Nude Stories
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Посвящается моему первому читателю Денису. Как-то летом двое школьных друзей в каникулы решили поехать в поход на пару дней с палаткой на природу. Они пригласили знакомую девчонку, и договорились … Читать онлайн →
Сложилось так, что когда мне исполнилось пять, а моей сестренке два года отец уехал на заработки и пропал. Точнее он не пропал совсем,поскольку деньги высылал почти регулярно,но решил … Читать онлайн →
Эта история началась очень давно, на руинах СССР, в лихие 90-е. Я, как и многие, ударился в бизнес и дела шли довольно неплохо. Но деньги как приходили, так … Читать онлайн →
16 лет мне исполнилось в июле 2011 года. Для многих это замечательный возраст, когда возмужавший парень – подросток чувствует себя уже почти взрослым. И на самом деле это … Читать онлайн →
Предыдущий рассказ: Истории Весёлого парниши 8 Гостья с маминой работы. Ксюша уезжает. Весёлый Чат по интернету. На следующий день, позвонила Ксюша и дрожащим голосом, сказала мне, что заболела … Читать онлайн →
Мой суженый, козёл с рогами Баньку справил с такими же ослами Целый день я воду им таскаю ПОтом облилась, не высыхаю Я уже всё мокрое с себя стащила … Читать онлайн →
“Пошли поныряем – сказала подруга У меня после виски в башке напруга” “Конечно пошли” – я отвечала. Мы стали искать огражденье причала. Ничего не нашли, пошли сразу на … Читать онлайн →
Пошла на рыбалку Взялася за палку Оказались солдаты И, ухх … Аты-баты Насунули шапку А мою шубу в охапку Китель надвинули Хоть сигаретку кинули.
«Парень зашел в кабинку рядом с нами и начал какать». Ксюша, 22 года: «Я отрывалась со своим парнем в туалете клуба. Когда я оседлала его, в уборную кто-то … Читать онлайн →
Наталье Лопес с любовью Бабушка и мама не на шутку обеспокоились: Эрика сообщила, что влюблена и собирается замуж. Вроде, радоваться надо: дочка-внучка нашла свое девичье счастье и хочет … Читать онлайн →
В одном лесу жил Заяц. Самый обыкновенный: зимой белый, летом серый. Такой же , как и все зайцы. Любил этот заяц помечтать. Бывало, сядет на пенек и мечтает … Читать онлайн →
Дача… Это был небольшой двухэтажный домик бледно-жёлтого цвета. На первом этаже была большая застеклённая веранда с кухней и одна очень большая комната. И ещё одна комната поменьше была … Читать онлайн →
Я с трепетом в сердце ждал той таинственной ночи, когда должен был познать сущность того сладкого плода, о котором люди мечтают ещё с детства. Я помню, как шторы … Читать онлайн →
Было это давно, учился я в обычной школе, без всяких там «уклонов». И контингент учащихся был самый обычный – в основном это были дети из простых семей. Было … Читать онлайн →
Мы встретились на вокзале, с объятьями и поцелуями. Чудесно все могло бы быть, если бы не одно “но”. Это “но” висело острым лезвием гильотины над моей головой. Это … Читать онлайн →
Он буквально заставил ее это сделать. Ведь она рабыня для него, в полном подчинении. Ее можно унизить, делать больно, не считаться с мнением. А она ревела, ночами и … Читать онлайн →
Я давно и вполне счастливо женат. Моя жена на пять лет младше меня. Надо сказать что в сексе у нас нет условностей и ограничений. Есть только неиспробованное и … Читать онлайн →
Не буду разглагольствовать, а сразу к самой сути, если так можно выразиться. С того самого момента как я стал мужчиной, а случилось это в неполные довольно рано, у … Читать онлайн →
Я редко захожу на подобные сайты и пишу какие либо истории из жизни, но мою историю про изнасилование друзьям не расскажешь, а выговориться надо! Новость о долгожданном повышении … Читать онлайн →
Я хочу рассказать вам эту историю. Не могу скрывать и молчать. У меня есть прекрасный муж, с которым мы не ссорились, и жили в полной гармонии и взаимопонимании … Читать онлайн →
Никогда бы не поверил что такое может произойти с моей женой, но это произошло.. Наша супружеская жизнь длится уже больше 20 лет и наверно как обычно это бывает … Читать онлайн →
В свои 23 года, Вика не была девушкой большого ума, но зато дико ведения на секс. Худенькая, длинноногая, белокожая пшеничная блондинка с бирюзовыми глазами, маленькой но крепкой попкой … Читать онлайн →
Мне было уже почти 19 лет когда из-за неудачного падения я сильно ушиб ногу и руку. Просто была зима и было очень скользко. В больницу мама отказалась меня … Читать онлайн →
Я бы хотела рассказать о своей фантазии. Может это покажется странным, но каждый раз когда я занимаюсь этим с клиентами, я представляю как убиваю их. Как, пока он … Читать онлайн →
