1 comments/ 9770 views/ 2 favorites Opposites Attract, Then Recoil Back By: SuperHeroRalph This is a Nude Day contest story. Please vote. In honor of Nude Day, a divorced man changes his lifestyle in the hope of winning a woman. * I watched her stripping out of her clothes not believing what I was seeing. Not since I saw my wife kissing another man did I feel such shocked surprise and sexual excitement. Even though we were friends and even though I was hoping to score a kiss, after our first date, if what we were having was even considered a date, watching her unbutton and remove her blouse to expose her bra was surreal. An unexpected surprise, when I haven't even so much as held her hand, watching her get naked was paramount to an in the park homerun. As if it was gasoline filling my tank with adrenaline and testosterone, my desire for her grew with each unbuttoned button. As if happening in slow motion, I couldn't remove my eyes from her impromptu striptease show. Never in a million years would I have thought that someone like her would remove her clothes in front of someone like me. Then, when my Angel reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans to wiggle out of them, I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. Standing before me in her panties and bra was an image I had numerously imagined, while masturbating over her, since the first day I met her. Now, she's standing in front of me for me in her sexy lingerie for me to ogle her shapely body. "Well, aren't you going to strip, too, Brad?" She had an impatient tone that I mistook as sexual excitement and it took me a second to realize what she was asking. As if I still in my dream, her voice shook me awake. "Huh? Strip? Oh. Yeah. Yes, of course, Christine." The sight of her staring at the bulge that tightened my pants made me take longer to respond to her request. I imagined her touching me and stroking me, before sucking me. As I unbuttoned my shirt, I wondered if she wanted me, as much as I wanted her. I wondered if we were going to make love, before we even had our first kiss. I wondered if she was really going to get naked. After how our first meeting started out, with her being so distant and resistant to me and with her not even liking my dog, I wondered if I was finally going to see her tits, her ass, and her pussy. Just as I wondered that, she reached around her back, undid her bra, and removed that, too. Oh, my God! With her naked breasts right there before my horny eyes, she was topless. More than just mere breasts, these were Christine's breasts, the women I had lusted over since the first day we met at the dog park and since then, I had fallen in love with her. Yet, before I could enjoy the image of her perfectly symmetrical B cup breasts, revel in her pink puffy areolas, and stare at her erect nipples, before I even could wrap my brain around the fact that she was topless, in one, quick downward motion, as if she was readying herself for bed on our Honeymoon, her panties were off, too. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! This is so surreally not real. Pinch me because I must be dreaming. My sexual fantasy come true, Christine is naked. Before I even had my shirt off, she was naked, naked, naked, naked. To say that I was excited to see her trimmed, blonde pussy and round shapely ass would be equivalent to me not caring if I had just won the lottery jackpot. For sure, winning Christine's body on the way to winning her heart was better than winning any damn lottery. Unable to put a price tag on her, priceless, she was the type of quality woman worth more than any amount of money. Even though I don't remember removing my shirt, somehow I removed my shirt. As if I were a teenager having sex for the first time, I was so excited. I couldn't get my sneakers off fast enough to remove my pants. Perhaps, had I focused more on untying the knot in my laces, instead of staring at her naked form, I would have had more success removing my sneakers. Finally, I just forced them off my feet. Tee shirt and boxer shorts came off in record time and now, ready for action, ready for sex, ready to make love to the woman I never thought I would find and the woman I thought would never be interested in me, I was naked, too. "Eww, Brad. You have an erection," she said staring at my cock, before reaching out her finger and touching it, as if it was a balloon and she was knocking it away. Only, instead of flying away and disappearing in a cloud, my cock grew harder with her touch. Her words hit me in the way that a needle skips over a record, when the volume is turned up all the way. I wanted to block my ears, but didn't. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could I misinterpret her intentions? I felt like such a fool. "Sorry," I said not feeling sorry at all, but excited that I was seeing Christine naked and she was seeing me naked, too. "What we're doing isn't about sex. It's just a public display of nudity on Nude Day" she said scolding me, as if I was a child. From being so high to now feeling so low, disappointed by her words, as if someone had popped my balloon at a circus, she made me feel ridiculous. Eager to show her how I felt, after she stripped off her clothes, I had played all my cards by having an erection and now, as it so happened, she was bluffing. What I had perceived as the start of a beautiful love affair was merely a public display of nudity on Nude Day to her. Are you kidding me? Nude Day? I'm a naked man standing here with an erection and the playground is not only closed, but off limits. Seriously, who gives a flying fuck about Nude Day, when I'm naked and Christine is naked, too. Her words stayed in my brain, as if she spoke a foreign language. Suddenly, I felt I was in a country where I didn't know the customs and didn't know how to appropriately behave. "What we're doing is not