No Clothes

"Mr. Snow, you haven't any clothes on!"

It was something of a statement of the obvious coming from Julie's mouth.

"Not a stitch." Miriam was backing her up.

There was not a lot Stephen Snow could do about it. He had a spade in one hand and was far from his house and clothes. A single man with a large garden who, having retired from work, enjoyed gardening and, on a hot day, an unusually hot English summer's day, had chosen not even to bother with a shirt -- or shorts. He had let it all hang out, cooler like that with the gentle breeze playing around his hanging balls -- and hanging penis. Working in the shade, mostly, there had seemed no need for a polo, tee or other shirt whilst on his own.

"Mum sent us with the plants she offered."

Julie and Miriam were carrying a tray each of Tagetes and Nicotianas, a present from Julie's mother. He had met her that morning in the supermarket and they had talked gardening. He had not expected such an early delivery of the surplus plants or for them to be brought by Julie and her friend. Presumably they had not found him at the house and had come looking. He had clearly failed to lock the side door to the garden.

Stephen Snow, 57, early retired, standing naked and holding a spade in front of two teenage girls. Julie eighteen, Miriam he thought the same. Julie in a white top with her long brown legs appearing out of blue denim shorts and heading down to a pair of bright white trainers. Miriam in a yellow blouse nicely setting off her long, dark hair and a pleated white tennis skirt and tennis shoes to match. Miriam's chest stuck out rather well for her age, clearly supported by a brassiere. Stephen rather thought Julie was not wearing any sort of brassiere, her nipples seemed rather well moulded by her top -- but he should not think of that. Not when so exposed -- or rather his cock so exposed and ready to betray any thoughts he should not have.

Their amusement at finding him naked clear. They were not looking away.

"Your balls hang very low, Mr. Snow, like the bull we saw in a field last weekend. Much lower than Daddy's"

"We saw him mount a cow, Mr. Snow."

"What -- your father?"

The shock on their faces a delight. The idea!

"No, Mr. Snow, silly, the bull."

"And you watched the copulation?"

"All the way through. Not that it lasted long."

"Do you like being naked in your garden, Mr. Snow?"

"It was hot today and..." that was not the only reason. Yes, he did like being naked in the garden.

"It is hot, Mr. Snow, we've only got very little on too."

Don't -- don't say things like that, thought Stephen. Really don't. It led to thoughts of the girls having even less on.

"I suppose as there's no one can see you in your big garden, it doesn't matter. We couldn't at our house or at Miriam's -- the neighbours would see."

"Do you think the neighbours would like that, Mr. Snow? Seeing us naked?"

What could he say? "Let's put these plants over there in the shade. I most certainly don't want them drying out. The sun is too hot for them. I'll plant them out this evening. Would you like an ice cream -- some lemonade whilst you're here." It changed the subject and he rather thought these two young women would like ice cream or lemonade.

"Please, Mr. Snow. Ice cream."

Fetching the ices gave him the excuse to turn and head for the house, away from the girls, point his visibly expanding penis away from the girls and towards the house, so all they would see was his retreating bottom and not his rising and filling erection. Thoughts of what they had said echoed in his head: 'Not very much on', 'we saw him mount a cow,' and would the girls' neighbours like to see them wandering in their gardens all naked. By the time he reached the French windows he was as hard as a rock. He hoped the girls would not see any reflection if watching him -- not see his naked back view with the mirror image of his front reflected in the glass of the windows. He certainly caught a glimpse of himself. His cock up, his knob peeled; full and shiny; balls swinging slackly -- like Julie and Miriam's bull.

Stephen walked into his kitchen fully erect and opened the freezer door to extract the ice-creams. He was careful not to get too close -- he hardly wanted a freezer burn on his knob! He needed something to cover himself up. A tea-towel would hardly do, not long enough to wrap around himself. To hand there was a small towel, one he kept in the kitchen, just enough to go around his waist. Just. Not a lot different from Miriam's skirt albeit neither white nor pleated. Orange in fact.

Behind him the girls had followed. Stephen turned with ices in hand, his genitalia now safely concealed behind the small towel around his waist and his luckily fading erection not -- he hoped -- obvious or too obvious. A man bulge was to be expected after all. Men have them.

