{Note: You do not need to read any other of my stories, although this might make slightly more sense if you read "Broke Oak: Beginning" first as this is one of a series of stories about living in a nudist resort in Texas called Broke Oak Resort.}
I am not that unusual in many ways. There are quite a few folks that live fulltime in a nudist resort. On the other hand, few of them write about the experiences, so I am unusual in that respect.
I live alone, having lost my wife of many years, though I would never describe myself as lonely. You want lonely, you need to meet my neighbor Millie; she is lonely.
Life in a community like mine gets to have many patterns and habits. Twice a week, I meet with Hank and Kacie so the three of us can give each other pubic shaves, trims, and touch-ups. Every other day in the morning, I either meet with my coffee friends, called The Posse, or I eat breakfast in the resort café. Twice a week I trade massages with Faye, once in my house and once in her house. So, patterns and habits get to be big parts of life.
Now, living in a nudist community, I seldom wear anything if I don't have to. Of course, I sleep naked and I get up at the same time every day and step out to get my newspaper. If there is anything unusual about that, it is that I often (probably usually) still have my morning erection when I do. Having an erection in public at a nude resort is, of course absolutely forbidden. However, I am not really in public as the little patio is quite hidden and in over a year, I have probably not been 'caught' going after the paper more than three times – and nobody has complained.
Within two weeks of starting the paper, instead of it being down on the driveway, it started being on my picnic table, which is closer to the door. I realized that my neighbor must be getting up before me and placing it there when she went after her paper. (Our houses share a common driveway/patio.
Having the paper there makes it easy to get to, but I noticed that it does place me in site of my neighbor Millie's house more openly. One morning as I reached for the paper, I noticed that Millie was sitting at her kitchenette window and that she obviously saw my penis in its erect state. I didn't think too much about it, but I surreptitiously checked for several more days and noticed that she appeared to be there with her coffee every morning. This means that every morning, she has been seeing my hard-on and evidently was not offended as she never complained or avoided the moment.
More thinking made me realize that she was probably putting my paper where she did to get a better view! Where she put the paper I actually had to come quite close to her house and directly toward her. I had to admire her planning. I also decided I needed to get to know her better and to understand her.
I have usually found that when a question hits me, things work best if I move on it directly. So, once I had decided to talk to Millie, I did. I went over after lunch one day and took a cake. I baked the cake for no reason other than to take it to Millie and when she asked why I brought it that was what I told her.
Millie seldom comes out of the house during the week. I see her around the resort on weekends, but only with her husband. Brian, her husband, travels a lot and spends days in a row on the road.
Millie is short, about five-three and slightly pudgy, but not unsightly by any definition. She has stretch marks on her hips and slightly on her tummy, as well. I happen to be one of those men not bothered by these, but I acknowledge that they are an issue to some men – and to almost any woman, particularly those that have developed these Badges of Motherhood. Her rounded breasts were smallish and slightly plump and sagged as much as you could expect of a woman about fifty. Her areolas are small and oval shaped with the longer part in the up and down direction. Millie's nipples were not erect, and, in fact, I realized I had often seen them erect – I determined that they perhaps are not very sensitive at the moment.
"I seldom really see you outside the house, Millie" I ventured "do you get along OK?"
"I go out, but just not much. Brian travels so much and I don't like to go out alone. I know that sounds odd at a nudist resort, part of being here is that it is an enclosed environment and I feel safe inside the fences. And on weekends, we get out and about; I guess I just don't have much reason to venture out during the week."
"If it is none of my business, please, please feel free to say so, but are things OK for you?" I asked.
Millie looked at me for along moment. I could tell she was gauging her trust for a guy she only sees out the kitchen window. Suddenly, with tears welling in her eyes, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed "No, no, not at all Gus, no."
I came around the table and sat beside her, guiding her head to my shoulder and neck to hold her. I said nothing and listened for her to open her heart. She cried for several minutes, each minute increasing my helpless feeling.
