BSC07 the First Lifestyle NudistsChapter 10 A Nudist for Life
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The Nudist Father free porn video
A man well old enough to be my father sat across from me – completely naked. I found it difficult to look at him. I kept smiling and trying to make it seem like I was comfortable, but inside I was shaking like wet kitten. Accurate description really, because my kitten was pretty wet. How could she not be? I was sitting across from an attractive older man with a charming, friendly personality. No, I made myself look away from him again. I stared down at my legs. I fumbled with a pillow. I put the pillow back. I pulled it over my chest, then put it down on my lap. God! Why did he have to be attractive?
I should also explain that I was at a party earlier.
A nudist party.
I was invited to the party by a beautiful girl my age. She looked exactly like Nastassja Kinski. I idolize Nastassja. After all, according to my Grandmother, we share the same bloodline. She tried to seduce me and something went wrong. It was either me, or her father coming over and interrupting us, but whatever the case, she left the party. Without me.
Now I was alone with her father. A nudist. Naked. I was so very thankful I had pulled on the shirt. It barely covered my naked crotch. I was leaving a little wet spot in the chair. I knew it. He was talking about something, and I was somewhat listening. Trying not to look at his body.
I’m not a slut. I don’t usually hang out in the basement with men old enough to be my father. In fact, I’m actually a virgin. How I ended up in the basement wasn’t by choice. I was kinda stuck at their house and the party moved into the basement. I simply followed. The evening wore on and slowly, slowly, people left. Now it was just Rochelle’s (the Nastassja look alike) father and I.
“Here, have another glass,” her father said and poured more wine into my empty glass.
“Sir, if I didn’t know better I would think you were trying to get me drunk,” I said with a giggle.
“Oh? A lightweight are you? Well, perhaps we should stop. I don’t want you passed out – or worse,” he said.
His smile told me he found this amusing, it also suggested flirtation. No. He was a married man after all. I was far too young for him. Far, far, too young. Yet… here we were.
The conversation died and I felt it was my fault. I just couldn’t talk to him properly. He was so much older. What would I say? Would I come across as silly? No, honestly it wasn’t that. It was the fact that I was trying to pretend to be uninterested in him, yet down between my legs a steam bath had started. I blamed my parents. They never made things comfortable enough to talk. Ugh! I didn’t want to think about my mother right now. I shook my head.
And then it happened – we opened the conversation to sex.
“…I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Well, perhaps you do. Are you a full lesbian or are you bi-sexual?” he asked.
I wasn’t a lesbian at all. Sure, I found Rochelle attractive. How couldn’t I? I had responded to her kiss. Yes, I had done that. But I still wanted a guy. God, I was just so confused. I decided to try to talk to him, open myself up. It could have also been the wine.
“Well… I’m sorry,” I said, “You are going to think I’m, like, retarded or something, but I can’t keep talking about everything under the sun without admitting to you, that I don’t know your name.”
“Everyone calls me Ash, so you should too,” he said.
“Ash? Is that short for Ashley?” I asked.
“You got it,” he said and smiled. I found it difficult to look at that smile. I turned back to the movie and that didn’t help either. The couple was making out vigorously in an elevator. I looked down and to my horror a sticky, shimmering coating of my own juices covered my thighs. So much moisture, strings of it stuck together forming little sexual trapeze lines from bare skin to bare skin. Horrified, I closed my thighs and actually heard a tacky wet sound. I looked up to make sure Ashley hadn’t seen. He was watching the movie but noticed my gaze and looked back at me. He smiled again. I let out a sigh. Damn it! Was I really this obvious?
I looked back at the movie. I felt his gaze lingering on me. I reached over, took another sip of the red wine. The smell lingered in my nostrils for a moment before I looked over at him again. He wasn’t looking at me. My eyes moved down to his firm, thick cock. God. What I wouldn’t give to just throw caution to the wind, I thought.
Then I saw it move. Just a jump at first. I almost put a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Slowly, in little throbbing jumps, his cock stood up. It seemed to cling to his leg for a moment, almost as if it were reluctant to leave the warmth and safety there. Then, like a soldier rising, it grew. My eyes grew. All night he hadn’t managed a single erection. What was turning him on now. I looked up to see where he was looking and found his eyes locked on mine.
“Do you want me to get a towel?” he asked.
“What? Why? A towel?”
“Well, to be frank, to cover my erection. I know you are new to nudism, but typically if a guy get’s an erection they cover up with something, however…” he looked down at my thighs, “you seem to be having some issues of your own.”
“What? I – I just…” There was nothing I could say.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just know that nudity can be exciting when you are new to it. I have to admit that your excitement is getting me excited. I should just cover up, right?” He asked. I don’t think he really wanted to cover up. In fact, he hesitated a little too long, waiting for my reply.
I didn’t know how to reply. No, I didn’t want him to cover himself. In fact I found his erection far more attractive than his limpness. I also wanted to ask why nudists were upset about that? Why would sexual excitement upset nudists? Weren’t they all about the natural state of things? Wasn’t sexual excitement more natural than anything else in the world? Dear Lord, I was so turned on. If he covered his cock I would cry. I wanted to keep looking at him. I wanted him to keep looking at me. Most of all I wanted to keep talking about sex.
“No,” I managed weakly. I was a trembling mess. My body was visibly shaking. Any moment now and my teeth would chatter.
A long, uncomfortable silence followed. On screen, a girl was performing a very explicit blow job for a rated R movie. She moaned and sucked him, and if she was faking then they were using special effects.
“My wife doesn’t believe in oral sex,” Ashley blurted out.
“Really? Why?” I was actually grateful he had finally opened the conversation up to something obviously sexual. I was horny, he was obviously horny, and we were alone. I was breathing in short shallow breaths. I could smell my own sexual excitement.
“I don’t know. Maybe she thinks it is gross. Maybe she thinks it’s too dirty. Maybe she had a bad experience once. I’ve tried to open the subject a few times but she just gets upset. So I’ve just gone without. But I do miss it,” he said sadly.
“Have you had a bad experience?” I asked.
“No. That’s what’s so horrible. I had a girlfriend in high school who used to give the most amazing blowjobs,” He leaned over his chair. His cock was still throbbing. It was still right in front of me. I tried not to look. “You don’t mind talking about this, do you?” He asked.
“No, not at all.” I said.
Leela
- 08.06.2020
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