Naked Pt 03

Naked (Part 3)

Kathryn M. Burke

Something unexpected happened in early June. Actually, it wasn't unexpected to Fanny, or even to Margery; but to Cliff it came as a bit of a surprise.

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, the women were sitting in the living room, leafing through magazines, while Cliff was puttering in the kitchen. The front door opened (someone must have had a key) and a young woman burst into the house.

"Hi, Mom!" she cried. "Hi, Aunt Margery!"

The two sisters got up and each gave a warm hug to the newcomer. It was then that Cliff, naked as always, drifted into the living room.

The young woman gave a shriek and backed away. "Mom, who on earth is that? Why is he naked?"

Fanny rolled her eyes. "This is Cliff. He doesn't like wearing clothes in the house. Cliff, let me formally introduce you to my daughter, Deirdre."

Cliff's eyes glinted as he smiled broadly. "You naughty girl, you didn't tell me you had a daughter."

"You didn't ask," Fanny said sourly.

In fact, there were several reasons why Fanny had kept her daughter's identity concealed from Cliff (and had sworn Margery to secrecy also). First, Fanny was a bit ticked off by Deirdre's suggestion that her father's departure from the household had been at least partly the fault of her mother.

The idea that anything I'd done could justify my no-good husband running off with that little slip of a girl!

Second, she wanted to test Cliff's brazenness to see if he could really endure the withering gaze of a woman of his own age upon his (admittedly impressive) nudity.

As for that second point, he seemed to be defying Fanny's expectations. He calmly approached Deirdre with a hand extended, saying, "Hello, I'm Cliff."

Deirdre was having none of him. "Mom, Jesus! Get him out of here! Why is he even in the house?"

"Well, dear," Fanny said wearily, "he's pretty much moved in." And he had: although he had not officially given up his tiny apartment, Cliff was for all intents and purposes a resident of Fanny's house.

"Moved in?" Deirdre said incredulously, doing her best to keep her gaze away from the naked man but also taking little peeks in his direction, especially in the area of his groin. "Are you crazy? What does he do here?"

Fanny gave her daughter a look as if she was a moron, but said nothing.

After a few seconds Deirdre caught on, and her mouth fell open. "You—you're

sleeping

with him? Why, he looks barely older than me!"

"Oh, he's a few years older. You're twenty-one, and Cliff's twenty-four."

"But Mom, that still makes him twenty years younger than you! Are you seriously telling me that—"

"Look, Deirdre, it's not as if I'm going to

marry

him or anything. That's ridiculous, isn't it, Cliff?"

"I suppose it is," he acknowledged cheerfully. "No need to worry, my darling Deirdre, that I'll become your stepfather."

"Anyway," Fanny added with a certain malevolent glee, "he sleeps with Margery also."

At this point Deirdre thought she was going to faint. Like a lot of college girls, she was something of a prude—even more of a prude than her aunt. The #MeToo movement hadn't left her unscathed, and she was ever on the lookout for misbehavior—especially in matters pertaining to sex—from the male of the species.

But right now, she was looking at all three occupants of the household as if they'd gone collectively crazy. "You're telling me that—that this

person

is going to walk around naked all through the house?"

"That's about the size of it," Fanny said.

"I gather he puts clothes on when he goes out?"

"Oh, yes. He works with me—or, I should say, he works at the same place I do. I'm not his boss, though. I kind of wish I was." She gave Cliff an icy glare.

Deirdre shook her head in despair. "I think all you people have lost your minds."

And with that, she dragged her heavy suitcase up the stairs and reclaimed the bedroom she occupied when she'd last lived in the house, three years ago. It was mostly unused and had been left untouched. For the moment, it was her haven of security in the midst of the bizarre turmoil of what had once been a more or less tranquil household.

A little later she came down the back stairs into the kitchen, where Margery was puttering around aimlessly. The moment Margery saw her niece, she blushed, knowing that she was in for a stern cross-examination.

Sure enough, Deirdre came marching up to the older woman and said, "Oh, Aunt Margery, how could you?"

"How could I what?" Margery said lamely.

"How could you"—Deirdre was almost sputtering with rage—"sleep with that man? Both you

and

Mom sleeping with him! Are we living in the palace of Caligula, or what?"

