My Naked Lady

My Naked Lady

People fear the human body, but the body is not obscene and sex is not vulgar. This story addresses that.

The first time I saw her naked I knew I was in love. Okay, well, I was in lust, for sure, but I was definitely in something. A friend had told me there was a nude beach a mile south of the state park. It was east, but who's going to quibble? I had not been naked with other people, except in the fifth grade at the YMCA where you had to swim nude to go in the pool. I was very modest and it was hard for me, but I bit the bullet and went swimming with my two friends, Ernie and Stan. It was very embarrassing, but I did it anyway, even as uncomfortable as it was.

Well, when I heard about the nude beach as an adult twenty years later, my curiosity was piqued. I got directions and set out to be naked with others, but the day was foggy and I was the only person there, nude or otherwise. The next day was Sunday and it was a postcard day and there were a lot of naked bodies on towels, beach mats, and blankets, playing frisbee, surfing, and just laying around in the sun with no clothes on.

I did strip down soon after arriving and it wasn't so bad, but then I saw her and my day got better all at once. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, but at least I had sense enough to wear shades so she wouldn't know I was studying her anatomy all day long. She had a perfect heart-shaped bottom that was as tight as a snare-drum; medium but luscious, hand-sized breasts; wonderful nipples; long, slim legs; and a face that would put Michelle Williams to shame. She also had long blond hair, which was another of my weaknesses. I was hooked.

I did not talk to her except a very foolish sounding, "Nice day" at the water's edge. She simply smiled and nodded, probably realizing I was a blockhead praying for words to come but nothing intelligent came out. I spent the rest of the day watching out of the corner of my eye. I pretended to read and watched over the top of the book I had found in the living room of my shared apartment. She swam a few times and I made sure I went in at the same time. We surfed the same waves, but she didn't seemed to know there was anyone else in the water at the time. She seemed relaxed and natural, but not dazzled by my presence.

The next day I could get off without a tow was Friday, and there she was again in the same spot, with the same large towel and the same book, with that same lovely naked body. I watched her again that day, and the next, and after three days on the same beach I managed to place my beach mat even closer and get an even better view of all those wonderful bare body parts.

My nights were filled with her, and every day on the job, as well. By now we were best friends, at least in my imagination. Masturbatory fantasies I had on a regular basis. I didn't know her name or anything about her except that she was hotter than an August Sahara afternoon.

Over the next month I managed to be at the beach, in the same spot a few short yards from her, six times. It got so a few people recognized me and made chatty conversation, and one guy invited me to play frisbee with him, Tony. However, the one person there I really wanted to chat up just read, surfed a few times, and kept my total attention every second of every day.

I had been coming to the beach everyday I didn't have a tow, and one day I knowingly left my phone off so I wouldn't be bothered by work. Then one day I heard someone call her Karen and I was happy to have a name for my fantasies. Karen. I thought about Karen again that night, just as I had every night since I first saw her naked at the nude beach one mile from the state park.

The twentieth time at the beach, I even marked it on my calendar, I spent the usual time admiring Karen from behind my dark glasses and played some frisbee with Tony, rode a few waves, and pretended to read. After Karen left I gathered my things and started up to the parking lot.

When I got to the top of the cliff, where I could see the cars parked next to the train tracks I saw Karen standing next to a twenty-year old Honda looking in through the driver's side window. Damsel in distress. It was clearly the body language of someone who lost their keys or locked them in the car. As a tow truck driver I deal with that look daily.

I went right to my truck and opened the front door and took out the lock pick from behind my seat. I walked to her car and held up the lock pick. "Lose you keys?" I said.

She looked sheepish but shook her head. "Locked them in my car," she said.

"I do this for a living," I said. I slipped the pick between the window and the door frame, pushed it down until I heard it click, then I pulled up and unlocked the door. "I am Dave, by the way."

"You're the one reading Kerouac, right?" It was the book I had pretended to read for we( eks. I nodded, embarrassed that I could be asked about the book I had fake read while in reality I was watching her over my book. "You like it?" she asked.

