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This is a Nude Day contest story. Please vote.
In honor of Nude Day, a divorced man changes his lifestyle in the hope of winning a woman.
I watched her stripping out of her clothes not believing what I was seeing. Not since I saw my wife kissing another man did I feel such shocked surprise and sexual excitement. Even though we were friends and even though I was hoping to score a kiss, after our first date, if what we were having was even considered a date, watching her unbutton and remove her blouse to expose her bra was surreal. An unexpected surprise, when I haven’t even so much as held her hand, watching her get naked was paramount to an in the park homerun.
As if it was gasoline filling my tank with adrenaline and testosterone, my desire for her grew with each unbuttoned button. As if happening in slow motion, I couldn’t remove my eyes from her impromptu striptease show. Never in a million years would I have thought that someone like her would remove her clothes in front of someone like me. Then, when my Angel reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans to wiggle out of them, I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. Standing before me in her panties and bra was an image I had numerously imagined, while masturbating over her, since the first day I met her. Now, she’s standing in front of me for me in her sexy lingerie for me to ogle her shapely body.
“Well, aren’t you going to strip, too, Brad?”
She had an impatient tone that I mistook as sexual excitement and it took me a second to realize what she was asking. As if I still in my dream, her voice shook me awake.
“Huh? Strip? Oh. Yeah. Yes, of course, Christine.”
The sight of her staring at the bulge that tightened my pants made me take longer to respond to her request. I imagined her touching me and stroking me, before sucking me. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I wondered if she wanted me, as much as I wanted her. I wondered if we were going to make love, before we even had our first kiss. I wondered if she was really going to get naked. After how our first meeting started out, with her being so distant and resistant to me and with her not even liking my dog, I wondered if I was finally going to see her tits, her ass, and her pussy. Just as I wondered that, she reached around her back, undid her bra, and removed that, too.
Oh, my God! With her naked breasts right there before my horny eyes, she was topless. More than just mere breasts, these were Christine’s breasts, the women I had lusted over since the first day we met at the dog park and since then, I had fallen in love with her.
Yet, before I could enjoy the image of her perfectly symmetrical B cup breasts, revel in her pink puffy areolas, and stare at her erect nipples, before I even could wrap my brain around the fact that she was topless, in one, quick downward motion, as if she was readying herself for bed on our Honeymoon, her panties were off, too. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! This is so surreally not real. Pinch me because I must be dreaming. My sexual fantasy come true, Christine is naked.
Before I even had my shirt off, she was naked, naked, naked, naked. To say that I was excited to see her trimmed, blonde pussy and round shapely ass would be equivalent to me not caring if I had just won the lottery jackpot. For sure, winning Christine’s body on the way to winning her heart was better than winning any damn lottery. Unable to put a price tag on her, priceless, she was the type of quality woman worth more than any amount of money.
Even though I don’t remember removing my shirt, somehow I removed my shirt. As if I were a teenager having sex for the first time, I was so excited. I couldn’t get my sneakers off fast enough to remove my pants. Perhaps, had I focused more on untying the knot in my laces, instead of staring at her naked form, I would have had more success removing my sneakers. Finally, I just forced them off my feet. Tee shirt and boxer shorts came off in record time and now, ready for action, ready for sex, ready to make love to the woman I never thought I would find and the woman I thought would never be interested in me, I was naked, too.
“Eww, Brad. You have an erection,” she said staring at my cock, before reaching out her finger and touching it, as if it was a balloon and she was knocking it away.
Only, instead of flying away and disappearing in a cloud, my cock grew harder with her touch. Her words hit me in the way that a needle skips over a record, when the volume is turned up all the way. I wanted to block my ears, but didn’t. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could I misinterpret her intentions? I felt like such a fool.
“Sorry,” I said not feeling sorry at all, but excited that I was seeing Christine naked and she was seeing me naked, too.
“What we’re doing isn’t about sex. It’s just a public display of nudity on Nude Day” she said scolding me, as if I was a child.
From being so high to now feeling so low, disappointed by her words, as if someone istanbul escort had popped my balloon at a circus, she made me feel ridiculous. Eager to show her how I felt, after she stripped off her clothes, I had played all my cards by having an erection and now, as it so happened, she was bluffing. What I had perceived as the start of a beautiful love affair was merely a public display of nudity on Nude Day to her. Are you kidding me?
