling of privacy as she transformed, I caught the flurry of motion out of the corner of my eye.

The hoodie was thrown off her shoulders as if it were a great weight, and her shirt was pulled over her head in a second's time. Her bare back flexed under the strap of her bra, which was soon popped open and released, and with her mysteries facing away from me (for it was hard to tell the shape or size of her trademark feminine features under all her baggy clothes), she shimmied down her jeans, inch by inch, and I returned my attention to my camera and its tripod as the sound of denim falling to the floor was heard. Then I turned around, and she did, too, and that was when I was held still.

She stood there so casually, her hands folded in front of her, but not to cover herself. Peeking above her knuckles was her pubic hair, darkly contrasted from the bright hair atop her head. It grew in a vertical strip, with fringes of thinner hair splaying outward, and overlaid over it was the faintest impression of a bikini bottom, and on her small breasts, two pale quarter-moon impressions. The rest of her skin was reddish, as if from a fresh tan, and her expectant eyes now had excitement in them, as did her mouth, which turned into a smile as I observed her.

"Fantastic," I found myself saying, and I readied myself behind my camera to work. It was easy to get lost in my job now, a delight, for I could not stop staring at her. Such a simple nude figure when seen from head to toe, a creature of bare and beautiful uniformity. Once again: the beauty of a woman can only be appreciated in full, from head to toe, as she now stood. Though I found myself framing shots, over and over, so that her distinct pubic hair would be in frame, with the dip of her labia in her furry thigh gap.

She was natural in her poses, and played along with all my suggestions. She did not have many of her own, though, and I quickly was running out of ideas for how to frame her. So I would just photograph her as she stood, candidly, as I talked to her. To be naked seemed to take no effort for her; she was as comfortable talking to me under the lens as if she were wearing clothes, but she was also effortlessly erotic. I didn't need to put her in enticing poses. She exuded allure just by existing.

I strayed from my creed a little. In experimenting, I changed lenses and took extreme close-ups of her bush, and the teasing of her lips underneath. I had her lay on her back with one knee up as I captured her mound as if it were a landscape, with the sunlight highlighting her hairs, the tops of her ridges, the goose-flesh at the edges, a mole just above. Sometimes a close study of a lone eroticized part of the body can be interesting, can be beautiful all on its own. I find this different than the way Greg or other guys might fixate, obsessively, on seeing that one forbidden swath of skin. But I blame society for that. I think when we are so adamant about keeping those tiny parts covered, it fetishizes them, to the point that as swimsuits have shrunk over the ages, they have gone to the bare minimum, leaving the wearer almost completely naked, so it would make sense to just do away with the swimsuit altogether (I am not fond of swimming with anything on my body, personally). And that goes back to what I feel: a woman's—and a man's—beauty, the human body's beauty, is only seen as a whole. Our fetishization over naughty parts has created guys like Greg.

But here I was, zeroing in on one of those fetishized parts, helpless against the effects of society. But I don't feel I really was; This part was beautiful. It was tantalizing. Mystifying, even. Each individual curl of dark hair collecting to form the nearly opaque line that followed the contour of her mound as it followed from the line of her stomach. The delicate-looking labia, the house of her pleasure, and from which life could spring. It invited thoughts of things to happen, of love, of lust, and of new life, all in one glimpse. Plus, there is just something perfectly aesthetic about the contrast between her dark hair and her light, untanned skin, and the reddishness of her thighs framing it. With her standing again, waiting, I moved the camera to the side and observed with my own eyes, and I may have salivated. And this whole time, Mandy did not say a word as I knelt with my face just inches from her crotch. I realized I had been staring with just my eyes for just a second too long, and I looked up at her. I was pleased to see that she was grinning.

With her before me and me on my knees like at some altar, all my senses took over for my sense of reason. I placed my hands on each side of her hips. She did not retract from the touch. Looking back down at that strip of hair, the awaiting, tender cleft, I was overcome with an urge to possess it, to get as close to it as I could, and I brought my face right up to it and depressed my lips on hers.

A slight laugh was the first thing that issued from her mouth as I kissed her lips, felt the bristle of her hair and felt the tender give of her flesh. Leaning back again, I looked up at her once more. "Do you always do this with your subjects?" she asked. "No," I said, and my eyes fell below once more, and I indulged myself. Of all my work and pleasure in the city of New Orleans, above a photographer, and above a promiscateur, you could say that I was an explorer of the senses.

I liberally lapped and suckled on her outer labia, teasing and torturing the nerves there, and I remained as such, just savoring the outer essence of her, wanting to touch what my camera saw, with what was even better than hands. And her hands, they rested on my head, telling me that she was pleased with the way things were going. So pleased, in fact, that she let out a little moan, which definitely pleased me, and so pleased was I that I wanted to lay her down on the floor, spread her legs, and do a proper job on her. I was beside myself, leaning back, going in and smooching her tender flesh, applying, drawing back, and re-applying my hand to her tight, smooth, reddish skin, alive with heat. My palm clapped on her hip. Clapped on her ass—so firm—and I almost cried out at the pure joy of it all, that she was here for me to devour like a dish, and in my excitement, she piped up, too. She was very vocal, and we had hardly even gotten started. I thought it obscene right then that I was still wearing clothes, and I backed up and stood to unbutton my shirt, panting with expectation all the while, wanting my physical pleasure to be satiated too, imagining us both buck-naked and scissoring on the floor. I had opened my shirt (under which I never wore a bra) and had it fall to the floor, with Mandy staring at me in as much awe as I had her, when there was a knock at the door.

It was Zachary's voice that came from the other side. "Is everything alright?" he asked, and then the knob turned. I spun around and Mandy gasped as the door opened and Zachary jumped in surprise, not that he shouldn't have been surprised to see my subject nude, but he was probably surprised to find me, who he had seen every week, topless and panting.

"I'm... I'm sorry, didn't mean to intrude, I just thought I heard—"

"It's all good, Zack," I told him. "We were just... getting into the scene."

"I gotcha, I'll leave you to it." His eyes lingered, though, on me, whose chest he had seen plenty of teases of, with the unashamed way I dressed at least in the summer, cleavage aplenty, but also at Julia, whose full nude revelation no doubt rocked his world and would keep him up for nights to come. Zachary nodded his head and backed out of the doorway, and then me and Mandy were alone again. And despite the interruption, the mood hadn't been killed. I completed my own undressing, revealing my body to Mandy, whose smile grew the more I revealed.

In just a few seconds' time, I stood before her as bare as she was before me, and I was not shy. I liked my body, and I was not ashamed of it. I never was. I had always skinny-dipped given the opportunity, and delayed putting clothes on after a shower. I kept myself moderately trimmed down below, never wanting to take away the aesthetic appeal of my pubic hair, and I kept in shape, eating reasonably, though not exercising much except for walking around the streets of New Orleans, and my breasts, bigger than hers, perfectly-rounded and weightless, the desire of Greg or any man that looked at them, could not, in tandem with my whole frame, hold a candle to the simple, innocent beauty of Mandy. But I was not envious. Now naked as well, I faced off with her, and she remained still, and it was I who advanced, throwing myself at her, wrapping her in an embrace until we fell to the floor and found the right position to ease both of ours—or at least my—desire.

*****

I blushed at the thought of it later, though when thinking about it, I had nothing to be embarrassed about. Word found its way to Greg's ears, and he was definitely amused.

"Damn," he had said. "Sorry I wasn't there for that." He wasn't the least bit jealous. Or actually, he was just a little bit, because he pressed me for if that scene could be repeated, with him in attendance. "You'll have to let me know when you're meeting her again," he had said.

I had to reproach him. I knew his fantasies were already spinning, but I could not abide it. There was something spiritual behind the desire I let myself fall prey to. The experience stayed with me and I thought about it often, and its memories fuel my continued work. I doubt Greg had such consciousness of his own desire. For him, it would be the unique experience of getting his rocks off in a unique way, and then it would be forgotten, not inspected further, and he would move on to other conquests. It was not worthy of entertaining. This upset him, but I am a woman of principle. We cooled off for a while after that, not that he felt I was cheating on him in any way, but because I was holding out. It was a difference of philosophies. I'm still not sure if he fully understands, though I would try to enlighten him later. For now, though, my interests were entwined between the wholesome, pure aesthetics of the body and the heightened pleasure of sex and eroticism. I had never denied that my photographic work was erotic, but I always defended the beauty of the body separate from sex. Sometimes the body is just a marvel, regardless of the appetites it arouses. Or maybe that's precisely why we find it beautiful. Either way, I have not shied away from more racy depictions of the body, especially in the act of pleasure. I've had couples come to me and ask if I would photograph them making love, though I don't know how they jumped to conclusion that I might, based on my work. I would end up turning many of these couples down, as it seemed to be a fetish of theirs to be filmed, or to be in the company of a stranger. Like with Greg, I had to consider what the desires of the requests were.

It was Mandy who brought it up again, when she suggested bringing her boyfriend.

I had already set the precedent for expectation by losing control with her, so there was no way to say no. I was also surprised how casually she brought up her significant other, as if it didn't matter that she and I had shared intimacy without his knowledge. There was such a free-wheeling spirit to her request, that I felt this was one to accept. I don't know if her boyfriend knew about our ménage in my studio, but he did apparently know that she was coming to pose nude, so I felt good about the whole thing.

They arrived at my studio one brisk March afternoon, dressed as normally as anybody, and unbeknownst to people on the street, they were heading inside to disrobe and bare themselves as intimately as they could to me. Shelly was in charge today instead of Zachary, and she didn't even flinch when the beautiful Mandy and her quite handsome boyfriend (I don't remember his name, but he was tall, muscular, with a square jaw and a short haircut) came to greet me. Surely she knew that one or both of them would be nude (she probably could scarcely imagine the boyfriend and his ripped body revealed), but she probably didn't even entertain thoughts of what really went on once we passed through the door.

I had laid out a yoga mat in the center of the bright room and adorned it with fake vines and white roses to make it seem like an ethereal garden. The roses complimented the brightness of the room, and, like how Mandy's skin complimented her hair, the naked flesh of both her and her boyfriend deliciously contrasted with the decor of the room.

Their desire, they told me, was to capture a moment of intimacy between them and immortalize it. The boyfriend seemed as into it as Mandy; it was a joint desire. They had all the ideas this time instead of me, and what they wished was to immortalize an act of fellatio. I was ecstatic to comply.

There's something intriguing and mystifying about the male organ all by itself, separated from the male who owns it, especially when it is in the tender and careful touch of a lover. I reflect again on my dialing back from my "whole body" philosophy, but there really is something fascinating about just the penis, and the vagina too. Such complex organs, almost creatures of their own, creatures with their own reflexes and reactions, as the boyfriend's considerably thick erection seemed to jump when Mandy's fingers wrapped lightly around it and her pouty lips planted one innocent kiss on its crown. I got in close, as I had with Mandy weeks earlier, and got micro-visions of every little bump on the man's head, and the moisture gathering at his very excited tip, and all the little bumps of the taste buds on Mandy's tongue as it came out to lick that moisture. If there ever was a more intimate and elevated depiction of a penis being pleasured by a lover, I would like to see it. The shine of the sun's light reflecting off his crown; the stiff movement as it was held in Mandy's hand, movement that was caught in my still images, those little cherished moments that I revel in when I capture them, of implied motion. One can play out the whole scene with just the one picture.

For once I was pensive as I captured these moments, for I wanted to join in. I wanted to take turns licking Mandy’s boyfriend with her. I wanted each of our mouths to be on either side of his cock, teasing it until it burst on both our faces. But I had a job to do, and nobody else to catalogue this moment, except, perhaps, for Shelly outside, though I could hardly imagine how I would broach that subject. It was a request that was only fantasy, nothing more. Besides, the photos would then no longer be my work, but hers.

I also did not know the boyfriend's stance on my fantasy. Surely he must know of what me and Mandy had done, and surely he, like Greg, would be open to my joining in, but I did not ask, and just photographed, and the scene filled me with lust as the tip of Mandy's tongue began to flick rapidly on the cleft of her boyfriend's head until the white deluge came, and I captured that, too, the first rolling river of it, running down his crown, the pooling of it collecting on Mandy's extended tongue and gathering at the erupting tip. He didn't burst like a geyser, but oozed like a wound, a wound of released pleasure, and the spread of Mandy's smiling lips mirrored her lover's. It was a beautiful, obscene scene.

*****

Mandy was really a Godsend for me. Not only did she awaken pent-up desires, she opened up horizons for my art. She was my muse, and all my work for that month focused on her, from our first photoshoot that had ended in intimacy, to the intimate scene of her and her boyfriend, and she would return to my studio, where I devised new setups, new decorations, and eventually invited her to shoot out-of-doors when it got warmer, at a private swimming hole which I had recently discovered. Both of us naked, I manned the camera and captured her in the little oasis of nature, the most perfect pairing of all nude photographers: nature and a naked girl. And when I had had my fill, I joined her for a swim. With all these wonderful photosets in my arsenal, I soon had an opportunity to display them at the local art gallery.

This city is a very good city for the arts. This had not been my first gallery showing, but it had definitely been my boldest, for besides the many beautiful nudes I had taken of Mandy, I also featured a select few shots from that taboo-breaking set. As much as I wanted to include the climactic shots of a river of semen summoned by Mandy, I figured those would be too objectionable (silly, the things that shock), but I included one—just one—beautiful, loving shot of Mandy's grinning lips just about to touch her boyfriend's reticent rod. I found it absolutely stunning; again, a moment of intimacy, with implied motion; the grin on Mandy's lips. It was an innocent picture, in my view, a charming moment between two lovers, one at his most vulnerable. As I stood in the gallery, I heard an occasional gasp from people who passed that photo on the wall, and, to my delight, some stayed and observed and discussed it. And many others enjoyed, as I did, a sense of whimsy and wonder at the other pictures of simple, perfect Mandy in complete undress, or Mandy wading through the swimming hole, lush green behind her. Greg showed up, too, to give his support, and of course he liked all the photos, but he was taken aback by the sexualized one. He didn't say anything then, but I could see the reservation in his body language. The rest of the night passed by smoothly, and I talked to many admirers and made many potential new friends. There are many people out there, in this city especially, who are just like me, or similar enough to me, and that's why I like to call this place my home.

I make friends easily; I will talk to anybody, as long as they are not rude to me or others. Greg I met at a Halloween party shortly after I moved here. It was a house party, hosted by Shelly, which is how I ended up renting the studio that I now spend more time in than my actual apartment. It was a surprisingly large house, but I learned it was owned by Shelly's parents and that she rented it with three other friends. It had three whole stories, and the nature of the party seemed tailored for each floor, with the third floor being where the racy things happened. I ended up there by accident, and my costume—an elaborate Cleopatra that I painstakingly made myself and took great liberties with how revealing I could be (most of what I wore was merely pasted on my body)—was quite the hit. It was there, standing in a gallery room that was low-lit and comfy and mysterious, that I was hit on by Michael Myers. He had a buttery-smooth and enticing voice for a maniac, and he had eyes for me. When his mask eventually came off, I was startled by how handsome he was: square jaw, a little bit of scruff, a lot of bit of man. I was delighted to find out, less than thirty minutes later, that he was wearing nothing under the coveralls of his costume. And that was how I got to be intimate on the regular with Greg. This man who had offered so many delightful nights of pleasure was now testing my patience with his jealousy.

He complained to me at length that night after the showing, and I entertained my ear, but I was rolling my eyes at the same time. Maybe my time with Greg was coming to an end, I thought. He was too jealous. I explained to him that I was not involved with either of the lovers, that it was not the threesome that he felt he was entitled to. This didn't seem to fully sway him, though.

I explained to Greg that Mandy and her boyfriend had a specific vision that they wanted my help in creating, that it was about more than just the sex. It was about an ascension of sorts, at least a temporary one. I didn't think I could get him to understand it, but I had to try.

"Was that what you had in mind when you and that girl got it on?" he asked me. We were standing at a rooftop bar and the wind was buffeting my hair and lending a dramatic air to the scene, as I was getting progressively fed up with this exchange.

"Yes. And no," I said. "That is complicated."

"More complicated than you and me?" he asked, stepping close and throwing his arms over my shoulders. I did not push away his advance.

"No. But yes."

"You never make any sense," he said, but he was smiling.

"Look at it this way," I tried to explain to him. "Every time I have sex, with you, with a woman, or by myself... it has to be for something higher, yes?"

"You mean like religious shit?"

"No... and yes!" I couldn't help but grin, and Greg's smile widened, too.

"I don't know if I fully understand," he told me. I told him: "Just think of me as an explorer of the senses."

"Cool, that sounds cool."

"Yes, it can be."

"I wish I had known about this part of you."

"You can," I told him, and I meant it, for ideas were swimming in my head.

*****

It started with me inviting Greg to accompany me on one of my shoots with Mandy. She came by herself. Greg and I greeted her at the door. Shelly was around, nodding at us and letting us on our way. Mandy was not shy at all about Greg being around. I had told her ahead of time that someone would be joining us, and she wasn't phased in the slightest. In fact, she seemed almost eager to take off her clothes in front of this stranger. Greg stood behind me and no doubt licked his lips as the articles fell off of Mandy's body and she was revealed to us as I had become so in love with seeing. So perfect, golden, simple; erotic. We went through a hum-drum assortment of poses. Today I had white sheets hanging and tried to give the scene a sense of something heavenly, and indeed she did look heavenly, floating through those colorless decorations, her tan skin the only pure color in the shot, centering all attention on her, that magnificent image. All the while Mandy eyed Greg standing behind me, with a growing smile and a more mischievous look than she had worn in all our previous shoots. Greg was dead silent until I turned to look at him in all his pent-up arousal and discomfort, and I told him: "why don't you go join in?"

He was, of course, taken aback. "What, you mean naked?"

"If you want, and if Mandy's okay with it." A quick glance her way told me that she was. "I just want to capture your reaction to her. I think it's neat. A man mystified by a naked girl."

"Well, okay," Greg said, and he walked past me and stepped into frame, stepped up to Mandy in all her nudeness, taking her all in, and she just laughed. I got off some shots. It was a charming sight: a clothed man beside himself in the company of a pretty naked girl, but Greg did away with that scene quickly by peeling off his shirt. I kept focused. He didn't seem to feel it necessary to ask, and he took down his jeans as well, taking off his sneakers as he lowered his pants to his ankles, and then standing, for only a moment, in his boxers, until he stripped them off, too, and I had a muscular, nude man accompanying my muse. His arousal was evident, and I soon captured it with my camera. A man, helpless but to express his lust and love for what was before him, a lust that was shared by me. It was a glorious photo weighted with all of my desire, and his. His cock, which I was so familiar with, curved proudly in the presence of this maiden. I had to lower the camera and take a breath. I thought of Mandy's boyfriend, and thought to ask if this situation was okay, but the scene laid itself out before me: an eager man's eagerness, and the source of its lust standing before him, hesitant to touch. Greg was the first one to lay hands down. He braced them on Mandy’s bare shoulders, his prodding prick wobbling towards her thighs. That's when Mandy laughed and took him gently into her hand, and I had to take a breath and look from outside my viewfinder.

Mandy gently caressed Greg's cock, and he stood and accepted her touch. I dipped back behind the camera and zoomed in, then out, taking a shot at each angle. Then Mandy looked at me, as if asking for direction. My body was filled with heat. I plucked at my shirt. I wanted to get all my clothes off right then and join them, for the innocent scene in front of me needed my guiding hand, or I needed its innocent embrace. I already unbuttoned the top few buttons of my shirt as Mandy smiled at me. Greg just panted, staring at Mandy, staring her up and down. He hadn't yet noticed what I was doing. I stopped before he did notice. What was I doing? I couldn't necessarily photograph the scene if I was part of it. But I wanted to be in it. I didn't want to be just a recorder. I wanted to be a participant. And I wanted to make amends with Greg as much as I wanted to savor Mandy again.

By this time, Greg had noticed that I was lost in thought.

"Everything okay?' he asked.

"Just a moment," I replied, holding up a finger, and I stepped away from the camera, walked towards the door, and looked back at the two before disappearing out into the hall, the top two buttons still open on my blouse, admitting ample cleavage as I crept the halls of the lobby, looking for Shelly. I found her coming in from outside, carrying a cup of coffee, and she did a double-take at my exposed cleavage and then raised her eyebrows at my proposition.

I returned with her moments later to the white-sheet room, where Mandy and Greg had gotten acquainted with each other. Greg was laying on his side amidst the pile of sheets while Mandy lay in the opposite direction, her head near his feet, her finger tracing his dick. They looked up as Shelly and I entered.

"Oh, wow," Greg said, sitting up a little. Mandy was not surprised, for some reason. Perhaps she knew my intentions.

I handed Shelly the camera and gave her basic instructions. She was an artist, too, and I trusted her eye. I wanted someone else to chronicle my latest journey into the sublime, and as she stood before the tripod, I took off my clothes in front of her.

It's more accurate to say that I tore off my clothes. I heard a couple of buttons clatter and roll on the floor as I yanked my blouse open, and my bra-less breasts lurched free. Greg watched me, his expression dazed and confused. It's not like he had never seen me naked before, but it was the way I urgently undressed, the way I slipped out of my pants without stopping. In one step, I was topless, in the next, I was nude, and Shelly was behind my back, camera raised. I had no idea what her reaction was as she framed my bare back and bubbly backside approaching a scene out of some Victorian print. Mandy was so relaxed as she lay there and traced the length of my boyfriend's lengthening cock. That was why his expression was so dazed, of course. Here was probably any man's fantasy, to be naked and doted on by a beautiful naked girl, with another approaching, and another woman ready to film it all. I almost thought to request that Shelly take off her clothes as well, but I figured that would cross the line. Instead I descended upon Greg and met his eyes.

"This is what you wanted," I told him, and his grin was infectious. I stroked his chin but then firmly gripped it between my thumb and forefinger, firm enough to make the smile disappear and for him to pay attention to me.