"Passes the time," I said, hoping she wouldn't ask me about the actual story.

"You play frisbee really well," she said. I was incredibly happy she had noticed. She shook my hand, then got in her car and drove away.

On my next day at the beach she waved at me as I came down the sand. She motioned me over and made a spot beside her, indicating I should take the place next to her. It was one of the only times I was really happy I worked in towing. Instead of reading, she wanted to chat and asked me about my job, if I went to school, and where I lived.

When I said I lived in Buellton, she beamed and said she lived in Solvang. Solvang is five miles from Buellton. Then she said we should go to the beach together. She said she worked at a bakery in Solvang in the afternoon during the week. She didn't work on weekends, so she was at the beach every Saturday and Sunday, and during the week in the morning at least a couple times a week.

"We should come to the beach together," she said with a smile.

Had the girl of my dreams just asked me to come to the beach with her? Holy shit. Life couldn't get any better. She gave me her address, and directions and I said I would pick her up Saturday morning.

"What time six?" I joked.

"I run at six," she said. I didn't tell her I usually turn over in bed at six.

"What time?" I asked, hoping for as early as possible, but discounting six.

"How about nine? That way we'll get there before ten, before it gets too crowded," she said. I didn't take tows on the weekends, the owner's son took the weekends, so I would definitely be there, maybe with bells on and nothing else.

"I'll be there at eight fifty-nine," I said.

Not that I was eager, but I drove into Solvang at eight thirty, usually about the time I was getting up. I went to the bakery where she worked, just to see it, ordered a pastry and a hot chocolate, and ate it in the truck a block from her apartment.

At eight fifty-nine I was parked in front of her apartment, cleaning pastry out of my teeth and heading up to her door. Before I got there the door flew open and the vision of loveliness stood in her doorway grinning at me.

"You really did mean eight fifty-nine," she said. On the way to the beach she wanted to know all about me: where I grew up, what my parents did, and what I was studying at Hancock College. I suggested we trade facts about about ourselves: I would do one and she would do one.

She was taking night classes and studying at the beach. I told her I could not study at the beach. What I didn't tell her was that I couldn't study and watch her at the same time. She said she grew up in Wisconsin, but they moved to California when she was twelve. She had been taking classes at Hancock extension classes in education and wanted to go into teaching. I thought how torturous it would be for a class load of fifth grade boys to be stuck looking at her all day.

I told her I was born in LA and moved to Buellton when I was nine, had worked in construction, now drove a tow truck, and was also taking classes at Hancock's Lompoc Campus. I told her I had discovered the nude beach and thought I'd give it a try.

"I am so lucky you did," she said, but I didn't say I was the lucky one, although I thought it. She wasn't dating anyone regularly, and I gave my thanks to heaven. I told her I had three sisters and they would love her, and she warned me about her very over protective brother, Randy.

We made three trips to the beach--Saturday, Sunday, and Tuesday--when she told me she was losing her lease and needed to find a new place to live. It so happen that my place had an extra bedroom and it was available. She smiled and said I would get to see her everyday. That was wonderful news.

No, I wanted to see her every second. Looking at her was like watching your favorite movie all weekend. Now our spots on the beach were not just close, but they were side by side. She also asked me to apply sunscreen on her back. Oh, horrors. Could I also apply it to your front, your bottom, as well as your neck, your legs, and those awful shoulders. It was dirty work, but someone had to do it.

She turned over the job to me, but sadly she only needed someone to do her back. Dutifully, I applied ample sun protection on her lovely and difficult to reach back. I put some lotion on her lovely bottom and thanked God for the opportunity. I let her know if she ever needed help with the rest I was not too busy to help.

"You are such a kidder," she said. I assured her I wasn't kidding.

I had to smile at the serendipitous key episode that had led to so much. With my lack of confidence with women, I realized I would never have even been able to put a sentence together in her presence. Sad, but true.