about sex. It's just a public display of nudity," she said. How could it not be about sex? I'm a man and she's a woman. She's naked and I'm naked. She could have fooled me and did, in fact, fooled my cock. For sure, without a doubt, my cock thought, just as I did, that we were going to get lucky and have deeply penetrating sex with a lot of humping and sweating. "I know and I realize that but, being that I'm so very attracted to you and seeing you naked, well, I'm only human, Christine." Yet, no matter my misinterpretation of what transpired that day. Thank God for Christine and Nude Day. Nude Day changed my life forever. If it wasn't for Nude Day, I'd be on my way to a coronary, dead of a heart attack, and buried. It's funny how just removing my clothes relaxed me, that is, once I lost my erection and once I realized that I wasn't going to have sex with Christine. Nonetheless, Nude Day gave me a whole new outlook on life. Stressed out and burnt out, if it wasn't for Christine, I never would have gotten to live the rest of my life carefree, albeit naked. Only, I should start from the beginning. Hi, my name is Brad and I'm just a guy, a regular guy, a typical man, one who doesn't put much thought into anything I do, mainly because I'm too tired, too depressed, too sad, and just don't have the time to really give a fuck. To be honest, I know it's wrong and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I don't even recycle. I'm not active in my community, I'd wear fur, if I could afford it and I don't pay much attention to the world news, especially when they talk about global warming, plant and animal extinction, and the ecology. It's all bullshit to me. With my dream of accounting for my own money one day and not someone else's, I'm too busy working my ass off as an overwhelmed, overworked, and under paid lowly accountant. Besides, I don't believe any of what the press wants the general public to believe anyway. You can't tell me that someone isn't getting rich off of all this recycling and global warming bullshit. It's just a way for them to sell biodegradable leaf and lawn bags, bottled water, and go green cars, hats, tee shirts, and bumper stickers. Yeah, go green my ass. The only green that's going is the money leaving my pocket and going into their pockets. So, after having to live through another Earth Day, when I discovered that there was such a day as National Nude Day, I was as skeptical as I was shocked. Nude Day? Nude Day my ass. Since when have they celebrated Nude Day? Where was I when they made Nude Day a national holiday? Are you kidding me? Hey, I didn't get the memo. I didn't even get the day off, as a paid holiday. I wish I had known about Nude Day years ago, when I still had a body that wasn't morphed into physical decay by too much fast food and copious amounts of beer. Then, I realized, just like Earth Day, Nude Day was just another contrived holiday to get us to spend our hard earned money at the mall, no doubt...for fig leaves? I didn't even know there was such a day as Nude Day? Tell me, how does one even dress for Nude Day? Yes, of course, I realize that Nude Day means nakedness and being naked in public but, on the way to the celebration, what do you wear before getting naked and what do you wear after the celebration ends, a jumpsuit, overalls, a toga or do you just walk out and about in your nightclothes before stripping naked? Tell me, where do I put my car keys, wallet, and cell phone? Then, I wondered what kind of people celebrate Nude Day? No one that I know. Is Nude Day just a dating day contrived just so that horny naked men can ogle available naked women? Or is it a real holiday? Now that I'm aware of National Nude Day, if I had my druthers, every day would be Nude Day. Then, finally, in the busy world, between nipples being submerged or erect and cocks being soft or hard, a physical sign of their naked barometers of trustworthiness, I'd have more of a chance of discerning the truth from all the lies that people tell me and hope I believe. "Liar! You can't fool me. You're hoping I buy this car at your inflated price. You're already excited with the anticipation of this sale. Look at the size and stiffness of your erection." Growing up in an Italian household and an Italian neighborhood, laden with guilt put upon us by an unyielding and controlling Catholic Church, my family would never celebrate Nude Day. My Mom still gets undressed in the bathroom and dressed in the closet. And even though I've read thousands of incest stories on Literotica and have fantasized while masturbating afterwards, never is when I've seen my sister, mother, cousin, or aunt naked, not that I'd even want to see some of my female relatives naked. Trust me, unless a woman with underarm, leg hair, and a forest of pubic hair is how you perceive your dream woman, Italian women are very hairy. Notwithstanding Nude Day or any other day, with my job leaking into and eating up whatever free time I have, I don't have time enough to ponder an ant walking across my path or the inclination to look up at a bird in the sky. Weighed down with stress, pressure, and deadlines, whenever I look up at the sky, I think in the way that Chicken Little did, that the sky is falling on my head. Typically, when I do have the time to look up at the sky, I pray. "Dear God in Heaven, why me? Dear God in Heaven, just give me this one wish and I won't ask you for anything ever again, that is, unless I'm dying. Please help me with a winning lottery ticket." Not really in the mood to expose myself in public, after being so constricted and stressed out by my job, I don't have the time to think about National Nude Day nor do I have the need to get naked. In the way that I feel now, so emasculated by my boss, my job, my ex-wife, and my lowly place in the world, I don't think I could even muster an erection. With everyone