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?"
