Walter Celebrates National Nude Day

Middle-aged man exposes himself.

In celebration of National Nude Day a middle-aged man takes it all off to make his point.

Well, today was the day. It was now or never. Mrs. Crabtree our nosy neighbor was out front, as usual, pretending to walk her miserable dog, a toy poodle, as old as she is in dog years, while peeking in everyone's window. I was waiting for her to leave but she was too busy spying and she'd be out there for a while hoping to see or hear something she shouldn't. The woman has no life but for everyone else's business and I'm sick and tired of her snooping. What the Hell? Here goes nothing. I figured I'd finally give her something to gossip about by giving her something to see.

My routine is to get my morning newspaper, that is, after I find where the Hell the paperboy tossed it, before relaxing with my morning coffee in my easy chair. Brazen and full of confidence, I opened my front door and waved my hello to my spying neighbor.

"Hi, Mrs. Crabtree, how the fuck are you?"

"Well, I never," she said with her mouth gaping open and her eyes bulging out of her head.

"Hi ya, buddy," I said to the dog taking a few steps forward and leaning down to pet the mangy beast. Not remembering his name, I wanted to call him shit head because that's what he does all over my front lawn.

"Grrr!" The dog wasn't very friendly nor was my nosy neighbor, but what else is new? The two deserved one another. I never saw more of a perfect match of a pet and its owner. With their gray curly hair, they even looked a little alike.

"Get away from my dog, you foul, dirty man," she said literally running across the street while turning to leer at me.

Gees, had I known that this is all that it takes to get rid of my nosey neighbor, I would have done this a long time ago. I never saw the old bag move so fast since that day, Earth Day, when they were passing out free flyswatters for every can of bug spray. The type of person who would take anything, as long as it was free; when everyone else was surrendering their full cans or barely used cans of bug spray, she surrendered her empty can for a free flyswatter.

Even though she appeared to be shocked and embarrassed, she got a good look at me nonetheless because she kept turning and staring as she ran. To be honest, I felt good about opening up, taking it to the next level, broadening my relationship with my neighbors, and bonding closer to the natural beauty of my neighborhood.

'Ah, life is good,' I said to myself for no one to hear while stretching and yawning on my front lawn.

"Have a nice day, Mrs. Crabtree," I called after her while waving as she ran. "Watch out for that car. Stop, look, and listen before crossing is my motto. That's what I always say. That's my rule. One can never be too careful when crossing the street."

'Screech!'

Damn, the car just missed her and her mangy mutt. The driver of the car was staring over at me instead of watching the road. Who the Hell is out at this hour of the morning? Oh, that's Sheila, the President of the PTA driving that car. The neighborhood men call her SS Sheila for short skirt Sheila because she never wears anything else but short skirts to show off her sexy legs. Admittedly, she does have nice legs.

"Hi ya, Sheila," I said giving her a big wave, as she banged a U-turn, slowed, and stopped her car in front of me. I looked down peering in her car and wasn't disappointed to see her skirt was raised up just below her panty line. Damn, it was erotically exciting to see that much of her shapely thighs. "How are you? You almost got Mrs. Crabtree," I said laughing while pointing over at Mrs. Crabtree's house.

"Actually, Walter," she said smiling while puffing up her hair with her hand and staring. "Who would have blamed me and who would have cared?"

"Bye Shelia," I said while sharing her laugh.

"Give my jealous regards to Marion," she said ogling me. "It was nice, uhm, to see you. It was nice to see all of you, Walter," she said giving me a long leer.

I found my newspaper behind a bush, retrieved it, and went back inside my house to sit in my favorite chair, a leather recliner that was positioned in front of my big, bay window.

"Ah, life is good or will be soon when everyone in the house awakens," I said to myself again, while stretching and yawning.

No sooner had I opened my newspaper when my daughter, Tricia, and her hot friend, Kathy, came downstairs looking for breakfast. I looked at my watch and it was not even 8am. After a late night out, they were up awfully early. Ah, I wish I was young again. At my age, if I have one too many beers, I sleep until noon and then wake up with an awful hangover.

Now, my daughter is a good looking woman, but my daughter's friend, Kathy, is an absolute knockout. I can understand why when they are both together, all the guys hit on Kathy instead of my daughter. Why wouldn't they? Who wouldn't?

