(
Note to readers:
This story is being told a few months after Nude Day 2021. In terms of events, the story is total fiction, with all characters made up, and at least 18 years old, and American, and maybe ethnically diverse. The growth/shrinkage range of 'Steve,' however, does exist. The author's own equipment has that range.)
***
I'm a late bloomer, which is a hell of a lot better than the never-bloomer I was afraid I was. Somehow, everything clicked two years ago, when I was 24. My new job actually found me, because people who'd left my old workplace spread the word and a headhunter swooped in. Along about then I finished shedding my baby fat, and started to look okay, by the standards many women seem to use for judging young men. Suddenly I had confidence (without arrogance), and a personality, and some women said yes when I asked them for dates. There soon followed sex, in frequency and variety like I'd never had before.
As a result, I found out that what I am is a grower.
See, my interest in other human bodies goes only to women. I never paid attention to men. Showering after gym class? Couldn't care less about the other naked guys. From what little I can recall, their attitude was vice versa. I therefore had no idea that some men don't go from small when flaccid to big when erect, they stay kinda the same size, and stiffen and loosen from that. I learned this indirectly, from a very pleasant experience.
It was a no-strings one-nighter with a woman I'll call Beth. We enjoyed the sex and she invited me to stay the night. I did, and awoke to morning wood. Beth woke up, saw that, and liked the idea, but wanted a bathroom trip first. I did the same when she was done. When I got back to bed, she looked at the aftermath of my urination, frowned, and asked, "What happened?"
Turns out we were both sparse in experience, and Beth had only been with guys who didn't shrink. I told her that some TLC would get me to a respectable boner. She was relieved, and we had a nice morning-after bang. Thus, I learned that other men didn't enlarge the way I did. And I didn't care.
This year, though, I learned that I'm not just different from show-ers (pronounced like men who show off, not like rain, or what you take when standing in a bathtub). I'm even different from other growers.
I don't care about that, either. I gotta say, though, this discovery led to my wildest sex ever. It might never happen again, but it was really great, which is why I'm writing this.
Beth and I and some other people we know, and/or dated, lined up the rental of a furnished house in a resort area, through a certain app that I won't name because I'm not getting paid to promote it. Four men, four women, acquainted anywhere from nodding awareness to sex partnership. All of us okay with the possibility that, across genders, the knowledge level might move all the way to carnal.
This was timed to National Nude Day, to which we all said 'Yeah, right,' without trying to find out if that really existed. Look, we were all bonkers because of COVID-19, and when lockdown lifted, we used Nude Day as an excuse. We were also at the right age and situation for something like this, all with good jobs, and healthy, single, and able to decide spontaneously to do something new and different. We all had flex hours, or work-at-home options carried over from the lockdown, and the rental was cheap for Tuesday-to-Thursday.
The women made it clear that they were as up for this as the men. My late-blooming self saw this as a way to make up for lost time.
I'll skip over the Tuesday night argument over who'd do the cooking and cleaning, and the too much drinking during the horror movie. Nobody took initiative then to go nude. I think we were all scared about that, when faced with actually doing it.
Our nervousness carried over to that night's sleeping arrangements. I slept alone, and so did most everyone else. There was some snarking and sniping about what had gone on earlier. Beth was ticked off at everyone in general, wondering aloud why she had agreed to do this, so I didn't come on to her. I think one couple sacked out together, but I don't know that for sure.
Early Wednesday everybody was just zoning out on phone apps. But then there were games that had been planned, to help us loosen up. They were fun, mostly.
People apologized for the previous night.
I think everyone knew that this was also Bastille Day, or did a decent job faking that they knew. One of the women, I'll call her Karlee, definitely knew. She even did something to tie the two events together. She retreated to a bedroom, then joined us again. She carried a little French flag, and wore a shapeless brown cap, and over her jeans a long t-shirt that looked wrinkled, or something, on the right shoulder and sleeve.
"You know that Delacroix painting?" she asked everybody, waving the flag in her right hand.
Crickets.
Then a vague image got into my head, and I stifled a laugh. "You mean the one where, uh, Lady Liberty is, like, leading the revolution?"
She pointed at me, grinning. "That's the one."
She waved the flag in long swoops, and declared, "Liberté! Egalité! Fraternité!"
Then, with her left hand, she snatched at her right shoulder and pulled away fabric that had been velcro'd together. This exposed her small, high, light brown, dark-nippled breasts. "Nudité!"
We all applauded and cheered. Karlee had fired the first shot on Nude Day, although unlike the bare-boobed woman in the painting, she didn't carry a gun.
It didn't take long for the rest of us to join her nude revolution.
That led to some making out, without anyone getting drunk, so I guess we were more than lockdown crazy, we actually liked each other.