"I want you to know that this is going to be very important for me," I told him, glancing over at Mandy and sharing a smile between us, as his eagerness bobbed between our faces.

"Y-yeah, I get it."

"We're going to immortalize a moment of intimacy between me... you, who is very special to me, and her, who is also special."

Greg nodded and glanced at Mandy as well, and forced down a swallow. He didn't seem jealous. Nor should he be.

"And I want you to concentrate through this whole thing. I want you to drink it in. At the moment you come, I want you to hold on that moment, and try to meditate on it."

"Uh, okay. Am I getting to..."

"Fuck us? Fuck her? No. I want something that is going to be photogenic. I'm not interested in seeing your ass in the camera. It'll get in the way. Right, Shelly?"

Shelly looked up from her spot behind the camera, where she'd been framing our positions, and gave a thumbs-up.

"Right."

"So you just lay back and relax. Let us do the work for now."

"Alright, then," he said, and his apprehension disappeared.

"What a lucky guy."

"No kidding."

"Remember: concentrate."

"Okay, whatever that means."

"Just focus on what you feel and nothing else. Focus on it like it's the greatest mystery on Earth."

"Okay, got it."

With that out of the way, I smiled at Greg, and then joined Mandy, descending on the waiting cock.

We both kissed it up and down its sides, reveling in the sound of our smooches, and the faint affirmations from Greg, and Shelly zeroed in on us in our lewd display, ever-diligent, recording the scene I wanted to depict: of a man in awe, and helpless as two nude beauties tended to him, worshiping his cock.

I said before about the fascinating nature of the cock in its full display, and here I was embracing it, the heat of him against my lips, and Mandy's, the distinct smell as we both got to the top and slathered it with sloppy kisses. Each little twitch and pulse was felt through my lips, twitches and pulses that I knew would be felt just from looking at the pictures Shelly was capturing. A heightened moment caught in time. Any man would hope to make this scene last forever, with the landscape of two naked women lying on each side of him, which his hands did reach out to trace, and I let him. I had told him to embrace the feeling, all the sensations. I wanted him to be in the moment as I was.

I didn't need to be stimulated right then. The scene we were taking part in was stimulating enough. I was no longer a bundle of nerves inhabiting a grown woman, but a million microscopic neurons floating in a body freely, independent, and expanding outwards. I was a flowing form of sensation; I was myself, with lips pursing over the rubbery tip of Greg's dick, but I was also Greg, laying back in euphoria, and I was also Mandy, brushing her lips against mine over the summit of our captive. I was the taste buds on our tongues, and I was the sperm brimming from within the male below us, waiting to rocket up his shaft. I was even Shelly, chronicling this whole deed, and I was distracted momentarily by thoughts of how these photos would turn out.

I returned to my body then. I felt my stiffened nipples and I looked into Mandy's eyes as we each pursed our lips on the smooth crown before us and then we met. When I kissed her, a rising passion took over me and I rose on my knees, and she did too. We ascended above Greg's pleading thing, suddenly distracted by ourselves. My hand cupped one of Mandy's small and soft breasts, and the other was braced on Greg's thigh. I felt a soft hand grace my left side and a rough one trace my right thigh, and I felt the erect penis bumping softly between our two stomachs as we ravished each other, and then when we leaned back, we looked down, and we regarded what we'd been stirring up. Gentle hands, Mandy's and mine, went down to give it attention, and Greg's breaths were forceful as we toyed and pulled. Worried that I was blocking the camera's view, I raised my gaze and quickly saw Shelly re-positioned at Greg's feet, zeroing in on the scene. I knew then that I didn't have to worry; I should stay in the moment, and look at the snapshots of time later, and be surprised.

Mandy now moved her way along Greg's torso, leaning down and massaging his chest, letting her small tits hang forward near his face, which he leaned up to nuzzle, while I tended to his lap, testing his dick with a kiss and an open mouth, feeling his moistness building, sensing that an end was coming, sooner than usual for Greg (and I could understand why). I leaned back, and just batted at it, while casting an eye towards Greg, who was capturing a third of one of Mandy's breasts in his lips. When he retreated, his saliva shined on her, and his eyes went to me guiltily, but I only asked him: "doing good?" and he nodded and breathed out a "yeah." That's when I re-positioned myself, and Shelly, circling us, found a better angle, facing us from the side. I straddled Greg's legs and sat with his cock curving away from me, but I nestled closer to it and pressed it against me. I was incensed after my making out with Mandy. I was still a collection of neurons floating freely, but I was also a woman in the moment who now burned from within. I locked eyes with Greg and he knew what I wanted to do. Mandy had her own ideas and soon her sexy back blocked my view of my boyfriend, as she too straddled him, and lowered so that her twat was inches from my lover's face, as mine was inches from his cock. I swung my leg over him and turned around so that my back was to Mandy, and so that the curve of Greg's cock could easier enter me.  Both of us in position, we each sought our goal. Though I couldn't see it, I knew Greg's face was now being smothered with the soft sweetness that I had buried my face in initially, and me, my back leaned against Mandy's as she rode his face, and I saw Shelly turning the lens to capture the landscape of bodies, one prone man and two women of desire upon him. What a fantastic scene it must be. I know by heart already Mandy's beautiful nude profile, and I shivered, both with the prodding of Greg in new places inside of me and at the thought of how I must look next to my muse, riding on my man. I said I am not shy about my body, as now is surely known, and though I am held in awe of Mandy's, I don't feel outshined by her. I know I am beautiful, for my half-moon breasts, fuller than Mandy's, are Greg's delight, and my trim waist and flaring hips make the most enticing outline, much different than Mandy's, more conventionally attractive, making me a sweet sight for people who see me out on the streets, but with none of the simple charm of Mandy. Though in concert with her, as we pleasured ourselves and our male partner, it would surely be mesmerizing to see. May I mesmerize somebody with these images, as I'm mesmerized by others. For now, though, I'm in the moment, aware of the touch of skin against skin and sex against sex, and of eyes on me, and my eyes begin floating above. I can exist in the moment and around the moment, and I can hold a moment in time. My name is Julia, and I am an explorer of the senses.

Concert Girl

She entered the old converted warehouse, now thrumming with synth beats and flashing lights and crowds of people, and she felt immediately at home. She also felt almost naked, for she wore her usual white tank top (no bra, a faint impression of her areolas showing through), and a pair of dark grey cotton shorts, nearly form-fitted to her hips. She had no pockets, and she didn't need them. She had paid for her ticket ahead of time, and nobody would ask for her ID to get a drink, nor money, most likely, though her friend Sarah (who liked to be called "Sweet") was just behind with cash in her purse, and a much more moderate getup of jeans and a plaid button-up shirt. Sweet was always on her heels, making sure her friend didn't get into trouble, with her shamelessness attracting so many unsavory eyes at unsavory places like this, but she embraced it. Her name was Carol, but she liked to be called "Cabel," because it sounded cool. Her jet-black, shoulder-length hair and dark eyeliner completed her tough girl image, and she cruised through the crowd of bodies with confidence, seeking out, first thing, one of the bars.

Sweet caught up with her, brushing her stringy blonde hair out of her eyes as Cabel schmoozed up the guy at the makeshift bar. She asked for a rum and Coke. The guy dutifully made it. When he asked for eight dollars, Cabel batted her eyes and pressed her lips in a coy smile, but Sweet slapped the bills down on the bar for her. The man smiled—a little meekness showing—and took the bills, nodding, and then giving his attention to another customer.

"Don't get into trouble in the first two minutes we're here," Sweet scolded Cabel over the loud thrumming music of the opening rap group.

"So maybe thirty minutes in, then?" Cabel replied back.

"I swear I have to babysit you," Sweet said, and she threw her eyes about, wary of unsavory characters. This was not her type of place. She was more of a John Mayer type of gal. But Cabel wanted to come see the rap artist Rock Solidd and his indie label-mates of Chain Gang Records perform in her city, and Sweet had no choice but to accompany her. Rock Solidd was known for his rowdy shows, with mosh pits, drugs, and of course, female fans flashing their tits. Sweet no doubt worried about Cabel doing that, among many other things, and Cabel smiled at the thought of her worrying so much. She would do whatever she wanted. This was her world, and she loved it. The thrumming music swirled through her veins and matched her heartbeat. Her feet carried her wherever they wanted to go, and she met eyes with distracted guys who suddenly saw her and were smitten right away. But she passed them by to get closer to the stage, where the opening group was finishing up. Sweet caught up with her seconds later. In actuality, Cabel was more worried about her than Sweet was worried about Cabel. Aggressive guys would swarm over an innocent-looking girl like her. But so far she seemed to be lost in the crowd and unaffected. Maybe her modest clothes really did ward off pursuers, though she was still ridiculously cute. The glasses and the pigtails certainly helped. Cabel could even see herself getting steamy with her friend, and slowly peeling off that plaid overshirt to reveal the vulnerable girl underneath, but Sweet was not the experimental or bi-curious type. Cabel, she accepted all experiences, as long as they were fun and consensual. It always made Sweet uncomfortable when Cabel talked about sexual adventures she'd had. And tonight could hold some promising sparks, though she didn't set out with the intention of doing anything. Cabel just went with the flow in order to discover life's hidden joys.

For now, the music quieted, and the opening group left the stage, and the crowd even died down, and then Rock Solidd, ripped and shirtless, befitting his name, stepped out, along with the rest of his label-mates, all rowdy, none as sexy as their leader, though brimming with confidence. There was even a rather overweight label-mate, Big Pharma, he called himself, that didn't seem intimidated by Rock Solidd's dark, carved abdomen and pecs. Pharma wore a baggy button-down shirt with Chain Gang's logo on the breast, and he was confident as ever as he addressed the crowd.

"We got some rowdy ladies in the house tonight I bet!"

A bunch of female voices rang out. Already some tits were flashed. Big Pharma's shtick was always about egging on some exhibitionism. Rock Solidd didn't need to do that, though. By the middle of their set, panties would be thrown up on stage for him.

Cabel played along and lifted her tanktop with her free hand, the one that wasn't holding a beer, and flashed her medium-sized tits and let out a "whoo!"

"Oh my god, Carol," Sweet hissed, her voice barely audible over the roar of the people. Cabel barely acknowledged her. She just drank in the cheers, was aware of the eyes on her, both from the rappers on stage and the guys around her, and she let her tanktop back down before hands could rush in to grab her, as sometimes happened in a place like this. But the tiny thrill of exposure was worth it and made her chest buzz. Rock Solidd and the others grinned and reacted to the summoned bare flesh, and then went on to introduce their set, while meanwhile, male bodies now started to cozy up near Cabel. She could feel their body heat through the white cotton of her tank top. Then there was the brush of Sweet's flannel shirt on her arm.

"I can't believe you did that," she hissed in her ear.

"It's like you've never been to a  concert with me," Cabel said back, in the brief moment of time she had to be audible, before the real noise started.

"I just don't know how you can do that."

"It's just skin," Cabel said, then tipped back her bottle. "Tell you what, why don't you get me another beer? And I promise I won't get into trouble."

"More beer means more trouble."

"Just get me one."

Sweet sighed and stepped back with hesitation, obviously not wanting to leave her friend unattended.

"Alright, I'll be back."

She turned with a huff and pushed herself through the crowd, and Cabel looked back up on stage, where Rock Solidd was beginning one of his famous singles. His voice was rough and gravelly and full of aggression as he paced back and forth, holding the mic, keeping eye contact with his legion of fans. "Stompin' through your hood, I crack the concrete, looking for the hangouts where the felons and cons meet." Cabel bobbed her head in unison with the crowd. Bodies jumped up, others came down, in alternates, the rows of people in front of her like Mexican jumping beans. Shoulders bumped against hers and she became connected to everyone in the room, jacked in, in sync. As the beat became more aggressive, she found herself jumping, too. She felt her tits rise and fall sharply and found it strangely appealing, not for the flauntiness of it but for the sensation alone. She was distinctly aware of her body and of all the bodies around her and everything almost went in slow motion. It was like being high, though Cabel hadn't smoked weed in six months. It was the fact that she was wearing so little, and aware of her body, that she felt this way. That's what made her feel connected to the room around her, not just the music, not just the people. How much more connected she would feel if she had nothing on at all, she wondered. The thought alone made her nipples stiffen and show through her shirt, though nobody around noticed because of the flashing lights and the noise. Then Sweet appeared, seemed to scowl like she noticed, and handed Cabel her beer. Cabel was so in the moment that Sweet had to hold it in front of her face. Then she was back in a normal, noisy concert again.

"Thanks," she said, and she tipped the bottle back. Maybe the alcohol helped, too.

"Don't drink too much," Sweet warned, hollering over the crowd. Someone shot her a look and laughed at the prospect.

"You're driving, right?" Cabel replied.

"Yeah, but I just don't want you to do anything stupid."

Cabel grinned and took another sip of beer. Then, after swallowing, she smiled.

"Don't worry, I won't."

For now, the brief thought of being naked in the sea of people had vanished, and she just watched Rock Solidd and crew perform. Sweet covered her ears and looked uncomfortable. After the first song, Big Pharma came up and seamlessly segued into one of his popular songs, his more lovey-dovey, smooth voice buttering all the girls in the crowd up. This made Sweet look even more uncomfortable, as his lyrics did get kind of raunchy.

More shirts went up. Cabel laughed and half-heartedly lifted up hers with her free hand to show one breast, and then she glanced at Sweet, who hadn't even noticed this time. She was staring at the stage, and there was a frown on her face. Cabel kicked back the rest of her beer and patted her friend on the shoulder.

"Don't say it... but I want another beer," Cabel told her. "And get out my cigarettes, I wanna go smoke, so you can come out with me and get some fresh air."

Sweet just rolled her eyes and reached into her purse.

The venue had a nice little private patio out back where people could hang out and smoke and drink without having to stand out front like loiterers, and the music throbbed through the walls and you could sort of make out the lyrics through the open door.

Cabel sparked up as soon as she stepped out, and took in a deep breath. Yet another pleasure she enjoyed: a beer in her hand and a cigarette in the other. And eyes once again gravitated towards her as she appeared, eyes from guys seated on benches or on the ground, turning to pause... What a sight she must be: pale, scantily dressed, what clothing she was wearing Saran-wrapped to her skin, the shape of her breasts clearly defined under her tanktop, the outline of her areola and nipple plainly showing, her inky-shiny black hair cut just above the shoulders, the black eyeliner highlighting her direct, unwavering gaze as she surveyed the patio and kicked back one of the vices she held in each hand. She probably looked like a dream.

And next to her, her plaid-dressed Robin to her Batman, hands clasped in front of her, shoulders drawn in.

"We can sit real quick," Cabel told her. They sought out a bench along the far wall to their left where few people were. Cabel let herself collapse and slouch, legs spread, and she took a long drag of her cigarette, followed by a long swig of her beer. Sweet sat hunched forward, her hands clasped in front of her. Eyes were occasionally glancing over at the pair.

Cabel looked her tense friend up and down, breathed out a cloud of smoke, and said: "Maybe you should get a beer, too."

Sweet shook her head sharply.

"I'm driving, remember?"

"One or two isn't gonna affect that."

"No. I can't."

Cabel grinned and took another drag.

"You're such a good girl."

"And you're so... well, bad!"

Cabel laughed.

"What's bad and what's good? I'm not trying to win the morality Olympics."

"I just... I don't think I've ever seen you flash yourself like that. You gotta be careful." She cast her eyes around the rest of the patio. "You never know what a guy's gonna do."

"You see this?" Cabel said, raising up her beer bottle.

"I don't think you're gonna be any better off if you're drunk."

"No. Think of this bottle like a tool. I can get fucked up..."

She mimed smashing the bottle on the bench and made a glass-shattering noise with her lips.

"And I can fuck someone up, too."

Sweet just shook her head.

"It's more than just that. Even if everybody is well-behaved... I just don't know how you can let yourself be seen like that..."

"I was born this way. Everybody's got nipples."

"But not everybody has people jumping at the chance to see them."

Cabel snorted.

"Well you're right about that. But let 'em see. I don't care."

"I just think a person should have better respect for themselves than to do that."

The males' eyes kept glancing over to them as they talked on the awkward subject, no doubt hopeful that the treasured nipples would make an appearance.

"I do respect myself," Cabel said. "If others wanna look down on me for that, well they can fuck off."

Sweet brought her shoulders in more and hugged herself, and her face looked pouty.

"Except you, of course," Cabel added. "You're my wing girl. I know you got my back."

"As best I can..."

Cabel raised her bottle in a toast and then kicked it back. When she smacked her lips and sighed and accepted the familiar sensation she had. As comfortable as she was, it was time to get up.

"Well, I gotta take a piss," she announced. "Watch my drink if you could."

"Fuck that, I'm going with you. I'm your wing girl, remember?"

"Right. Buddy system." It was the best course of action in a place like this, Cable couldn't argue with that. She ground out her cigarette and stood.

"Well, let's go."

All eyes followed her and Sweet as they exited the patio and returned inside to the din of the concert.

Through the flashing lights and the throng of people, Cabel managed to discover the lighted oasis of the bathrooms, where once inside, the music was just a deafened mumble. Sweet stood by the sinks where Cabel's beer bottle waited as she went into the cramped and graffiti-laden stall to take care of her business. She sat with her chin propped in her hands, her elbows on her knees as she emptied her bladder, and she felt less than glamorous, less than sexy, but embraced it as part of the concert experience. Half-drunk, half-naked in a dingy metal stall that smelled of piss and period blood. What a glamorous, seedy life.

Sweet remained silent outside the stall, and nobody came in during that time, which was a bit surprising, and perhaps lucky, for when Cabel finished, took a long swath of toilet paper with part of it touching the floor as the tore it off, cleaned herself, flushed, and stood, she maneuvered herself with some difficulty in the cramped stall, afraid, as always, of backsplash spraying all over her. And of course, the stalls opened inwards. Public bathrooms were always so heinously designed. But as she managed to squeeze through the stall as she pulled it open, the thumb-lock caught on her cotton shorts which she had just pulled up and tugged back at her as she attempted to make her exit. Turning around to try and unhook herself, she put more tension on the meager fabric, and instead of being able to free herself as she intended, there was a very audible rip as she continued to spin around, but the shorts didn't turn with her. Instead, they fell, torn, and hung off the lock.

Cabel stared down at her ripped shorts in shock, then looked up and saw that Sweet was staring back at her with the same expression.

"Whoops," was all that Cabel could say, as she stood there bottomless, with nothing to cover her, except for, potentially, a meager piece of torn cloth, if she wished.

"Whoops?" Sweet cried. "How the hell did that happen?"

"I don't know. Shit, what to do?"

"What to do? Get out of here is what we do... Um, as best we can."

Cabel plucked what was left of her bottom off of the door lock and held it in front of her.

"What am I supposed to do? Hold this against my crotch and hope that nobody looks at my butt?"

Sweet let out a shaky sigh. She seemed to be more on the verge of panic than Cabel should have been.

"W-well, you said you didn't care about that."

Cabel smiled.

"You're right. I don't."

She turned and walked towards the sink with her torn shorts, and promptly dropped them in the wastebin there. Then she calmly washed her hands.

"What are we gonna do?" Sweet asked. Her eyes were twitchy, not wanting to look at her exposed friend and her strip of crisp, black pubic hair that suddenly felt good to have exposed and free. When Cabel was done washing her hands, she tore a long stretch of paper towels and, after taking care of her hands, applied it to her crotch.

"Might as well take the time to make sure I'm extra-clean," she said, and then she dropped the paper towel in the waste bin and washed her hands one more time.

"Carol, we can't go out there like that! Let me go and see—"

"And see what? If someone has an extra pair of pants? Fuck it, let's go back out. I feel better like this anyway."

She picked up her bottle from the sink counter and took a big swig, feeling just a tinge of nervousness and feeling that she needed the extra bravery.

"Let's just run straight for the car," Sweet said. " You'll be seen, but only for a little bit. At least we won't be here."

As she was pleading with Cabel, another girl walked in, stopped, and reeled at the sight before her, and she broke out into a smile

"Right on," the girl said, and passed them by as if a bottomless girl wasn't anything that unusual.

"Carol, please..."

"Let me do my thing. Tell you what, I suddenly feel more alive."

With that, Cabel took a big step and went past her friend, towards the exit, anticipating what it would feel like to step out into the greater venue as she was. Sweet rushed to keep with her.

Nobody seemed to notice. At first. Cabel made it out to the middle of the dance floor, bottle in hand, contemplating asking Sweet to go get her another one, but something told her Sweet wouldn't be so subservient now. She caught up to Cabel, gasping, as they stood there in the chaos of the concert. Rock Solidd was belting out some rhymes at the head of the stage and all eyes were on him, though as Cabel turned around, relishing the free feeling of her skin unburdened, she saw alarmed looks zeroing in on her unobstructed bush. Sweet jumped to stand in between her friend and potential voyeurs. But of course, that left Cabel's fanny free to be ogled at from the other end, and she was already grinning at the complete hopelessness for modesty.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Sweet pleaded into her ear, but Cabel was having none of it. She finished her beer, and she watched the sharks come in.

The first guy came right up, and Sweet stepped away defensively, unintentionally exposing her friend completely. Cabel just grinned.

"Damn, girl," the guy said, and his hand went out. Cabel's went out just as fast and braced his wrist, gently pushing him away.

"Look but don't touch," she commanded. The man took a step back and licked his lips. Sweet, meanwhile, was standing on the sidelines, horrified.

The man fell to his knees and just gazed at her. That was fine; she liked being worshiped. But the longer he stared, the closer his face came to her, and again, she reached out her hand and gently pushed his head away. At that moment, she felt sly fingertips trace her ass and send little electric thrills up her spine.

"Alright, come on," Sweet cut in, and she stepped in to take Cabel's hand and led her away.

"My protector," Cabel said. She didn't know if Sweet could even hear it above the noise. Rock Solidd continued to shout, and he was unaware of the complete immodesty that had been unleashed at his concert.

"Seriously, we need to get out of here before you're r—you know."