Kathy is taller, shapelier, and bustier than my daughter and has a very pretty face. Not that my daughter doesn't have a pretty face, but she's my daughter and I don't think of her in that way, if you know what I mean. Moreover, Kathy wears the right clothes to show off her shapely figure. Every top she wears shows her abundant cleavage.

Now that I think about it, especially since I watched her in a movie last night, Sin City, she looks a little like Jessica Alba. Moreover, Kathy is more personable and a lot friendlier than my daughter is. My daughter is usually a bit bitchy like her mother. Certainly, if I was thirty years younger and single, without doubt, I'd do my daughter's girlfriend.

Definitely, Kathy is a hot woman but without the attitude of a lot of other beautiful women. Give her time, no doubt, after being fucked over by men, getting married and divorced, and having a few kids, she'll be as bitchy as the rest of them. Regarding my daughter though, I have no idea why she's so miserable. If she's such a bitch now, I can't imagine what she'll be like later in life after she's had a reason to be bitchy. Maybe, it's just that she doesn't have a boyfriend and needs to get laid. Without doubt, she takes after my wife instead of me.

After a night out partying and drinking, Tricia invited Kathy to sleepover rather than drive home drunk. I so wanted to pretend that I didn't know she was sleeping over and peek in the guest bedroom to see if she was sleeping naked, but I was still up watching television when they got a ride home stinking of booze and giggling.

I imagined walking in Kathy's room naked and standing there in the dark while watching her masturbate in her sleep. I imagined my penis reacting to the naked sight of Kathy sleeping naked while masturbating. I imagined Kathy reaching out her hand in her sleep and taking my cock in her mouth, as if she had been masturbating over the thoughts of me, an older man, her girlfriend's father. Hey, it's my sexual fantasy. I can fantasize whatever I want and if I'm going to have a sexual fantasy, it may as well be a good one. Still, nonetheless, it was an exciting fantasy to imagine Kathy sleeping in the guestroom naked while masturbating and thinking of me, no doubt.

Actually, I'm sure she didn't sleep naked in the guestroom and masturbate over me or even think of me. It's just a sexual fantasy that I enjoy imagining whenever I see Kathy. She's so hot and she makes me so horny. Her ass is first class and the way she walks and talks is so seductive. I'd give my right arm to fuck her.

"Hold on to the sink, Kathy, because I only have the one arm to keep you steady and to keep you from banging your head against the tile wall," I imagined saying to her.

Honestly, I had forgotten that she was even here, kind of, well, not really, but I was delighted, excited actually, to see her again. I was proud that I still had the obvious aftereffects of my morning woody. Had I remembered we had such a hot houseguest, I may have rethought my plan and not gone through with it.

'Nah!'

Minding my own business, I had already made coffee and was sipping my first cup and reading my newspaper while waiting for my wife to materialize from her deep beauty sleep to make me some toast. The older she gets the longer and deeper she sleeps. Obviously, she needs more sleep to rejuvenate her fading beauty. Only, she'd have to pull a Rip Van Winkle to recapture her lost youth. Yeah, I know, I could make my own damn toast, but it tastes better when my wife makes it for me.

"Dad! What the Hell?"

"Hi, Mr. Wilson," said my daughter's 22-year-old friend and giving me a sexy smile.

With that sexy greeting, Kathy made me wish that she was my daughter instead of Tricia. With her great personality, she was such a delight to have around the house. Fully dressed, I wished she had come downstairs in her sheer nightgown or baby dolls. But damn, she was even prettier when she smiled.

I imagined running away with her to Bali before imagining stripping Kathy naked, tying her to the bed, and making her do all the naughty things I imagined her doing while giving me that same sexy smile. Damn, she was so hot. Everything about her, the way she looked, the way she moved, and even the way she talked screamed fuck me and fuck me hard.

"Mom! Dad has lost his mind," said my lovely daughter yelling up the stairs. "I apologize for my father's lunacy. Eww! I'm so embarrassed. C'mon, let's get out of this nuthouse, Kath. We'll go to MacDonald's for breakfast."

"Bye, Mr. Wilson," said Kathy turning to take another long look at all that I was showing and catching me staring at her incredible ass before leaving.

"Bye Kathy," I said giving her my best older man smile.

God, I wish I could fuck her. I'd give up watching sports, playoff games, World Series and Super Bowls, to spend one hot night with Kathy. Damn, she's so damn hot. I couldn't help but imagine her giving me a good-bye wet kiss while I reached down behind her to feel her firm, round ass before reaching my other hand up to feel her abundant breast while she fondled my cock.