Now she would be living just one door from me, in a bedroom not three feet from mine. Roomies? With the beautiful naked lady of the beach. It was a success story in the making. We rode to the beach together every time I didn't have a tow.

We had lived under the same roof, but except for the beach, we had never spent time together not on sand and not in separate bedrooms. That was when she asked me if I wanted to get "a bite together" after the beach one Saturday. Here's another day marked on my calendar.

"There is a nice steakhouse on in Buellton, The Hitching Post, made famous in the movie Sideways," I said. She loved that idea, even streamed the movie after we went. Was this like a date, or just a meal with a roommate? For me it was a date, perhaps The Date of all times.

One day on the way to the beach, in another of those "calendar moments," as casually as if she was inquiring about my choice of jeans, she asked (June 15th), "Do you like sex?" It was like asking a person if they liked breathing. To say I was shocked is the understatement of the century.

"I can take it or leave it," I said smiling. What I didn't say was I had not had it since Obama was president.

"Just wondering," she said. "We're together a lot."

Yeah, but not enough, I thought but didn't say it.

"I was just wondering what you liked," she said.

"Like ice cream. I guess I like it all," I said. Did I just compare sex to ice cream? She smiled and was quiet, probably thinking what a chowderhead.

"I think sex is natural and should be enjoyed," she said like she was commenting about the weather. "I was thinking maybe we could..." She didn't go on, but then again she didn't have to. "Maybe we can move my stuff into your room," she said.

I wasn't sure I had heard right. "Unless you wouldn't want me to invade your space," she said with a sly grin. Could she actually read my mind, or was I simply so transparent a blind person could see what was on my mind? "I didn't know you were interested," she said.

"I have been 'interested' since the first day I saw you," I said, sounding like a pathetic dweeb.

"I didn't think you even noticed me," she said. "You just sat there reading."

"You mean the book I pretended to read for a month," I said.

"I thought it took you a long time to read Jack Kerouac," she said with a grin.

"I couldn't read and watch you at the same time," I said.

"You mean you ogled a naked lady on the beach?" she asked with a giggle.

"Studied, admired, worshipped, okay, lusted after," I said with a shrug.

She kissed me and it was the best kiss I had ever gotten. Okay, the ones to follow were great, but that first one is marked in red on the calendar. We moved her stuff into my room that afternoon.

The first time we had sex is also marked on the calendar. It is circled in red, white, and blue, with stars around it. When she saw my calendar she laughed, then blushed. I said it was the best day of my life. "Locking my keys in my car was mine," she said with a grin.

Our first time was two nights after she began sharing my bed. The first night I was afraid to touch her, like she would turn to dust or run out screaming. We talked all night about what we wanted in life, what we were proud of, what we believed, and what we wanted in a mate. Turns out, we wanted the same thing: someone to love us unconditionally.

"Isn't there one kind of ice cream you like better than the others?" she asked.

"Sure. Rocky Road," I said.

"Me too," she said.

"So, let me ask you. Is there a way you like best, you know, in bed?" I asked.

"I like to be on top," she said. "I can control the speed, the depth, and I feel freer than being smothered by a heavy body."

"What a coincidence," I said. "That's my favorite, too."

"You're just saying that," she said.

"No, honest, it is now," I said. "What you like is my favorite. Don't they have a name for that?" I asked, showing my inexperience.

"Cowgirl," she said.

"Ride 'em cowgirl," I said.

"You really like that?"

"I do now," I said.

"You haven't done it?" she asked without ridicule.

"No, but you have to realize, you may be talking to the least experienced person on this continent," I said. "I hope that is not a deal breaker."

"Nope," she said, "unless it is a problem that I am not. Sex is something I have enjoyed, I am just really pleased I have someone I love to enjoy it with," she said.

I helped her get on top. She showed me how she liked to be, with a hand on each of my hips. "So you don't mind that I have done this before?" she asked.

"Someone has to know what they're doing," I said. She moved so I was at her opening and I pushed against the slit between her labia. They were wet and let me push through into her. My entire length slipped into her splayed and hungry pussy and I slid in all the way to the back of her sweet canal.