"He's a very nice young man."

"Yeah, he's young all right! He could be your son."

"I'd have to be an eighteen-year-old mother for him to be my son."

"That's been known to happen."

Margery bridled a bit. "Well, he's

not

my son. And he's not Fanny's son either. He's just—"

"Good in bed?"

The color rose in Margery's face, both from embarrassment and anger. "Look, Deirdre, I don't need any lectures from you!"

Deirdre was almost stunned at her aunt's tone of voice. The meek, mild Margery almost never spoke that way. It was as if a rabbit had delivered a swift kick in the butt to a coyote.

"I think," Margery went on resolutely, "he's sweet and tender and affectionate and—and just a wonderful man."

"Don't tell me," Deirdre said in a kind of awe, "you love him?"

"I don't know! Maybe I do. Your mother—well, she just uses him for entertainment. You know, a toyboy."

"That's boytoy."

"Whatever. But he—he's been very good to me."

Deirdre couldn't help but be impressed by Margery's sincerity. She felt a bit abashed. And so she changed the subject—a bit.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Is he, um, bigger than average?"

Margery didn't understand. "Why, no, he's barely taller than me. So I guess that makes him a little on the short side for a man."

"No, Aunt Margery, I didn't mean that. I meant . . . his thing."

Now both aunt and niece were blushing fiercely. "Oh, that. Well, yes, I believe that thing of his is quite a bit bigger than average. Not that I've seen very many, you understand!"

The women fell silent. Then Margery, puzzled, said: "Haven't you seen those things yourself?"

"I've seen

one.

At a party."

"At a party? How?"

"Well, the party had gotten pretty wild, and this guy took his thing out of his pants and—this girl fell to her knees and sucked on it. But that one wasn't as big as Cliff's."

"That's the only one you've ever seen?" Margery said incredulously.

"Yes."

"You're a virgin?"

Now it was Deirdre's turn to bridle. "Aunt Margery, I'm only twenty-one years old. Is it so strange that I haven't—you know, had a man put his thing in me?"

"But—but—"

"I know. I'm a college girl, and there are lots of boys at college who no doubt want to put their things in me. Don't I know it! You have to fight them off with a pitchfork sometimes. But I've been focused on my studies, and I've worked pretty hard. My attention has just been elsewhere."

"Even I," Margery said dreamily, remembering her past, "lost my virginity when I was twenty. And I'm not exactly a—a—"

"Don't say it. Whatever word you were going to use, just don't say it. I know you're not that sort of woman."

"Well, it's just—I mean, you're so beautiful and so desirable . . ."

"Thank you. But there'll be plenty of time for that." After an awkward pause. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"You know . . . when a man—"

"Oh, Deirdre," Margery said with a nervous laugh, "if you haven't done it, there's no way I can describe it to you."

Deirdre glared at her aunt in frustration.

You're a big help!

"Well, I guess we'll have to live with this guy hanging around. Does he really walk around naked all the time?"

"Yes—when he's in the house."

"Oy vey! I really can't figure men out sometimes. Most of the time, in fact."

And with that, she marched off.

But even Deirdre proved to be the living embodiment of the old adage "You can get used to anything." Over the next few weeks she became increasingly accustomed to Cliff's nudity, although she couldn't help letting her eyes roam toward his groin or his bottom on more than one occasion. When he was sitting down at a table, his private parts were concealed, so that he just looked like a guy who'd taken his shirt off. So that wasn't so bad.

What amazed her was that Cliff could go around the house without a constant hard-on. Here he was, living in a house with three attractive females (two of whom he was sleeping with), revealing his assets for them to see at every moment. So why didn't he have an erection all the time? Instead, he was usually seen with his member flopping more or less flaccid (but it still looked pretty big!) between his legs. In fact, Deirdre didn't think she'd

ever

seen Cliff with an erection. Well, maybe once—and that time, the sight of it so alarmed her that she got light-headed and immediately turned around and walked in the other direction.

And it turned out, much to her surprise, that Cliff proved to be of assistance to her.