"Kathy, Hon," I imagined saying to her. "You forgot to give my cock a good-bye kiss."

"You're right. I did. How could I forget such a thing? Please forgive my bad manners. Just let me put on some lipstick."

I watched her applying bright red lipstick to her soft, full lips. Then, she leaned down and took my cock in her mouth while stroking me and swirling her tongue around the head of it.

"Good-bye to the cock of Tricia's Dad."

Oh, my God, my fantasies were running wild with my imagination.

"I like your Dad," I heard Kathy say to my daughter, as she walked through the kitchen and out the back door. "He's cool."

"Eww," said my love child about her own Dad.

Yeah, definitely, my daughter is a bitch. With my luck she'll never marry and will live at home for the remainder of her life with her mother and me.

Damn, Kathy made my day hearing her say that, that she likes me and that I'm cool. Who knows, maybe when my wife files for divorce after my National Nude Day antics of today, I may have a chance with her. Tahiti, my tropical paradise of choice, here we come.

Back to minding my business and enjoying my early morning alone time, I continued sitting there reading my newspaper and sipping my coffee. It was already a bright sunny day and the birds were singing and a few neighbors were out walking their dogs and mowing their lawns.

"Hi ya, neighbors," I said with a wave whenever one passed by my window.

Those neighbors, who unfortunately or fortunately happened by my bay window and saw me, put their heads down when I waved my hello. I thought that was not only a rude but also an odd reaction for them to not to acknowledge my friendly hello, especially on this most sacred day of days, National Nude Day.

With her hair looking like she slept on her head, my wife, Marion, hurried downstairs while tying her bathrobe sash. Damn, without makeup, this is not the woman that I proposed to and this is not the woman that I married. If I knew she'd look this bad in the morning, I may have reconsidered my matrimonial vow.

Instead of dressing in a wedding gown with flowers in her professionally coiffed hair and made up by makeup artists (which is why they call them artists, especially in the case of my wife), people should appear at the altar as they do when they first wake up in the morning. Yeah, there'd be fewer divorces and fewer marriages for that matter, if we guys knew up front what we were getting into.

"Good morning, Honey Bunch," I said giving her my best Nude Day smile.

"Walter! What the Hell is going on? Why was Tricia yelling? She woke me up and it's a good thing she did. I'm late. I'm going out to the nursery to buy flowers with—" Then, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes to take another look at me. "Walter! What the Hell are you doing? We have a houseguest."

"We had a houseguest," I said with a snicker while wetting a finger to turn the page of my paper. "She just left with our sweet daughter out the back door."

"Not to mention your daughter is home from college. How dare you? What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"Lost my mind? No I haven't lost my mind. This is the sanest I've felt in years. Actually, no longer inhibited by the confining conventions put upon me by a puritanical society, I finally feel free," I said putting my coffee down and my paper aside to yawn and stretch my naked exposure to the full delight and pleasure of my wife.

Okay, maybe delight and pleasure are the wrong words, annoyance and displeasure are better word choices, but I did expose my penis to my wife, nonetheless. Maybe, hopefully, she'll get the hint and take me upstairs and fuck my brains out of my twisted mind.

"Confining conventions? Puritanical society? Have you been drinking at this hour of the morning?"

"No, dear, I'm not drunk. I'm just finally lucid," I said reaching over to take a sip of my coffee. "The strongest elixir I've had is Starbuck's French Roast and it's just the thing to perk up my insight."

"I can see that more than your insight is perked up. Where's your modesty? Have you no shame? Put that thing away for God's sakes. It's too early in the morning to see that."

"Too early in the morning? We used to always do it early in the morning," I said hoping she'd agree to a quickie.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather just have some coffee than to be exposed to that thing," she said pointing to it in the way she points to fish that has gone bad. "Suddenly, I feel violated," she said with a look as if she just had taken a bite out of a sour pickle.

I couldn't believe what my wife of 25 years was saying. Imagine my own wife saying that she felt violated by seeing my cock. Mrs. Crabtree didn't feel so violated. She was looking, albeit as she was running away. And Sheila took a good look long at my cock. There was no violation with Sheila. Further, up the evolutionary scale was Kathy. By her stares and sexy smiles, she liked, I dare say, enjoyed seeing what I was showing. Yeah, baby! Violated my ass, I'd like to violate your ass right now to show you what it really feels like to be violated, you bitch, I mean, my sweet darling.