"I can fend off horny guys, no problem," Cabel elevated her voice to say, still hinging on whether or not to ask for another beer. "The lame ones, anyway." She reserved the right for anyone that tickled her fancy to tangle their fingers and face in her bush, but she didn't need to explain all that to Sweet over the noise.

Rock Solidd's not just a name,

It's the way I play the game.

I always stay ready

So I cannot be blamed

If a short stack, thick-set,

Mama with her hands at

My fly, don't cry

Out in utter shock at my

...Rock Soliiiidd! Rock Solid co—

Cabel found herself gravitating towards the stage. Sweet let out a little eep! and followed her.

"Not there! Not there! Let's go out, out! she cried.

"Why don't you get me another beer?" Cabel turned and finally asked, and Sweet shook her head.

"Oh no, too much crazy has happened for one night. I can't—"

"I've only had two." She was lying, and she knew Sweet knew that she was lying. "Just another. Another one." She thought of DJ Khaled suddenly and she laughed, and Sweet was horrified by her laughter.

"I can't leave you alone."

"Then I'll go with you," Cabel said, and she moved from her spot, past her friend, towards the bar in back, and Sweet again shrieked and followed.

"Hot damn," said the bartender when they arrived, his eyes traveling down and back up. "Tell you what, this one's on the house."

"Far out," Cabel cried. The man popped the cap off the beer and handed it to Cabel, his eyes flitting down to her bush, and then he nodded and smiled as friendly as if she had been wearing normal clothes.

"I might be able to get used to this whole bottomless thing," Cabel said to Sweet as she grinned and put the end of the beer bottle to her lips tenderly, pursing them over the rim and taking in the flood of a fresh drink. Her imagination stirred and carried her away from the bar, back towards the front of the concert hall, with Sweet helplessly following behind. Cabel felt so liberated, so unburdened, to be walking without her shorts on. Nobody attempted to stop her. Plenty stopped to admire, and she was overall unbothered and allowed to carry herself in this way. Sweet trailed her as Cabel broke through a line of people to get a better view of Rock Solidd pacing up on stage, still unaware of the bottomless fan watching him. Her tanktop at that moment felt like a burden, and she thought of tearing that off, too, and completing her freedom. She found herself grinning, and then sipping on her beer. Sweet was hardly a thought or even in her awareness. Rather, it was another guy who stepped up who took her attention.

He was rather handsome, and sent goosebumps up her arms and had her flesh below tingling. He had a crew cut, scruff on his well-defined face, and cool hunger in his eyes. He did not seem eager; he seemed to know what was in store for him, and all there was for him was to reach out and accept it.

"Nice bush," was his pickup line. It made Cabel smile. She liked her bush.

"Thanks," she said with a grin, and she held eye contact with him. She found herself biting her lip. Even though the treasure was down below, the guy was keeping his eyes on hers as well. She heard Sweet gasp behind her, but otherwise she was focused on this guy. His hand crept up to her side and graced her skin there, and she accepted his touch. She used her free hand to feel up his side, to his broad shoulders, and their eyes got closer, and his hand got lower. It glided over her hip now, the tips of his fingers just barely tracing the curve of her butt, and more tingles rose up on her skin. She raised her beer bottle between them, tipped it up towards the side, and poured some alcohol in her mouth, swishing it, and then she righted the bottle and let her lips purse on the end after she swallowed, and the guy's lips were so close on the other end of the rim as she mimed a teasing fellatio on the beer bottle. And then their lips met over the rim, and his hand glided towards her front, and his fingers found her forest.

She kissed him right as his finger flipped over her lower lips, and her upper lips trembled, and as her eyes closed, she could imagine Sweet standing there, her hands over her mouth, staring as Cabel made out and was pleasured by this stranger.

Two digits entered her and hooked inside her and prodded, pulled, against the upper limit of her sex, and as they released the kiss, she stared into his eyes as the tender feelings of intimacy arose, and she began to enter another plane. Her hand found his back and pulled his t-shirt into a bunch as he fondled her from inside, and her thighs quivered and her knees buckled at the sheer exhibitionism of it all. And around them, people jumped and danced, unaware of what was going on. She found herself leaning her forehead against the man's forehead, her teeth showing, his hand working just below her eyes, and they gently rocked together, appropriately so, as Big Pharma was now belting out one of his steamy sex songs. In her euphoria, Cabel reached down with her hand and cupped the man's balls through his jeans. Their wrists bumped against each other and he softly laughed into her face.

His fingers withdrew, and he was working down his fly. Cabel bit her lip again, and they drifted through the crowd, nobody still aware of what was going on, despite Cabel's milky-pale ass on display as she and her new boy toy turned in circles. She saw Sweet over the guy’s shoulder as they turned. She was keeping pace with them, and she was as stricken as Cabel had imagined her, her hands over her mouth exactly as in her imagination.

The cock came out and rested weightlessly in Cabel's waiting hand. She closed her fingers around it and felt its fiery heat and firmness. He was uncut, but his foreskin was rolled back completely to show his pink, shiny head. She squeezed a little tighter and ran her thumb over that head, and it flinched in her grip. She liked a good dick.

He breathed into her face again.

"Oh, please..."

She pulled her palm up and felt the foreskin shift over his head. He was slick already. She felt the stickiness on her fingers. Gently, as they pressed together, the trunk of his cock dragged over her crisp pubic hairs and glanced her lips, and she tensed and trembled.

"Fuck me right here," he whispered. Cabel laughed, and looked at him, and considered it. But there were boundaries she was mindful of. She wasn't on birth control, for one, and she didn't know this guy. So she just smiled and wagged her finger with the hand that was holding her beer. The man breathed out sharply in disappointment and pleasure as she still played with him below the belt. She smiled into his face and increased the friction of her hand, but he put his hand to her chest, between her breasts, to stop her. He moved his hand to her shoulder and gently pressed to signal to get on her knees, but Cabel shook her head.

"No," she said. "If I do that, all the thirsty guys will be circling around to get a chance." Though a bunch of guys surrounding her with their cocks out did make her suddenly twitch, and she secretly wanted it now, but there had to be a measure of control

"Aw, man." He let out another breath on her face. He was so polite. Reticent. She liked him. She ran her thumb over his head again, and he trembled in her embrace.

People were now noticing, though, as a circular gap had grown around them as people stood back to take a gander. Cabel looked up and realized this, and saw Sweet standing at the fringes, still with her mouth over her hands. And that's when Big Pharma, up on stage, noticed, too, and cut off his verse.

"Well damn!" his voice echoed through the sound system. "Get a load of this."

Cabel and her man turned and withdrew from each other slowly, facing the stage, where all the performers were staring. Big Pharma's microphone was held in his hand. Cabel's guy-friend stuffed his dick in his pants. She, however, was left with nothing to do but be exposed to the performers. Rock Solidd took the mic from his label-mate and approached the edge of the stage.

"Now that's how you enjoy a Chain Gang show! Give it up for our bad girl!"

Suddenly, Cabel was surrounded by applause, and with everybody standing their distance so all could get a look, she was petrified at being the center of attention. Her boy toy stepped away, too shy, and now it was all her. Her arms trembled, but her pussy ached, and she threw her arms out as if to say "here I am," and turned in a circle for all watching, so they could get a look at her from behind as well as in front. The cheers were more deafening than any that had arisen that night so far.

"Bottomless and don't give a fuck!" Rock Solidd marveled. "Hey..." Cabel slowly turned again until she was facing the stage. She didn't even see Sweet anymore. She had to wonder how she was reacting to all this. "Hey!" Rock Solidd repeated. "Get on up here!"

The cheers increased even more. Cabel's heart beat furiously, and she was on the cusp of either refusing or going through with what her accidental exposure had wrought. Her feet decided for her, and she moved towards the stage, her entire lower half alive with burning electricity. She approached, put her hands on the edge, and assisting hands came to boost her up, faces staring right up her ass. Rock Solidd and the others observed, perhaps making sure nobody did anything out of line. Her knees touched the stage and she scrambled up and then stood, trembling, bottomless in front of her favorite rapper and in front of all his fans. Rock Solidd beckoned her over. She walked up to his side and turned to face the crowd, her bush presented plainly for them to see.

"What's your name?" Solidd asked, and held the mic out to her.

"I go by Cabel."

"Cabel, huh? That's sick. So why are you out here bottomless today?"

Again the mic was held out before her. She froze up a bit. She scanned the crowd for Sweet, though the lights on stage made it hard to discern anything but a dark mass of indistinct faces.

"Well," she said, leaning into the mic. "You wouldn't believe it, but my shorts got torn off in the bathroom stall."

"No way," Solidd said, quickly bringing the mic to his mouth and then pushing back to Cabel.

"Yeah, it got hooked on the door lock and just came off. Then: 'whoops!' I'm bottomless."

"And I guess you just didn't give a fuck, huh?"

"No. My friend wanted us to leave, but how were we going to get out of here without people seeing? Especially once we got outside. So I just said fuck it. I don't care."

"That's my type of girl!" Rock Solidd cheered, and the audience erupted into a roar. "Well Cabel, I'm glad you came out tonight. We're gonna have to make a new song for all our bottomless girls, where you at?"

The crowd erupted again, and through the harsh lights, Cabel could see a lot of motion, and bodies moving. She wasn't sure, but it looked like girls in the audience were taking off their bottoms as well, in solidarity. Her skin continued to burn with excitement, and she placed her hands—only briefly—in front of her bush, before removing them again and instead folding them behind her back, where her knuckles rested on the top of her butt.

"Well let's get another set going," Solidd continued. "I think I know just the song to do, what do you say, Pharma?"

"I want to say something first," Cabel cut in, leaning into Solidd's mic, and by consequence, leaning her face in closer to his bared chest, beaded with sweat, and stirring the burning sensation within her.

"Sure, girl, here."

He handed her the mic. Now she was really in the spotlight, not that she wasn't already. She felt a hundred eyes zeroing in on her bush, and her neck was tense, but she looked out at the formless mass of people and thought of Sweet, wherever she was out there, and what she wanted to say to her about her underhandedness.

"I walk out every day," she began, "and I see people looking. Looking at my tits."

Before she continued, she stopped and contemplated what she'd thought about doing earlier, and went through with it: she peeled off her tanktop to a roaring response from the crowd. Pop-pop, her breast were freed from the constraint and she held the article by her side, mic in the other hand, Rock Solidd and the others reeling at the sudden full revelation of a girl completely nude. The only thing she wore were her sneakers on her feet. She twirled the shirt and let it fling into the crowd, and the response was deafening. Now she stood with absolutely nothing to hide, and she resumed:

"I see you staring at my tits. Even if my shirt is baggy, they're imagining my tits. Imagining my ass, imagining my bush." She paused, smiled, and contemplated herself. "Got a good look?"

The crowd went nuts at this.

"Every day, I'm told one of two things: I'm told to cover up, or I'm told to show more. So many people telling me what to do.

"My friend tells me the first bit. My parents, too. It's the guys on the street who say the second thing, probably guys I can't trust. So it's obvious what side to listen to.

"But I don't want to listen to them. What do they know? They all have their own problems that don't seem connected to me, to where I go.

"I want to go on my own journey, I want to bare my soul. To one person, a few, or a whole room. But then you'd call me a whore, while at the same time, begging me to show more.

"Well fuck it, this is how I was born. I feel alive right now because my clothes are torn. Yes, this is how I was born. Look at it, it's just skin, nothing wrong with it."

More cheers came at this. They were getting her message.

"Nothing sexual, but I'm a sexual creature, too."

She turned to look at Rock Solidd, whose face had gone slack as he was listening to her thoughts, thoughts she had recently written down and was now pronouncing from memory. Except for the next part:

"And Rock Solidd, I'm feeling sexual to you."

Everybody cheered at this, and the rapper was taken aback. Cabel concluded her statement, lowering the mic, and as the rapper approached her, looking from the crowd to her in all her bareness, he paused, and she reached out and cupped his crotch in her palm, through the denim of his jeans, and at once, the burly, masculine rapper was reduced to a shocked little boy. His heat radiated on her palm, and she could feel the heft of his balls and the coiled fury of his arousal through his pants. She handed the mic back to him and dropped to her knees.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she could hear him saying, but not into the mic. He was out of character now, but even if the microphone had caught his reluctant voice, it would have been drowned out by the screaming and cheering that now rose up, even louder now. It was as if each successive surprise sent the crowd higher.

It would have been easy for Cabel to say that she didn't know what she was doing, but she did. She was already exposed on stage, and enticed by her own exposure and the presence of indie rap's sex symbol, and surrounded by guys… And here, unlike on the floor, she had her element of control.

Big Pharma stepped closer to see, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Cabel did not find him attractive, physically, but his buttery-smooth voice in his songs always did the trick. There was Latin Stone, also kind of heavy-set, but what some would call "strong fat." Cabel actually always found him to be intimidating. And that, in this moment, turned her on, too. And there was Slick Trick, the token white guy of the rap group, who had long, curly, reddish hair and was the skinniest of the group. He looked like a gangsta ginger Weird Al. He was unattractive, but attractive at the same time, and all of these men circled around as Cabel's fingers pried open Rock Solidd's fly and his black cock flopped out in full-obscene view, to cheers (Cabel made sure not to block the view from the crowd; this was a show, after all). She filled her hand, marveled at something only groupies got to see, now revealed for the whole room, and for her, and she looked up at Solidd to gauge his reaction. His shocked face turned to a smile again, and his eyes flitted up to all the countless other eyes watching him, watching him in a way they had never watched him before, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and couldn't get to say anything before he reacted to the first contact between his dick and Cabel's lips.

She wasted no time, pursing them over his shining head. He had gotten slightly limp in the shock of it all, but his size didn't change. As she suckled on the end of him, she felt him solidify again in her grip. She popped her lips and looked up at him once more, maintaining some eye contact, and he laughed and again was visibly trying to think of something to say, preparing to hold the mic up, but Cabel dove back in, all the way, or as much as she could, stopping when his tip tickled her tonsils, and even then her lips were not at his base. She gagged slightly and withdrew, caught her breath, and a long line of saliva traveled from his crown to her lips until it was broken when she looked up at Solidd, who was shaking his head in wonder. Finally he had an idea of what to say and he raised the mic.

"I wanna say something real quick: This goes out to girls who can suck a mean dick!"

Cabel had almost forgotten the crowd was there, but as she turned her head towards the noise, the full gravity of what she was doing hit her. She had casually given dudes handjobs at parties once or twice before, but nothing matched the public scale of where she now found herself: panting, a thick cock wagging in her grip just in the corner of her eye, and a thousand faces leaning forward to see, and in that sea, Cabel finally found Sweet, standing almost in front, motionless amidst the people jumping up and down. Her mouth hung open, but her expression was hard to pin down. It wasn't horror; it was almost fascination, like a child entranced by a Godzilla movie on Saturday morning TV. Then the very Godzilla-sized cock requested Cabel's attention again, wagging in front of her face, pressing the side of its trunk against her lips, and Cabel decided to make a great show for her friend, and for everybody, and licked the massive log from base to tip. She kept eye contact with the crowd this time, just as Rock Solidd did when he paced the stage. She was the performer now. She did another length-wise lick, more aggressive this time, and finished with a  flourish of the tongue swirling on the head, and only then did she look up at Solidd again, saw him close his eyes and swirl his head on his shoulders, hardly able to contain himself. It had been a full minute, and she just might be about to make him look less than staminal. He must not have minded, for at once, he took his cock into his own free hand and began jerking it.

Yes, she thought. Oh yes. This was what she was secretly hoping for. This would be the best part of the show. She dropped her hands and placed them on her knees and waited, smiling up at him, looking past the rapidly-moving tip of his dick and up at his almost pained face, and she could see the others crowding around, and the crowd outside her vision again climbed to a steady roar, and she could smell the musk emanating off of Solidd's dick, and she thought she saw the threat of what was to come brim at the tip, waiting like a coiled snake, a snake within a snake, and she didn't dare close her eyes. And then Rock Solidd grunted, and he came.

Her eyes did briefly close then, right before she saw the arc of ivory lassoing directly for the center of her face. Then she felt the warmth on the bridge of her nose, and she opened again to see a spurt launch towards her lips, where she got the new scent and the taste on the tip of her tongue, and the sight of his swollen head having its last squeezed out of it, and she turned a spattered smile up to him, but his eyes were in the back of his head, and Latin Stone was stepping around his right side, dick in hand as well. Rock Solidd's bold decision to give her a facial had incensed the others. Big Pharma reached and grabbed the mic from Solidd and held it up to his lips.

"It's one's gift to another..." he began in his svelte voice, stirring the crowd as Stone approached Cabel's face with his full erection in hand.

"To smatter you in love butter!"

Alright then, she thought. A bukkake it is, and she glanced to the crowd again, finding Sweet, who went back to looking shocked, her hands over her mouth, no longer a kid transfixed by a monster movie, but shocked at a violent horror flick. She was such a good girl, she had probably never even seen a facial in porn. She had probably never seen real semen in her life yet. But Cabel looked with semen still on her face, and stared eye-to-eye with the giver of more.

Latin Stone loomed over her, and his eyes were dark, yet soft, and there was nothing soft about his cock. He was almost as big as Rock Solidd, and he masturbated himself and brought his urgent head a mere half an inch from her face, and she brought out her tongue and lasciviously licked the cleft of his head, even though his label-mate's semen still adorned the tip of her tongue. And just like that, he grunted and came as well, a nice, straight stripe up her tongue, trickling into her throat, and the rest on her chin. She retracted her tongue and smiled up at him, and his dark eyes too went to the back of his head. And Big Pharma and Slick Trick came to the front of the line. A dick on either side of her face now, Cabel adjusted her knees to turn to the crowd. She reached up to take each of them in hand, chocolate and vanilla, and grinned at them, and their dicks came in close to her face.

They didn't mind if she sucked them off with Solidd and Stone's semen on her lips and in her mouth. She popped her lips on one pulsing head, sucked, and then traded for the other while working the waiting cock with her hand, like a real pro pornstar. Something her father should never see. "Not her proudest moment," others might say, but she didn't care. Pride didn't even enter her mind. It was just thrilling to embrace hedonism on stage, and to make four men quiver.

It took longer to work these two. It was odd with there being no music, no chanting into the mic, nothing but silence, even from the crowd, as they waited with bated breath for the next eruption. There was no pin dropped to be heard, but there was the slurp of Cabel's mouth as she snacked on Big Pharma's rather short and stubby (but thick) cock, and then the groan of Slick Trick as she took his long and thin member into her mouth. Then Big Pharma crowded her, and it was time.

His short cock burst out a forceful blast and got her in her cheek as she quarter-turned to him and laughed, and he picked up the mic, held it to his mouth, leaned back and let out a musical "whoooooo!" that got the crowd lively again. On her other cheek came Slick Trick, less forcefully, just a dribble really, and he brought himself in to get what he could on her opposite cheek, rubbing his cock-head into her soft skin, causing her to grin. Big Pharma came in too and rubbed his stubby penis on the other cheek where he had blasted her, smearing around his semen, his belly gently touching the top of her head. And the job was done. She had a load and a leaking dick on either side of her face, and she put her hands below her chin to grin and pose, and the camera flashes erupted.

Hmm, hadn't thought of that, she said to herself. She knew she was going to end up on a college girl porn page. Maybe Dad will see me, afterall, she thought, and wondered how to deal with that. For now, though, she stood, to applause, her face and upper chest striped and spattered, her body violated, but still glorious in her nudeness, and Rock Solidd came forward to take the mic from Big Pharma.

"You'll ain't never gonna see that at no 50 Cent show!" he yelled, and everybody seemed to agree. Cabel felt tense, felt like shrinking in on herself, not out of shame, but rather simple and sudden shyness. Her hands finally folded in front of her bush and she stood with her legs together like a prim and proper schoolgirl, despite everything. She felt adored, even though she ought not to be okay with what had just happened, if she was to think as others did. Had she just demeaned herself? Was the whole act an attack on her autonomy as a human being? Or was it just an expression of lust and love of life? It was something she would definitely put into words, on the page, later, when she was alone. But for now, she stepped forward and looked with sudden dread at getting off the stage and entering the sea of people. She again looked for Sweet, and saw her right away. Her expression again changed, now to one of grim acceptance, and she stepped forward to accept her friend off the stage. But then a hand touched Cabel's arm. It was Rock Solidd.

"You better exit out the back," he said. "Or you're gonna have a swarm of guys all over you."

She smiled at him. How considerate. After all they had done on stage, she wasn't just a piece of meat to him. That strengthened her resolve to defend what she had done.

"Good idea," she said. "Though the show's not even halfway over."

"I ain't gonna stop you from coming back in, it's better than coming down off the stage when everybody's keyed up. Believe me, I know about a crowd getting keyed up."

"I bet, thanks." With that, Cabel walked past him to where somebody was standing in back, waving her to the exit.

"You gonna clean your face off, though?" Solidd called back to her, and she looked over her shoulder and grinned. She almost forgot she had been speaking to him with him and his friends' spunk on her face.

"Maybe."

He shook his head as she flashed a grin and turned for the exit, with his voice booming in the sound system as he addressed the crowd.

"Alright, with that out of the way..."

The man in back wore a suit and tie and looked so proper, and his face was grave as he waved her over with urgency. Before going backstage with him, Cabel turned her head and saw Sweet climbing up on stage.

"Hey, hey, you know I only have one in the chamber," Solidd said into the mic. Cabel stepped away from the suited man and heard her friend's voice explaining that she was going after her friend, and Solidd understood and nodded her past, and then Sweet joined her at the back of the stage, stopping just short of hugging her, and not wanting to for all the semen on her.

"Hey there," Cabel greeted her.

"Let's just go," Sweet said, and they disappeared through the back door as the next set began.

"I can't believe you did that," Sweet said as they stepped outside into the back lot, where the air was a slight bit chilly and Cabel's face was cold with the stripes getting exposed to the air. There were people outside who turned and cheered at her appearance, some who may have been inside and had seen what happened, others who may just now be getting their first glimpse of the naked girl, and at the realization of what was on her face, the cheers increased.