She started a slow pace of bouncing on me pushing my erection into her and then drawing it out. Our pace was steady and then it began to build.

When we'd finished we laid together just breathing and savoring the afterglow. "Are you going to mind that you're not my first?" she asked quietly.

"I would be honored to be your millionth," I said.

"Close," she said. "I have been a very active girl. You have to understand that sex has been a big part of my life. Can you accept that?" she asked quietly.

"If you chose to sleep in my bed, love me like you say you do, I can accept anything," I said.

"How do you feel about monogamy?" she asked.

"You mean the wood?" I asked, trying to be funny.

"Not mahogany, dummy, monogamy," she said punching me in the arm.

"I know society thinks married people should be monogamous," I said.

"But what do you think?" she said.

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't thought much about it. I have been mostly thinking of you."

"Well, you have me," she said. Always. But I need to know how you feel about monogamy, sex, unconditional love. I love you absolutely, unconditionally. If you tell me you want to fuck Sally, I will say 'come home to me.' I swear that is true."

"Who is Sally?" I said with a laugh.

"Or anyone," she said. "I would like to be your wife. You haven't asked me, but... "

"I fell in love with you the first time I saw you nude," I said. "Or probably in lust, but I knew from early on that is what I wanted."

"It took me longer. I think it was seeing you pretend to read Kerouac. I love a man who pretends to read good stuff," she said with a smile. "You are kind, thoughtful, and adorably honest," she said. "And, I like being with you."

"Those are the nicest words I have ever heard," I said. "Will you marry me?"

"I thought you would never ask," Karen said with a broad grin.

On our honeymoon we went all the way to San Diego, La Jolla, to be exact. We stayed at a Marriott and stayed in the room except to eat and go to the beach. We spent three days on Black's Beach, and what wasn't spent on sand was spent in a bed. when we got back to Buellton we got a place of our own by Pea Soup Anderson's, and since we had no roommates, Karen spends most of the time at home naked and letting me see that wonderful body every second we're in our own place.

Two days after we moved we were in bed on a Sunday, lounging in bed and cuddling after sex. "Sweetheart, have ever been to an orgy?" she asked casually.

"I never even had cowgirl," I said.

"Now that you've tried cowgirl, you want to go to an orgy?" she asked. "You know, sex is just carnal pleasure between two or more people. Devotion is different than desire," she said.

"That's good. Did you make that up?" I asked.

"Sure, but it is, right?" she said. "I am devoted to you, but desire, well, that is sex. I think I'd like to see you with a hot mama that turns you every way but loose."

"You turn me every way but loose," I said.

"I think you need some variety in your life," she said, then she smiled. "I'd like to see some chick ring your dinner bell. There is an orgy this Sunday night in Pacific Beach," she said. "Want to go?"

I shrugged. "If you do," I said. Karen had taught me a lot about sex, myself, and what life is all about. Her zest for life has shown me an excitement I never experienced before. Her delight in being nude and natural has let me see a side of living that eluded me before. So much of what I have enjoyed since her has given me such a new attitude about nearly everything.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

We called, gave our credit card to pay the surcharge, and signed up for the orgy with the group putting it on, sent the release forms, and put our names on the attendance sheet for the next month. I wasn't sure how I would react seeing Karen with someone else, but she assured me I would handle it fine, that it was 'just sex,' and I would be so turned on that I would forget all about the fact that someone was fucking her.

Maybe that would be true. All I could think about was her, but my experience in sexual matters was so very limited compared to hers. The orgy would be a different kind of adventure and it aroused me to think of the many changes that had occurred in me since first meeting her.

I thought back to the day I first saw her on the beach sitting naked on her towel in the shade of a small beach umbrella. Nothing could prepare me for the thrill of not only meeting her, getting to know her, finally dating her, having her move in, having her fall in love with me, our marrying, and now our talking about attending an orgy. It is just too incredible for words, and I was excited to find out what it would all be like. She had changed me, and the changes were still happening.