running around trying to conserve to preserve the planet and making me feel guilty for not doing my fair share, I'll be dead and buried when all the abusive and destructive devastation we've made to this planet bites us in the ass by not giving us fresh water to drink and clean air to breath. Now that Earth Day is over, all the talk at the office around the water cooler and coffee machine is about National Nude Day and getting naked, just as last month they talked about Flag Day, displaying flags, and celebrating veterans coming home from and leaving for war. Give me a break. Have these people so little in their lives that they must invent holidays to celebrate? Yeah, for sure, I'd love to see the receptionist and some of the secretaries at the accounting firm, where I work, naked but, unless they stripped out of their clothes during my break or lunch hour, the chances of me celebrating National Nude Day are slim to nil. No doubt, I'll be working long hours that day getting ready to meet the tax extension deadline for several clients who want every available loophole not to pay their fair share of taxes. Let me ask you this, when I make so little and he makes so much, why do I pay more Federal and State taxes than Warren Buffet? It doesn't seem fair, does it? Divorced with adult children, my life is a mess. I don't even have a girlfriend. I don't have the inclination to bother trying to get one. As far as I'm concerned, let someone else celebrate National Nude Day. Sadly, but truthfully, I don't have the time to walk around naked. It's not my job to celebrate anything but overtime pay, whenever I have that, and bonuses, whenever I get that. Besides, after being so controlled for so long, I wouldn't know how to handle the kind of naked freedom that comes with stripping off my clothes and allowing it to all hang out, so to speak. A product of my routine, I get up in the morning, pee, make coffee, let out the dog and feed him, check my e-mails, read the news online, review a few porn videos, have some breakfast, jump in the shower, and I'm off to work. Most of my day is work, work, work. Then, I come home late, watch the news, microwave something to eat, watch more TV, check my e-mails, watch more porn videos, and then go to bed to repeat the routine the next day. There's no time for anything else. The weekend is the only free time that I have, but with all the snow we got last winter and with the seasons skipping spring and immediately morphing into summer, then skipping fall to give us winter again, I stay close to home. I never thought I'd write this, but I don't want to go out anymore. Wanting to do the same, if only I had his money, I'm beginning to understand why Howard Hughes didn't shower and wore Kleenex boxes on his feet. It's just takes too much time and is too much trouble to groom, not to mention, as soon as I walk out the front door, no matter what I do or don't do, whether buying gas, food, and/or liquor, it cost me a hundred bucks. In a nutshell, that's my life. It's all so very status quo. If I had to use one word to describe my life, I'd describe it as boring and I'd describe myself as boring, too. Boring, boring, boring, that's me, the boring accountant. Without a doubt, I'm in a rut and I know it, but I don't know how to get out of it. Still reeling over my 23-year marriage breakup and my subsequent divorce, maybe I'm depressed. To be honest, I just don't understand what the big deal is about National Nude Day. Celebrating Nude Day is the last thing on my long bucket list of things that I never want to do, such as bungee jumping, swimming with Dolphins, and working around the clock on April 15th. If I went to my primary care physician, an internist, he'd prescribe, no doubt, a chemical concoction to make me think that my dark grey skies are bright blue. Yet, a reality TV junkie, I'd rather not see things through rose colored glasses. I heard enough of that malarkey from politicians who painted me a rosy picture, before taxing me to death and giving me little in return. Give me the real world over the one my government is always lying to me about, before shoving the truth up my ass. Give it to me straight. I can take it. Enough with the lies. Just stop lying to me. Tell me the truth, just once, so that I can plan for my own doomsday. I'd like to meet someone, really I would but, I'd have to go out and leave my comfortable nest to do that and I'm not willing to go through all of that trouble, all over again, just yet. Having just been divorced, I'm not ready. I'm tired of playing relationship games. I'm tired of being someone I'm not, interesting and interested. To be honest, for what I'd receive in return, heartache and headache with a little sex in the beginning and not much more than that it the end, it's not worth my time, effort, energy, and money to have a girlfriend, who'd hope, no doubt, to be my wife one day. Love? Other than to have children, what's the big deal about love anyway? Moreover, get closer to the computer so that everyone doesn't hear, sex is overrated. I'd rather live alone than to go through all of that, all over again. Besides, I'm always working. Even if I was ready to meet someone, not really knowing anyone where I live, other than co-workers, I don't really know how to go about finding Miss Right, anyway. With all the sexual harassment laws in the workplace today and with good paying replacement jobs so very hard to find, there's just no way that I'd jeopardize my job by dating a co-worker. I don't do well in dating bars and pickup joints either. They make me feel so ordinary, as if I'm in a cattle stall with a bunch of other animals mooing and strutting. They all want the same thing. They all want love, while settling for sex. Between the loud music and so much competition vying for the attention of the few good looking women in the bar, while trying to connect