I looked forward to this weekend for some time, marking it on my calendar several months ahead of time and making sure all reservations were confirmed and guaranteed. A trip to this park under normal circumstances was something special, but this year it featured the regional festivities of National Nude Day.
After enduring the typical headaches of the local law enforcement at the park entrance, I pulled my bike to just inside park boundaries and removed the last of my clothes. I made sure to shine my, rather full, moon in the deputy's direction as I packed my clothes into the saddle bags. Given the local sheriff's reputation, I was amazed at the puritan attitude his deputies exhibited at any nudist events.
Of course I didn't really expect them to be too enthusiastic thinking about what all my 280 or so pounds might look like without my ratty clothes, but they acted even ruder to the hard-bodies that came to the park. They were absolutely atrocious to the few families that attended. Fortunately, once inside the park, the attitudes were gone and everyone could enjoy the freedom that nudity brought.
Well, it was not absolute freedom, I shed my clothes, but understanding I wasn't the best poster child for National Nude Day, I hadn't shed all my inhibitions. I basically settled into the shadows to watch some of the beach volleyball competition. While it would be nice to hook up with a twenty something beauty, I knew the touch of gray infiltrating my hair, beard, and other body hair would be a deterrent. Even if I found one looking for an "older man" I feared my weight would scare even the most charitable woman away. I decide to simply concentrate on the volleyball and my private fantasies.
I always imagined nude volleyball as I watched bikini-clad women compete on TV and in the local parks, but watching this today seemed a bit of a let down. Somehow, the chance glimpse of a breast as the women dove for a shot or when they got up and adjusted themselves, seemed more titillating than seeing their small, but perky, breasts as they gyrated about. I mean once I saw these nude women, I found myself wondering how their bikini tops would have slipped or moved with each shot.
The sight below the waste was equally deflating as I discovered the lovely redhead's secret, the one only her hairdresser knew for sure. Please forgive me that clichΓ©, but I quickly learned more than I wanted to about the volleyball players. Besides, the men were about to begin playing and the bleachers were filling with incredibly thin women with incredibly large breasts. Reminiscent of the bobble head dolls, where the head was way out of proportion with the rest of the body, the women simply seemed to bobble-bounce all over the place.
I was just about ready to slip out of the shadows and search for some beer when I heard the odd putt-a-putt of an old time motor scooter. Glancing up at the entrance to the park I noticed the long, flowing silvery hair swirling above and ugly algae green seat attached to two tiny wheels. I was immediately entranced by the way the hair flowed around this woman's pale body, reaching down to just below her waist.
Even as the scooter picked up speed, the billowing hair seemed to conceal just enough of her to make me want to see more. I'd see the quick flash of a nipple, the pure white curve of her ass, a glimpse of a thigh, and then suddenly a beautiful shoulder. This incredible display of unabashed beauty and elegance completely absorbed me, as I felt strangely lightheaded and heard an odd ringing in my ears.
The woman slowly drove her scooter around the park, her face beaming as the air moved over her, her body shining in brief flashes, her hair consuming her. It was ballet, the marriage of pure rhythm, perfect form and pristine beauty. I recalled the tale of Lady Godiva and her famous ride.
The scooter sputtered to a stop next to my bike and inhibitions or not, I stood up and quickly wandered toward her. My all encompassing attraction to her was more than curiosity and more than just sexual, it felt almost magnetic. I felt a tingle all over my body, but fortunately the non-sexual aspect of my attraction kept my erection at bay for now. Grotesque as I am, I can only imagine what she'd think if I approached her with even a hint of an erection.
"Well hello there young man, is this your bike?" she asked.
Young man? I squinted, and after several more steps, I realized she was not one of the volleyball crowd, she was a bit older, in fact, as I got closer, I saw she was older than me.
"Ye... yes, my bike," I mumbled, completely befuddled. The woman, though in her late fifties or early sixties, was beautiful, as beautiful as she had seemed when I first saw her enter the park. She looked right into my face with sky blue eyes, eyes that seemed to gently draw me closer.
"It's certainly a nice bike, most people around here ride the Harleys or those sporty foreigners, not something vintage like this," she said, turning her gaze from my face to the bike. "An Indian Chief, what year, '53?"
"'51," I answered, my gaze sliding down the faint lines at her eyes, curling over the distinct cheekbones to her beautiful lips. I could see a faint tint of blue in her neck, a hint of vein just beneath her delicate complexion.
"A '51 cherry Indian Chief, ah Harley, eat your heart out."
Still dumbfounded, I caught myself staring at her breasts. After spending the day watching the small volleyball breasts and then the giant breasts of the fans, I found the wonderfully natural sag of soft skin, the dark circles of areola and enticing nipples enthralling. I longed to reach out and caress her breast as she was caressing the frame of my bike.
"I'm sorry, I am so rude," she said, "I'm Diane, Diane Palmer."
Smiling, "My name is Braden, Jack Braden," I replied, reaching my hand out.
"I can see you are a friendly one," she replied, shaking my hand as she nodded downward.
I glanced down and saw my erection straining out beyond my stomach. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't..."
"Oh no, no, don't apologize, when I turned fifty, I learned to take that as a compliment, and now that I'm seventy, it means even more."
"You're sev..."
"Ah, now you're being too kind young man."