Nude Day? I’m a naked man standing here with an erection and the playground is not only closed, but off limits. Seriously, who gives a flying fuck about Nude Day, when I’m naked and Christine is naked, too.
Her words stayed in my brain, as if she spoke a foreign language. Suddenly, I felt I was in a country where I didn’t know the customs and didn’t know how to appropriately behave.
“What we’re doing is not about sex. It’s just a public display of nudity,” she said.
How could it not be about sex? I’m a man and she’s a woman. She’s naked and I’m naked. She could have fooled me and did, in fact, fooled my cock. For sure, without a doubt, my cock thought, just as I did, that we were going to get lucky and have deeply penetrating sex with a lot of humping and sweating.
“I know and I realize that but, being that I’m so very attracted to you and seeing you naked, well, I’m only human, Christine.”
Yet, no matter my misinterpretation of what transpired that day. Thank God for Christine and Nude Day. Nude Day changed my life forever. If it wasn’t for Nude Day, I’d be on my way to a coronary, dead of a heart attack, and buried. It’s funny how just removing my clothes relaxed me, that is, once I lost my erection and once I realized that I wasn’t going to have sex with Christine. Nonetheless, Nude Day gave me a whole new outlook on life. Stressed out and burnt out, if it wasn’t for Christine, I never would have gotten to live the rest of my life carefree, albeit naked. Only, I should start from the beginning.
Hi, my name is Brad and I’m just a guy, a regular guy, a typical man, one who doesn’t put much thought into anything I do, mainly because I’m too tired, too depressed, too sad, and just don’t have the time to really give a fuck. To be honest, I know it’s wrong and I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t even recycle. I’m not active in my community, I’d wear fur, if I could afford it and I don’t pay much attention to the world news, especially when they talk about global warming, plant and animal extinction, and the ecology. It’s all bullshit to me.
With my dream of accounting for my own money one day and not someone else’s, I’m too busy working my ass off as an overwhelmed, overworked, and under paid lowly accountant. Besides, I don’t believe any of what the press wants the general public to believe anyway. You can’t tell me that someone isn’t getting rich off of all this recycling and global warming bullshit. It’s just a way for them to sell biodegradable leaf and lawn bags, bottled water, and go green cars, hats, tee shirts, and bumper stickers. Yeah, go green my ass. The only green that’s going is the money leaving my pocket and going into their pockets.
So, after having to live through another Earth Day, when I discovered that there was such a day as National Nude Day, I was as skeptical as I was shocked. Nude Day? Nude Day my ass. Since when have they celebrated Nude Day? Where was I when they made Nude Day a national holiday? Are you kidding me? Hey, I didn’t get the memo. I didn’t even get the day off, as a paid holiday. I wish I had known about Nude Day years ago, when I still had a body that wasn’t morphed into physical decay by too much fast food and copious amounts of beer.
Then, I realized, just like Earth Day, Nude Day was just another contrived holiday to get us to spend our hard earned money at the mall, no doubt…for fig leaves? I didn’t even know there was such a day as Nude Day? Tell me, how does one even dress for Nude Day? Yes, of course, I realize that Nude Day means nakedness and being naked in public but, on the way to the celebration, what do you wear before getting naked and what do you wear after the celebration ends, a jumpsuit, overalls, a toga or do you just walk out and about in your nightclothes before stripping naked? Tell me, where do I put my car keys, wallet, and cell phone?
Then, I wondered what kind of people celebrate Nude Day? No one that I know. Is Nude Day just a dating day contrived just so that horny naked men can ogle available naked women? Or is it a real holiday? Now that I’m aware of National Nude Day, if I had my druthers, every day would be Nude Day. Then, finally, in the busy world, between nipples being submerged or erect and cocks being soft or hard, a physical sign of their naked barometers of trustworthiness, I’d have more of a chance of discerning the truth from all the lies that people tell me and hope I believe.
“Liar! You can’t fool me. You’re hoping I buy this car at your inflated price. You’re avcılar escort already excited with the anticipation of this sale. Look at the size and stiffness of your erection.”