with someone deeper than just on the surface, all of these public meeting and dating venues, bars and clubs, always make me feel so pressured and uselessly empty. Instead of it being a fun time, it's a depressing attempt at trying to connect with a stranger. Always, I end up going home alone. Especially as the night wears on, tempting fate, my attempts to find kismet, while hoping that lightning will strike, always makes me feel so rushed and desperate and willing to settle for the chick that everyone else rejected. The whole dating process makes me feel ridiculous. I'm not a teenager anymore, but a bitter and broken, middle-aged man and I'm tired of all the games and all the lies. Yeah, sure, I've had plenty of offers to rub up against someone under the sheets while naked, but invariably those offers are always from the wrong type of women, women I'd never want to see or be seen with in the light of the next day, forget about developing a long-term relationship. Typically, I receive the attention from those younger women looking to move up and latch onto someone to take care of them, now that Daddy can't anymore. Then, there's those older women hoping to get lucky and hoping that I'm their medicine and magic elixir to make them feel younger, prettier, and needed again. Instead, I'm hoping for someone more my age, background, and intellect. Unfortunately, the ones that interest me are already married and, as my wife was unfaithful to me in the course of our marriage and with me not wanting to be with a cheating woman, I'd never date a married woman. Just keeping it real, it's probably a little weird to have a man write this, but I'm looking more for love and a long-term relationship than I am for sex and a one night stand. Been there and done that, I wish I could skip the dating games altogether and move right to love. So long as she was the right woman, I'd take the chance, but how do you know she's the one. Being single, I could have sex when I want it, but with the thought of being alone the next morning, that's an emptiness that I'd rather not experience over and again. Instead, I'd rather wake up to that comfortable person with that familiar face, who greets me with a hug and a kiss, and being with someone who wants to stay longer and is committed to remain for the long haul, after all the sweaty humping. I need someone to hang around after we've had sex to watch a ballgame or to take a walk and talk about everything and laugh over nothing, while discussing our future plans together. Opposites Attract, Then Recoil Back Even though I'm divorced, I fear that I still have the mindset of a married man. Married since forever and married longer than I've been single, it's been a long time since I dated and maybe because of that, and not being a player, makes me not just more selective but also more realistic. Without doubt, I'm not looking to make the same mistakes that got me where I am today, alone, lonely, and bored out of my mind. I just don't want to settle for anyone and anything. I want someone special. Just as Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland sings in her song, I want it all. I want the romance that goes along with love. I want the deep kissing, tight hugging, and long passionate holding. Wanting it all in full living color, I want the musical firework sex that I never experienced with my ex-wife. I want to miss her, as soon as I walk out that front door and have the feeling that I can't wait to return home to her. I want her to feel the same way. I realize that it sounds unrealistic, but every day, I want us to reconnect in the way we did, when we first met, first kissed, and fell in love. Every day, I want that to be a new adventure with fresh memories that last forever. Infected by her positive attitude, wanting to be a better man for her, I want that one person who makes me believe that I can do anything and that everything is possible. Yet, where is she and how do I find her? When I do find her, how will I know it's her? Will I just know and won't even have to question it? I know she's out there somewhere. I can just feel her heart beating for me. I know she's desperately looking for me, just as I'm desperately looking for her, but who is she and where is she? I've tried the online dating thing, but I never had the courage to meet anyone. Unable to pull the trigger, I just corresponded, until the women grew weary of writing and disappeared. Always, there's another new woman to take her place. Meeting new women online allows me to keep my distance, while keeping me occupied somewhat. Still, I've never corresponded with any woman online that just blows back my hair enough to make me want to meet her. It's more fun doing those advance searches, where I put in all the things that I'd want in a woman and they always come back that they live in California or Oregon, clear across that part of the country that I fled from for the anonymity of Connecticut, after my divorce. In the way my life is now, one day just bleeds into another and, after a while, I have no recollection of what I did or didn't do from one day to the next. After I divorced my wife, with my ex-wife and children living on the other side of the country and me moving east to avoid running into old friends and acquaintances, who'd invariably ask too many uncomfortable questions, I seldom see my kids. Both away in college now, they're too busy living life and I'm winding down, while enjoying the peace and quiet of living alone. Going from my parents' house to taking a bride, right after graduating college, for the first time in my life, I live alone and, for the most part, I enjoy having the freedom to come and go as I please. Only, instead of living life large, I don't do anything and go anywhere. From the driveway to the highway, the only place I go to and return from is work. "Work, work, work, work, work." It's