In a clothing optional environment, most people should opt for clothing. Honestly. There were few people our age, whether male or female, clothed or naked, living, dead, or anywhere in between. The neighbor’s on one side were a middle-aged couple who had consumed about three too many Twinkies. Make that three million too many. They were nice, but we wished they would put on more clothes. Clarissa would actually look better in an Afghanistan burqa. So would her husband, Ernie.
Across the street was a reasonably attractive couple in their early thirties. Close enough in age. They introduced themselves as Brenda and Andy. They announced that they were exhibitionists. So why was Brenda dressed in shapeless sweats and Andy in paint-stained T-shirt and jeans?
They explained. For them, exhibitionism was not about getting naked in front of other people. There was no thrill in that. Exhibitionism was about getting naked in front of other people in places where it was unlikely, or discouraged, or prohibited, or would get you arrested. When they met Sonja, they asked if she’d like to help them get naked and have sex in front of the police at her office.
Now, that sounded like fun to me, but Sonja said something about needing her paycheck. Spoilsport. Much later, they introduced me and Sonja to the thrill of jail-bait exhibitionism, but we’ll let that go for now.
The exception to the rule about younger people turned out to be the convenience store. In fact, that was where Paul had met Lucy. He’d gone in for a box of condoms and seen a stunning black woman of about thirty talking to another, shorter, younger and lighter-skinned, black woman who was stocking shelves. The shelf-stocker was dressed in a sports bra and cut-offs. Although not large, her muscles were incredibly well-defined. The clerk, a guy of perhaps nineteen or twenty, was dressed in a T-shirt and some Batman boxers. That was Danny. If Danny could do it, so could Paul.
While Danny was getting the condoms from a shelf, Paul stripped off his shirt and pants. He was wearing what we came to know as his trade-mark low-rise gray briefs. As loudly as he could Paul yelled at Danny, “No, I need the extra super jumbo sized condoms!” Lucy had turned to look, but the other girl had not.
“Nice,” Lucy observed. “It’s a shame about the condom size. I recently had gynaecological surgery and can only have sex with men who have average-size genitalia. Maybe you could come back in about six months?”
Paul cursed his tendency to speak first and think later. “Ah, Danny, make that the average-sized genitalia condoms. Okay?”
Danny asked if Paul wanted to get a measurement to make sure.
“Not in my store you don’t,” said the woman stocking shelves. “Danny, you know the rules. You can’t get naked in the store, you can’t have sex in the store, and you can’t encourage customers to get naked in the store. If the customer gets naked on his own, that’s fine. If the customer gets naked on her own, that’s fine and call me if she’s good looking.”
Danny looked crestfallen. “Yes, Lydia, I know the rules.”
Lucy was laughing her ass off. “Look, fella, whoever you are, this is my sister’s store.” She gestured at the boss who had been stocking shelves. “Lydia has rules and you either follow them or you get fucked. That’s not the fun kind of fucked, either.
“I lied about the surgery. In fact, I’m here to visit Lydia and Danny. Lydia’s my sister (she hooked a thumb in Lydia’s direction) and Danny and I are roommates. We used to have sex with each other, but that was a relationship of convenience, not love. Today we’re just friends.
“And, as for sex with men having large penises, well, Danny’s the best-endowed guy I’ve ever met. If you can compete with him, you’re obviously hiding your equipment somewhere other than your underwear.”
Paul knew when he was beaten. He bought a case of beer and invited the three of them back to our house for a drink. Danny’s shift was ending, but Lydia wasn’t coming directly. She had to go home first.
Lucy drove herself and Danny, following Paul to our house. Randy and I were on the back patio having a beer.
Paul carried the beer to the backyard and introduced Lucy and Danny. I apologized for being in my underwear. Randy, on the other hand, offered to swap his jock strap for Danny’s boxers, on the spot, no questions asked. He thought the Batman boxers were neat.
Danny looked at Lucy, who shook her head no. She then asked if anyone objected to her going topless. Object? What do you mean, object? I sat in my chair drooling, while Randy’s hand moved to the crotch of his jockstrap.
With no thought of modesty, Lucy slipped off her top. These weren’t tits, they were works of art. I crossed my legs to hide my growing erection. Paul didn’t have that option, so he picked up the case of beer and held it in front of his mid-section. Danny had seen those tits plenty of times before, so it didn’t bother him. I had no idea what Randy was doing. Randy? Randy who? I had forgotten he existed.
“For God’s sake, are you little boys? Stop trying to hide your hard-ons.” Lucy was direct. We learned that this was one of her most endearing qualities, right after being one of the most beautiful women on earth. Also after her tits by Titian, her mound by Monet, her pussy by Picasso, her… well, you get the idea. She was gorgeous, she was smart, she was direct and she was comfortable with being naked. Did I mention her tits?
Lydia showed up a few minutes later with a white woman of about twenty-five. Lydia was still in her sports bra and cut-offs; her companion was in a shapeless shift. She introduced Clarissa, Danny’s sister.
Lucy took over the explanations. She used to fuck Danny, who was Clarissa’s brother. Lucy’s own sister, Lydia, was bush-bobbing with Clarissa. Lucy and Danny were just roommates now. It’s complicated, but its’ simple, really.
We were still trying to digest the brother-sister/sister-sister set up when Lydia motioned at Lucy. “Honestly, sis, it’s always the same thing. You can’t wait to unveil your boobs of bounty around good-looking guys.”
What good-looking guys? That can’t include me unless this Sapphic rug-muncher was blind. Anyway, she didn’t matter because she was muff-diving into … wait a minute…
Clarissa had just taken off her shift. The body was nice. It was very nice. I’d never knowingly had sex with a lesbian before, but was looking forward to making Clarissa my first exploration into that unknown territory. I fantasized about eating her pink bikini panties, perhaps with a side of strawberry jelly.
“You can close your mouth and stop drooling.” Lydia was addressing me. “That cunt has an owner.” To make sure I understood perfectly, she took three hours licking her lips. Well, it seemed like three hours, anyway.
That’s when Josh walked in. He had stopped at the convenience store for some smokes, and stripped to his blue boxer-briefs. Lucy looked on with admiration. Her sister and Danny’s sister looked, and then went back to guzzling down beer.
Introductions were repeated, along with an explanation of the brother-sister etc. set-up.
“So you two swing from the other side of the plate,” Josh observed. “You know, I was a baseball coach in college. Interested in some instruction in switch-hitting?”
Lydia had Lucy’s directness gene. “Go fuck yourself, jerk-off.” You couldn’t blame a guy for trying,
About three or four decades later my erection had finally subsided; Paul had no such luck. Lucy walked over to him and ran her fingers over the bulge in his briefs. “Extra super jumbo sized my ass. But, the Vienna sausages are often just as tasty as the bratwurst.”
Paul asked her how she felt about an impromptu barbecue. “Maybe later. I have to work tomorrow, so I’m leaving. Danny, you coming?” Danny nodded his head.
Lucy slipped her top back on and told Danny his clothes were in the back seat of the car. He could get dressed while she drove. Lydia handed Clarissa the shift; Clarissa didn’t bother dressing.
“We live in the neighborhood,” Clarissa explained.
After everyone had left, Paul excused himself to go to his room. He had a monkey to spank.
For the next three days, I spent all my spare time in the convenience store. I stopped wearing shirt or pants in the store, hoping to catch the eye of a gorgeous young nubile horny chick. I was propositioned by an obese woman in her sixties and politely declined. I told her I had a headache.
Mr. Rogers, eat your heart out.