"Let's go," Sweet urged.

"I wanna smoke," Cabel replied back, fumbling her hands in front of her again and getting used to her nudity in this new, wide-open setting.

"Jesus."

"And I should probably clean off," she added, touching her finger to her face and holding up the pearly evidence on her fingertip.

"Ugh, c'mon."

The people outside cheered behind them as they walked around the building, and as they came to the front, there were fewer people to see, except for on the street not too far away, where an occasional set of headlights passed, and Cabel wondered if any of them noticed the stark-naked girl walking under the orange sodium vapor lights. Sweet walked on her left side as if to hide her from passers-by.

There was no hiding from the bouncer, though, who stiffened up and shook his head at their appearance.

"Whoooa, goddamn!" was his first reaction, followed by a more negative "now you know I can't let you in like that."

"Come on Marv," his partner nearby at a podium said. Sweet pulled the tickets out of her purse and held them up.

"We just came from inside, we had to step out back."

"Out back?" the bouncer said with a raised eyebrow and a stray glance at Cabel's face, her marked face, currently more distracting than her body.

"She was up on stage like that," Sweet continued.

"That's the girl I was tellin' you about, man," the guy at the podium said.

"Holy shit."

Cabel could tell that the more they stood there, the more anxious Sweet was becoming, as she bounced on her heels, but Cabel was eating it up. In the short walk from behind the building, she was getting used to being completely naked.

Finally, the bouncer stepped aside.

"Well come on in," he said, casting eyes downwards as Cabel passed, sticking out the tip of his tongue before Sweet glared at him as she followed behind, and then they were in the din and noise again. There were hoots and hollers as Cabel entered, though she could not tell from who as her eyes adjusted. She made her way down the corridor and into the main room, where the bathroom would lie to the far left, and beyond that, the patio. In the flashing lights, she saw everybody jumping and moving as Latin Stone was now on stage, performing one of his dark and edgy songs. Nobody seemed to react to Cabel here, even though she was naked from head to toe (or, well, head to ankle, as she still had on her sneakers, which only made her feel even more naked). The reason for that, besides being distracted by the show, was that there seemed to be a lot more skin tone than she had remembered. Indeed, it seemed as if some people—girls, mainly, though there were a few bare-chested guys—had taken off articles of clothing. There were many bare butts and varying trims of pubic hair—or none at all—and some women walked around with breasts swaying free, raising their arms and letting people—probably people they knew—gently touch them. But nobody was fully naked. Nobody was as bold as her.

Sweet touched her arm and Cabel got moving again. They walked along to the edge of the room until they got to the nook with the bathrooms, and to the right on the far wall, the bar. Cabel turned to her friend.

"I'm going to go in and clean up, I'll meet you on the patio," Cabel said, and Sweet nodded, apparently okay with being alone this time.

"And one more thing... could you get me another beer? To go with my cigarette? Last one.'

Sweet rolled her eyes and said "alright," and Cabel smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder before turning and going into the bathroom. Sweet had barely met her eyes. It was probably hard to look at her the way she was. When she got inside and looked at herself in the mirror, she was surprised at how normal she looked. She still looked like herself. The semen was now nothing but thin moistness on her cheeks, the rest running in shiny streaks along the upper slopes of her breasts or on her neck. Her hair was still immaculate; she didn't look like a worn-out girl from an abusive porno shoot. She just looked like a pretty girl, completely naked, with some cum on her face. She liked it. Taking one more look, she pulled some paper towels out and wetted them and began to clean off the fun.

When she got out to the patio, people raised beer bottles in toast to her, and some people clapped. Nobody predictably approached her, though, because she wasn't the only "indecent" one on the patio: a few girls sat with bare bottoms on metal seats, or slouched on the wooden benches, open-legged, with their significant others (established or new) entertaining themselves. And then she found Sweet sitting all the way at the end where they had been before, two beers in front of her this time. Cabel walked up to her as boldly and carefree as ever, thinking she would never put clothes on again.

"Got one for yourself, huh?" she asked Sweet as she took a seat.

"Just one. For the nerves. It's been a crazy night."

"All you did was watch!"

Sweet shrugged and was the first to take a sip of beer. Cabel asked for her cigarettes and packed one and lit up before taking her first satisfying sip. She needed to calm the nerves, too, and as she leaned back, a vice in each hand and nothing else on her body, she sighed, because she felt incredibly comfortable, and after washing her face and chest, felt incredibly fresh, the water cool on her skin in the night air. She figured she and Sweet would talk about what had happened, and what she had said on stage, but that conversation would come later, when they were on their way home (Cabel naked in the passenger's seat and looking out in delight at the night city outside). For now, she wanted to finish her cigarette and get back in to see the show, and looked forward to enjoying the rest of it naked.

The Ferry

Colin was on vacation. The only problem was, he didn't know exactly what to do with himself. He had chosen a beautiful seaside tourist town, booked an Airbnb, and made the four-hour drive to the pleasant town with no plan in mind other than to give himself a little solo time before he started his new job. A week ago, he had been laid off from his previous job. A day later, he had gotten an offer from another place he had applied to, because he had been job hunting the whole time while working at his miserable high-rise office position. He was incredibly lucky. For the first time in his life, he had a whole week free before starting a new job, and he had all the freedom to do whatever he wanted. His friend had told him he ought to take a mini-sabbatical, so that's exactly what he did. But as he was coming off the highway and entering the town, though he was abuzz with nervous energy (I'm finally here!), he knew not what he would do with the four days he was to spend there.

He had in mind—and he did not know why—unknown erotic conquests ahead of him. Perhaps he would meet a cute girl with who he would have no attachment to, not being from the area. Maybe the sex club scene was hopping nearby. He also thought of nudist resorts. While not "erotic," it was something exciting to do, and these sleepy little tourist spots apparently always had one nudist resort hiding somewhere in the hills. He didn't know why he thought of these things. Perhaps because his life had been boring for the past two years, getting that job that he ended up hating while trying to manage the selling of his house which he had decided he couldn't keep. He had spent so much time focusing on things that were no fun, with little time for anything else, and now he wanted to set loose. Perhaps that was what it was. But adventures couldn't happen if one just sat in one's room, so once he pulled into town, and located the quaint house in which he would be staying on the bottom floor, he dropped his things, took stock of everything, looked at the handy tourist map hanging on the kitchen wall, and then set out for a stroll.

It was exceptionally muggy out. The humidity was high, and Colin felt doubly gross, since he had not showered after ending his journey. Not that it would have done much good. He would have sweated the second he stepped out of his Airbnb. But at least it would have been a fresh sweat. As he walked up the streets in his t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, he thought again of possible nudist havens hidden in this town. Perhaps there were some nude beaches. There were many little islands right off the coast, he knew, some of which had private, natural beaches. Nudist or not, he thought of running into the water with nothing on, and the thought refreshed him instantly.

He got to a cobblestone street bisecting his path, and that was the end of the road, for it bordered a river that emptied out into the sea. There were many cafes and bars along this street, and in the near distance, he could see ferries drifting into port, ferries that would take people out to any of the trendy little islands. The area was pleasant and humming with activity, and Colin decided to stop at a nearby cafe with outside seating, and he ordered a coffee and rum and sat and watched the people—tourists, probably, all of them—walk up and down the street. There was a nice shade there in front of the building, and Colin enjoyed his time of not having anything to worry about. He watched, guiltily, pretty girls appear in a gaggle of walkers, girls in tight denim shorts and tank-tops, very inviting to the eyes, and probably much too young to be looking at, as he realized the people they were with must be their parents and siblings. He scanned his eyes elsewhere. At the end of the river, he could just make out its opening into the sea, and he could see the haze of a not-too-distant island there. He imagined what its beaches would be like, how isolated they would be, and imagined himself finding a private spot to undress and get into the water. He decided then he would go out to that island. He just needed to figure out which ferry to take. He was in no rush, though. It was about two in the afternoon, and the ferries, he had learned from the pamphlets back at his Airbnb, ran until five. Maybe not so much time. He better not linger long, he thought, if he really wanted to set out on his adventure. He hurriedly finished his rum and coffee and felt the woozy effects in minutes. It had been made strong.

After he set down some bills without even asking for a tab and standing, Colin adjusted his t-shirt, struggling with the sweat underneath it, and set out onto the street. He walked to the other side and looked down at the ferries, and saw the signs that designated which ferry would go to which island. And as he scanned, he caught something in his peripheral vision—more people watching from the sly—and this person definitely warranted his attention, for he saw much golden skin tone. A girl waltzing by in a bikini? When he turned his head, he took a breath.

She was coming out of a bar just up the street. Nobody cast an eye her way except for Colin, and he had no idea why nobody else was looking, for there was plenty of skin to see, from her long legs, up to a bare vulva, shaven, and golden skin, and weightless breasts that bounced ever-so-slightly as she walked, the twin winks of her pink areolas erasing any doubt: she was walking down the street nude.

Colin gulped, for she was nearing him. Perhaps people weren't staring out of politeness. Or shock, not wanting to give any attention to this attention-seeker. Colin turned in place as she paced right behind him, giving him the slightest glance and a smile—and a glimpse of her in glorious side profile, her chest thrust out and making an enticing outline—and she headed for the concrete stairs that led down to the ferries. Her rear-end undulated as she took the stairs. It was slightly fat and... long, for lack of a better word. She had unusual proportions, and was tall in every part of her body. And tan all over. Not a hint of pale skin marred the perfect impression of her derriere as she made her way down the steps and approached a docked ferry. Suddenly, the question of which boat to board was no longer a debate. Colin hurried down the same steps she had taken.

She had disappeared when he reached the bottom of the stairs, presumably inside the boat. A man with an orange vest stood by a chain partition, which was open. He saw that Colin was looking and asked: "Stobblehouse Island?" Colin thought about asking if a naked girl had just boarded the boat, but instead he nodded, and the man said "six dollars." Colin took out his wallet and dug for some more bills, praying he had enough, and luckily, he did, and he handed them to the man, who nodded and stood aside, and Colin entered.

The interior of the ferry was bright with ample afternoon sun. There weren't a whole lot of people. Some of them sat along benches near the windows or arranged in the center of the big cabin, while others stood by free spots at the glass towards the head of the room, watching the people on the street above looking down at them. But Colin didn't see any naked girl. He wanted to turn around, but he heard a woman's voice on the loudspeaker announce that the ferry would leave in five minutes. That would be enough time. He had to look around and make sure before leaving, or else he would regret it.

The main room of the cabin was not all there was to the interior; there was an outer corridor, forming a partial ring around the room, halls where people could stand close to the windows and watch. Colin made his way to the entryway into that hall, directly across the room, the windows there overlooking the river and the grassy shore opposite. There was nobody in that corridor as Colin stepped into it, until he turned his head to the left, and there she was, leaning against the window with one hand on the glass, the other on her hip. The bright sunlight made her glow, though she looked paler than when she was outside, the lighting inside the ship and the glass-filtered sun giving her a more angelic hue, but a hue still uninterrupted by tanlines or imperfections or anything indicative of human existence, except for the faint texture of goose-flesh along her hip. The inside of the ship was air-conditioned, afterall, and she probably was chilly. Indeed, her breasts, pointed out the window, hardened at the tips of her nipples, solid-looking, a punctuation to her pleasantly-formed female traits.

She was steadily looking out the window, apparently not noticing him. Past her face, her left arm, braced against the glass, was highlighted by the down glowing in the sun. Colin didn't know how long he had been standing there, but the boat wasn't moving yet, so it couldn't have been five minutes, though it felt like an hour. He cleared his throat, and the girl turned her face.

She didn't say anything, so Colin broke the ice.

"Um, hey."

"Hey there," she said. Her voice was buttery and smooth, and she seemed not bothered by his presence.

"So I gotta ask: why are you naked? Not that I mind."

He broke a smile at saying that, hoping the joke would loosen the mood, and apparently it did, for the woman smiled, too.

"What other way is there to be on a hot day like this?" she said. Colin couldn't help but agree.

"I feel you. I'm in a t-shirt and shorts and I'm muggy."

"Well, luckily, the island we're going to is a nudist island," she said.

So Colin's suspicions were confirmed. How lucky was he that he had stumbled into exactly what he was hoping for?

"Get out. Really?"

The girl nodded. "Yep, that's where I came from. I just stopped back into town to have a drink. There aren't any bars on the island."

"You just came back... naked? And nobody says anything?"

The girl nodded again.

"Why put clothes back on? Yes, nobody bothers me. It is semi-allowed, at least on this street. It's free advertising for the island."

"I bet," Colin said. It had worked on him, afterall.

"So you didn't know that it was nudist?" she asked.

"No, though I was hoping there were nudist places around here."

"Oh really? Well, you're in luck."

Colin began to feel awkward, standing twenty feet away from her, and hazarded a step closer. The girl didn't budge.

"Can you give me a two-cent tour when we get there?" he asked. "Since I've never been?"

A smile spread on the woman's face.

"Of course. Think of me as your tour guide."

Far out, Colin thought. This was exactly what he'd been fantasizing about. He was now standing before her, close enough to touch, the down of her arms and the texture of her skin plainly visible. She was human, alright. He wanted to touch, but knew he couldn't.

"I will warn you, though," she said. "When I say nudist island, I mean truly nudist. In other words, not 'clothing optional.' Nudity is required there."

"Wow, they're really hardcore about it, huh?"

"It's how the island was meant to be enjoyed," she said, and her face was calm and assertive, showing she meant it, and felt strongly about this, obviously, if she were willing to come back to the mainland nude. She stood with no attempt to shield her body, but also no show of flaunting it; her skin was blessed by sun and shadow, and her tender breasts and stomach and—Colin didn't allow his eyes to lower and stare—were presented as equally as her face, as normally as if she were wearing a fancy summer getup. Nakedness was her uniform.

The ferry will be departing now, came the voice on the loudspeakers, and Colin was tethered to this trip into the unknown, with this unknown naked girl.

"What's your name, by the way?" he asked her.

"It's Penelope. But you can just call me Penny."

"Cool, I'm Colin."

"Pleased to meet you."

"So where's the first place we should go once we're on the island?" he asked.

"Well, there is a perfect beach..."

"Just what I was hoping for."

"...And there is a wonderful nature trail through the forest. Without your clothes, you'll feel like you're in the Land that Time Forgot."

"Far out."

They continued to stare out at the river and the bank across, until the ship began moving and so did the scenery. Colin wanted to stare as well at his companion beside him, but he kept her in his peripherals.

"Shall we sit?" she asked.

"Sure."

They turned from the window and Colin walked side-by-side with Penny, the naked girl, and entered the main cabin, and he felt so strange to be entering with her, watching for people to look up and stare at his company, but nobody did. He and she took a seat in a vacant spot, Penny crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees, and Colin folding his own hands and fumbling them in discomfort. It was such a weird situation to be in, but this was the situation from his dreams. They said nothing on the short trip to the island, and eventually, people stood up, and Colin and Penny did, too, and they exited the ship.

When they stepped out, the sun seemed brighter, and the air cleaner, and there was only a little wooden pier for them to step out on, versus the long, concrete dock at the mainland, and before them was rolling green hills that hid the rest of the island beyond, until they climbed some steps and gazed out at the expanse. There was a long, green field, and a hushed forest at the end of it. It looked like an unbothered natural paradise, and Colin immediately thought of taking off his clothes and running through that field.

He supposed he had to, since Penny mentioned that the island was nudity-required. He turned around and looked at the others dispersing from the ferry, and none of them were throwing off their clothes. They scattered to a welcome center nearby, or to the shore near the pier, to look out at the mainland on the other side of the water. Then his eyes settled on Penny as they scanned, and she smiled at him.

"Well? Shall we explore the island?"

"Sure. I guess this is the part where I have to get naked."

"Yes, yes it is."

"Where do I put my clothes?" And his wallet. And his phone, he thought.

"You can leave them at that building over there," she said, nodding towards the visitor's center. "Nobody will bother them."

"Okay. Wait for me?"

"Sure."

Colin nodded, and then turned and marched towards the little brick building, imagining taking off his clothes and marching right back out naked, in front of everybody. It was a harrowing scenario, but when in Rome... He walked toward the building and built up his bravery, and when he entered, he made a beeline towards the restrooms, which were clearly marked on the hallway to the right. That was where one would undress, right? He felt weird about doing it in the middle of the lobby. So he went in, and there was nobody there, and he went to a stall, and there he undressed. It felt so weird, so strange, as he pulled off his shirt and kicked off his sandals, and then pulled off his shorts and boxers, standing vulnerable in the little stall, and next, he made the brave step to open the stall door and step out into the bathroom. Already he was stricken with terror, but he was only in an empty bathroom. The next step would be to enter the lobby.

When he got the nerve to open the door, his body tensed and could not dare to approach the front desk, where a lady sat, bored-looking (and clothed, he noted), but who hadn't noticed him yet. Instead, he rolled up his t-shirt and shorts, with his wallet and phone securely in the pockets, to carry with him. He did not trust leaving them behind. And then, with a deep breath, he exited the building and heard a sudden exclamation from the woman at the desk, but he pressed on.

Penny was waiting for him, standing at the top of the little hill, minuscule in the frame of nature but magnified in all her arresting beauty.

"You brought your clothes?"

"Yeah, I was too afraid to talk to the person in there."

Penny smiled.

"That's all good, if you don't mind carrying them."

"I don't."

"Then let's go."

She turned and Colin fell into step with her. He was right next to her, their bare hips almost touching, and he could feel the heat of her body as well as the heat of the sun radiating down all over his bare skin. Before them lay the great, open field, and they stepped off the paved sidewalk and into the grass, heading down, freely, following no path, just two naked people heading into the expanse, with the island visible for more than a mile all around them. Colin predicted that he was going to get one hell of a sunburn that day.

They descended deeper down into the giant bowl that the field formed, nearing the center of it all, with the treeline far in the distance. The grass grew long here, almost up to their knees, and the bases of the cool blades brushed against Colin's toes. Penny's knuckles also brushed against him, reminding him that she was there. She glanced at him and smiled, such an infectious image, bare from the chest up, glorious, erotic, innocent breasts pushed majestically, maternally, forward, and the sun gleaming on her bronzed, bare shoulders, all coupled with the care-free smile, and the stretch of the horizon behind her. Colin had truly stumbled into paradise. He almost wanted to hold her hand. Their arms swung gently beside themselves. He moved his bundle of clothes to his other side and when her knuckles brushed against his again, he hooked a finger in hers, and her gentle grip closed on him. He smiled now, looking forward at the treeline approaching, feeling sudden warmth in his chest and coolness on his butt, such an odd combination of sensations, inside and out. He was surprised he didn't have an erection. Instead, his penis flipped and jostled freely and loosely as he walked; another strange and unfamiliar sensation. But with each step taken with Penny's hand in his, each motion of his penis was lengthened subtly.

He scanned his eyes around them and watched the ridge encircling the field and the vibrant blue sky almost making a silhouette out of the horizon. A little shape of an electric cart could be seen buzzing along, and the distant shapes of the people riding inside. It looked like their heads were turning to watch Colin and Penny, yet again another unfamiliar, but not quite uncomfortable, feeling of being watched at his most vulnerable, of his penis flipping and flopping free and obscenely, but with nothing actually obscene about it, because it was the law on this island for penises to flip and flop freely, or at least according to Penny.

"So what else is there to do on this island?" Colin asked her, turning his head again only to be in awe of the naked woman tethered to his hand. "Looks like there are golf cart tours?"

"Yes, you can rent a cart and drive around the whole island, where there's pavement, anyway. It's just to sightsee. There isn't anything for entertainment, like tennis courts or stuff like that. It's meant to be a nature preserve. It's meant for you to appreciate nature."

"Well I certainly appreciate it," he said, and she smiled at him again, that infectious, erotic image of her nude and happy in that very nature. Then she moved her eyes forward again, for the forest was just up ahead. As they approached, Colin felt three sensations: the buildup of itches from insect bites, the approaching coolness as the trees presented their shade, and the growing form of his arousal finally presenting itself, expectant of what might happen in the cover of the trees. Then they were in the hush of the woods. They treaded on lightly-vegetated earth, the cool dirt and tickling weeds teasing their ankles, and in that shade, Penny let go of Colin's hand so she could trek forward a bit. The loss of contact would have been a disappointment, if not for the new view of her tip-toeing before him, the forest shade changing her skin color, her oddly-shaped ass being caressed by shadows and spots of light as it moved, and his arousal led him behind her.

"There's a path in here that cuts straight through the forest and takes you all the way out to the beach," Penny explained.

"I don't see any path here."

"It's up ahead. Past the creek."

Already, Colin could hear the faint trickling of moving water. The trees above reached high up, and he could see birds darting from tree to tree, giving a squawk here and there. There was a regalness to everything, helped by the presence of Penny and her seamless bare skin, and a butt that moved with the rhythm of a metronome. And his arousal carried him onward, as he carried his clothes at his side, an additional reminder of his nude state. He was fully erect by the time they came out onto a bank sloping down into the clear-looking water, and Penny happily and carefully made her way down until she was standing on a large rock that jutted into the water, and Colin stopped for a moment to appreciate the sight: Against the silvery-blue of the creek, the flat grey of the rock, and the lush green surrounding her, her golden body stood out, and was dwarfed by the trees climbing high above her. She stood with her feet together and her arms outstretched, welcoming the vista of nature. Then she let her arms fall and she turned to smile back at Colin, and her front view was as mystifying as the back, with chest and pelvis bared, with every feature head to toe accepting the sunlight, with the distinct symmetry of her breasts and of the V formed by her thighs, a V of polished bareness, her sex just peeking past the cleft of her left thigh, throwing off the symmetry. And she gazed, no doubt, at Colin's full arousal, which would not—could not—go away, though she didn't seem to acknowledge it by itself. She accepted him as a whole, as he was seeing her as a whole. Colin started his journey down to her, but before he made it there, Penny turned and sat on the boulder, and then pushed herself off so that she plopped into the water.

