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.
“Good, well, she was talented. Unfortunately she gave blow jobs to a lot of guys, but still...” He trailed off, remembering. What about you? Have you had a bad experience?”
“No,” I said, debating for a few minutes before saying, “No, I haven't had any experience.”
“Nothing?” He asked.
“Nothing,” I answered. My heart raced and pounded my chest. Every pore was alive with the desire for touch. I felt cream dripping down my thighs. My pussy was so sensitive that every movement threatened to send me over the edge.
“Maybe I could suck your cock?” I asked. I couldn't believe the words had come out of my mouth. Was I drunk? I was insane? It was too late to pull the words back. Too late to erase them like selecting words on the computer and hitting delete. No delete button in sight. My face flushed. I pulled my knees up tight and wrapped my arms around them, like I always do when I feel afraid. I debated just running from the house.
“I don't think we should. My wife is upstairs and Rochelle or Alice could come home any time now. But you do look amazing. So different than anyone I've seen before. So...” he seemed to be considering the proposition for a moment.
He was so handsome. His eyes so deep and brown. His body firm, yet mature. I wanted him. I really did. So I did something so slutty, so unlike me, I felt as if someone else were doing it; I pulled my legs out from under me, and I turned and opened my legs in front of him. I slung one leg over the arm of the chair and the other I tucked around. My hips thrust forward. My pussy exploded with excitement to feel the cool air drying the juices covering my entire private area. “I've never had anyone lick me either,” I said.
Really? God, I sounded like a whore! I hated the words as soon as they came out of my mouth.
There wasn't another word spoken between us. He walked over to me and stood beside my chair. He grabbed my hair and pulled me to his cock. I moaned. I had never been treated like this. I had never had anyone pull my hair. I nearly came. His cock throbbed in front of my face. I kissed it and breathed in his smell. I was losing my mind. My face actually burned! Would I pass out? I certainly was no longer breathing.
I placed my hand over his hot, pulsing manhood. My hand looked so small against his firm erection. I felt so small, like a little kid again. I opened my mouth, and his grip on my hair tightened.
He pressed his cock against my lips. This was it. I was going to have a cock in my mouth! Jesus! What would it taste like? What would it feel like? Would I be able to really do this? Oddly enough, my mother flashed into my mind. She was quickly chased away by the long erection entering my mouth.
“Open wider. I want to hit the back of your throat. Oh, it's been so long. I want you to take it all the way down! Fuck I love your little body. I love little tits like yours. It's been so long. Your little mouth. Fuck yes, take it! Take it! Fuck,” he said.
I realized he was thinking of the little slut from his high school. Mentally he was seeing her. Did I look like her? How old were they when they did this? I opened my mouth wider, his grip on my hair tightened and then he shoved his cock all the way into the back of my throat. Dear Lord, I nearly lost it. What came after was rather unpleasant.
“I'm sorry – I – It's my first time,” I moaned. I was bent over the chair. He was still standing in front of me. He didn't seem at all upset by my unfortunate situation. I felt like such a slut. Something about that made me fell all the more horny.
“Everyone gags on their first time,” He said.
“That was a little more than gagging,” I said.
“True, but just try to relax and take it again. I was so close. You think you can do that? Come here.”
He pulled my hair again. My head jerked up and my mouth opened. My eyes were watering, my head spinning, my jaw hurting, and his cock was down my throat before I had a chance to protest. I felt it go past that point. It was big. I gagged again. He pulled away and then quickly pushed it back in. Another time I gagged, but he kept it in. I breathed through my nose, I cried, but I kept it in.
It was a hot flood that shot down my throat and completely removed any ability to breath. I pulled back from him. His cum filling my mouth as well as going down my throat. His next pumping stream hit me full in the face, landing across my nose and mouth. I was still struggling for air. He had the back of my head.
“It's been so long,” he said. “So fucking long!”
More cum spurt into my mouth. Salty and thick, it filled my mouth and ran down my lips and chin. I couldn't swallow, hell, I could barely breath! I put my hand between my legs and I sank fingers into my wetness. I was hot. I was dripping. I was so ready to finally loose my virginity.
“Dear God. Holy hell! I think you were about a million times better than my old girlfriend,” he said.
I didn't respond. I stopped touching myself and waited. I wasn't sure what would happen now. I felt oddly self-conscious. I wanted to reach up and fix my hair, but I was covered in his cum. I was a sticky mess. He smiled down at me. I was disappointed to see him walk over to the table, pick up the remote, and turn off the television. Was he about to leave?