Deirdre was a science gal—she was getting a double major in physics and chemistry, and most of her time was spent in labs or in the science library poring over books, scientific articles, and whatnot. But this meant that her focus on the humanities was not quite what it should be. And when she took a required English composition class, she'd failed it—well, not quite, but she'd gotten an "Incomplete," meaning that she would have to work on various lessons over the summer in order to pass. If she didn't pass that class, she wouldn't be allowed to graduate.

So here she was, in the summer between her junior and senior years of college, struggling with stuff that lowly freshmen were able to handle with ease! And it didn't take her long to realize that Cliff, with his mastery of the English language, might be of use to her.

Pretty soon they were sitting at the dining table, looking over the papers that Deirdre had submitted to the bad-tempered old geezer who had taught the class. The papers were covered with red marks that embarrassingly displayed her deficiencies in writing her native language. Some of the comments didn't even make sense to her.

"What the hell is a 'dangling participle'?" she'd once exclaimed. "And why should it even matter?"

Cliff proved himself a patient and sympathetic instructor. He carefully explained what that grammatical blunder was and went on to say: "You know, Deirdre, the whole point of language is communication. If you can't communicate what you're trying to say in a way that other people can understand, you might as well not even have a language."

"Okay, okay, I get that," she said wearily. "But there are so many silly rules!"

"Those rules are always there for a reason. And once you internalize those rules, they'll just come naturally to you. You won't even have to think about them anymore."

"If you say so."

So the upshot was that, starting out with a violent dislike for this seemingly smug and arrogant exhibitionist, Deirdre found himself actually liking him. There was, she concluded, something to what Aunt Margery had said about him being sweet and nice.

So what happened that mid-morning in late June wasn't entirely a surprise.

After they had all enjoyed a big breakfast cooked (as always) expertly by Cliff, Fanny had immediately gone into the garden to do some much-needed weeding and pruning. Margery tidied up in the kitchen (she found washing dishes therapeutic, although she couldn't help remembering with a smile what had happened that time when Cliff had—well, you know . . .). Cliff decided to pop in the shower. After he'd done that, he'd come out (naked, of course), continuing to dry himself off as he ambled toward Fanny's bedroom, where he kept most of his clothes.

It was as he was passing Deirdre's bedroom, whose door was slightly open, that he heard her say shyly, "Cliff, could you come in here for a moment?"

Cliff stopped, flung the towel over his shoulder (there was, of course, no thought of covering his midsection), and drifted into the room.

Deirdre was standing there, next to the bed. And she was naked.

The figure she revealed was breathtaking. She was tall and slender, but with robust, pear-shaped breasts whose nipples were already erect with desire. Swelling hips led to a delta covered with a thick patch of fur; and as Cliff watched her standing there, legs slightly apart, he noticed a thin trickle of clear fluid on the inside of her thighs. And even as she faced him with a curious mix of boldness and hesitancy, he could see her luscious, curved bottom seemingly aching for a man's caress.

"What are you doing, Deirdre?" Cliff asked, his cock suddenly twitching in anticipation.

She gave it a quick, vaguely alarmed glance and replied, "I thought you might—want me."

He licked his lips. She was certainly a scrumptious morsel of femininity. But he was already on intimate terms with her mother and aunt. She did really want to—?

He approached her slowly and enfolded her in his arms. The contact of bare flesh caused both of them to gasp, as her breasts pressed up against his chest just as his cock poked her in the belly. They were almost exactly the same height, and so it was natural that they would fuse their lips in a long, slow, tender kiss that expressed the latent affection that both had been feeling without fully realizing it from the moment they'd met.

Deirdre, trying to conceal from him her utter inexperience at lovemaking, slipped out of his grasp, fell to her knees, and came face to face with that large organ quivering in front of her nose. It was pointing almost straight up, and she had some difficulty pulling it down to her lips. But when she engulfed it in her mouth, she made the rookie mistake of taking it in too far, and she gagged almost at once. She was forced to pull her head back, a wad of saliva dribbling out between her lips.

"Oops," she said in embarrassment.

"Take it easy, Deirdre," Cliff said encouragingly.

She began again, paying more attention to the task. Now she began licking his cock as if it were a long, thick lollipop, finding an interesting sensation that she didn't expect—both hardness (the shaft itself) and incredible softness (the tender, tightly stretched skin). She'd heard that a lot of the sensation in this member resides in the tip, so she focused on licking and sucking it—and when Cliff responded with plangent moans, she felt she was gaining valuable experience in the art of pleasuring a man.