Colin padded his slipping sandals through the dirt and then kicked them off, and dropped his bundle of clothes beside them, and then he went to the boulder and sat and watched. Penny fell to her shoulders and waded through the water, her blonde hair flowing behind her like a weightless cape, until she stood, letting her body rise, water sheeting down her golden skin, dropping off the summits of her breasts as she turned and faced him, waving her hands around on the surface of the smoothly-moving water. They exchanged grins. Colin shook his head in amazement at the amazing sight before him. He sat with his knees just over the edge of the boulder and his palms on the surface and his erection standing proudly and unashamed, as both it and Colin watched Penny at play, until she rose completely out of the water and walked through the mud, her thighs flexing, teasing her sex between, and she rose and rose up the slope until she was walking on the boulder and looming over Colin. He brought up his legs and pivoted to face her, one leg laying flat against the stone and the other with his knee propped up, as he gazed up at her in awe. And yet she came closer. She was right before him. He had to strain his neck to even attempt to see her face now, and instead fell face-to-face with her pelvis, her bare mound, the goosey flesh and fold of her femininity looking back at him, the darker shade along her lips, and the smoothness of her hips and stomach outlying. He raised his hands; he was finally going to get to touch, and Penny did not move from her spot.

His hands rested lightly and flatly on both her hips, and he let his palms glide. The smoothness and flawlessness of her skin sent goosebumps up his own skin, and instinctively, like a man at an altar, he leaned his face in. He kissed her stomach, then lowered, and kissed directly on her lips. So much body heat emanated from them. She was like a furnace. Colin leaned in for another kiss, a little penetrative this time, and Penny's hands found his hair and massaged his scalp. He looked up at her, almost like a child, and she smiled down on him. His hands glided around to press into the softness and firmness of her butt, and then slid over her hips again, and before he returned his face to her crotch, she fumbled at his hands with her fingers. They hooked his, and she raised his hands and lowered herself. She came down with her knees planted between his legs, pulled on his hands, and pulled him in for a normal kiss. He found her hands on his chest, and his penis twitching with excitement and tickling her belly. When he leaned away, she was caressing his chest, and she raised her hips, placed each leg on either side of his lap, and he found himself falling back, with her on top of him. She guided him in, and then she fell on him.

There on the rock, they made wordless love, his hands fawning over her back and her shoulders, her face in his, her hands planted on the rock on either side of his head. He was not used to being on bottom. It felt like she was taking him as much as he thought he was taking her. But she was the one who led him out here...

None of it mattered. He had attained just about everything he had wanted. A nudist adventure, an erotic adventure, a romantic adventure... all in one package. The only thing missing was the grandeur that still sat in the back of his imagination, of many girls, of great parties, of endless orgies. But he would not dare catch himself complaining. They twisted and writhed on the rock, and eventually, Penny let him roll over so that he was on top. He raised his back so he could gaze down on her as he worked, so he could reach out his palms and flatten her breasts underneath them. She was so soft, and her gaze was so loving, and she was so perfect. He managed to look up and tear his eyes off of his lover for one moment to appreciate the nature all around them, the sky glimpsed through the very tops of the trees, and the distance of the creek running upstream. They were not exactly in the most private of spots. The area was wide open, and anybody wandering in would catch them, squirming on the rocks like two animals. But he abandoned all modesty and embraced his role as a male primate in the twist of love with his other half.

At the height of his pleasure, Penny took his hands again and pulled herself up, so that she was face-to-face with him. She hadn't made a sound, but her breath was forceful on his lips. They stared directly into each others' eyes as Colin's hips rocked and he felt the moment come. He didn't break eye contact. He felt himself expand and burst—imagined it as a cartoonish cannon out of Looney Tunes swelling before the cannonball flew out, and he closed his eyes, just for a moment, as he grunted with his first release, but then opened them and held on Penny's gaze as he drained all of his energy into her. Only then did he notice the sounds of birds above again, and he slumped forward and rested his chin on his lover's shoulder. Lovingly, she stroked his back.

Post-coital clarity overtook him and he was a naked, slightly cold, hairless ape kneeling pathetically on the rocks in the embrace of a motherly figure who was not diminished by her lack of clothes. In a strange moment of meditation, he thought of her suddenly as an angel, as some sort of ethereal being beyond the limits of flesh and bone, the one the statues were actually made in tribute to. When he took his chin from her shoulder and leaned back to gaze at her, he had to assume this thought to be true.

She sat with her back so straight, her breasts so full and forward, her smile confident and caring. He withdrew from her and lay out on the rocks, and she stood momentarily, then knelt, and then lay next to him, massaging his chest. He watched the treetops and listened to her voice.

"That isn't part of the regular island tour," she said.

"I figured."

"Come on, let's clean off in the creek. The water's cold, but refreshing. Then I'll take you to the beach."

Colin couldn't imagine doing anything more with his day after all this. Looking at the paling sky, he could only guess that an hour or more had passed since he had first taken step onto the ferry, and that it must be getting close to four p.m. That would only give him another hour to get back to the ferry before he was stuck here, which didn't sound like a bad prospect. But was there lodging? That was one thing he had failed to ask Penny.

"Sure," he said. "Let's go."

It felt like he had an immense weight on him when he tried to lean forward and stand, and with wavering feet, his hand in Penny's, Colin made his way with her to the fresh, cool water.

She was right; it was cold. It put a shock in him and woke him up instantly. He waded waist-deep and then threw himself in just as Penny was doing. She began laughing with joy. It was as if they were two innocent children playing. Except that Colin's dick was sore from his final moment of bliss, and when he and Penny found themselves standing face-to-face, she dipped her hand under the water and helped wring him out. He winced, and then breathed out, and they kissed again, while her hand squeezed and twisted on him. Not so much like children, then. But when exiting the water on the other side, they were reborn, and were skipping happily up a clearly-defined trail, back into the woods.

"Wait, my clothes," Colin interrupted.

"We'll come back this way to get them. Nobody is going to bother them out here."

He believed her, and didn't want to wade across the creek again to retrieve them. Instead, he felt he'd rather follow this girl, wherever she went, and he suddenly liked the idea of being far from his clothes, of stepping out onto the beach with no option to get dressed. He could even hear the distant roar of the waves now as he and Penny danced through the trees.

Penny seemed to move faster, and Colin had trouble keeping up for a bit. She was a phantom in the forest, flashing skin in all that dimness, that he did not want to lose sight of.

Soon the trees broke and they stepped out onto a grassy hill, and below was the sandy beach. They both stopped to take it all in. It was indeed grand, and with the nude woman in his peripheral, and the air on his own nude body, Colin had the sense of something even grander, like they were two explorers. Then Penny broke into a run, and he followed. He ran into the full light of the sun. It was a quarter of the way down just ahead, over the ocean, signifying the eventual coming of evening, and Penny bounded out into that view, her hair flying, her rear-end shifting playfully with her grand strides, her arms out once again, innocent and free.

Colin collapsed onto his knees in the fluffy sand and panted. He watched Penny scamper out to the surf and splash ankle-deep, accept a small wave that cascaded against her body and left her glittering with countless droplets as she spun around, radiant, and then slowly made her way back up the shore to fall on her knees before him.

"Isn't it grand?" she asked him. It was a funny word to use, and it echoed his previous thoughts.

"Yeah," he agreed. Once again, the thought came to him that he had wandered into paradise. He gazed out at the endless sea and looked both ways up and down the surf to observe a beach that was as undisturbed as the Blue Lagoon, with his own Emmeline Lestrange before him, centered in all that grandeur. The sun was shining off her shoulders, and her teeth. And her hair hung in wet strands in front of her breasts like beaded curtains. The sun was hot on his own shoulders, and his thighs, and though the prospect of skipping in the surf with absolute freedom was inviting, he wanted to lay there first. To drink it all in. He had all the time in the world. Or at least an hour.

"Do people stay on this island?" he asked. "Like after the ferries stop running?"

"Some. There are a few cabins, but not many."

"Are you staying in one of them?"

Penny grinned even wider. "Yes, I am."

"Care for a guest tonight?" he asked. He suddenly didn't care about making the ferry now, and he imagined doing what they had done on the creekside again and again, in whatever bedroom accommodated them, or on the deck, or in the sand under the moonlight.

"Sure, that would be lovely."

Colin let his back fall onto the sand.

"Good, then I don't have to rush to make it back."

Penny loomed over him, her face blocking the sun, her hair tickling his chest.

"I think I'm gonna lay here for just a little bit," he said, looking up at her. "To get a tan."

"Sounds like an idea. I'm gonna go into the water a bit, I can't help it. I'll be back to join you."

"Okay," he said, as much as he did not want to be without her company. She flashed him one more grin—and a flash of her breasts rising as she stood and her hair fell away from him—and she turned and ran back out into the surf. He leaned his head up to watch her go, so golden, free, perfect, and all his, for the entire day, and he let his head collapse back and he counted how lucky he was. He stared at the cloudless sky and listened to the seagulls, and in short time, was happy in his solitude. There was something completely meditative about just lying there, bare, the sun and breeze blessing his skin, and his clothes way back in the forest, out of reach, and nobody to stop him. He smiled to himself, and closed his eyes, and found himself drifting off a bit.

He caught himself dreaming, because for a moment, he was leaning up to gape in wonder at at least a dozen women now coming out of the water with Penny, each of them nude, all of them varied in size and shape, but each one delectable, bouncing breasts, and some with tally-marks of pubic hair winking between their flexing thighs, all of them in a line, steadily approaching him, until he flitted his eyes open, and he was staring at the sky again. Silly fantasies, he thought. I have all the joy I need right here.

Then the sun was blocked by someone standing over him, and it wasn't Penny. It had the outline of a man wearing a baseball cap, and he could see the faint darkness of a beard as his eyes squinted.

"Okay, you've had enough sun. come with us."

"Whaa?"

Colin leaned up, and as his eyes focused, the sturdy-looking man—well over six feet—that was standing before him did not look amused, and he wore a dark blue uniform with a fluorescent orange vest over it. Another man, shorter, skinnier, was standing on Colin's other side, and he was holding a towel. Colin covered his crotch immediately.

"Here, take this," the second man said. "Where are your clothes?"

"They're back in the woods. Who are you?"

"Security. We had a complaint from the visitor's center that someone took off their clothes there. We've been tracking you down all afternoon. Here."

The man stepped around Colin to drape the towel over his shoulders, while the other man hooked his arms in Colin's armpits and pulled him to his feet. The towel hung feebly around his neck and didn't hide his penis hanging now loose and small below. He quickly pulled the towel off his back and tied it around his waist.

"I don't understand. Isn't this a nudist island?"

One of the men grunted and shook his head.

"Ain't no nudist area anywhere near this town, the residents don't want it."

"'Cause of perverts like you," the other one added. "Come on. We have a boat to take you back to the mainland, and to the police."

"But, my wallet and phone!"

"Shouldn't have left them far away. You can come back and get them after you're released, it's not like anybody's gonna bother them."

They led him down the shore, where he saw a motorboat moored in the surf, and no Penny.

"But I was told this was a nudity-required place!" Colin pleaded. One of the men laughed.

"Oh yeah? By who?"

"The naked girl! The naked girl in town! Surely everybody knows her."

"Son, the only naked person here is you."

"But she was on the boat! She stepped off with me onto this island!"

"He's on drugs."

"No!"

"Nobody saw anybody with you, sir. They said you stepped off the ferry alone and then went straight for the visitor's center and then came out naked, and you ran out into the field before anybody could stop you."

"That can't be, Penny was with me!"

"Penny for your thoughts? You can tell them all about your friend at the station. Now get in."

They led him to the boat and the end of his protective towel got wet and it fell off as he climbed in, and the men grunted and threw it at him angrily, and he draped it over his lap as they rode off into the tide and veered towards the mainland, Colin in a daze the whole time. When he got back to the mainland, nobody believed him about meeting Penny, and he was treated roughly and processed and had his mugshot taken, and was ticketed with public indecency and released a day later, still unsure if what he had experienced that previous day was actually real. He was given poorly-fitting clothes on his release, and he limped back to his Airbnb and entered via the security code and slept for a whole afternoon. Later that day, with just a couple hours to spare, he went back to the ferries and found the one going out to the island named—Stobblehouse island, he thought it was, but nobody knew what he was talking about. His questions about a nudist island were met with sneers, and his questions about a naked girl were met with laughs, and he stood on the pier, defeated, not knowing which island to go to for his clothes and belongings. As the sun set out past the river, and as he squinted his eyes, he thought he saw a flash of bare skin on the grassy bank on the other side…

The Great Naked Adventure

Diane was one of those girls that Shane's friends told him he ought to stay away from. Like that time he met an older woman at a party who seemed just a bit off, who was a widower and into the occult, who told him that she even knew the exact date of her death.

Dude, the date of her death is the same date she kills you with a shotgun, don't see her, one of his friends had warned. He didn't listen. She didn't try to kill him with a shotgun, but she did immediately propose marriage, and Shane had gotten out of there.

This girl, Diane, however, seemed much more level-headed. And, she was Shane's age; a very pretty five-foot-ten blonde, mild-mannered, and outwardly the perfect catch. But she was mysterious. Her time was always limited, she seemed to always allude to needing a few days to "work on some stuff," though that always seemed limited to her being inside her apartment, which would suggest she was a writer or artist of some sort, though she had never shared any details of creative pursuits with Shane. She probably felt guarded about what she did, he figured. Or maybe it was something she really didn't want to share. Maybe she drew furry porn, or maybe she wrote taboo erotica. Or maybe she was just an Onlyfans girl. The mystery drove Shane mad, and all his friends said that this was a red flag, that she's definitely got a man on the side, or that she's a prostitute, or that she's crazy. The last possibility had a couple of his friends actually encouraging him.

"Hell yeah, man, crazy girls are sex bombs. Just know when to get out, though."

The sex was good, but not really explosive as far as Shane was concerned. He had the feeling that a deeper part of this girl was waiting to be unraveled, and once unraveled, it would make him fall in love with her. That, of course, could be dangerous, too. It was all so exciting.

He called her up one Saturday afternoon to see what she was up to while he happened to be downtown. She sounded mentally distracted at first but then cheerily agreed to meet him for coffee. Shane got there first and ordered something and sat by the little bar at the windows looking out at the street until Diane arrived. She came looking as arresting as ever: plain, but remarkably pretty at the same time, her bright blonde hair highlighting her face, which looked a little tired. Even her hair was a little frazzled.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," she said when she walked up. "I almost forgot to put something on."

Shane smiled at the thought of her forgetting to put on clothes before leaving her place, stepping out into the bright day nude instead of in the sweatclothes she wore now, until he realized the significance of what she had said. She is a prostitute. Holy shit.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Oh. Yeah. I just remembered something I have to do later."

"Story of my life."

Shane took a sip of his coffee and studied Diane. Despite her frazzled appearance, she seemed all smiles, perfectly relaxed. Like she just got done having a good lay.

"What have you been up to?" he asked, watching for when her expression changed.

"Oh... it's hard to explain. I know I've been off the radar a couple days."

Maintaining eye contact. Smile slightly receded with genuine apologetic expression. Absolute facade. She was good at this.

"You working on like a project or something?" he asked her, prodding into the possibility that she was just a furry porn artist.

"Kind of…" Her expression changed, like she was fighting against finally revealing what she was hiding. Then her eyes lit up. "Tell you what. You wanna stop by my place after this and I can show you?"

This was it. he was finally going to get to the bottom of this. He was finally going to unravel her personal secrets. Maybe she wasn't a prostitute, afterall. Maybe she was some mad eccentric. Or maybe she was into the occult and paranormal like that other woman had been. Maybe she was summoning demons.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great."

She smiled and they both drank their coffee, Shane imagining what was going to happen next. He had not been inside Diane's apartment except for one brief time when he had picked her up. When they had sex, it was at his place (and like a guy, she always had to dip afterward, never spending the night). He didn't recall anything looking out of order. No red flags. But a lot could have changed. They chatted about other things while they finished their coffee and Shane kept imagining different possibilities, anything from an innocent hoarding of Hello Kitty memorabilia to a collection of human skin lampshades.

They hit the sidewalk shortly after that, as Diane's apartment was just down the street. Shane walked with his hands in his pockets, nervously anticipating what secrets were about to be revealed.

When they got to her place, Diane swiped her keycard and Shane followed her in. They climbed the stairwell silently and then came onto the upper hall, which was only somewhat familiar, as he had only been there at night, where it should have felt more mysterious, but in the dim sunlight coming through the far window, there was something even more unnerving about the place. Then she unlocked her door and they entered.

It was a normal apartment, and very clean. What had been hidden in shadow before was now shown to be absent of dust and neglect. The kitchen counter was tastefully arranged with a bowl of fruit and well-organized cooking utensils, and her living area was spacious, with a long couch and a loveseat circled around a giant TV on the wall.

"Want any water or anything?" she asked.

"No, I'm good. So what was it you wanted to show me?"

"More like tell you. But there might be some show. Have a seat. I want to get something to drink."

Shane sat awkwardly on the couch and folded his hands in his lap. He felt like a stranger in someone's house, a feeling he always hated, but he shouldn't have felt like a stranger with Diane, except that there was so little he knew about her. He heard some ice cubes clink and then she appeared in the living room carrying a clear drink.

"Just to take the edge off," she said. "I'm a little nervous telling you this. But you wanted to know."

"Lay it on me," Shane said, leaning forward on his knees. Diane took a sip of her drink and then sat it down on the coffee table.

"Alright, well, this isn't something I'd share with just anybody, but I like you, and I think you ought to know."

Oh God, what is it? What is it? he wondered.

"...Have you ever heard of remote viewing?"

Oh jeez. She's another weirdo.

"You mean like out-of-body experiences?"

"Kinda. It's not exactly that. But it's a thing, and people can do it. That's not what I'm wanting to show you, though."

Christ, what is it, then? he thought. Quit leading me around in circles.

"Then what?"

"So... there are abilities that everybody has, but just have forgotten how to do over the ages. Telepathy is one. Clairvoyance is another. And yes, remote viewing. But there's another ability, and it's the hardest to master, but I'm one of the ones who can do it. I just got the hang of it last year, and it's pretty crazy."

Shane sat there in silence, waiting for her to reveal her secret. When she didn't continue, he couldn't help himself but to prod.

"What is it?"

"So I have the ability... to teleport. Anywhere I can imagine. Just like remote viewing, if you can fully imagine where you want to go, you can go there. And I can do that now."

She picked up her drink again and took a sip while Shane stared at her. Oh yeah, she's definitely crazy. He almost worried he had said that out loud, because Diane gave him a suspicious look.

"I don't want you to think I'm crazy," she said, as if she had read his thoughts.

"I wouldn't think that," Shane said. "It's just that that's pretty hard to believe. Shit, that's the big secret you wanted to tell me? I thought you were going to be a prost—serial killer or something."

Diane laughed it off effortlessly. "No, nothing like that. You can understand why I'd be hesitant to share this with you, though."

"I mean... yeah. Because I still don't believe you."

"I can show you."

"Please do."

"Even better... I can take you somewhere."

"How's that work?"

"To travel somewhere takes a lot of concentration. You have to really meditate. So you kind of have to be alone. But if you get good enough at it, you can do it on command, and I found out... well, if you're with somebody, and you're in physical contact with them... they come with you, too."

"Cool. So where are we going?"

"You don't believe me."

"Of course not."

"Where would you want to go?"

Shane closed his eyes and pictured somewhere, then looked at Diane.

"Somewhere nice, nicer than this shithole town. A beach... some paradise somewhere."

Diane smiled.

"I can do that."

"Alright. Well show me."

Diane took another sip from her drink and shuffled in her seat, getting ready to stand.

"There's one trade-off about this ability, though..."

Shane remained seated, staring up at her.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"When we go... your clothes don't come with you."

Shane smiled up at her and was already picturing her bare, as he'd been somewhat familiar with in the subdued lighting of his bedroom.

"I don't see the problem," he said with a smirk.

"That goes for you too, silly. I just wanted to warn you so you wouldn't be surprised. Here, come on. Stand."

She put out her hands and Shane took them and slowly stood facing her. It felt like they were holding hands in front of an altar. And perhaps they were about to be closer. Or, at least, Diane must have thought so. Shane would have ran away, except that it felt like he was being set up for a joke, and that Diane didn't actually believe what she was saying.

"So what happens to our clothes?" he asked. Do they disintegrate, or...?"

"They stay here," Diane explained. "If someone were watching, they'd see the clothes just suddenly fall to the ground, empty. That's why it's hard to make practical use of teleporting: you'd either be leaving your clothes behind wherever you leave from, or you're naked wherever you're going. You can't be covert with it."

Shane laughed, Diane's hands still lightly held in his.

"I bet. So I won't be able to teleport into a bank to rob it, would I?"

"You wouldn't even be able to take the money with you," she said. Shane regarded that and nodded.

"Oh yeah. I guess not."

"Alright, enough chatter. Let me focus real quick. Hang on."

Shane shut his trap and watched Diane's eyes fall closed as she stood there, back straight, her fingers growing tight around his hands. She looked like a Jedi. He tried not to laugh. Am I supposed to close my eyes, too? he wondered. He didn't want to break her concentration by asking. Not that he actually believed she needed to concentrate. None of this was real. She was going to open her eyes any second now and grin and—a rushing wind came from underneath them and Shane squeezed his eyes shut reflexively. Against his eyelids was a sudden light, and then there was heat on his soles. His bare soles. He opened his eyes again, and in front of him was Diane still, her eyelids slowly opening and a smile spreading on her face, and behind her was the most picturesque view of an endless, blue ocean and shining sky.

"No way..."