They walked back out into the garden, the girls pink tongue licking away and with Stephen trying not to think of the obvious visual connection of them licking away at leaking, dripping, creamy, erect cocks. One each. He should have nipped upstairs and got dressed but he had an ice cream too in his hand.

"What are those plants, Mr. Snow?" Julie was pointing at a group of plants with upright spikey leaves and tall red and yellow flower heads rising up to three foot or more on firm stalks. The flower spikes were dramatic.

"Red hot pokers -- Kniphofia," replied Stephen. "Quite a variety in the species, small and large with colours ranging around the yellow and red but with cream and orange, even green in some varieties."

They did indeed look like upright pokers that were red hot at their ends. They also looked like flaming torches -- Torch Lillies - a dramatic addition to a garden and, in a clump, visually very effective. Stephen's planting looked spectacular. They also looked a little like a bunch of upright cocks -- men's erect penises -- given the rather thick, smooth and rubbery stalks and the flaming rounded bulb above. A little like -- if your mind went that way. Seemingly that was exactly where Julie's mind went -- or at least it seemed so. As Stephen watched, her hand went to one fine specimen and her fingers stroked up the stem and then cupped from below the red flower bud with its yellow base.

It may not have been her intention, but Stephen was pretty sure it was - the way her hand moved upwards was just so sensual, so erotic. A trailing of fingertips, gently clasped around the smooth, thick stem and rising upwards and then spreading out as if reaching the coronal ridge, the splay of the glans of an erect cock. And it was his cock he was imagining -- the one now again fully erect beneath his towel.

"It - they are a bit like cocks, Mr. Snow, boys' erections. They look all hot and excited, don't they?" No question then: it had been exactly what Julie had been thinking. Julie took another lick of her ice-cream. That too was deliberate, Stephen was sure. He turned to Miriam and she did more than lick, she did that whole both lips thing to the top of the ice-cream cone, sucking ice-cream into her mouth. Again, it looked like fellation.

They were teasing him, seeking to get him to react. And he had. Two young girls acting as a team, working in unison to an end. And there was Stephen Snow, almost naked with two girls, licking ice creams and with his cock under a skimpy towel just so hard. The male sexual organ -- rampant. He dared not look down, dared not look at how he was tenting so as not to draw attention -- not draw the girls' eyes down to his embarrassment.

"Well, um... I wouldn't have thought, I mean, hardly something you will have seen a lot of... Julie."

The girl smiled and licked her ice cream. "Not a lot, Mr. Snow."

But that implied some. What had these girls been up to? Should he ask? Should he probe?

At that moment Miriam exclaimed, "Oh look, Julie, a pond. I wonder if there are fish?" And the two of them were off, heading for his ornamental pond. Stephen stood and watched them. Watched bottoms in blue denim shorts and pleated white skirts hurrying away from him knowing very much what he would like to 'probe'. It was a little like watching girls in the park. Sometimes he did that. Sometimes on a sunny day he would finish off his shopping and take a stroll in the local public park and not only would he admire the flowers but also the pretty women, especially those clad only in light summer dresses, short skirts or shorts on a warm summer's day. A pleasant thing to do, perhaps then sit on a park bench and just watch. Maybe even gain a tenting to his trousers. Was it the same for other men?

Had Stephen been walking in the park with his rather limited loincloth -- his towel -- it would have been difficult to hide his tumescence. Still less, very much less, as he stood watching the retreating Julie and Miriam with his ice cream, when the knot came undone, and the towel just fluttered to the ground leaving him stark naked with his erection pointing after the girls. How utterly awful that would have been in the park. Suddenly all eyes upon him! But luckily neither Julie nor Miriam saw. They did not turn around and see him standing like that. They were too engrossed in the pond and fish.

Whilst not the utter exposure of the park, Stephen still had to regain his towel. One thing to reach and pick it up, still quite another to retie it around his waist with one hand only -- the other engaged in holding the ice cream. He managed it with difficulty, once again tying it tightly so as to hold his cock up against his body and make it less noticeable. The sudden exposure, though, had lessened its rigidity and it swung downwards within the towel. A noticeable bulge but not one looking as if the towel was being prodded by a stick. That is, until he followed them, licking his own ice cream and trying not to think of anything sexual, just the delicious ice cream and the pleasantness of his garden on a hot day. As he got closer to the girls, Miriam bent forward out over the pool, her action lifting the white pleated skirt sufficiently to see her white, perhaps frilly, tennis knickers -- or would have done had she been wearing any! Stephen was treated to the sight, and the sun slanting in very much illuminated it all, of Miriam's pudenda, dark curls and pink lips -- the special place that penises might one day go (or may even already have gone) and her little, puckered bottom hole. Just so the sort of sight men in the park might hope to see, a girl bending over and revealing her charms. Girls who forget to put panties on before they go out - where would we be without them?