But after a few minutes he lifted her up, pasted another kiss onto her lips, and then led her to the bed. He encouraged her to lie down on her back, and he arranged himself on top of her, between her legs. A bit of fear came over her, as she wasn't sure she was ready to be penetrated just yet; but he had other things in mind. He slipped down to her breasts and paid them the reverent attention they deserved, squeezing and kissing them and sucking on the nipples so hard that she squealed in delight. Then he traced a little path down her chest, stomach, and abdomen with his tongue until he reached her spread legs, where her dripping sex was creating a distinctive aroma. At first he pried open her labia, causing still more fluid to pour out of her vagina; then he fastened his lips to the whole area, giving her clitoris some dainty nibbles that caused her to feel dizzy. It was clear that he was determined to bestow a dose of ecstasy upon her first, and it wasn't long in coming.

Deirdre was watching with a kind of incredulous fascination as Cliff brought on her climax by constant licking while also grabbing her bottom and squeezing it like a ripe piece of fruit. Her explosion came faster than it ever had (having

someone else

give you an orgasm is so much better than having to do it yourself!), and her eyes rolled in her head and her tongue dangled out of her mouth as she gave way to the delirious sensation. And he nurtured that paroxysm with gentle but constant attention: minute after minute passed as the waves of pleasure continued to pour over her, in a way that had never happened before and which she never thought possible. She was on the brink of crying from her passion when he finally let up and watched her come down from her high.

"Oh, goodness me!" she cried between ragged breaths. "I've never felt anything like that before!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said benevolently.

Now he climbed back on top of her. They both knew it was now his turn.

But as he carefully inserted his cock into her cleft, he was stunned by the obstacle he encountered.

"Deirdre," he breathed, "are you telling me—?"

"Yes, yes!" she cried desperately. "I'm a virgin. Just go on through, okay?"

His face registered his feelings:

Your wish is my command, but I hope you know what you're in for.

She didn't. As Cliff did burst through that barrier, a sharp, anguished cry was forced out of Deirdre's throat, and she instinctively clung to him even tighter as if that might help her get through the ordeal. He didn't feel he should go in very far; but the exquisite feel of that untouched pussy as it clutched his questing member was so transcendent that he couldn't help going in as far as he could. Deirdre's eyes bulged and some strange choking sounds emerged from her as she felt the muscles of her vagina accommodating themselves for the first time to the male organ. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and that brought some relief; but on the whole, there was such a poignant mingling of pain and pleasure that she didn't know whether to laugh uproariously or burst into tears.

Then, suddenly, she realized that she was unconsciously fighting against the entry of this man into her innermost recesses, and she tried to ease the tension from her whole body. That helped some, but now Cliff was unwittingly pounding her with repeated thrusts while also showering her face with kisses and using his hands to massage her back and shoulders and breasts and bottom and everywhere else he could reach. She lay utterly passive and submissive as he possessed her; it was totally contrary to her temperament to behave this way, but she dimly sensed that it would help her get through the ordeal a little better.

It had been years since Cliff had had a virgin, and the warmth, wetness, and tightness of that orifice was too much for him. It didn't take long for him to emit an anticipatory grunt and then pour out his essence into her crevice. And as Deirdre felt for the first time a man's emission splashing the walls of her sex, she felt that an unbreakable bond had been established between this peculiar young man and herself.

He remained in her for a while after he was finished—and would have stayed in longer if she hadn't indicated that he should pull out. He did so, rolling off of her and landing on his back next to her.

As he looked over to her, he saw that she was shaking uncontrollably, and he couldn't help noticing the little streaks of red leaking out of her pussy and also covering his own member.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

With a strangled cry she flung herself on top of him and gave way to the tears she had bravely withheld up to now. He just held her close, knowing that she needed to expel the complex set of emotions she was feeling right now, not to mention the residual pain of her penetration. She clutched him ferociously like a little girl seeking comfort from her beloved father, and after many minutes she finally settled down.

Sniffling, she raised her tear-stained face and gazed at him. "That hurt a lot more than I expected."