She relaxed her grip on his hands but he couldn't let go of her now as he turned his head and saw a long stretch of black beach one way, then turning and looking and seeing a long stretch the other way, the sand as dark as coal, and a high cliff beyond. Stretching his neck to look behind him, he saw lush vegetation and—shit, were those houses? His chin glancing on his bare shoulder and the intense heat on his bare back put all the senses in light: he was buck-ass naked and out in the open. His neck spun back and he gandered at Diane, naked as a Playboy model on a beach shoot, her familiar, bared breasts now colored gold in the sun, her familiar, dime-sized areolas twin-winking at him from the fullness of her chest, and his eyes fell to behold his own nudeness, his free-hanging self next to his well-trimmed partner. He finally let go of her hands.

"What..." he slowly panned the beach, and gradually felt self-conscious. His hands went to his privates. His ass: unprotected. He was about to turn it towards Diane, to hide it from potential voyeurs, but he spun back around.

"Where are we?"

"I think it's Tahiti," Diane said, shielding her eyes and scanning the area inland, unconcerned with covering herself as Shane was doing.

"You think? I thought you said you knew where you were going."

"I never said that exactly. It's more difficult than that. You can think of a place, but it's more of an impression. You get what you put in. So I thought of what you said and, well..." She threw out her arms. "Here we are!"

Shane panned the scene again. The beach was secluded, and for hundreds of feet around, he could be seen, if anybody was looking. But nobody was in the immediate area. The tops of those roofs peeked over the row of vegetation though, and he wanted to get as far away from them as he could. On the horizon, the waves climbed high and violently. Was this really Tahiti? Maybe it was one of the small islands. Still, the feeling of standing out in the sun naked with no consequence and no way to cover up was... incredible.

"This is incredible," he said. His hands fell away from his crotch and he just marveled, then marveled back at Diane. "I'm sorry I snapped there, it's just..."

"Liberating?"

"Yeah... I guess."

"It's kind of a thrill to pop up in an area you don't fully know the layout of, and to pop in there naked. But it looks like we landed in a good spot. This must not be a populated area. How about a walk?"

Shane looked at her, exasperated, and just shrugged.

"Yeah, as long as we don't get caught. Hell, I'm thinking of where else we could go."

"Where else would be better to go naked than a beach?" she asked. They turned and began walking down the surf.

"How about Mars?"

"Kinda need oxygen to breathe there," Diane said.

"Right... has anybody tried to imagine another planet that does have the same conditions as this one?"

"I don't know... I think a lot of people probably think it's too risky."

"Yeah, I guess."

As they walked, Diane's knuckles brushed against his, and his fingers brushed against her bare hip, and he hooked his fingers into hers and walked side-by-side with her on the beach, both of them naked; an incredible feeling. He was paranoid about being looked at, and kept darting his eyes up to the shore.

"What do we do if someone sees us?" he asked.

"They might not care. But if they do, it's not like we're from around here, right? We'll just run to a hiding spot and teleport out of here."

"Awesome..." That feeling of security made it more palatable to walk exposed before God and everybody. It even got Shane a little excited, as much as having his nude companion next to him. Soon, his lesser self was reaching up to lead the way for them. Diane didn't seem to notice, for she was admiring the scenery.

"So do you keep in touch with others... others who can do this?" he asked her. "Is there like a secret network of you guys or something?"

"Not so organized. The people that can do it, and say it, they aren't going to be believed by others, except for others who can also do it. It's like, when you know, you know. That's about all there is."

"'Cause you'd think like the government or something would want to be able to tap into this."

"They probably already have," Diane said. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Man..."

"There's a lot to the world that you didn't realize, huh?"

Shane stopped walking to admire where he was, and in what state he was in, along with Diane, and he turned to look at her.

"No kidding," he said, his eyes passing down her bared body, as he'd never before seen it, in such open light. Now she noticed his arousal, for it was a hair's distance from her thighs. His sensitive head brushed against her skin and she broke a smile.

"I wanna take you," he said to her. "Right here. Under the sun."

Now Diane showed her teeth, and looked up to glance around to make sure nobody was near. They had passed the view of the houses. It looked like they had the beach to themselves. But still, doubt pulled down her joyous expression when she looked at him again.

"Sex on the beach isn't as cracked up as it's made out to be, though," she said.

"You've done it?"

"Well, no..."

She looked down, down past his full erection, to her toes, which she dug into the black sand. Shane did, too. It looked coarse, not as fine as the beaches he was used to. It might not be so bad. Her eyes came back up to him again. She took his hands. They fell to their knees. Shawn had a moment to again appreciate the beauty all around them, the sky so big and open, the very tall waves crashing and the incessant sound of it all, and the wind in his hair. They knelt in front of each other appreciating the scene and themselves, and then, finally, Diane leaned in to hiss him, one hand on his burning shoulder, the other wrapped around his now-permanent erection. He grasped her back and allowed himself to fall backward on his butt. The sand burned hot under him, on his nuts, and he laid out on the ground to take the full brunt of it.

"Better with me on bottom," he said. "So you don't get sand in... well..."

She smiled and descended on him. Her face came to meet his, and he arched his hips up into her, and they twisted on the sand. Then Diane raised her face again, straightened her back, and rode Shane while looking up at the sky. The look on her face was one of pure bliss, and it mirrored Shane's own feelings, seeing her move, her hair falling aside and the sky absolutely brilliant behind her, waves crashing as pangs of pleasure traveled down him... this was as picturesque and heavenly as nothing he'd ever experience again. And when he was done, he could jet safely back to home. This was better than VR.

He had each of his hands on her hips as she gyrated on him, and he could feel the coarse sand gritting between his butt cheeks, but it was not too bad. He had always heard about how sand would get everywhere, and in everything, but that was the white, powdery sand of white beaches and the granular, familiar sand of the Southeast beaches from his memory. This was different, more manageable, and more exotic. He could still hardly believe that he was enacting the Hollywood fantasy of sex on the beach, and his mind tore him away from the fantasy to lean his head back and make sure the moment wasn't going to be interrupted by anyone, but nobody was there, except for the soft moans of Diane. He looked back at her and saw that she had embraced the moment, had embraced him, and was wanting it as much as him. She arced her back more and more until her head was thrown back, her hair tickling her butt, her chest thrust out and moving rhythmically. The sun shined on her skin. It was such a beautiful sight. Shane found himself grunting and gritting his teeth at the combined physical and visual pleasures until the swell passed and he found that he could keep going. Diane, however, could barely contain it, and lurched forward, nearly falling on him. Her hands slapped into the sand on either side of his face, and her lips came down and breathed onto him, and his hands slid up her back again and they embraced, tangled, and turned over and over in the sand. They rolled, her on bottom for a moment, making Shane break his promise, and then they lay on their side, and they had angled so that the tide was coming up and washing over them, dousing their heat with surprising coldness, and the pure sensation of it electrified Shane's body from head to toe, and he tensed. When the water receded, they were on steaming sand, and when another wave came, they were fully enveloped for a moment, until the water fell away and Diane's wet hair was hanging in his face, and her face was strained but grinning. He grasped at her then, tried to lean up and pull himself into her, and they embraced and were nearly seated upright when he pushed his hips one more time and came, and let his pleasure be voiced for the whole world. She clawed his back and echoed his sentiment, and then their bodies slowed and they sat there in the sand as another wave came and crashed against them, cleaning them of sweat. They were panting when the tide pulled back.

"Wow," Shane said in a ragged breath, right in her face.

"Yeah..." she said with as much force.

"I hurt a little."

"Me too. The sand's rough."

"But not too bad."

"No."

"Did it get in you?"

"A little. Let's wash off in the ocean."

"Great idea."

They stood, and the air cooling their wet skin gave Shane a little chill. Goosebumps traveled up his arms and his nipples stiffened into hardened points, and with Diane's hand and bouncing body next to him, they skipped into the water.

It was not as pleasant as an Atlantic beach. The tide pulled and took them off balance, and then crashed into them with forceful waves. They were stumbling and laughing, at some points up to their shoulders but suddenly only ankle deep, when they decided to make for dry land, still hand-in-hand, aware of only themselves, like two eternal lovers. It was all that Shane could have hoped for, all thanks to her secret, which was a thousand times more fantastical than he could have imagined. He almost didn't want to teleport back home. But tomorrow, they could visit Bermuda. Hawaii. Okinawa. A desert island all to themselves. He opened his mouth to ask her about unknown destinations when someone else's voice came instead. It was far behind them, but not that far. Both Shane and Diane spun around to see a man standing on the beach, in shorts and a white shirt, calling out to them. His voice sounded authoritative and questioning.

"Shit, let's go, I guess," Diane said, and with a laugh, they both broke into a run, with the man's voice calling after them. Diane seemed beside herself: "Isn't this a thrill?" she asked.

"Yeah," Shane said with panting breath. "As long as we can get out of here."

"Let's head around that cliff and then we'll go," Diane said, raising her hand to point at the rock wall ahead. They broke into a sprint, and never did Shane feel so free, the wind buffeting his entire bare torso, his genitals moving freely, the rough sand on his feet the only pain, the only thing tethering him to reality, because outside that, it felt like he was rushing through the air, as if any clothes he could be wearing would slow him down, and now he was unburdened. He glanced over at Diane, her chest bouncing fiercely, her hair flying behind her, and he figured she must feel the same way. Then he put his eyes forward. He didn't dare look back. But he couldn't hear the man's voice anymore.

They were then at the bottom of the cliff. It came right up to the water's edge. Carefully, they stepped around it, Shane following Diane, and the ground was treacherous. The rocks were slippy and sharp. Diane almost slipped and Shane reached out to steady her. Up ahead, things didn't look very passable. Finally Shane looked back, and they were out of view of the stretch of the beach they had left, whether the man was on his way or not.

"End of the road," Shane said. "Now's the time. Let's do it."

"Okay. Here."

Diane stood as best she could and braced herself with one arm against the rock wall, extending the other for Shane to take. He grabbed her hand, and they tried to keep their balance there as the waves hit them. Diane closed her eyes like before and traveled inwards. The longer they stood there, the more at the mercy of the elements Shane felt. His feet hurt from the rocks. They may have even been cut. The wall was rough against his palm, and here, on the sheer side of the cliff, the wind was strong and cold. He began to feel naked and vulnerable, but Diane's apartment would be welcoming them soon.

But they stood there for a full minute. Diane's eyes fluttered open.

"Shit."

"Shit? What do you mean, shit? What's wrong?"

"It's not working. Probably too much distraction. Let me try again."

"Hurry."

"Don't stress me."

"Sorry."

She closed her eyes again, and Shane waited, watching her. Again a minute or more passed, with her face growing more and more strained, and there they remained, on the rough side of the cliff.

"Why isn't it working?" Diane stressed with her eyes still clenched shut.

"Don't force it."

"I'm not!" Her eyes shot open again. "Fuck. Let's try somewhere else." She took his hand and started to lead him back from where they came.

"Back there?"

"We can't go any further. There's no choice. Come on."

Side-by-side with her Shane went, carefully navigating the sharp rocks until they were back on the other side again and their feet were on normal sand. And up ahead was the stretch of beach they had made love on, and very near was the man, who was standing still now, shielding his eyes to try and spot them. Then, he perked up and shouted something again.

"Come on!" Diane cried, and squeezed Shawn's hand as she ran inland, towards a line of foliage, away from the shouting man. Shane felt the air envelop his whole body and felt the cool wind on his ass, knowing it was in the man's sight as they left, and he suddenly didn't like being naked outdoors anymore. They dove into the bushes and crouched, both of them panting, and Diane grasped Shane's hand with both of hers (please don't let go, he thought) and closed her eyes again, almost on the verge of chanting. Before they could be whisked away, though, they heard the man tromping up the sand, and soon his voice called out in Tahitian. Diane sprung to her feet and dragged Shane along, and he heard the man shout out, and soon they were running down a well-padded lawn of grass, with what looked like a village or tourist area up ahead. They nearly froze in their tracks, but had to keep going because of the man shouting behind them.

"Shit, shit, what now?" Shane shouted. Diane said nothing and ran faster than him, nearly slipping out of his hand as they passed a bank of huts where a tourist group indeed was standing, watching a demonstration of a man shaving a coconut, but all stopping to watch the streakers pass. Shane heard some hoots and hollers of encouragement. And, terrifyingly, the area up ahead seemed even more populated. They hit pavement and saw cars and lines of people walking. They were dead-center in the middle of all of it. Funny, that they had had sex just a hundred yards away, and nobody knew. But now they knew and saw everything. Diane's hand squeezed Shane's tighter, and she darted to the left and pulled him along. Everywhere they went, there were shouts of surprise. They left the pavement and darted through short, sun-burnt grass, through an open area of wide-spaced trees. There was nowhere to hide. They would stop at one tree and peek back to see if anybody was pursuing, comically trying to hide both of their bodies behind the one tree while their asses were exposed, and which ushered up more shouts from behind.

"Shit!"

"Let's go this way," Shane suggested, pointing towards a row of hedges and more trees behind. They broke cover and rushed laterally across the field, while curious onlookers closed in from either side. The hedges were spaced enough that they slipped through, but not without some scratches, and they came out into a more densely-grown area, but still not satisfying enough for cover. Not for long, anyway.

"Stop, stop, let's try again," Shane called. Diane halted. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling, and trickles of sweat were running down her temples and collarbone.

"Here."

She stuck out her hand and Shane took it. This time he closed his eyes, too. They stood in the middle of the group of trees like two mystics about to approach Nirvana, with the voices echoing in the background. Shane's heart was beating furiously, and he could feel Diane's pulse in his palm. Nothing happened. Diane growled in frustration, and when Shane opened his eyes, hers were open as well.

"This's never happened before," she said defensively.

"But you were alone before, right?"

"No, I had someone with me when I discovered others could come along, remember?"

"What happened to him?"

Instead of answering, Diane pulled him along and they ran again through the trees, to put more distance between them and their pursuers. Soon they came to another row of hedges, and they could see thatched roofs on the other side, and they crouched and conspired.

"Maybe this is just too much stress and you can't concentrate," Shane offered in a near-whisper.

"No, I've been in tight spots before. I've gotten too good at this for it not to work now."

"Well what's different about this time than before?"

Diane shook her head. She looked legitimately worried, but it was hard not to be incensed by her vulnerable appearance, by all her bare skin, and the feeling of his privates dangling free as he crouched. He felt connected to her for sure.

"I don't know," she said, and she stared downward, past Shane, through Shane. Then her eyes shot up. "Oh my god."

"What?"

"Well, I've never had sex while traveling."

They both stared at each other in sober realization.

"You think I... I drained you somehow?" Shane asked.

"It's the only thing I can think of. Nothing else is different."

"Shit. I'm Sorry? I guess. I just couldn't help myself."

"I'm not blaming you. We didn't know. This is a learning experience."

"So what now, then?"

"Well, maybe all we have to do is wait? I guess we better find a place to hide until then."

"Good idea."

Shane made to stand, but then fell to a crouching position again.

"Where, though?'

Diane let out a sigh and scanned her eyes.

"I don't know. Right here?"

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Hell if I know. Thirty minutes? An hour?"

"Maybe we should just crouch here and hold hands until it happens."

Diane smiled.

"Okay. While we're safe."

Shane didn't feel safe. The stretch of trees they had just ran through was still openly-spaced enough for somebody to see. This was hardly hiding. But their pursuers had apparently given up. He slipped both of his hands into Diane's and they looked each other in the eyes and for a moment, Shane felt as close to her as he ever could be, even without being inside of her. Then they both closed their eyes in unison.

"Well hey there!"

Both of them shot their eyes open and looked up at the top of the hedges, where a man's face was peering down at them. Diane actually shrieked and jumped to her feet, pulling Shane's hands up with her, and in the panic, he stumbled and fell back onto the grass while Diane fled.

"Hey, don't go!" the man cried. "I was only curious!"

"Who is it, honey?" came a woman's voice from behind him. Diane had stopped, turning around and hugging herself, looking at Shane and mentally urging him to come on. He was scrambling to his feet, but when he stood, he was eye-to-eye with the man on the other side of the hedges.

"Just some streakers!" the man called back over his shoulder. "I guess there's a nude beach here."

"Sweet!"

"Actually, there isn't," Shane blurted out. Diane's eyes grew huge and she motioned with her head for him to run, but now a middle-aged woman was stepping up beside the man. They were white, the man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and the woman in a blue floral dress and sunglasses, which she lowered to get a gander at Shane, standing on her toes to tip her head over the edge of the shrubbery. Shane saw an opportunity and he took it.

"Can we hide here?"

"What kind of trouble are you two in?" the man asked.

"Long story."

"Come on over, either way. This is sure a trip."

The man turned from them and walked away from the hedges, but the woman remained, getting an eyeful of Shane and his ass as he went over to Diane and took her hands.

"Who cares, we're not from around here, right?" he told her. "But if we can chill with some people who don't care, then that'll buy us some time."

Her face, sobering, nodded, though her arm remained clasped over her breasts and her palm over her bush. Shane turned and walked with her to the hedges, where they ducked through and came out into a small little lawn with a fire ring and some outdoor furniture, the backyard of a small shack that the couple was staying at. Shane strangely did not have the urge to cover himself; he let it all hang out, which seemed to please the woman with the sunglasses, who let them fall back down on her face and then beckoned them over to the chairs, glancing over her shoulder and smiling. Shane was a grower, so he didn't see any reason why the woman should be impressed right now, but her attention definitely had him slowly growing. He put a hand on Diane's back and felt her flinch as they walked into the center of the lawn.

The man adjusted a chair and motioned to it. "Have a seat. Want a beer? Or maybe a cocktail?"

"I'm fine," Diane said, tightening her embrace on herself so the man could not leer, and probably not wanting to add any more variables into the situation. If she was drunk, she probably wouldn't be able to teleport. Shane realized that. He wanted a beer real bad, though, but he shook his head too. "Maybe some water, though," he said.

"Comin' right up."

The man disappeared up the porch steps and into the cabin while his partner settled down into the chair and spread her dress over her legs. Shane led Diane to the chair that the man had offered and she cautiously sat, her arm and hand relaxing a bit in the presence of just the woman, and Shane took a seat and self-consciously folded his hands over his groin.

"So tell me your story," the woman said, looking directly at them and picking up a cocktail with a little umbrella from a side table. "Just decided to go running naked?"

"It's a long story," Shane repeated. He felt her eyes all over him. It was all he could do to contain his penis' arousal underneath his hands. In another minute, it would be impossible to hide.

"Well you both certainly look like you're having fun. I'm envious."

Shane bit his lip, held his comment back, but then let it spill out.

"Well what's stopping you?"

The woman smirked, sipped on her drink, and looked intensely over at Shane and Diane (mostly just Shane). Diane even looked at him and gave him an expression that seemed to say "what are you doing?"

Without any further comment, the woman sat her glass down on the side table, stood, and grasped the front of her dress. In a full second, it was pulled off of her, and she was revealed underneath. She wore no undergarments, and she was remarkably tan except for the ghosts of a two-piece widely framed over her full breasts and fat mound of hairs. She let the dress fall over the arm of her chair and raised her hands to the sky.

"Ahhh," she said. "Wonderful. And nobody is around to see." All she wore were her sunglasses and her studded sandals. And then her partner stepped out and took a breath.

"Alright, I like this theme!" he called, holding a glass of water in each hand and a grin on his face. "I don't know why we didn't do this sooner!"

He came down the steps and approached Shane and Diane, his eyes boldly on his wife and stealthily on Diane. He handed the drinks to them and it was obvious he was getting an eyeful.

"Tell you what," he said. "This looks like the perfect way to enjoy Tahiti. I don't know why we haven't been naked this whole time."

"Probably because anybody could peek over the hedges and see," Diane said, finally speaking. The man glanced at her briefly but then looked back to his partner.

"Well, you two don't seem to care, so why should we?"

Shane looked at Diane and they both held their gaze a moment before he simply shrugged. At least they had a place to wait things out. The funny thing was, he was becoming more and more comfortable sitting there naked, especially now that their hosts were disrobing as well. The man pulled off his shirt, dropped it on his chair, and without ceremony or fanfare, he pulled down his shorts, which were just swim trunks; nothing underneath except a small, flitting penis and sparse hair. He kicked away his shorts and stood proud before them.

"Now this is more like it," the man said with a grin. "I feel refreshed."

"Not yet," his partner said, raising her half-empty glass. "I think this calls for more refreshment!"

"Good idea." The man looked down at Shane and Diane. "You sure you don't want something hard to drink?"

They both shook their heads. The man chuckled and seemed to make it a point to stand there for a second so that they had no choice but to stare at him in all his nudeness, and then he finally turned and walked back to the steps.

"I'll be back!" he called. The woman stood with her glass in hand, also presenting herself, whether she intended to or not, to the eyes of their guests.

"I'm coming in, too. You can't make a mojito right."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Be right back, dears," the woman said with a sly smile, and then she drifted past them, passing very close to Shane’s chair, enough that he could feel her body heat and glimpse her ass out of the corner of his eye as he tried not to stare. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and stared straight ahead until he heard the door fall closed, and then he and Diane looked at each other.

She looked tense, but not as stressed as before. She almost looked at home, slouched in the chair, the sun on her chest.

"Wanna try it again?" she asked.

"Yeah, let’s."

They sat their glasses on the little side tables next to each of their chairs and then they held hands. Their eyes went closed as they listened to the sounds of birds and people in the not-too-far distance, and the sound of further distant cars, and the roar of the ocean, and then a louder roar overtook them.

When the nude couple came out, they looked down at the empty chairs with disappointment.

"Oh, I guess they decided to split," the man said.

"Maybe we scared them off."

"Nah, they probably didn’t need us anymore. They have places to go. But we don't."

His partner smiled at him and said: "We sure don't," and they clinked glasses.

*****

They landed painfully on hard floor and Shane's eyes shot open to see the dim sun through Diane's apartment window. It was now cold from the A/C, though the sun's warmth was still radiating off his skin. His hand was still clasped in Diane's, and she was still as nude as him, all this evidence of the adventure they had just had.

"I... I can't believe it."

Diane let go of his hand, leaned forward, rubbed the small of her back, and then stood.

"Believe what? That we made it out of there, or that we went there in the first place?"