Growing up in an Italian household and an Italian neighborhood, laden with guilt put upon us by an unyielding and controlling Catholic Church, my family would never celebrate Nude Day. My Mom still gets undressed in the bathroom and dressed in the closet. And even though I’ve read thousands of incest stories on Literotica and have fantasized while masturbating afterwards, never is when I’ve seen my sister, mother, cousin, or aunt naked, not that I’d even want to see some of my female relatives naked. Trust me, unless a woman with underarm, leg hair, and a forest of pubic hair is how you perceive your dream woman, Italian women are very hairy.
Notwithstanding Nude Day or any other day, with my job leaking into and eating up whatever free time I have, I don’t have time enough to ponder an ant walking across my path or the inclination to look up at a bird in the sky. Weighed down with stress, pressure, and deadlines, whenever I look up at the sky, I think in the way that Chicken Little did, that the sky is falling on my head. Typically, when I do have the time to look up at the sky, I pray.
“Dear God in Heaven, why me? Dear God in Heaven, just give me this one wish and I won’t ask you for anything ever again, that is, unless I’m dying. Please help me with a winning lottery ticket.”
Not really in the mood to expose myself in public, after being so constricted and stressed out by my job, I don’t have the time to think about National Nude Day nor do I have the need to get naked. In the way that I feel now, so emasculated by my boss, my job, my ex-wife, and my lowly place in the world, I don’t think I could even muster an erection.
With everyone running around trying to conserve to preserve the planet and making me feel guilty for not doing my fair share, I’ll be dead and buried when all the abusive and destructive devastation we’ve made to this planet bites us in the ass by not giving us fresh water to drink and clean air to breath. Now that Earth Day is over, all the talk at the office around the water cooler and coffee machine is about National Nude Day and getting naked, just as last month they talked about Flag Day, displaying flags, and celebrating veterans coming home from and leaving for war. Give me a break. Have these people so little in their lives that they must invent holidays to celebrate?
Yeah, for sure, I’d love to see the receptionist and some of the secretaries at the accounting firm, where I work, naked but, unless they stripped out of their clothes during my break or lunch hour, the chances of me celebrating National Nude Day are slim to nil. No doubt, I’ll be working long hours that day getting ready to meet the tax extension deadline for several clients who want every available loophole not to pay their fair share of taxes. Let me ask you this, when I make so little and he makes so much, why do I pay more Federal and State taxes than Warren Buffet? It doesn’t seem fair, does it?
Divorced with adult children, my life is a mess. I don’t even have a girlfriend. I don’t have the inclination to bother trying to get one. As far as I’m concerned, let someone else celebrate National Nude Day. Sadly, but truthfully, I don’t have the time to walk around naked. It’s not my job to celebrate anything but overtime pay, whenever I have that, and bonuses, whenever I get that. Besides, after being so controlled for so long, I wouldn’t know how to handle the kind of naked freedom that comes with stripping off my clothes and allowing it to all hang out, so to speak.
A product of my routine, I get up in the morning, pee, make coffee, let out the dog and feed him, check my e-mails, read the news online, review a few porn videos, have some breakfast, jump in the shower, and I’m off to work. Most of my day is work, work, work. Then, I come home late, watch the news, microwave something to eat, watch more TV, check my e-mails, watch more porn videos, and then go to bed to repeat the routine the next day. There’s no time for anything else.
The weekend is the only free time that I have, but with all the snow we got last winter and with the seasons skipping spring and immediately morphing into summer, then skipping fall to give us winter again, I stay close to home. I never thought I’d write this, but I don’t want to go out anymore. Wanting to do the same, if only I had his money, I’m beginning to understand why Howard Hughes didn’t shower and wore Kleenex boxes on his feet. It’s just takes too much time and is too much trouble to groom, not to mention, as soon as I walk out the front door, no matter what I do or don’t do, whether buying gas, food, and/or liquor, it cost me a hundred bucks.
In a nutshell, that’s my life. It’s all so very status quo. If I had to use one word to describe my life, I’d describe it as boring and I’d describe myself as şirinevler escort boring, too. Boring, boring, boring, that’s me, the boring accountant.