Не буду долго разглагольствовать. Это произошло когда мы в очередной раз своей компанией выехали на природу. Надо сказать что костяк компании составлял я, моя подруга и её две … Читать онлайн →
Сейчас пол 12. Я пришла домой со встречи с новым клиентом. Начала собираться в 8, так как он сказал, что заедет в 9-9:30. Когда я собираюсь к ним, … Читать онлайн →
Дневник проститутки. Часть 2. Секс парами. Есть у меня один клиент, который остался, так скажем, в контактах еще с начала июня, как только я начала этим заниматься. Написал … Читать онлайн →
Это моя история. История проститутки. Я не совсем проститутка. Такие как я называют себя “Индивидуалки”. То есть я не сижу в офисе, где за меня решают по одному … Читать онлайн →
Хотите верьте, а хотите нет, но первый раз я попробовал женщину когда мне было 18 лет. Я тогда даже не понимал что да как. В силу скудности информации … Читать онлайн →
Я продолжаю. Придя ко мне домой Ада попросила разрешения принять ванную(об этом я уже писал в прошлом). Я удивился, но ничего не сказал по этому поводу. Просто достал … Читать онлайн →
Арестованный вундеркинд из г. Москва, который очистил сосуды Заворотнюк, остановил ей...
Восстановите потенцию старым методом. Дома перед сном 3 дня подряд...
Мужчины, чтобы перестать по ночам бегать в туалет - достаточно 2 дня подряд употреблять...
Бокерия: Шум и звон в голове - это начало инсульта! Пока не лопнул сосуд, пейте 100мг крепкого...
Исхудавшая Ирина Пегова поразила: Я весила 87 кг, а сейчас 60! На 1ст воды беру 2 ст. ложки...
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Her husband Gwil was the one to suggest a painting but it was Nadine’s idea first. It wasn’t so surprising that after sleeping next to her for nearly fifty years he could read her mind. There was, after all, that blank wall in their new master. They slept with the French doors open to hear the sea. Nadine woke with the sun, so if the nude was on the opposite wall, she could watch the woman emerge between 5:48 and 6:40 a.m. There was no rush to get out of bed. This still surprised her, not needing to rush. It felt like a new demand on her time.
The days were always the same. Because Gwil headed off to bed so early now, he was up hours before she awoke. Lying alone in bed she would realize she didn’t know the date, her brain punching out the boxes of a calendar. Was it the 11th or was that yesterday? The days, however, were always firmly in hand: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were her six-milers, the same course south through their gated community to get to beach path number three, and then back home again, retracing her steps. Tuesdays and Thursdays were hill repeats, the same hill north of their home, three times, the third time the fastest or she’d punish herself by doing it a fourth time. One neighbor, a loud fellow, who still didn’t know her name, never failed to assault her at the cul-de-sac, “Hey, speed-walker lady! You’re making the rest of us old farts look bad!”
On Saturdays, if they weren’t visiting the grandkids, she and Gwil rode their bikes to the clubhouse to swim. Sunday mornings were free to read the entire the Wall Street Journal Weekend and then play eighteen, but only if Gwil insisted.
She liked to hear Gwil say it: not a pinch of fat on her at seventy-four. She’d always had a boyish figure. Spry, he said, which made her think of a bird of prey. She’d never had hips or anything like an hourglass figure. But her legs weren’t bad, and she didn’t mind showing them off on occasion.
For some time she’d kept her hair short in a chestnut color akin to her natural color as she remembered it. It had been stressful finding a new hairdresser when they moved, one who’d know how to do the exact same thing as her old one. On a younger woman Nadine’s tidy hair cut might be chic, even sassy, but on her it seemed sensible, and so she really didn’t mind so very much when she came home from the salon and Gwil just nodded at her before turning back to his crossword. “All spiffed up to see the surgeon, eh?” It irked her that he said surgeon when she didn’t know yet if she needed surgery. As if Gwil wanted to rush her headlong into an operating room. And what would he do while she was laid up for months? What then?
The orthopedic doctor had been friendly enough. He was a youngish fellow, late thirties maybe—she wasn’t a good judge of youth anymore. He seemed to be moving at a different speed and she was embarrassed by Gwil’s lazy gait as he accompanied her back to the exam room. The doctor stepped out while his assistant made her change into long, jersey shorts. “Aren’t you a tiny thing?” she said. “You’ll swim in the extra-small.”