Shane gazed up at her, still able to be in awe of her figure despite all that had happened.

"Both."

Diane sighed and walked to the far window, gazed out, and then closed the blinds partially so as not to display herself to the whole town, but she did not hurry to get dressed. She was obviously comfortable being nude. Shane, however, was suddenly uncomfortable again. He felt weird to be sitting there with his junk exposed, at least if he wasn't erect. He fought the urge to put his hands in his lap and tried to experience that feeling of normalcy again. Diane began to pace.

"What's wrong?"

"It just really bothers me that I wasn't able to bring us back at first. I've never had that happen before. I guess it was the sex, but I can't be sure."

"I guess you have a lot to learn about all this still."

She stopped, looked at him, and a warm smile grew on her, which complimented her in nude profile, backlit by the half-closed blinds in the dim light. It was an arresting image.

"Yeah, I guess so. That's life, huh?"

"That's life."

She started to walk towards him, her smile permanent, and Shane shuffled forward so he could stand, but before he could and before Diane made it close to him, there was a sudden flash and then the impression of falling powder between them. Shane didn't even have time to shield his eyes, and as they adjusted, he was staring at a row of four asses, only one of them appealing: smallish, shapely, a girl's ass, followed by four lumpy and obviously male asses of increasing size. The backs of the four strangers blocked Shane's view of Diane, and he scrambled to his feet.

"Miss, we're here to put a stop to your abuse of your abilities," one of the men said in a rather plain, unassuming voice. Shane could see Diane's face in between the intruder's shoulders as she gasped for a reply.

"A-abuse?! I didn't know! I was only showing him around!"

The four people half-turned and looked contemptuously at Shane. He had the inclination to cover himself again, though they didn't cover themselves. The woman was rather thin and attractive, with soft-looking, fist-size swells for breasts, and one of the gentlemen, the one right next to her, was rather lean and toned. The next one had a large belly, and a small penis. The other two looked around middle-aged, husky, like aged fathers. None of them were smiling.

"Yes, I see," the big-bellied one said. He turned back towards Diane, as did the others.

"We're going to have to have you both come with us," the man said as he turned. "We can't allow you to—"

Diane burst forward, shooting through the group like a linebacker. Shane jumped back but she wrapped her arms around him in a giant hug, and they went tumbling over the loveseat.

"What—"

She squeezed him. her face buried into his neck. And then there was a flash, and for the first time, Shane got to see what it was like to travel with his eyes open. There was a white light, but not blinding, and when it faded, he was looking up at Diane's face and a tile ceiling above her.

She sat up immediately and pulled Shane to his feet.

"What the hell was th—"

"I don't know, but we're in trouble."

Shane looked around and could see that they were in an apartment hallway, most likely the very same apartment building, just outside her door, or on another floor.

"I'll say, we're out in the middle of the hallway naked! What do we do now?"

"Shhh, let me think."

Right then, one of the apartment doors opened, and an old lady with a sliver perm leaned her head out and then shrieked.

"Oh Go—perverts!"

Diane grabbed Shane's hand and turned from the lady, pulling him along to the end of the hall, where the fire escape was.

"We can't go out there like this!"

"I need to go somewhere to think!" Diane yelled. There were more voices filling the hall and Shane didn't want to look back, but then there was a flash in front of them and the big-bellied man blocked their path. Diane spun on her heels and wrapped Shane in a hug again and as they spun with inertia, he saw a glimpse of all the people gathering in the middle of the hall to see the naked people before the white flash came again.

The sun blinded Shane next, and this time he did raise his hand. A fresh wind buffeted his skin and hair, and he could hear the city below. Clouds above. Other buildings straight ahead. They were now on the roof. Diane let go of him and paced, and he hurried behind her, for he did not want to be left stranded.

"What the hell is that all about?"

"I don't know! I guess they're some sort of police."

"Do they know ahead of time where you're traveling?"

"How should I know?"

"We can't run forever."

"I gotta think...."

"Maybe we should go with them."

Diane shook her head violently; her hair flew all around her bare shoulders.

"Uh-uh. I got a bad feeling about them."

"Well then what? Do we gotta disappear?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I'm not ready to go on the witness protection program. I got lots of friends here."

"Well I'll just leave you naked here on the roof, then."

She closed her eyes, and Shane felt a jolt of panic.

"Wait!"

He rushed her and threw his arms around her the same way she had done to him. They turned and began to fall, and before they hit the ground, Shane saw the roof access door opening and a naked person stepping out. Then there was a flash, and an even greater blinding brightness, complete with howling wind, which wasn't nearly as noticeable as the intense burning all over his skin. They landed roughly on hard earth, which also burned, and was loose and gritty under their skin. Shane got the terrifying image of a volcano out of his mind as he rolled off of Diane and sat up, and besides the ashen sky, the rest of his surroundings were certainly not a volcano. His body shook violently as he squinted his eyes against a sheet of snow and could make out faint mountains nearby.

"What the fuck, Diane?"

Diane got to her knees and her hands wrapped around her chest. They huddled close.

"I-I was trying to think of somewhere they wouldn't find us!" she said with a tremble.

"Too isolated, too isolated! Try somewhere else!"

It was all Diane could do to unwrap her arms from her chest. She was shaking terribly and they would surely die in seconds if she didn't think of something. Shane leaned into her more for the body heat than anything else, and in the flash of warmth from her skin, there was also the flash of familiar light, and then a new kind of heat.

His skin burned more fiercely than ever. The ground below was similar to the snow, but not quite the same, because it was sand. His eyes burned and he wondered about the consequences of traveling instantaneously from one temperature extreme to the other. He found himself screaming, and Diane was clutching him dearly, and over her stringy hair were the pyramids of Egypt.

He was panting against her neck.

"Are you serious?"

Diane let go of him and leaned back on her knees. They were not so isolated; a line of people in the distance, blurred by heat, were now pointing at them.

"I think we need to move again," Shane said. The voices started ringing up on the horizon. Diane stood.

"Hey, I know you want to work on your tan, but I don't think people here are going to be too friendly towards us being naked," Shane told her. He remained kneeling before her, as if praying to a god; a man praying to a naked woman, the history of the world.

"We gotta be around other people," Diane said, turning to him. "Or who knows what those guys might do."

Shane got to his feet. The sun was burning on his forehead (and other places) and the sight of Diane standing nude and glowing with the ancient structures behind her was so surreal, like something out of an 80's progressive rock album cover.

"Well we gotta be where we'll be accepted, then," he told her. "Can't you take us to a nudist resort or something? Nobody will look at us twice there."

"Alright, here," she said, and she stuck out her hands. Shane took them and she pulled him into her, and at the same time, the flash came, right as he closed his eyes. And this time, the unpleasant stench of car exhaust mixed with cooking food filled his nostrils, and the full sound of a city alive. He opened his eyes and they were on a sidewalk in front of a row of shops, and cars slowly made their way bumper-to-bumper on the street beside them. People were everywhere, and there was absolutely nowhere to hide. Shane found himself hugging Diane fiercely to him, as if to hide both her frontal view and his, and for security, as he looked up at the skyline and saw the Empire State Building piercing the heavens.

"New York City?!!"

Diane seemed as shocked as he was, as were the people who stopped what they were doing to stare.

"...I heard they have lax topless laws, at least," Diane tried to assure him.

"We gotta get outta this."

A man sweeping the sidewalk in front of a flower shop was doing it almost in slow-motion, as he looked at them more than he did the ground. He looked half-afraid but half turned on. Diane, meanwhile, scanned her eyes, ignored all the spectators, including a row of friends walking up the sidewalk towards them, and then she yanked Shane's hand and stepped towards the street.

"H-Hey!" He was helplessly pulled along, just in time to be beside the approaching trio of people—all young women—who smirked and smiled down at Shane's package and then met eyes with him briefly. He felt a little rattle in his heart. This kind of turned him on all of a sudden.

Diane, too, was turning and taking in all the attention that was being focused on her, from across the street, from astonished faces behind windshields coursing up the street, from above; everywhere. She turned to look back at the sidewalk where the guy with the broom had completely quit his chore, and her arm slipped around her waist, raising to cover her breasts but not willing yet, but then her head snapped back street-ward and that arm left her belly and raised into the air.

"Taxi!" she yelled. There was a squealing of brakes as the astonished cab driver looked at them through his side window.

"Come on," Diane urged Shane as she made for the cab.

"What the hell are we going to do, just stay on the run forever? We gotta find somewhere to lay low. Get us out of here."

"Working on it. Say mister, can you give us a lift? We'll pay you later."

The man, through his rolled-down window, said: "for you, missy, I'll take you to the damn Pine Barrens if you wanted to. Get in."

"Thank you. Come on, Shane."

Without any other option, Shane found himself piling in behind Diane in the back seat.

"Just don't be fartin' on my seats," the cabby said. Shane was about to pull the door shut when a hand reached out and grabbed it. It was the young woman, and she was still as naked as Shane and Diane.

"Go! Go!" he shouted.

"Shit..."

The cab shot forward and weaved around a stopped car and into the other lane, and Shane pulled the door shut before it got torn off. He looked out the back window and saw the young woman standing angrily in the middle of the street, shoulders heaving, as spectators gathered.

"What the hell have you folks gotten into?" the cabby shouted. "Is this some sort of cult shit?"

"They'll follow us anywhere now, they don't care," Shane said to himself. "This is like the Matrix."

"Shit... Where do I need to take you ‘Naketrix’ fuckers?"

"Just go straight for now," Diane said. "Get us out of the city at least."

She was breathing heavy, and Shane took her hand to comfort her, but also himself.

"You need to get us out of here," he said.

"I'm workin' on it man!" cried the cabby.

"I was talking to her."

The cabby glanced up at the rearview and his eyes narrowed in confusion, then he turned his attention to the road, but kept glancing back to get a peek at Diane, who was still breathing heavy.

"Are you alright?" Shane asked her.

"I... I don't know if I'm going to be able to move us anytime soon."

"What? Why?"

"I'm... I'm kind of getting turned on."

"Oh hell no!" cried the cabby. "Don't be making no mess on my seats!"

"Are you serious?" Shane hissed at his friend.

"I guess it's just being out there in front of everybody. I don't know... I just can't help it!"

"So what do we do?"

"We just ride it out."

"Well, do your best to try not to be turned on."

The cabby was glancing at them in the rearview, and then suddenly slammed on his brakes.

"Shit!"

Ahead of them was a police cruiser blocking their path lengthwise.

"Oh shit," Diane muttered.

"What the fuck you guys into?" the cabby shouted.

"Don't worry. They're here for us."

"We're not gonna get out of this," Diane said. They watched as two policemen cautiously approached the cab with guns drawn. Why they needed guns when their perpetrators were naked and had no way to conceal weapons was Shane's guess, but he knew they had to be cautious. He made sure to not give them any reason to squeeze the trigger and put his hands up.

"Shane..."

"Just play along. We got no choice now."

Reluctantly, she put up her hands as well, leaving her body exposed, and the doors were thrown open on either side and the foul New York City wind spilled in.

They were quickly taken, given towels, and led to the police cruiser, where Shane was thrown in, but not Diane. She was put in a second vehicle that arrived. Just having her more than a foot away panicked him; she was his ticket out of there. Now she could teleport out, without him, whenever she was good and ready. As he rode grimly to the police station, the cops in the front seat asked him all sorts of questions. "Thought you'd have a nice streak through town, huh?" but he remained silent.

At the station, he was taken in, had his prints and mugshot taken, asked his information, and given the orange duds to wear for now. Somebody asked him "what the fuck he was doing in New York," and next thing he knew, he was in a holding cell, wishing for some way out of this.

"How'd you get the uniform already?" a guy sitting a few spaces down asked him. Shane looked up at him and just rolled his eyes.

"It's a long story," he said.

"Try me. Were you streakin' or somethin'?"

"As a matter of fact, I was."

The man, scrawny, dark-skinned, wearing a cap and looking like he was at death's door, laughed and his body shook.

"Yep, figured you for some pervert."

"I'm not a pervert," Shane shot back.

"Oh yeah? then what're you doin' here, then?"

Shane frowned, looked out the bars at the cops sitting around their desks, wondering what nice cellmates Diane might have, and with her in his mind, he looked at the scrawny man again.

"Well you wouldn't believe me, but I met this girl..."

"How all good stories start."

"...And she and I teleported all over the world in a blink of an eye. All she had to do was hold my hand and we'd go wherever she was thinking of, and our clothes stayed behind."

The man lost his smile. He was just staring at Shane blankly now.

"...And anyway, that's how I ended up here."

"So you just teleported your ass to New York City then, huh? Sounds like a smart move. You should write for Hollywood."

"It's true," Shane said. "Not that I have to convince anybody."

"Well you better not try and convince them of that story, or you're not gonna be released. Or more like you is, but you're not goin' home when you leave here."

"Yeah."

"I'm talking about the loony bin."

"I know what you're talking about."

Shane resigned to hunching over on the bench and retreating into himself. Talking was doing no good. He didn't know why he even had tried it. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself that all this was real, that it was not some dream. He wished he had Diane with him. He suddenly felt for her, worried for her.

As if on command, there was a bright flash in the holding cell, and all there jumped back, except for Shane. He looked forward and grinned.

As the light faded and the particles fell like sand, there was Diane, standing nude and angelic in the cell.

"Holy!" the scrawny man started. Diane ignored him and put out her hand to Shane.

"Shall we go?"

"Let's," Shane said, and stood. Before all the bewildered men, he stepped up to the naked angel and then was engulfed in a heavenly glow, and when the light faded, there was an orange shirt and pair of pants left, falling to the ground, empty. The scrawny man rushed to the bars and shouted for help. Shane and Diane were not seen again.

*****

"Hey babe, look at this."

Dave was splayed out in the easy chair in their rented bungalow, nude, and when he called over his wife, she entered the room, nude as well. They had gotten quite used to being naked in short time, and wondered why anybody would even think to wear clothes in a place such as Tahiti.

"Take a look at this," Dave said, looking at his phone. "Someone shared this on our Twitter just now."

His wife came up to him and leaned on the armrest of the chair, with a fresh mojito that she had made in her hand. She rested her chin on Dave's bare shoulder and peered at what he wanted to show her on his phone. It was a picture of a crowded city street, with two naked people, a couple, a couple not unlike them, standing and looking embarrassed.

"Aren't those the two kids that came here?" David asked.

"Sure looks like them."

"Well this was just posted a minute ago."

His wife blinked.

"Well maybe it's an old picture."

"Nah, look at the caption."

His wife narrowed her eyes and confirmed that the picture was recently taken, because the poster said as much. Neither of them knew what to think, and they were left with a spooky, uncanny feeling that stayed with them for the rest of the day and almost spoiled the free-wheeling feeling they had gained from the openness and boldness of their visitors. Eventually, they went back out to their patio, and there they toasted their glasses, deciding that their new liberation was a gift from some supernatural power beyond, and they enjoyed their holiday, naked, until someone finally peeked over the bushes, but Dave called for them to come join them.

A Naked Pool Invite

There were a lot of things to not like about living in the middle of nowhere. There were no bars, no local hangouts to to entertain herself with while her husband was away on business, which was almost all the time. Of course there was Whisper and Tinder, but the dating pool for Villageville (what a quaint name) was shallow enough to crack your skull open in. Also, Karen didn't want a digital paper trail. Not that her husband, Bobby, really cared all that much. But there was not much fun to be had in Villageville, a little collection of houses in a town that didn't even have its own post office. It literally was just overpriced homes huddled together and woods, and that was it. Bobby wanted to live there to be out of the city, never mind that his work was in the city. So no, there was not much to do when she Karen home alone all by herself, but she was happy enough, because at least they had a pool.

Karen loved spending entire afternoons by the poolside, swimming, sunning, and listening to music from a nearby boombox. And even though there were houses both on the left and on the other side of the backyard, Karen and Bobby's yard was well-concealed thanks to hedges and trees, so Karen enjoyed herself as she naturally did: nude. Of course Bobby didn't mind, when he was home. Watching his trophy wife sluice across the water was a passive joy, and he was not worried about anybody seeing, either. Or perhaps he hoped someone would spy, so he could brag about his young thirty-something catch. He rarely swam himself, except on days where he was completely caught up and had no phone calls to make. In his absence, Karen would sit out on the patio and drink in the sun and feel a little thrill at the possibility that a second-story window could catch a glimpse of her in all her glory, and the thought left her petrified, until she decided to move again, wherein she was filled with nervous energy that soon turned to pure comfort, as she relished being unburdened and unclothed in the fresh air. She didn't even put clothes on when she went back inside, instead showering and going about the house with nothing on, looking out the living room picture window at their lonely street with the woods across, waiting for somebody to come walking or driving by and see her framed there. She even found herself scanning the treeline when out back, looking for faces or binoculars zeroing in on her. She had discovered one lone window, on the second story of the house catercorner to them, where somebody could conceivably see her, but the window was always dark. She had no idea who lived there, but every afternoon after spotting the window, she positioned her lounge chair so it would be in direct sight of it. She never saw anybody come to the window, but it filled her with a secure type of excitement nonetheless.

It was funny, but though her name was Karen, she didn't really share any similarities with the internet meme that carried her namesake. She was never one to lose her temper, never one to complain, and she certainly wasn't stuffy about sexuality. Like with how she embraced her private pool time, she made the best out of any situation, and she loved being nude. She loved the sun warming her skin, every inch of it, loved feeling her breasts free and baking under the sun. She loved the sudden, alarming feeling when she stood to walk along the side of the pool and realized that there were no clothes to hang off of her, and of course, she loved slipping into the water nude, where she forgot all about clothing or no clothing. But above that, there was a little thrill, the possibility of being seen, for she liked showing off. She liked the reactions she got from Bobby's friends and colleagues when they met her and marveled at his young wife in her thin dresses with plunging necklines, and she liked the few times she did run errands in the next town over, where she was out of place with how beautiful and elegant she was. If she had it her way, she would shop and dine nude, too. In a small town like that, she might not even get arrested. That fantasy was always in the back of her mind. And that sense of pride and exhibitionism stayed with her when one night, Bobby invited over some neighbors for beers and pizza. Bobby would have barbecued, but he was not a cook. All of their food was delivered.

That evening, sitting on the patio with the only light being the flickering tiki torches they had set up where she usually relaxed nude, Karen wore one of her trademark thin dresses, a midnight blue which made her also disappear when the moon went behind a cloud. Disappear except for her glowing arms and chest, which their neighbor's eyes strayed to.

The neighbors consisted only of one man, a traveling businessman not unlike Bobby (for that was how they bonded), and his son, presumably. No wife was present.

The man was calmly charmed by Karen's presence, and his eyes would linger only a little bit when he looked in her direction, and he smiled with his teeth when he talked to her, but then would return easily to discuss guy things with Bobby. It was the son who sat, uncomfortably, with his hands in his lap and his back stiff, and he would steal glances at Karen out of the corners of his eyes, as he tried to keep his head pointed straight ahead at the dark pool. He remained silent at first, and the father didn't even introduce him when they arrived, which Karen found strange, so when she stood to go inside and get another drink, she asked everybody if they needed anything, and Bobby and his friend said no, and that gave her the opening to look directly at the boy and ask him.

"How about you, hon? Did you want a soda or anything?"

The boy was startled out of his locked-up posture and hazarded direct eye contact with her, which he could barely hold.

"O-oh, no, I'm good, thank you."

"What's your name, anyway?"

"His name's Chad," the father said, "and he's old enough to drink. He just don't drink."

"Oh," Karen replied, looking back at the son, who shrank away from her attention. "I pegged you for sixteen."

"N-no, I'm twenty-two." Even in the flicker of the tiki torches, it was obvious he was blushing.

"He stays with me while he's finishing his online courses, then it'll be time for him to go out in the world, finally," the father explained, and the boy, "Chad," shrank into his chair. Karen flashed him a smile and said "well it's nice having you here, Chad," and he slowly looked up at her as if this were the first time he'd been told something positive about himself. She drifted to the back door and went inside to make her drink, keeping that boy's expression in her head the whole time. How a young man could reach that age and still carry himself as if he were a preteen, she couldn't understand, but not everybody grew up the same way. She had a feeling that he had a lot of growing up to do still, whether his father was helping with that or not. But it was none of her concern, really. Chad was an adult and he had to make his own path in life, just like she did (dating and marrying a rich man twenty years her senior and living off his wealth certainly wasn't the most prideful career path, but her mother approved). She tried to clear her mind of these thoughts as she stepped back outside with her rum and Coke and listened to Bobby and his friend talk about business ventures, and in sitting there, she had no choice but to butter up Chad again, to give him something to do (and to get him used to talking to a pretty woman, something he apparently wasn't used to).

"So what are you studying, Chad?" she asked, leaning over on her armrest and facing him, watching him squirm in his chair.

"Uh... business," he said. "Business science."

"Oh, do you want to be a businessman like your dad?"

"No, I want to start my own business..."

"What kind of business?"

His father leaned forward from where he was talking to Bobby.

"He wants to open one of those video game bars. I keep telling him they're a dime a dozen."

"Well, they're not many in this area," Karen surmised. The father actually raised an eyebrow and said: "well no, there aren't."

"I wonder how successful one would be around here," she asked. Chad was quickly falling to the back of the conversation.

"Depends on how many young people are here, and I don't think they're many."

"Well what if it was older games like Pac-Man and stuff? Games older people remember? I think anybody would come for those."

"When you get past a certain age, you shouldn't care about games anymore," the father said, casting a scowling look at his son as he did. Then he took a sip of his beer and his eyes lit up. "Unless.... wasn't there one of those video game bars in the news that became all-nude?"

"You mean like a strip club?" Bobby piped up.

"Kinda but no, all the clientele was naked, too. it was part of some movement."[i]

Chad shifted around and looked like he wanted to pipe up because he knew what they were talking about, but he sank into his chair and kept his mouth shut, a habit he probably developed living under his father.

"Yeah...," the father continued. "Something like that would probably make lots of money around here!"