Naturally -- very naturally -- Stephen's penis returned to its fully aroused state. The stick poked! He had to hurriedly re-adjust the towel to try and hide himself, as he just stood and stared and stared at the wonder before him. Julie knelt and looked down into the water as well. Had she been similarly unclad as her friend, then Stephen would have received very much the same sort of intimate view of Julie. As it was, he could only imagine what lay beneath those denim shorts and what the very uppermost part of those long brown legs that disappeared into the shorts looked like. What he could see, peeking from the legs of the shorts, was not the start of the swell of her buttocks but the very edges of white knickers.

To one side of him a garden bench. Stephen eased himself behind it and leant upon its top rather obscuring the 'sausage' shape under the towel, substantially hiding it behind the slats. He continued to watch the two girls with undisguised pleasure. They in the bright sunlight, he in partial shade.

"So hot today," said Julie finishing her ice cream and licking her fingers -- most attractively thought Stephen. He could not help imagining what else might have made her fingers sticky, what she might have held to have resulted in fingers becoming sticky. The thought of her fingers holding his -- or any other man's -- erection.

"It's all right for men. They can take their tops off but once we are no longer little girls... Stupid isn't it. I mean, what would it matter on the beach, especially if you had a boy chest like me. Not like Miriam."

Miriam too was licking her fingers; she looked a little smug, as she might, with the way her chest stuck out. Such a contrast to Julie -- though Stephen had not at all missed how Julie's nipples were moulded by her white top. There was so clearly no brassiere underneath, not even some sort of 'training bra' as he understood girls started with when they came to need support, or they or their mothers thought they should wear.

"Would you mind, Mr. Snow, I'm just so hot?" And with one easy movement, Julie reached for the hem of her top and lifted it up and over her head momentarily pulling her blond ponytail up with it before it flopped back down on naked shoulders. The ponytail might have flopped -- there was nothing floppy about Stephen's penis. There before him, all of a sudden, Julie with nothing covering her breasts. Barely a swelling -- well perhaps a little more than nothing, a slight mounding, enough to tell she was not a boy. But that was just the breasts, the nipples were something else. Nothing like a boy's, not a little pimple in a small brown circle but nearly a pair of cherries! Prominent and a delicious dark red atop pale pink areolae, all little bumps in a circle.

Stephen could but stare, "I think you're being a little unfair on yourself, Julie, no one is going to mistake those -- I mean your chest -- for a boy."

"Even if I cut my hair and stuffed something down my bikini bottoms?"

Perhaps less noticeable on a beach. Might she get away with the pretence if with a group of boys on the beach -- they 'in' on the subterfuge and amused by it. All running around playing beachball or swimming. A group of lads and a 'mock-lad.' It would not be the same in the swimming pool. Well, maybe in the pool but not around it, nor in the male changing room. What, though, would the other men there in the changing room think? Julie and her male friends coming into the changing room, through the showers and then all the boys removing their trunks, perhaps a couple of middle aged or older men already there drying themselves, naked and with genitalia obvious. And then down would come Julie's trunks, a balled handkerchief or something dropping out revealing her femininity. No penis, no balls -- just a lovely Mound of Venus, her slit showing obvious through her (presumed) fair curls. The older men catching the boys staring -- how could the lads resist? The suddenly sexual charged situation of a whole bunch of naked men with a single naked girl. Might penises rise? The fullness of Julie's dark red and prominent nipples now connecting with her penis-less hips. The older men not, perhaps, having seen a young woman naked, apart from daughters at home, for many a long year. Their thick, craggy penises rising as much as the lads'. Maybe. Young men and old men, all with erect penises.