funny that, when I was married, especially towards the end, I was so restless. I just wanted to take off, just go, and drive nowhere in particular, just anywhere. Now that I can do that, I don't. I just stay home alone and vegetate, especially during those cold, snowy, winter months or those hot, hazy, humid days, when I don't even want to get out of bed to go to work. After my divorce and after having lived a crazy life with a wife, kids, a job, friends, and relatives, at first the solitude was a welcome relief. Finally alone and on my own, it was fun looking for a place to live and buying my own furniture to suit my tastes. My ex-wife, Karen, would hate what I did with the decorating, as everything is glass, chrome, black, dark, modern, and masculine. She was just the opposite. She loved pastels and things that had charm and character. She loved antiques. I prefer everything new. Now that I'm settled and have my routine just the way it was before, my life has become comfortably boring again. I duplicated my life to where it was going from a boring, stressed out married man to a boring, stressed out single man. Now hoping for something different, I'm wondering if there isn't something in the water that makes me remain the same. Going from one end to the other and still with nothing ever changing, I need to find a happy medium. With too much work and not enough recreation, I need to find more of a balance in my life. Maybe this is what I needed to heal myself from my divorce. Now that all of that heartache, heartbreak, and misery is in my past, I feel that I'm finally ready now to meet someone, especially with the advent of spring and the warmer weather. Hoping we don't skip Spring in the way that the seasons morphed together last year, Spring is always the best time for love. Isn't it? I'm embarrassed to admit, but some days, ensconced in the bachelor pad I created for myself, one that I never had, other than going to work, I don't leave the house. With a big screen TV, a great stereo, and a pool table, I've built a comfortable recluse, my safe haven. I like hanging out in my house alone. Only, I'm still young, 48-years-old, and in the way that I live in my inactive lifestyle, I act as if I'm twenty years older. I need to go out and experience life and see what fate has in store for me. Who knows, maybe I'll be surprised. Weekends are the same, with me just hanging around the house, watching TV, wasting time on the computer, doing laundry, and taking the dog for a long walk. Now that the winter is over, I'm more active. Then, instead of walking Taz, the name of my dog, short for Tasmanian Devil, just around the neighborhood, I enjoy taking my dog to the dog park. With all the trees, greenery, and private paths that run through the forest, the dog park is so idyllic that I wish I could build a house and live here. Truly, my life is not so bad and I could live like this, secluded somewhere within the lush greenery of the dog park for the rest of my life. Only, I'd like to have more, namely a female friend, a companion, and a lover to share my good times and help me through my bad times, as I would for her. Nearly impossible to find my love match, why is that asking for so much? For sure, when I think about the lack of love in my life during those lonely, rainy nights, I'd like to experience what life would be like to have another woman in my life, someone who gets me and who likes me for who I am. For sure, I wouldn't want a woman who didn't get my sense of humor. Laughing, when making fun of things, situations, and people, is what I do and what gets me through my day. I'm a big tease and a practical joker and some think that I'm arrogant or mean, but I'm not. I'm a real, soft touch. Sensitive and romantic more describes who I am. Instead of the woman that I married, the total opposite of me, when trying to develop and maintain a relationship, it would be a thrill to be with a woman that has a similar background as I do. I yearn to find a woman who shares my nationality, religion, traditions, education, culture, and one who has had similar experiences are all so very important to me, especially now that I'm older and more set in my ways. Yet, realistically, especially at my age, when I'm not as open as I was when I was younger, I realize it will be difficult to share my life with another person. I know that now, with all the fighting we did, after trying to make it work for so many years with Karen and failing. All we did was argue and snipe at one another. I don't want to fight for love. I want to live for love. Is that too much to ask? Then, again, all of that, having similar backgrounds, nationality, religion, traditions, education, culture, and experiences, went out the window, when I saw a total knockout that made me rethink my lonely existence and think of no one and nothing else but her. Oh, yeah, I fell and I fell hard, when I saw this woman at the dog park. Wow. She could have been Bo Derek's twin sister, only younger and more beautiful. She was one of those people who has a dog that looks like her, you know the type, tall, thin, shapely, athletic, and with long, flowing hair like Farrah Fawcett and that's just her dog. She has an Afghan hound. I looked down at my dog to see if we looked alike and he looked up at me. Was he wondering the same thing, when he saw her with her dog? If I had any resemblance, at all, to my dog, I couldn't see it. Even though her dog was pretty to watch, especially when she's running, she's a big, dumb dog. Even from this distance, from across the dog park, I could tell her dog was dumb. On the dog intelligence scale, Afghan hounds are right up there with Irish Setters. My apologies in advance to Afghan hound and Irish Setter owners, but you know it, I know it, and everyone knows that your dogs are beautiful but dumb. I've always been a terrier man and my dog