As I hugged her, stroked her hair, and rocked her she gradually calmed down. I saw that if I really stretched, I could reach a box of tissues and I grabbed a couple, gently rubbing them on the back of her hand until she took them and began working at collecting herself. I politely looked away to give her space as she dabbed, blotted, sniffled, and grew calmer by the moment.
"Gus," she finally managed, "Brian and I don't have a good marriage. I'm not sure when or why, but he has just gradually wanted nothing to do with sex. We really do have a good time together, personally, but nothing 'privately' if you can understand what I mean?"
I nodded and mumbled "Sort of, I suppose. But I don't think it is you that has something wrong, you are an attractive woman." I knew I was being truthful, Millie was attractive, but she was cute not beautiful. She probably would look much better, though if she looked happier. There is something about sadness that puts a cloud all around a person's countenance – and it certainly had hers. I ventured a question to get the conversation back on track "Have you talked with Brian about wanting intimacy, or is it none of my business?"
"Oh hell yes, I have told – asked – begged and all it comes down to is he doesn't know why he feels as he does. Or, more accurately 'does not feel what he ought to' and he went to the doctor; he's healthy. Brian just doesn't desire sex. He can masturbate, like if he just wants to prove that he can, but he doesn't even have the desire to do that! And what is killing me, it is as though he doesn't desire to have the desire.... I feel abandoned."
"Shit." I uttered "I have never heard of anything like this. What does he expect you to do – become a monk like him?"
"Shit is right! It is killing me. And he sees that it is not fair to me, that it's not right. He tells me that it would be a relief if I found someone to help me out, but I'm too shy to do that. Nobody wants an old woman that looks like me. Even when I was at my best, I didn't turn many heads."
"Well, Millie, I have to be honest with you. Some men just automatically tune out when a woman is married. Also, sometimes it's a vicious circle that when one is sad or depressed, it shows and then other people tend to retreat from the person and then they look more sad or depressed and it just repeats. In your case, I really haven't known you long enough to be much help about why you might be shy or lonely. Because I was kind of recovering from my own loss, I probably was not as observant as I ought to have been."
"Gus," I knew it was coming – would only be a matter of time before Millie went there, "would you ... could you ... I am so ashamed to ask this ... Gus, every morning I put your newspaper up on your picnic table so that you can come for it. I do it so I can see you. See your ... Well, almost every morning you have ... well, most men usually have – my Brian doesn't, he just doesn't – most men have erections in the morning. Gus, I need to confess that I watch you every morning to be able to see - uhhh - to see your erection. I'm sorry, but I just can't help wanting to see something so wonderful, even if I didn't cause it. Even though we live in this place, I long for the up close, intimate sight of a man in his various stages. They move; they have their shapes.... I – I'm so sorry."
The sudden turn in the conversation had started to register with my little buddy and he was twitching ever so often. I've said before that I am not large or long, but my head gets a lot larger than the shaft and several ladies have remarked that they like that. Sometimes, and this time was no exception, the head engorges and gets fairly large before the shaft starts. This was the state I was in, and somehow I felt that it was the right time to let Millie enjoy what she likes to see. "Millie, if you look now, you can watch it going through one of its 'states' – go ahead, I don't mind, after all it's just normal and natural."
Millie leaned slightly to her left and openly stared. She put her hand over her mouth, almost as thought she was shocked, but I knew it was not shock; it was actually what appeared to be expressing relief.
"May I?" she whispered looking up at my eyes, "I mean is it Okay to ..."
"Touch it? Sure, go ahead." I assured her, and I stood slowly in front of her so she could see it, touch it, and (I hoped, maybe even) taste it.
Millie ran her fingers up and down the shaft which was now engorging, around the head which was now huge and becoming sensitive. She lifted it and outlined the tube along the bottom of the shaft, the channel my cum would be flowing down. And while one hand held my penis and moved it around to suit her vision, her other hand went to my balls and she rolled one, the other, and then both in her fingers and in her palm. Finally, like iron to a magnet, but slowly, she open her lips and leaned her face close to my now totally firm cock. I felt first the head - and then slowly the shaft, enter Millie's mouth. Warmth, no, heat, engulfed me and by pulling my balls, Millie moved my manhood in and out of her mouth.