“We should stop,” he said.
What? Oh God! All my desire quickly changed to rage. He saw the look of anger, disappointment, and confusion on my face.
“I don't want to,” he said.
“Then don't,” I said.
“I have to. I'm not going to be able to control myself. If I stay down here something is going to happen.”
“Something already happened,” I said.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “It isn't because I don't want to do more, but I'm married. My wife is upstairs for Christ's sake,” he said.
“That didn't bother you five minutes ago,” I spat. My sexual bravado had changed to anger. How dare he get me worked up, and shove his cock down my throat, cum all over me, and then, THEN expect to just walk away! How dare he! I wasn't going to have this again. I simply wasn't.
“You have me there. I don't want you angry at me. I – I just...” He looked defeated. It didn't seem the same as with my old art professor. This time he wanted more to happen. I could sense it. My mind calmed and I realized, to a degree, he was right. His wife was upstairs. Almost as if on cue, the door opened upstairs and someone was coming down.
It dawned on me, I was literally covered in cum. I jumped up for the bathroom but realized that I didn't know where it was!
“Bathroom,” I whispered desperately. He pointed, and I ran. I closed the door and heard his wife's voice.
“What were you two doing down here?” She asked. Her voice was light but accusatory.
“We finished a movie, and I was about to go upstairs. I think Rochelle's friend is going to sleep down here tonight.”
“Where is she?”
“In the bathroom.”
There was a pause. I pulled my shirt off and wiped the cum off my face with it. The cum had dried some and wasn't coming off easily. I was near panic. If she came in, she would see. I ran some water on the shirt and scrubbed.
“Sweetie, is there anything you need?” She called through the door.
“A shower would be nice.” I said.
“I'll bring you down some towels. Everything else you need should be in there,” she said.
I put my hands on the counter and let out a sigh. I felt odd and empty inside. God, what had I done? If we had started fucking, she would have caught us! I was so stupid. So selfish. My mother's voice rang out in my head, “What are you doing? Look at you! Covered in cum. You look like a whore.” I wet the shirt again and worked at getting clean. I couldn't quite get it all off. I had never had stuff on me like this. It was like trying to remove glue! Footsteps creaked down the stairs. Each step sounding out my doom. I decided I would just tell her to leave them outside.
Instead the door opened, and she stepped inside. She was naked. I'm not sure why I expected anything else. She was a nudist after all. I turned away from her, pretending to be fumbling with something. My wet shirt still in my hands.
“What on earth are you doing?” She asked. “We have wash clothes and towels. You didn't have to use your shirt! Dear Lord child! Here, let me have that and you take these.”
I had no choice but to turn around. Cum was still in my hair and the glue-like traces of it were all over. She would see. Oh God! I turned. She thrust the towels in my hand and took my small shirt.
“You have something all over you,” she said. “What have you been into? What in the world is that?” She leaned over and looked closer. “I can't see a damn thing really. I just took out my contacts. You really should get a shower. You'll feel much better and we love having guests, so don't worry.”
“Thank you. You are too nice,” I said. She really was a beautiful woman. Her body was still quite attractive. It was hard to believe that a woman who believed so strongly in nudism and was so beautiful would be so opposed to oral sex.
Oh GOD! It dawned on me. Maybe she was a closet lesbian.
“You really are a pretty girl. Don't worry about Rochelle. She does crazy things all the time. I think you'll both be a happy little pair in the morning,” she said. She kissed my cheek. I felt so horrible. She was so sweet and I was just about to fuck her husband.
“Oh, one last thing. Alice may come home later. Sometimes she likes to come down here and watch television. I'll leave a note on the fridge to let her know you are staying over. If she wakes you up, just tell her to go upstairs. She doesn't need to be keeping you up all night. Need anything else? No? Ok, good night.”
“Good night,” I said. What a whore I was.
After the shower, I laid down on the couch and pulled the blanket over me. It had been an emotional evening. I wondered if I would meet Alice. I felt a little like Alice. Falling down the rabbit hole. Nudism hadn't turned out to be anything like what I thought it would be. I was turning into something I never thought I would be. My hand moved between my legs. I was wet. I was hot there.
I was still horny.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/oral-sex/the-nudist-father.aspx">The Nudist Father</a>