is smarter than her dog, by far. The intelligence of terriers are only dwarfed by Poodles and Border Collies and maybe if there's a dog that's half Poodle and half Border Collie, but that's it. The terrier, when it comes to intelligence is right up there with Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and Charlie Sheen, with apologies to my dog for comparing his intelligence to those six idiots. "Right Taz? He's a good boy. He's a good dog. Go ahead, go play with the pretty doggie, but do easy and be nice. No humping." Anyway, the first time I met Christine happened when Taz was trying to get Paris, the name of her dumb dog, to play, but her dog wouldn't run with a lowly terrier. Because her dog wouldn't chase my dog, that frustrated my dog. He loves being chased and he's wicked fast. It takes a dozen dogs to wear out my dog. He never tires. He just runs and runs. If there is such a thing as an Eveready energizer bunny of dogs, it's Taz. He ran around her dog barking and nipping at her paws, which is how I met Christine. "Come Paris, come. Paris come," she said a bit annoyed, when her dog refused to obey her. It figures she'd name her dog Paris. Then, she looked at me with the look of exasperated impatience that my ex-wife gave me towards the end of our marriage. Always my ex-wife gave me that look, when she was waiting for me to do something, fix something, or leave the house to run errands, so that she could cheat on me behind my back with her boyfriend. "They're just having fun being a dog," I said trying to act coolly aloof, while hoping to break the ice with a bit of conversation. "Your dog is being so aggressive," she said looking over at my dog and then back at me, as if I was supposed to immediately call my dog away from her dog. Actually, if I had any control over a terrier, I would have called him to come, but he wouldn't have come and that would have made me look bad that my dog was in control of me and that he was the pack leader, instead of me. Only, being a dog owner, she should know that no one has control over terriers. They do whatever they want, when they want to do it. Are you kidding me? Even Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer, said that terriers are not only the hardest dogs to train but also are the most aggressive and the most difficult dogs to control. Yet, any time you see a circus dog riding a horse or an elephant, it's a terrier and, for sure, never an Afghan hound. Maybe because terriers like to dominate and think they're dominating a horse or an elephant by riding it's back, is why they use terriers. Yet, why should I call off my dog? I was enjoying the game my dog was playing with her dog. Besides, if I called my dog away, my game would end, too, she'd be on her way, and I'd never get the chance to meet this beautiful creature. "He just wants to play," I said but, as if she didn't even hear me, as if I was invisible and wasn't even there, she ignored me. I really hate being ignored. That's so rude. Being ignored makes me feel small and invisible. I receive enough of that bad behavior in work. I certainly don't want it or need it, while having a relaxing day at the dog park. When she didn't acknowledge me, I wanted to bark at her. I wanted to nip at her heels, while taking a peek beneath her skirt, but I figured she'd kick me. Then, I'd have to bite her. "Woof! Woof! Woof!" "Paris come," she said again, obviously looking embarrassed and frustrated that her dog suddenly refused to obey her. The dumb dog that she obviously was, Paris was content to stand there, while Taz, the crazy devil dog that my dog is, ran around her barking. Hmm, apparently, the sudden sense that I received from this small exchange of animal versus human was that this woman is accustomed to being in control of not just her dog but, extrapolating from this one insight, of her life and any situation remotely relating to her life. I figured just by the way she was acting and reacting with her dog, she lived alone and had no husband or boyfriend. I just hoped to God that she wasn't a lesbian. "Of course my dog is aggressive. He's a terrier, a Rat terrier and I never met a terrier that wasn't," I said with a laugh. "That's why they call them terriers, because they are such terrors," I said with a another laugh but, obviously not wanting to entertain more dialogue, she seemed anxious to be on her way. Not thinking what I said was funny, she didn't encourage me by laughing. "Matter of fact," I persevered, "I named him Taz, after the Tasmanian Devil," I said, but she just ignored me and whatever I said. She was so rude and so unfriendly. I hate when women act like she acted to me. What a bitch? If she wasn't so damn beautiful, I'd already be on my way, but I was mesmerized by her. I've never seen a woman as lovely as she was. I, at least, wanted to know her name, so that when I dream about her naked and in my bed tonight with my hand firmly around my cock, I can call her by name. "Well, please control your dog or put him on a leash," she said to me, while looking at her dog and before giving me a stern look that made me want to disobey her and sniff her, before peeing on her leg. "Come Paris, come," she said in a loudly impatient tone. "My dog just wants to play," I said again with a smile, in case she didn't hear me the first time and as my excuse to look at her again. She was just so stunning. Normally, I see women at the dog park in jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers without makeup, but this woman was wearing makeup and wore a short skirt that showed off her shapely legs. She could wear a plastic bag and she'd still look hot. "He wants your dog to chase him," I said smiling and looking at her possibly for the last time. She was so uniquely beautiful and hoping opposites would attract in the way that Christie Brinkley was attracted to Billy Joel and Paulina