"Maybe," Bobby said. "But you probably don't want to see any of the locals from here without their clothes."

The two men had a laugh at that, and Chad again shrank into his chair, and with a stiff neck, he fought his eyes from glancing over at Karen again, but she noticed, and then it hit her. Oh my god, she thought. Chad's seen me. It was obvious. She didn't even know what house they lived at, but they had to live at the catercorner one. Chad's demeanor, his nervousness around her... it wasn't just shyness. It had to be more. He had to have been watching her. Suddenly the familiar warm feeling came into her chest, and all the excitement of her fantasies came teasing back into her mind.

Bobby and the neighbor's chat went elsewhere and became muffled and indistinct in the back of her mind, and there was only Chad, who again retreated into his mental fortress. Karen thought it funny that his name was Chad, but that he didn't act like the stereotype of someone with the name, just as she really wasn't a "Karen." Chad was handsome, though, and could be a true "Chad" if he had the confidence.

Time passed with nothing left for Karen to ask Chad and for nothing left for either of them to say, both of them just listening to Bobby and his friend go on, and eventually they fell silent, too. Then Bobby announced he was getting another round of beers, and Karen sat, looking at the darkness of the pool, imagining herself there and Chad's eyes watching from above, and she had a sudden desire fill her up, so she announced it.

"Tell you what," she said. "I wanna go for a swim."

"Knock yourself out," her husband said. "I think I'm good."

Karen stood, and the eyes of Chad and his father followed her.

"Just a quick dip," she said, and she walked towards the shallow end of the pool, out of the reach of the torch light. There were lights equipped in the pool, but they had not bothered to turn them on, as nobody was planning on using it. All the better, for in the cover of darkness, Karen stood by the steps leading into the water and peeled off her dress. She didn't bother asking if it was okay. If the lights were on, that may have been a different story, but they could not see her complete nakedness, so it felt somewhat okay, somewhat private. Perhaps, if squinting enough, one could make out her bare skin in the passing moonlight or from the wash of the tiki torches. If Chad were indeed sixteen or younger, she wouldn't have done it either, but he was an adult, and what she was really doing was gauging his reactions. And giving him a show. She set her dress on one of the spare chairs and slipped into the water just as she heard the back door open as Bobby went into the house. With eyes no doubt fighting through the dark to see her, she sluiced through the water and experienced that weightless, free feeling of swimming nude, her body buzzing with the half-concealed exhibitionism, and relishing in the new experience of swimming under the stars. There was something cozy, comfy, and weirdly nostalgic about it. The air was warm but the water was chilly, and as she reached the deep end, very close in line with where her guests sat, she pushed her feet on the wall and threw herself backwards, paddling on her back, her nipples stiff in the night air as she looked up and tried to see stars, and she thought she heard Chad's father say something to his son, some word of encouragement, but the water filled her ears and their conversation faded to the background, and she was just by herself in the water. She may as well have been in a lonely lake at night. She relished this.

But swimming by one's self got boring after a while, and after one or two laps, and after Bobby came back out, standing to watch the faint image of his familiar wife exhibiting herself in the water, Karen went back to the steps and walked out, dripping, naked, into the suddenly chill night. She stood bare by the chair and wondered how well she could be seen. By the light of the moon and the torch and the light tint of her skin, she imagined she was not as well-concealed as she thought she was, and by the torchlight, she could see clearly Bobby, his friend, and Chad all sitting there, Chad especially with his eyes locked onto the sight.

"Say honey?" Karen called out of the darkness. "Could you bring me a towel?"

"Man, I just sat down. One moment."

She watched her husband get back up and walk to the back door, and she stood there in her half-hidden exposure and played her hand across her stomach, over her pubic hair, and then let them fall to her sides as she stood there in full view, wondering how much Chad could see. Probably less than he saw from the window in broad daylight, but here, so much closer, it was probably even more of a thrill for him. She shivered, and she didn't know if it was from the cold water evaporating on her skin or from her own thrill. Soon Bobby reappeared and walked around the pool deck carrying a blue towel.

"You're really pushing it, aren't you?" he said in a low voice as he approached her and wrapped the towel over her shoulders.

"Just relaxing the only way I know how," she said.

"That's my girl."

He leaned in for a kiss, and his hands caressed her bare skin; her wet breasts pressed into his shirt and she grabbed his ass, all in front of their guests, however much they could see. And then, when Bobby pulled back, he was grinning at her. His eyes cast down to admire her exposed body and then he turned away, giving one last look over his shoulder before returning to his friend as if nothing had happened, and Karen dabbed her body dry in the moonlight and watched Chad, whose eyes went to her, and then darted away, but kept coming back. She almost wanted to walk back to her chair nude. She thought of what Bobby would say, of how Chad and his father would react. It could go very well, or it could blow up in her face. As much as she loved the thought of sitting in her chair with her delicious naked skin mere feet away from her spectators, she was afraid of the negative consequences, of Chad's father suddenly being offended, of Bobby saying enough was enough, of Chad creaming in his pants. Well, that last thought wasn't so negative, but she decided she wouldn't be so bold, especially because deep down, Karen had a feeling she might be entertaining Chad some more. So for the time being, she dried off, took in one more time the feeling of the air cool on her skin, and she slipped her dress back on and returned to the group with her skin still slightly damp and cold-feeling from her dip, and her body sensed underneath her clothes as if she were not wearing them still, and this propelled her through the rest of the night.

*****

The next day made the previous night seem like a dream. She awoke, like normal, to an empty bed, her husband already up and doing his morning routine of making coffee and checking both e-mails and sports news. The cold-seeming morning light crept into their bedroom as she sat up and stretched and felt the satin of her nightgown slide on her skin (she would much prefer to sleep nude, but Bobby amazingly wasn't open to the idea; he found it to be uncivilized and strange). Then she made her way to the bathroom and then to the outer rooms of the house, where Bobby was at the dining room table and where she would soon join him with some coffee and a bagel. This was one of his home days. He would spend the morning at his computer in his den, going over business e-mails and later going out to the toolshed and pretending to sort things in preparation to do some landscaping work, which Karen knew would go undone until they hired somebody. And meanwhile, she lazed around the house, wishing to be naked, looking out the windows at the second-story panes facing the corner of their pool deck and imagining someone there...

"What did you think of Gregory's boy?" Bobby asked her later that day, over a late lunch.

"Who?" she asked, because she had not ever been told the neighbor's name, though it was obvious who he meant.

"From last night. His boy sure seemed meek, didn't he? It's a shame Gregory couldn't make a man out of him."

"Not everyone can be like their father," Karen countered.

"No," Bobby said with a mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich. "I guess not. But I do gotta wonder how he turned out that way. Seems to me like he's sheltered."

"Why do you worry so much about someone else's kid?" she asked. "Not everybody has the same life experience."

"True," Bobby replied, and finished chewing his sandwich, and dropped the subject, though Karen was still fixated on it, wondering herself just how sheltered Chad might be, and what he had seen and hadn't seen...

*****

A few days later, Bobby was off on one of his trips, and Karen had the house to herself again. And, as she'd been yearning, she tossed her clothes and stepped out onto the patio, seeking her chair and her spot of comfort for the morning, with that window framed by branches in the corner of her eye at all times, or at least, when she could manage it. She threw herself into the water from the shallow end steps as she did a few nights ago, and swam forward and closed her eyes, and again relished in the freedom of it all, of the birds chirping above, of the sun on her back and backside, and the cool water sliding over her skin. And when she got to the deep end and braced her arms on the lip of the pool and opened her eyes, she could see that window and looked up at it yearningly as well. But it was as empty as before. Perhaps nobody lived there. Perhaps it was as empty a house as the one in the old book she remembered reading as a child, When Marnie was There. Perhaps she imagined her phantom voyeur and applied Chad's face to it. Why did she need to be seen so badly? This question flitted across her mind but fell behind other thoughts of very possible prying eyes and secret lust, and her own comfort, as she paddled back across the pool and exited at the shallow end again, dripping and bare in the full sunlight, gazing at the open lawn on the side of their property, where it ended in a treeline. Such a cozy nude paradise she had for herself. She sighed with pleasure and walked around the circumference of the pool, throwing water off her hair and walking with great, showy strides to her chair. When she got there, she took her towel and dabbed off with it partially, and then spread it out to lay in the sun, and she cast a glance up at the window which she had strategically aligned her chair to, and got her first confirmation of a watcher.

It was a dark shape that took up most of the window, where before there had been the lighter impression of the darkness of the room beyond. Now there was an opaque presence, and at the sight of it, Karen froze. She squinted her eyes to make sure she wasn't imagining things, but then she saw the darkness move. Smiling, she spread out her towel and positioned herself on the lounger, stretching out her legs and making sure not to cover or conceal anything, and she put her hands behind her head and watched the window, in front of which birds passed by, and she could smell the fresh-cut summer grass of other lawns hidden from theirs, and she could hear the cicadas chirping. Suddenly the whole little town became alive, and she was the naked epicenter of it, though nobody knew. Nobody except whoever was on the other side of that window pane. And then, they reappeared, stealthily, as if unsure of themself, the shape took up space in the window frame, and from the distance, Karen thought she could make out the shape of a young man's head, and the exasperated, urgent expression on his face, which was imagined, but possibly only half-imagined. The shape stayed there this time, daring to look, daring to view Karen in her full glory, after having met her close in person and being so near her when she had decided to swim nude in the darkness. This shape, staying there, had all the hesitant body language that confirmed to Karen who was watching her. She did not avert her eyes; she stared directly at the window and then raised an arm and pointed at her voyeur directly. Then, turning her wrist, she curled one finger and motioned to come here. The shape in the window did not move, so she mimed with greater emphasis, using her whole hand: Come here. She had a sly smile on her face which she was sure could not be seen from so far away, but perhaps it could, for suddenly, the shape disappeared and the normal darkness filled up the window. Karen lowered her hand and waited with confidence. Bold confidence, confident in her body and with whoever would appear at the pool's edge to see her like some Greek goddess or creature discovered at the edge of a lost spring.

She heard a faint door opening, and closing roughly, and she smiled. She adjusted herself on her chair to get rid of a spot where the towel bunched up underneath her, and felt the weight of her breasts slide to the left, free, free to see, free for thee, come hither. come hither, boy, I want you to see. And then there was a rustle at the hedges and Karen tensed with expectation and immediately scolded herself. Why should she be so excited? She should be relaxed. So she relaxed. She let her limbs loosen and her chest fall just as Chad, predictably, came up between a space in the shrubs and stood straight, slowly putting one foot in front of the other as if he had now hit quicksand, and his eyes were wide open (contrary to her legs, currently, which Karen arranged with one knee up, one knee down, an angled view of her angle of fur and maybe a tiny peek of lip).

"Whoaa..." Chad breathed, like a child on Christmas. He suddenly seemed so much younger than the prior night.

"Come on over," Karen urged him. "Nobody can see in. Well, almost nobody." She concluded that thought with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, I—"

"Sweetie, if I cared about people staring, I wouldn’t be out here in broad daylight. It's how I like to relax."

Chad was walking around the end of the pool even as he pleaded his innocence and even as Karen sat up, put her knee down, and parted her thighs naturally.

"But you have the hedges..."

"I didn't plant them," Karen said. "But it does provide me a little security. If they weren't there, I probably would have something on, but one or two people seeing, I don't mind that. A delivery guy, my husband..." she reached out her hands and beckoned Chad closer. "Or the cute neighbor boy."

She saw that blush come to Chad's face, that blush that she knew was there at night and that was obvious now. He obeyed her beckon and soon he was standing right next to her lounger, and she had the thought to reach out and take his hand and place it on her breast. She shivered at the thought, but she didn't go through with it. She just sat up and relaxed naturally, as if she were still wearing her dress from the other night. That dress, teasing as it was, was just a memory now for Chad, who marveled at her womanly landscape. She watched his awed expression, finally getting to see her so close, and a question came up in her mind.

"Does your dad look out at me too?" she asked. "Am I the delight of the family?"

Chad looked up from her inviting breasts and shook his head.

"No. I'm the only one. That window is my bedroom window."

"Lucky you," she said with a  grin, and his blush strengthened.

"So, now that you're over here, would you like a swim?" she asked, and she leaned forward. Chad flinched and took a step back as she swung her legs off the lounger and stood, stood to full height as his eyes raised in disbelief at the goddess rising before him.

"Well, uh, I just came because you called me over, and, uh..."

"And what did you think would happen?" she asked him, facing her full-frontalness directly at him and loving every second of his body tensing and his eyes bulging.

"I, uh..."

"Well I'm gonna swim. Come join me!"

She stepped past him, making her way for the shallow end, giving him a treat of her naked behind, and she looked over her shoulder to see that he was rooted to the ground but pivoting in her direction.

"Well, I don't have trunks..."

"You don't need them, silly! Swimming naked is the only way to swim. Don't tell me you've never skinny-dipped?"

"Well, no, actually."

Karen’s grin flashed larger, then she turned her head away again.

"Well I'm gonna jump in. You don't have to. You can just sit and watch, I won't mind. I'm not shy." She turned at the steps and faced him from across the pool again, and then she slipped in the water, the surface just below her bush before her hair soaked up the water and submerged and small splashes wetted her abdomen. "And I don't judge, either."

Chad watched her as she threw herself forward and swam. She frog-stroked into the center of the pool, making her way to the end, and Chad was hypnotized by her beige form rippling through the water, until she reached the end and braced her arms and chin on the pavement, looking up at him coyly.

"So are you going to sit or swim?" she asked him.

"Y-you're sure your husband won't mind?" he replied, answering her question indirectly.

"We're just swimming. There's nothing for him to be jealous of."

She watched him run over the possibilities in his mind, watched him begin to kick off a shoe, and then hesitate, and then go through with it. Then it was off, and he was leaning down to pull off one sock, then another. She stared at him as he contemplated what to take off next, and he decided on his shirt, like one would normally do when going for a swim, and as he peeled it off, she admired his surprisingly toned abdomen. He was lean, and masculine. He was a Chad after all, if he only knew it. Then Karen laughed to herself and pushed away from the wall to backstroke the way she had come, her body presented to him in slow-motion as she lazily paddled her way back down, and with occasional glances, she watched him take down his blue jeans.

Out there, in the openness of their pool patio, this twenty-something nextdoor neighbor boy got as naked as she did on the regular. The jeans went down, a sad pair of tighty-whities remained, formed to his body, accentuating his frustrated bulge, and with great hesitation, he pulled the waistband of those undies and let them down over his front, and his excitement flopped out with a stiff wobble. His blush reddened. Karen leaned her head back and left herself only one fleeting glimpse of his young, struggling masculinity, and his white cheeks as the underwear was pulled down over his butt before she was looking at the sky again. When she reached the stairs, she righted herself and saw Chad walking along the edge of the pool towards the shallow end, his stiff man's erection with a boy's soul wobbling its way ahead of him. His eyes errantly cast to the pool where she waited, grinning, her hands playing on the surface of the water, her breasts hovering far above, waiting for him to come in. She turned and watched him approach the steps and hesitate there, then take a tentative step in, then another, and then he threw himself in, and he was wading waist-deep with her, his arousal now hidden, and he drew close.

"See?" she said. "Water's fine."

"Y-yeah..."

"Relax. Take a few laps with me."

Chad laid out on the water and paddled, hesitatingly, like a puppy that had never seen water before, and Karen joyously leaned back and backpedaled just ahead of him, again presenting herself, and he paddled to keep up to the image. They made their way to the center of the pool, and there Karen righted herself and tread water while Chad caught up. His face was hovering over the surface of the water, panting and spitting and drawing near to her chest. Instinctively, she put out her hands and graced them on his shoulders, and brought him in. Next thing she knew, she was embracing the boy as he tread water as well, kicking his legs and his chest brushing against her floating breasts, his bobbing penis brushing her thigh. She grinned into his face.

"Isn't it nice?" she asked him. "Top be out here and with nothing to stop you?"

Indeed, he must have thought nothing could stop him, because his hands went out. At first, it seemed, to steady himself, until they found themselves securely palming her breasts, and the boy let out a little gasp, and Karen, a laugh. His palms were hot on her flesh, and then they retreated right away.

"Oh God, I'm sorry! I—"

"No need to be sorry," Karen said, reaching out her hands and drawing the boy near. He floated into her, his face descended and then found itself planted firmly in her cleavage, his lips ravishing her skin. She chuckled and patted his wet head.

As he lifted his face from her, she found his deep, imploring eyes and found a question rising to her lips as they bobbed in the water.

"Chad... have you ever been with a girl?"

His response was quick and on-point.

"I'm with one now," he said, and his gaze was steady and confident. Karen let out a little laugh.

"I'm a woman, not a girl," she said.

"You're not that much older than me."

"I have ten years on you," she said. "But what about before me? Was that the first set of tits you ever buried your face into?"

They hovered before each other and Karen found her hands slipping into Chad's as they floated there. She looked deep into his eyes and watched them change before her.

"Yes," he said.

His cock was tickling her thigh. It was beginning to drive her nuts. She pulled him closer so that it settled in the crook of her sex.

"You're already twenty-two... You're telling me nobody in high school ever—"

"No," he cut in, and he trembled, because he could feel where his prick was prodding.

"Well...."

Karen leaned back and let her feet kick under the water and propel her towards the edge of the deep end, with Chad trailing by her hands. The close contact between their groins ended, and her shins bumped against his as she kicked, and he helplessly followed. They glided through the water and Karen's shoulders shined wet and she looked lovingly at Chad with his hair matted down on his forehead and his gaze wide-eyed and expectant. And then she bumped against the wall, and she let him float up against her.

Against the wall, she put her hands on his back and embraced him. His thighs—and his cock—came into contact with her. She lowered one of her hands until it slipped under the water, slipped down his lean back, and clasped on one of his firm butt cheeks, and he sighed, and there, Karen guided him against her. His penis found hot contact against her mound, then her lips, and she slipped her rearward hand around to help him find his goal. Then he sighed again, and she did, too.

She had wanted him in her the second she had seen him unleashed, and now, only moments later, she had her wish. He filled up her emptiness, pulsed with raw and pent-up lust as his hands braced her shoulders and she moved her submerged hand to the small of his back, assisting in pushing him against her, over and over, as he carved new sensations inside of her. They rocked against the concrete wall of the pool and her back was scraped, but she let out a combined moan of pain and pleasure that caused Chad to rise up in chorus as well, and then she got her senses.

"Shhh," she whispered into his mouth. "Or then we will have the whole town here."

His only reply was a miserable little moan in her face. She laughed and bucked her hips against him, doing most of the work, feeling him twitch helplessly against her. Then he twitched and shuddered and buried his face in the nape of her neck. She hugged him tight and then raised a hand to stroke his hair. The boy was spent.

"All done already, huh?" she spoke down at his concealed face. He muttered something unintelligible; he was still entangled in euphoria, while Karen had only got a taste, but a delicious taste it was. Then the boy finally raised his head and looked at her. She smiled warmly at him.

"Nice swim, huh?" she said. Chad finally smiled and laughed. She let him slip out of her and he floated before her. She took his hands and leaned away from the wall, and they drifted to the center of the pool like two lovers. The only thing they didn't do was kiss.

"Now," she said. "We can swim that off." She let go of one of his hands and leaned forward.

"I have a cramp," Chad said.

"Let's go over to the shallow end, then." Soon, they were walking, shoulders above the water, and then chests, her glittering, dripping chest, stare-worthy, though Chad didn't stare. When he looked at her, he looked her right in the eyes, something he had been too timid to do before.

"How about we lay out and dry off?" Karen suggested, and they both exited the pool, and she got the opportunity to appreciate Chad's physique, the way his lean boy's ass flexed as he stepped out ahead of her, the movement of the muscle cords on his sides. She took his hand again, and together they went to the lounger. Karen let go of Chad's hand to go drag another lounger over for him.

"Here," she said. "Just a few minutes in the sun and you won't need a towel, and nobody will be the wiser that you were over here swimming naked with your neighbor."

The blush was coming up again, but Chad’s lesser self was no longer at attention. He was slack, soft, small. Cute, even. Karen almost wanted to reach out and flip it, but instead she watched its subtle light movements as Chad sat down and brought up his legs and boldly put his hands behind his head, displaying all of himself, and Karen sat down and got comfortable on her lounger next to him, stretched out much the same way for him to see, should he look. She twitched and yearned for more of him, and perhaps, with some training, he would be well exercised in the ways of love. She had a nice setup now, no need to go out into town for dates.

They sat there wordlessly for a moment, Karen just enjoying the breeze and the sun and the company and her own nudity, when the back porch door opened and her heart leapt up in her chest.

She wheeled her head around, and Chad jumped in his chair; his ass even almost left the surface, and standing there in the doorway was Bobby.

He stared blankly at them, and Karen was fighting for what to say, but Bobby just went: "Hmph."

"I figured I'd invite Chad over for a swim," Karen said. It was the most honest thing she could say. Chad, meanwhile, had turned his head and shrunk in on himself like a pill bug.

"Well, you have at it," Bobby said. "What a lucky guy,' he added, in a raised voice so Chad could hear. "I just forgot some papers. Went a whole fifteen miles when I realized. I'm heading back out."

And with that, he gave one last look at his beautiful wife and the back of the chair where Chad was now hidden, and he turned and went back inside. Chad collapsed in his chair and let loose like a  fistful of rubber bands. Karen's heart was still beating fast, and she couldn't stop grinning, nor could she stop imagining what Bobby's reaction would have been if he had walked out minutes earlier. She realized she never heard his car pull up because they were in the pool, or perhaps making love at that exact moment.

"Well," she said, looking over to Chad's still-panicked face. "Looks like you have carte blanche."

Chad had no words, and he was breathing heavily. His lean chest rose and fell. His penis lay limp against his thigh. Karen swung her legs over and stood.

"And I guess I do, too," she said, looming over him, and the boy's face was so shocked, so in awe, and then she straddled his chair and began to lay against him. "Do you feel up for round two?"

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[i]And a movement it indeed was, as seen first in Naked Smash!