Lovely and Nude

Lovely and Nude: Redressing the Balance

Once I'd fished around in the bed clothes and found the phone, I of course knew exactly who was calling. "Hello," I said, smiling.

She replied, her voice mischievous, "Are you all lovely and nude?"

She prefers the soft consonants of 'nude'. I prefer the hard consonants of 'naked' -- just as she prefers 'penis', where I prefer 'cock' -- while I prefer 'hardon' to her 'erect penis', emphasis on erect in this context...well, not all of it works 100% but you get the idea.

Chuckling, I replied: "Of course."

It had been true, mere seconds before. In fact, I had just peeled on the tee, settling on the bed, and was still arranging the pillows on which I was planning to be propped atop the bedcovers with my laptop when the phone rang. So in real time, I put down the phone, peeled the tee up and off and arced it across the room into the corner. Honesty restored, so to speak -- and hardon at full sail -- I picked the phone back up.

She was still chuckling. Chuckles I would describe as mischievous, and lascivious. Apparently volunteering to be the lightening rod, so to speak, my hardon stood up: quivering at every nuance. We went on to talk about today, and yesterday, and immediate plans going forward. We were planning to marry in a few weeks, you see -- making it even more difficult to be separated because of 'work'. But it was not the first wedding for either of us, and we could and would sort it out.

Ringing off, still chuckling, I swung my legs off the bed and padded across to the kitchen -- plugging in the kettle. It was early spring, still chilly. The hardwood floor underfoot had yet to warm. So the chill was climbing my legs, causing my hardon to, well, slowly wilt. It was also, overall, chilly to the point of distracting. There were a pair of sock-slippers on the shelf by the island, knit by her aunt for me. Ridiculous things, really -- but easy to wear, and warm and cozy.

They also made a lie of my most recent text message (which I had sent her less than 2 minutes ago). To wit:

'Yes...

I'd send a pic for proof but you get nervous and delete them...

There's a couple of time urgent email btw...and if you promise to behave appropriately I'll see what can be done about 'all lovely and [sic] NAKED' later in the week xoxo' ( XYZ, 2019)

Which had been in mock reply to the message I had transcribed and sent less than a minute before that. To wit:

' "Are you all lovely and nude..." (ZYX, 2019)?'

Both of which I would, of course, later reference as 'personal communication', cited to the appropriate party, to reinforce correct APA in advance as she prepared to undertake her grad school capstone.

But for the moment the problem was, it was a lie. The ridiculous but comfy and gorgeously warm sock-slippers made my testimony to being naked a lie. That was a balance I may have to redress.

I sent the text: 'Thinking of you xoxo'

Receiving the reply: 'Lol...thinking of you too...I hope you have the heat pump turned up as I don't want you to catch a cold ["happy face, with kisses all over it" emoji]'

So I sent back a photo, down-angle, of the sock-slippers on my feet, with the note: 'Ok... my conscience has been killing me. I've been a bad boy. I lied. I've been wearing 'ABC's' socks all along. I throw myself on the mercy of the court xoxo'

To which I received an almost immediate response. To wit: 'Lol...the court understands has sympathy for those exercising common sense ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐' Followed immediately by: 'Like hell. Get that cute penis and those lovely testicles home, now. I have an upturned hand waiting to receive them'

As you may have guessed, there was a process established for just such situations...

& & &

When I arrived home, his car was in the driveway. Feeling the warmth of anticipation spread through me, I climbed the stairs. When I let myself in, he was indeed there: stark naked, actually on the island -- with the soles of his feet pressed together to spread his knees and thighs as far as possible, completely exposing his cute penis and testicles.

I took my time, setting aside my work briefcase, removing and hanging up my coat, removing my shoes one at a time -- taking a few moments to massage each foot in turn: my eyes fixed on him through all of that, smiling. I padded across to the cupboard, pulled out the bottle of red, retrieved a glass, still smiling at him as I poured out, and took a sip.

Only then did I move to the island, put my free hand on the granite surface palm up, about 3 feet in front of his pressed-together feet. Making him work his way forward, feet still together, his cute erect penis moving/swaying as his hands behind him propelled him forward in little low hops. Then my hand was in contact with his feet and he leaned forward, gently took my free hand and lifted in over his legs to place it only inches in front of his glistening-tipped, quivering erect penis.

He hefted himself forward once more, placing his testicles in my palm. I took another sip, still meeting his eyes, still smiling, and slowly closed my hand, twisting, just enough to make him swallow, hard, and look away from my gaze...

Over to you...any females out there who have wanted to punish your partner, for lies, however harmless -- and who might want to collaborate on the rest of this story -- please contact us via the Contact box on our profile page.