Without a doubt, I’m in a rut and I know it, but I don’t know how to get out of it. Still reeling over my 23-year marriage breakup and my subsequent divorce, maybe I’m depressed. To be honest, I just don’t understand what the big deal is about National Nude Day. Celebrating Nude Day is the last thing on my long bucket list of things that I never want to do, such as bungee jumping, swimming with Dolphins, and working around the clock on April 15th.
If I went to my primary care physician, an internist, he’d prescribe, no doubt, a chemical concoction to make me think that my dark grey skies are bright blue. Yet, a reality TV junkie, I’d rather not see things through rose colored glasses. I heard enough of that malarkey from politicians who painted me a rosy picture, before taxing me to death and giving me little in return. Give me the real world over the one my government is always lying to me about, before shoving the truth up my ass. Give it to me straight. I can take it. Enough with the lies. Just stop lying to me. Tell me the truth, just once, so that I can plan for my own doomsday.
I’d like to meet someone, really I would but, I’d have to go out and leave my comfortable nest to do that and I’m not willing to go through all of that trouble, all over again, just yet. Having just been divorced, I’m not ready. I’m tired of playing relationship games. I’m tired of being someone I’m not, interesting and interested. To be honest, for what I’d receive in return, heartache and headache with a little sex in the beginning and not much more than that it the end, it’s not worth my time, effort, energy, and money to have a girlfriend, who’d hope, no doubt, to be my wife one day.
Love? Other than to have children, what’s the big deal about love anyway? Moreover, get closer to the computer so that everyone doesn’t hear, sex is overrated. I’d rather live alone than to go through all of that, all over again. Besides, I’m always working.
Even if I was ready to meet someone, not really knowing anyone where I live, other than co-workers, I don’t really know how to go about finding Miss Right, anyway. With all the sexual harassment laws in the workplace today and with good paying replacement jobs so very hard to find, there’s just no way that I’d jeopardize my job by dating a co-worker. I don’t do well in dating bars and pickup joints either. They make me feel so ordinary, as if I’m in a cattle stall with a bunch of other animals mooing and strutting. They all want the same thing. They all want love, while settling for sex.
Between the loud music and so much competition vying for the attention of the few good looking women in the bar, while trying to connect with someone deeper than just on the surface, all of these public meeting and dating venues, bars and clubs, always make me feel so pressured and uselessly empty. Instead of it being a fun time, it’s a depressing attempt at trying to connect with a stranger. Always, I end up going home alone. Especially as the night wears on, tempting fate, my attempts to find kismet, while hoping that lightning will strike, always makes me feel so rushed and desperate and willing to settle for the chick that everyone else rejected. The whole dating process makes me feel ridiculous. I’m not a teenager anymore, but a bitter and broken, middle-aged man and I’m tired of all the games and all the lies.
Yeah, sure, I’ve had plenty of offers to rub up against someone under the sheets while naked, but invariably those offers are always from the wrong type of women, women I’d never want to see or be seen with in the light of the next day, forget about developing a long-term relationship. Typically, I receive the attention from those younger women looking to move up and latch onto someone to take care of them, now that Daddy can’t anymore. Then, there’s those older women hoping to get lucky and hoping that I’m their medicine and magic elixir to make them feel younger, prettier, and needed again. Instead, I’m hoping for someone more my age, background, and intellect. Unfortunately, the ones that interest me are already married and, as my wife was unfaithful to me in the course of our marriage and with me not wanting to be with a cheating woman, I’d never date a married woman.
Just keeping it real, it’s probably a little weird to have a man write this, but I’m looking more for love and a long-term relationship than I am for sex and a one night stand. Been there and done that, I wish I could skip the dating games altogether and move right to love. So long as she was the right woman, I’d take the chance, but how do you know she’s the one.
Being single, I could have sex when I want it, but with the thought of being alone the next morning, that’s an emptiness that I’d rather not experience over and again. Instead, I’d rather wake up to that comfortable person with that familiar face, who greets me with a hug and a kiss, and being with someone who wants to stay longer and is committed to remain for the long haul, after all the sweaty humping. I need someone to hang around after we’ve had sex to watch a ballgame or to take a walk and talk about everything and laugh over nothing, while discussing our future plans together.
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