I could feel my wife, Marion, burning a hole in my newspaper. I peered up over my paper to see her eyes steaming and her face reddening. She was hopping mad. I haven't seen her as mad since she missed the big Macy's day sale when she was home sick with the flu.

"My modesty, my shame, and my inhibitions have since been replaced by my freedom. On this one national day of nudity, I feel one with the Earth."

"You won't feel so free when the police arrest you for indecent exposure. And where did you get that newspaper?"

"Where did I get the newspaper?" I knew what she meant, but I just played dumb. She hates it when I do that. "The paperboy delivered it, Sweetheart."

"You know what I mean, you ass. Did you go outside to get it...like that?" She pointed a stiff index finger at me, as if she was pointing me out in a courtroom.

"Yes, that's him, Your Honor," I imagined hearing her saying at my trial for indecent exposure and lewd behavior. "That's my crazy husband. He exposed himself to my daughter and her friend."

"Of course, I went outside. How else could I get my damn paper? It's beautiful out, there's a cool breeze and the birds are—"

"You didn't."

"I did, indeed."

"Oh, God help me," she said making the sign of the cross. "Did anyone see you?"

"See me? No, of course not, that is, so long as you still consider Mrs. Crabtree as being a nosy nobody. Oh, and Sheila said to say hi."

"Oh, my God, Walter, how could you embarrass me like that? You exposed yourself to Mrs. Crabtree? Of all people, she'll broadcast it over the entire neighborhood. And Sheila saw you, too? She'll tell everyone at school."

"Well, I guess that explains why Mrs. Crabtree ran home dragging her little dog, shit head, behind her. And I don't think Sheila will say anything to your fellow teachers. She liked what she saw too much, if you know what I mean," I said with a wink and a chuckle.

Marion stormed out to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, returned to the living room, and sat across from me staring and steaming. She sat there sipping her coffee without saying anything for a few minutes, but I was ready for her. I could just feel her staring at me. She was livid.

"Why are you naked?"

"Why am I naked? I should ask you," I said looking up at her. "Why aren't you naked?"

"Please don't answer my question with a question. Just answer my damn question, Walter Wilson."

She hasn't called me by my full name since I crashed my truck...in the driveway...into her car...after I had been drinking. Still staring at me, she persisted.

"Why are you naked?"

I'll never forget it. "Walter Wilson," she said that day running out in her nightgown. "You totaled my car."

"It's just a little bump for Christ sakes," I said. "When you see in the morning light, it will be nothing."

Yeah, that little nothing cost me the price of buying her a new car.

"Why am I naked?"

I did it again, answered her question with a question before answering her question with another question, just to piss her off. She didn't have a lot of patience when she just woke up, especially before having finished her first cup of morning coffee.

"Yes, why are you fucking naked?"

"Don't you know what today is?"

"Yes, of course, I do. Today is Tuesday, July 14th, the day that I commit you to a mental hospital for losing your clothes along with your mind," she said.

"Today is National Nude Day," I said putting the paper aside and raising my arms over my head. "It's okay to get naked today and to feel the air tickle your pubic hairs."

"National Nude Day? What the Hell is that? Walter really, there's no such holiday," she said searing my pubic hairs with her stare. "You're just making that shit up to suit whatever agenda you suddenly have today to justify your perverted behavior in exposing yourself to our neighbor, my co-worker, our daughter, and her friend. Go upstairs this instant and put on your clothes."

I reclaimed my newspaper and pretended to read. I didn't even have to look up at her to know what she was doing. I could feel her watching me reading the newspaper and sipping my coffee.

"I'll get dressed after you have sex with me," I said finally after a thoughtful pause.

"What?"

"You heard me," I said looking at her over my paper. "I said I'll get dressed after you have sex with me."

"I'll not have sex with a crazy man."

"You'll not have sex with any man crazy or sane," I said snapping open another new page of my newspaper. "You haven't had sex with me in three long, frustrating years. If there is a reason why I've suddenly lost my mind, it's because you haven't had sex with me." I stiffened my newspaper, along with my resolve. "It's your fault that I'm sitting here naked. Yeah, that's right, you have no one else to blame but yourself for me sitting here naked."