I Could Really Use A Towel

It was the summer I turned nineteen. I had just stepped out of the shower at my best friends summer house, naked and dripping wet, when there was a quick knock and her father walked in.

I'd better explain. My name is Debi and this was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years. Cindi saved my life when a mixup in dorm assignments left us both homeless and crying. She drove us around town until we found the perfect place and we were best buds ever since.

But back to the nudity.

I knew her parents were pretty well-off. She was reluctant to talk about them only because she didn't want to make me uncomfortable. I accidentally saw a letter with her parents names and saw "Dr." in front of her father's name.

She invited me to their summer house in a pretty little resort town on the water. I had underestimated the weekend traffic and got there late.

There were questions I should have asked before I fell into bed. Like -- where are the towels?

I heard puttering around downstairs next morning. 8 am? Way too early! Nonetheless I grabbed my little robe and headed for the guest bath across the hall. I was already naked underneath; always sleeping nude and one with nature.

I had brought my own bath things so I actually enjoyed the shower. Then I stepped out, dripping wet. Where were the towels? I was on a tiny rug. My robe was behind the door.

Then there was a quick knock. One two. And the door opened and her father walked in. He headed straight for the built-in cabinets, softly cursing.

I stood there in absolute shock. I swallowed hard and found my voice: "Um... I could really use a towel!"

He turned and looked at me. "Oh yes. Really sorry. I just realized the maids forgot to leave guest towels!"

I stood there still naked and still dripping. Were we really going to have a whole conversation?

I still didn't cover up. "Do... do you have... something?"

He seemed to finally notice my nakedness. He looked me up and down as if he needed to assess how wet I was before he made a decision. "Just wait. I'll be right back!" And then he left the room with the door open.

I looked at the open door. My shortie robe was behind it. I could grab it and run across the hallway. Then I heard him coming back. My hands and arms involuntarily found my exposed lady parts and covered up.

He came in carrying a big white soft monogrammed towel. "This is all I have. It's my towel."

I didn't need explanations -- I needed a towel and some consideration of my exposed state. I tried to figure out how I would reach for it without showing him my titties again when he said: "Oh no. Sorry. But I'm gonna have to dry you off myself."

What! I had thought I was in shock before. "Y-- you're gonna dry me?!"

He nodded. "It's my towel. I usually shower after breakfast. If it's too wet my wife will know I let you use it. She'll know the maids screwed up. She'll flip. She's so stressed from work and this was supposed to be her chance to unwind."

So, his wife will flip if I borrowed his towel. Would she flip if she found out he personally dried off a naked teenaged girl?

"Let's get you turned around. I'll just have to fluff you up, little by little. I know this is awkward, but let's get this over with before the girls wonder where we are."

He put his hand on my bare shoulder. I sighed and turned away from him, giving him yet another view of my petite, nude form.

He started with my shoulders, then the blades, then the small of my back. When he got down to my naked buttocks he paused.

"There are... let's call them nooks and crannies that need to be carefully dried off, especially on young ladies." He put his hand on my thigh, inches below my right ass cheek. "If you could just open your legs a bit..."

I hesitated. At least he wasn't asking me to bend over. I slowly complied.

"Now if you could bend over. Just a bit!"

Jesus! I reluctantly put my hands on my knees. He pulled my cheeks apart with one hand and toweled me down there with the other. All the way down to my butt hole. I was putting on quite a show I'm sure. I was an aroused naked female bent over and displaying her genitalia to an attractive male.

I was quite tiny in those days. 5' 4.5" and 33-23-33. I must've had a growth spurt later on! He finished his careful ass-drying chore and did the backs of my shaky legs, down to my feet. Then he put the now familiar hand on my shoulder. I sighed and turned around again.

He seemed to study me. He took each hand and held them as he dried me from my underarm down. I gripped his hands back; there was something undeniably sexy about a naked girl holding an older man's hand. He patted my shoulders dry and then he stopped at my breasts.

"You do look so like my daughter!" he announced, his eyes wide and focused on my tits.

I stared right at him! What? I almost covered up!

"I have to explain". He was actually blushing. "My wife and daughter have taken to sunbathing topless." He started on my breasts, getting my nipples even harder. He actually lifted up each breast, one at a time with one hand and patted down the underside with the towel. My nips went from hard to harder to hardest.

"We have a very private deck," he continued, more calmly. "When I first walked out on those two, she almost screamed and covered herself. But then, after a while, I was just Daddy." He was down to my belly. "I can now appreciate my daughter's beauty briefly, along with my wife, and then just turn away and read my paper and sip my coffee. That's it."

He was now at the point of no return. He kneeled in front of me.

"I'm sorry to have to ask you to open up again. One more nook!"

I meekly complied and spread my pretty legs wide. My body I'm sure was giving me away. My delicately closed, little girl pink lips were by now warm, wet, puffy and invitingly open.

He spent some time patting down my neatly trimmed pubic hair and then gently toweled my pussy, down to my vaginal opening. He stopped and seemed to be considering his work, then he opened up my outer lips. He carefully poked a tiny corner of the towel inside with his index finger and pushed that corner down from clit to cunt. I was breathless and trembling.

I looked down at his brown hair, prematurely graying. Why is it that some men just naturally age into Cary Grant or George Clooney while we girls have to try so hard?

He finally moved on to my legs and I thought the worst was over. Then he had me lift up each foot. I had to put a hand on each of his shoulders to steady myself. He lovingly held each foot in one hand as he dried them off, even going between my toes. Do I have to say that lifting up my feet while he was kneeling gave him an even better view of my swollen lower lips, my open cunt and my notoriously poky clit?

Finally it was over and he actually gave me advice about how to complete my drying process by standing naked in my room with the windows and my legs open. At this point if he followed me in I may have lost control and ruined my special friendship.

But he did leave, I did eventually air-dry and got dressed. There was no awkwardness afterward except on my part. When he saw me in my bikini he gave me a knowing smile, as if to say 'I've seen you in less!' I couldn't believe how my weekend started. Obviously I never told Cindi what happened. I have carried that moment with me. Either it defined or it opened me to a new level of sexuality.

Oh. Later on I found out his doctorate was in philosophy.