Hardly likely multiple copulation would ensue. Not in the public changing rooms of a public swimming pool, but that did not stop Stephen thinking. Now, if it was a private pool and he was one of the older men... Five young men, he one of say three older men -- and Julie. What would it be like -- if Julie was willing? A 'gang bang' they called it, but better to choose a less violent term, imagine the five young men and three older men taking it in turns but gently; no harsh pawing just gentle stroking seeking to make Julie come, but, nonetheless, eight penises going off one by one inside the girl, filling her with, not, perhaps, quite a glass full, of manly 'essence.'

"No, no, Julie, even if you stuffed something down your bikini. Too feminine. Nobody would be fooled."

"I tell her they will grow."

"They will, Julie, I am sure." Why, though, were those nipples so hard? Had they been rubbing against her top?

"Is that nice, Julie?" Asked Miriam.

Stephen suddenly had the worry -- or was it the pleasing thought -- Miriam might join her friend. It was all doing nothing to control his rampant cock barely prevented from embarrassing exposure by the skimpy towel. Currently all was hidden by the garden bench, his hard cock pressed against its back -- but what about when they moved on?

"It's cooler, Miriam. Go on, show Mr. Snow what a big girl you are."

"Should I?"

"No," stammered Stephen, "I can well see you have grown into quite a young woman."

It was obvious what was going to happen. Increasingly obvious he was being teased by young women. Pleasurable of course, but...

Miriam began to undo her yellow buttons -- button by button, a white brassiere coming into view. She looked slyly up at him as the buttons came undone before slipping off the blouse and letting it fall to the ground. A brilliant white brassiere, seemingly quite new, if not quite pristine as no longer within the cellophane wrapping of the packet. The image before Stephen could very much have been the image from the cardboard within the cellophane showing what the brassiere would look like, its style and shape alongside details of size, materials and country of origin. A picture of a smiling girl in a brassiere -- very probably just one of many she had modelled that day. Brassieres and very likely knickers being whipped off and replaced in front of the photographer.

"Very nice, Miriam, you... you certainly are a big girl -- very shapely. No, you don't need to..." but Miriam's fingers were already at the clasp across her back, already undoing the twin hooks securing the garment in place. Before Stephen could say very much more the brassiere dropped forward exposing rather more breast. He could not help it, he stared, awaiting the further revelation of Miriam's nipples. He was a man after all.

"I feel suddenly all shy," said Miriam unexpectedly.

It was certainly unexpected to Julie who straightaway said, "No, you don't" and grabbed and pulled the brassiere from her friend. It was dramatic and undoubtedly very erotic, the other girl pulling the white material away from her friend suddenly exposing both boobs. They shook there in the sunlight. Both topped with nipples very different from Julie's: small nipples but set within large and dark buttons the size of pennies -- and Stephen did not mean new pennies but pre-decimalisation old pennies.

"See how big Miriam is compared to me!"

Stephen was looking all right, moreover he was thinking how good it would be to come -- ejaculate -- all over those breasts, stroke himself between them and just come. Beneath his towel and firmly up against the back of the garden seat, he was hard as a cricket bat handle.

"Oooh, is that a summerhouse over there?"

And before he could say anything the girls were off across the lawn heading for the little wooden summerhouse leaving him standing there watching them. Upon the ground a white top, a yellow blouse and a white brassiere all discarded and left behind. A trail of women's garments, almost.

Stephen came away from the back of the garden seat and readjusted his towel. Should he go to the house and just leave the girls and go and get properly dressed in shorts and shirt, or follow them? Perhaps his erection would go down by the time he walked across the lawn. It did not tend to stay 'up' like it used to when he was younger. Deflation happened more quickly. No, he should go to the house.

"Come on, Mr. Snow. Keep up!"

He was not being allowed to escape to the house. He walked across the lawn looking any direction but straight ahead towards the summer house, thinking particularly of some weeding he needed to do in the far border. Too much bindweed and couch grass.

Stephen was doing rather well. His penis had substantially lost its strength by the time he caught up with the girls. Control and almost decorum were being re-established. If only Miriam had not been sitting like that in the summerhouse, if only the sun had not been slanting in quite like that, if only those four boobs did not look so suckable. The summerhouse was raised a little above the lawn and reached by steps either side. The view out of the summerhouse, and into it, was not obscured, except by an old wooden railing set to prevent people stepping out over too high a drop down onto the lawn.