There was no mirror in the examination room but Nadine knew she looked ridiculous. She rolled down the waist band of the shorts once, two times, so the hem rose to her knees. She was glad she had remembered to shave her legs that morning. She folded her pants and stacked them on top of her sandals, next to her purse on the floor. She expected they cleaned the floors regularly according to hospital code.
Gwil winked at her over his crossword. “Betcha the surgeon doesn’t get many old broads as fit as you.”
She climbed up, spry, onto the exam table and checked her calves for new varicosities.
The doctor conducted his exam with minimal embarrassment to her and then opened the door and shouted.
“Is Earl back? I need some plain films on Mrs. Williams.”
Nadine looked down at her lap. The word plain settled with a thud. There had been fat, old couples in the waiting room. Old men with bellies who breathed loudly, their wives busting at the seams in fat person jeans. Nadine noticed these people in every waiting room, at the dermatologist’s and the clinic where she went to get routine blood work. Old people living out their retirements in waiting rooms reading copies of People with photos of celebrities Nadine didn’t recognize.
A different woman led her past other exam rooms to the X-ray. Nadine thought about going back for her shoes and then realized how ridiculous the shorts would look with her sandals, so she walked barefoot down the hall. As she lay on the cold metal table, she realized the ugly, grey shorts looked like men’s underwear, like an element of her son John’s football uniform back in high school, one of the pieces she’d laundered and folded into a compartment in that massive duffle with his name and number on the side.
After the X-ray she was walked back to an office cubby next to the exam room where Gwil waited. When the doctor pulled up the X-ray of her pelvis on a giant computer screen, it took her a second to realize what she was seeing below the white crests of her hip bones. Gwil had snuck up behind her to hear the doctor. “Wait for me in the room!” she whispered loudly, shoving him out of the way.
“This is your good hip,” the doctor said. “Nice and spherical, plenty of joint space. Just what we like to see. But over here…” the doctor was saying, tapping the screen with the pink rubber tip of a pencil. “this is your bad hip…”
“Go get my stuff!” she said to Gwil.
A woman in a white lab coat brushed by, jostling Nadine into the cubby. The doctor went right on pretending to ignore that right there on the X-ray, Nadine’s genitals were drooping the full length of the pencil eraser he kept tapping at her parts. Like chicken’s wattles, she thought, horrified.
“Yes, yes, alright,” she said. But the doctor wouldn’t shut up. Gwil was behind her juggling her clothes and purse, dangling her sandals by the thin leather straps. He was staring at the screen, at her grotesque parts.
Later, when they were finally home, Nadine busied herself with making dinner. She couldn’t find the garlic press in the new kitchen. She’d organized everything wrong. The silverware should be below the rack displaying her china. She couldn’t switch things around now. It was already habit opening this drawer instead of that one.
“Nadine, sweetie,” Gwil said. “What are you banging about for? I thought it was good news from the doctor. It’s not like you have get a hip replacement right away.”
He gazed up at the high ceiling. Faux beams, expensive plaster treatment. This is what they’d paid for, she thought: the Spanish Colonial Revival style. All those white walls.
“I mean…” he was saying. She willed him to just shut up. “You might get away without ever needing a new hip.”
“Because I’ll be dead before then.”
“No, the bottom line is if I’m still alive in another five years, and still mobile—that was his word—I’ll need surgery.”
Wattles down there, she thought. Fine news indeed.
The next morning, Gwil had an early tee time with his new buddies at the club, so Nadine was left to enjoy her morning coffee alone. When she gathered up the local paper, she saw the magazine on the counter. Vanity Fair was not something they ordinarily purchased, but she vaguely remembered Gwil telling her about an interview with a kid now running the tech company that was the rival of the one Gwil sold more than a decade ago. On the magazine cover was a photo of the young millionaire in a black sweatshirt sitting cross-legged inside an egg-shaped chair, which hung from the ceiling. Nadine shook her head. He probably encouraged his employees to ride skateboards down the hall while they texted.
Nadine had little interest in his story, but she took the magazine with the newspaper out to the kitchen patio along with her coffee. She dragged the chaise into full sun. At some point—she didn’t remember when—she had stopped worrying so much about skin damage. Shadowed slats of portico striped the patio. Her body was hushed by the crashing of waves far below. She flipped through the magazine, opening the flaps to sniff the perfume samples, wondering whether any might be suitable for John’s wife Eve. But perfume was far too personal a gift, and she didn’t know her daughter-in-law that well. She wasn’t sure there’d be occasion to now that Eve was busy with the new baby. Nadine’s mind was sliding off to her mental calendar, and when she could go visit baby Janie without becoming the pesky mother-in-law. She turned the page and gasped.