Porizkova was attracted to Ric Ocasek, but obviously, we just weren't connecting. Barely looking at me, she didn't make eye contact or smile even. Other than beautiful, if I had to pick a word to describe her, she was a bitch, but what a bitch she was. I wondered if she was constipated. Maybe she just needs to take a good shit to give a shit about me and/or my dog. If I had a prune on me, I'd give her one. That's too bad that we didn't hit it off because I could see myself with her, that is, naked in bed and humping her, in the way that Taz was now trying so desperately to hump Paris, but he was too short and she was too tall. Good dog. I taught him everything he knows, I wanted to say but didn't. He gets that from me, I wanted to say, but I didn't say that either. Bend over, I wanted to say, too, it's my turn to hump you. Only, I didn't say that either. It was enough to think that, while imagining her with her skirt up her back, her panties around her ankles, and her assuming the doggie style position, before falling to her knees and blowing me. To be honest, even though she was frigging beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time, I didn't like her and thinking that we'd make a good pair was just a sexual fantasy on my part. Maybe because she didn't like my dog was my reason for me not liking her at first. Definitely, the way she acted towards me and my dog put me on off and on my heels. The other reason may have been because I didn't like her car. I was already in the park, when I saw her pull up with her big, dumb dog and her little Jap car. She drove one of those Subaru Foresters. I hate those cars. Yeah, I know they're reliable, great in the snow, economical, and fairly cheap to buy and operate, but they're boring. I realize, if I'm not alienating people by calling Afghan hounds and Irish Setters dumb, then I'm pissing people off who drive Jap cars, specifically Subarus. Sorry, but I just don't like Japanese cars. I do like Japanese women, though, especially the ones in those X-rated videos that pepper the Internet. Unlike American women, Japanese women are so very attractively submissive. No doubt, exciting to be so in control of a woman in the beginning, an excess of that submissive behavior could be boring later. Now that I think about it, since we're talking about cars, I don't like German cars either. Even though I love BMW's, I'd never buy one. I still hold a grudge dating back to World War II because they tried to kill my Grandfather. Yeah, I take that very personally, when someone tries to kill my Granddad. Had they succeeded in killing my ancestor, I wouldn't be here writing this story today. Instead of murdering the English language by talking slang, we all could have been speaking German and eating strudel or speaking Japanese and eating bowls of rice with raw squid. My apologies to those people who drive Japanese cars and a Subaru specifically, but I'm only partial to one car. To be honest, if a car doesn't have a horse on the front grille and a Mustang logo on the back, then, chances are I wouldn't like your car either. Ah, there's nothing like the sound of a Mustang GT in the early morning or when going through a tunnel, unless it's a Ferrari, another car with a horse or a Lamborghini, a car with a bull for those born under the sign of Taurus. Unfortunately, the average Joe can't afford those cars. Most times, for the sake of listening to the rumble of the exhaust of my Mustang GT, I don't even turn on my radio. The loud sound of my exhaust is enough music for me. Yet, this Nude Day story has nothing to do with cars or dogs, for that matter. It has more to do with a lifestyle and my lifestyle was so very different than Christine's that, even though, I imagined being with her, especially that night, when I was masturbating, while thinking about her naked, I could never be with someone like her. My ex is a fiery and emotional Italian, who swears a lot, while talking with her hands. That's the kind of woman I grew up with and am attracted to, whenever I consider inviting another woman in my life and into my bed. Christine exudes high class, manners, and culture. Perhaps, had I named my terrier Jeeves, Reginald, or Martin, she may have more liked my dog. Nah, that wouldn't have worked either. She would have looked upon my dog, as she, no doubt, does her servants. I know, if I had the forethought to name my dog Rockefeller, Rocky for short, instead of Taz, that may have worked. "What's your dog's name?" "Rocky." "Oh." "His real name is Rockefeller." "Really." See? For sure, judging by the way she enunciated her words, Christine was a college graduate from some special women's college, no doubt, Smith, Wellesley, Barnard, or Bryn Mawr. Just the way she carried herself and spoke, I could tell she was educated and probably had a master's degree in some useless social science. I could see her reading a book in a Cape Cod cottage or at the Hamptons, after Daddy died and left her all his money. Opposites Attract, Then Recoil Back She looked privileged. She acted, as if she was better than me and I was beneath her and her way of thinking transcended to her dog over my dog. In truth, I'd take my lowly smart Rat terrier over her dumb Afghan hound any day. In truth, she could leash me up any day and take me for a walk on the wild side, that is. For sure, she acted, as if she was accustomed to men waiting on her and getting her own way. If anyone looked the part of a rich bitch, it was her. I just wanted to slap her, while tearing off her clothes. I bet that would turn her on and she'd get down and dirty with me. Nonetheless, she was so wickedly pretty and hauntingly beautiful that all I could do was stare at her. Only, as if it was our destiny and we were fated to be together, the weirdest thing is that I continued running into her. Okay, admittedly, in order to push destiny