The words of the title were done like the gaudy Mylar balloons that loomed over the checkout line in the grocery store.
Her elbow jostled her mug and coffee spilled onto the side table. She thought about hurrying inside, dropping the magazine in the recycling bin or mashing it down into the garbage, down into the coffee grinds and Gwil’s two egg shells.
The bodies were not those of real women, but mannequins. Their skin was salmon-colored, their nipples a shade pinker. She read the caption under the photo of the two mannequins whose legs were spread wide. The caption explained that each doll was customized based on the client’s preferences. Some dolls had a small triangle of hair down there while others were smooth like a little girl. Genitals was not the word the magazine used. Nadine had taught her children to call their organs by their real names. These words, these photos, made her ashamed. And something else. Deep in her groin a feeling she’d nearly forgotten. She listened to be sure Gwil was not coming homing early. She angled her chair to face the French doors.
The largest photo took up half the page. It showed two of these dolls; they were blonde and nearly identical. Both had extremely large bosoms. She glanced at the French doors and then held the magazine closer to her face. She thought of the play dough her grandson Tucker left out on the kitchen counter. When her children were little, she made her own play dough, but Eve was too busy with the new baby and Nadine couldn’t fault her for buying it. Nadine remembered the oily, squeaky feel of the store play dough. She wasn’t surprised when Tucker was tempted to put it in his mouth. Now, she studied the dolls. Everything about the pink women looked like plasticine. Or some sort of bouncy rubber. Were they? Made of rubber? Is that what men wanted to feel against their skin? To put their mouths on?
A dark-eyed junco landed at the birdfeeder, startling her, and she slammed the magazine shut. But she could still picture the girls. The plastic folds, the neat slits down there. Smooth and perfect. Were the dolls given a smell? She peeked again. The pink of the woman’s nipples galled her. Like the pink inside a mouth. She thought of the word. A word she’d never uttered in her life. A word Gwil had never uttered, but maybe he thought it. Maybe back when they were young and locked up in his college dorm for hours, maybe he did but never said.
She looked at the dolls’ breasts until the junco twittered the naughty word over and over. She went inside and slammed the French doors behind her. She took the magazine into the guest bathroom and slipped it between the National Audubon book and Birds of the Southeast on top of the toilet. She turned the Vanity Fair binding toward the wall so she might forget it was there. But on her walk, she couldn’t stop thinking of the dolls and the ache in her groin felt like a spent muscle.
She had showered and was composing a grocery list when Gwil proposed that they visit the galleries downtown.
“Maybe grab a bite and not bother with fixing dinner?” he said casually.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked. She noticed his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
His eyes softened and he got that faraway look which was becoming more common. “Sometimes I look at that big wall and…” he sighed. “Heck, I don’t know. Maybe we should have put the bed against the wall. Not have to look at it.”
“No, not a landscape. The house asks for something different.”
And now he looked at her quickly, his eyes worried. The thin plastic wire of the hearing aid coiling into his ear slight as his fine grey hairs.
He shrugged. It was an empty gesture. She knew him too well.
And now he met her eyes because he knew she was pretending too. “It’ll be a fun search.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think it will.”
In the car he seemed to sit taller.
“How big were you thinking?” he asked.
She looked out the window when she felt the flush creeping up her neck. She was thinking of the dolls’ breasts.
“Should we have taken a picture to show the gallery person?”
“Likely we’ll buy it already framed, wouldn’t you think?”
It wasn’t like him to act dumb. She knew he’d seen the pictures. Which doll was he picturing? The hair or no-hair one? The one with nipples swooping out to each side like she was built for not just one man but two, one on either side, a nipple for each mouth.
Nadine crossed her legs and squeezed tight.
“We’ll just have to see,” she said finally.
She felt his hand on her arm and then he reached for her hand and clasped it. He squeezed three times, their code for I LOVE YOU. She squeezed back four times, I LOVE YOU MORE, and their hands rested on the cool leather console until they reached downtown when Gwil had to put both hands on the wheel to negotiate a parking spot.
He walked ahead of her. He had gotten thinner and a little stooped. She tried to see him with a stranger’s eyes. Old. He looked old. She’d tried Buddhism, but there was no comfort in reading that everyone got old and then died. She could double her daily mileage, go faster, but she could not skip out of the sentenc
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Loliwood Studios: Child Erotica at its Best
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Nude Stories