and realign fate, I took Taz to the dog park three times a day, instead of three times a week, and by taking Taz to the dog park so much, with all that exercise, he finally settled down and behaved himself. A good start, once we got past her bitchy attitude, what started our connection was the dogs. In reality, even though her dog was acting as snooty as she was, her dog really liked my crazy terrier, just as I suspected she liked me. Just as they became friends, we became friends, too, and whenever we saw one another at the dog park, we'd walk together and talk. Of course, trying to impress her, trying to get in her good graces, as well as in her tight jeans or up her short skirt, I said whatever I thought she'd want to hear. "Are you a vegan?" She looked at me, as if I was supposed to know what the Hell a vegan was. Vegan? What the Hell is that? I know what a vegetarian is. They only eat vegetables or is it vegetables and fruit, but no meat. Do they eat fish? Is chicken considered meat? I dunno. I had no idea what a vegan was. Maybe it's a religion. "Vegan? Of course. I've been a vegan for a long time," I said hoping she'd changed the subject and started sweating bullets when she didn't and asked me another related question. "What's your favorite meal?" Favorite meal? Okay, so a vegan has something to do with food. Gees, already she put me on the spot. It was too soon in our relationship for her to think me a liar, so I told her the truth. "Whatever I can microwave," I said. "Oh, so you don't cook." "Nah, my Mom and my ex were Italians. The only time I was allowed near the stove was to get seconds. Actually, the only time I was allowed in the kitchen was to take out the trash." "Nude Day is tomorrow," she said. I thought she said new day, not Nude Day. Mindlessly walking the dogs, I just nodded my head. "And I wanted to know if you'd like to accompany me for our Nude Day celebration." Still thinking that she said new day and not Nude Day, honestly, just as I wouldn't know what new day was and/or who celebrates Nude Day but liberals, hippies, and bored, rich, stuck up people, I'd go anywhere she invited me to go. Even though it was a Nude Day event, it didn't occur to me that she and/or I may be naked. I just figured it was a new age event that had something to do with the planets aligning at the end of the year. She gave me her address and I picked her up Saturday morning to attend what I thought was the new day event, but that turned out to be the Nude Day event. How bad could a new day event be? Only, I was in for a surprise by how good a Nude Day event could be. So long as I was with her, it wouldn't make a difference what the Hell kid of day event it was. It turned out to be more of a tented fair. With people passing out flyers to make others more aware of Nude Day festivities and making people aware of all the little things that they can do to improve the environment and help save the planet. It was more of a passive event than an in your face get naked or else kind of thing. When I read the flyer and started seeing pockets of naked people, I quickly made the adjustment in my mind. In the way that the event was presented, to be honest, with the same type of people attending both events, Nude Day went hand and hand with Earth Day. And if there was such a thing as a New Day event, these people would, no doubt, attend that, too. Only, as more people showed up to celebrate Nude Day, most people at the event, except for us were naked. With the Nude Day holiday as obscure as Earth Day or Arbor Day and Flag Day, I couldn't help but envision a bunch of naked hippies wearing tie-dye shirts and not much else, while smoking pot or a bunch of liberals proposing that Barney Frank run for President and I was right. Yet, in her case, I imagined a bunch of women much like herself discussing save the planet type of world affairs, while talking to men wearing sports coats with elbow patches, sporting beards, and smoking pipes. At first thinking that new day was a highbrow even, I feared I'd be out of my element, that is, until she shocked me by stripping naked for the Nude Day event. To be honest, especially after seeing her naked body, I was happy to be counted as one of her contingent, especially when she stripped off her clothes and I followed suit. Honestly, I had a good time feeling a little highbrow, albeit naked, for once. Only, when I returned to her place for a nightcap, things went a little crazy. Suddenly, she made me feel a bit backward. I was there for a drink or a cup of coffee, while getting to know her better and hoping for a kiss. She was more interested in having wild sex. I guess the icebreaker was us being naked most of the day and that had put her in the mood for romance, an understatement. Her bedroom was more a sex den. If the Marquis De Sade was to design a modern day bedroom, this would be it. Oh, my God. She had everything. The walls were filled with sex toys and gadgets that I had no idea what they were and what they did. All I know was that I was suddenly afraid. "How about some music," she said. "Sure, that would be nice. Maybe we can dance and--" "Dance?" The only kind of dancing she had in mind was vertical dancing that was more like banging. With the music playing so seductively, she slowly started removing her clothes again, and again, I followed her lead. Only this time, her stripping naked had nothing to do with a Nude Day celebration. All she needed was a pole and that's when I spotted the pole in her bedroom. As if in a practiced move, she leapt on the pole and twirled around, before grabbing me with her legs, pulling me forward, and impaling me. Now, no longer stressed, we spend all of our time together naked and humping like dogs. * Please don't forget to vote, make a comment, and/or add me and this story to your favorite lists. Thank you for reading and voting for my story.