When we were about fifteen Pat, Clarice, Mary, and I decided to shave our recently-blooming pubic hair. I really don’t remember whose idea it was, but we spent an hour or so in Mary’s bathroom shaving ourselves and each other and giggling a lot. It probably goes without saying that her parents were not home. That was when we first noticed the slight twist in Clarice’s labia. (This later inspired her husband’s pet name for her, “Ceecee.” Shortly after our shaving session, Clarice saw a doctor who assured her that it presented no problem.)
I don’t think any of us thought our shaving was all that big a deal at the time. I know that when I got home I showed my newly-bared area to my mother and she remained calm. She did tell me that she would have preferred that I had not done so, but said that it was my right to do what I wanted about the matter and I had done a good job. She did suggest that usually such choices are made by grown women after they were married and suggested that I might wish I had chosen differently the next time I had to shower after gym class. (We never even thought about piercing back then. I think she might have had other ideas about how far my rights went if that had been brought up.)
I had already thought about the gym class thing. We all had. We had been giggling about it while we shaved. My thought was if one of the other girls wanted to give me any grief that I would just tell her that only a lesbian would notice. (I actually planned on using a less polite term than lesbian, but that was my sentiment.) I figured that even if the girl was a lesbian she would back off.
We had gym classes on alternate days back then and Clarice and Pat had classes the next school day while Mary and I did not. By the time Clarice and Pat had returned home their mothers had received telephone calls from Miss Whipple, the assistant principal in charge of girls informing them of their daughters’ shaved state. Clarice’s mother was very disturbed and even discussed with her and with her father (although I don’t think at the same time) about putting her back in Catholic school. She seemed to think that nice girls did not do such things. (Years later when we were a little tipsy and we were reminiscing about this, Clarice said that she thinks her father have diverted the conversation by suggesting that her mother might shave herself.)
Pat’s mother had reacted quite differently, asking Miss Whipple what business it was of hers or the school and asking her if she had been personally checking the showers or had been informed by some busybody girl. Miss Whipple said it was the teacher who had told her. Pat’s mother said that the teacher should stick to women her own age and leave the girls alone. (It was widely suspected that the teacher was a lesbian. I don’t know whether that was true. Such things were kept quiet then, but she did live with another of the school's female teachers. They were still living together when they were well into their retirement.)
Clarice’s mother called the other mothers. I was home when she called mine and I remember hearing my mother saying, “Yes, I know. I think she did such a good job. I hope Clarice looks as nice.” I think she flummoxed the poor woman a little. Our parents had never been close friends before and they certainly were not afterward.
Mary’s teacher apparently either did not notice or chose to let the matter pass. I am guessing that she just did not notice, because she was the kind who never seemed to spend much time checking up on the girls while they showered. My teacher did but she did not have Miss Whipple call. She made the call herself from her own home in the evening. My mother assured her that she had been aware of the situation and thanked her for her concern but suggested that it really should not be a school matter and the matter apparently was left at that.
Clarice ended up having to talk with her guidance counselor who wanted her to see the school psychologist, but her father didn’t want her to have any history of seeing a psychological treatment on her record and somehow had enough clout to avert that. I guess his brother had gone to college with the principal, but I don’t know whether that was what did it.
We all let ourselves grow again, although Clarice did spend most of her adult life shaved.
It seemed ironic that about this same time they expelled a senior boy because he would not shave his face.
But I guess that these events were what really got me wondering what business it was of a school’s whether a person shaved below or above. And that got me wondering what business a lot of other things they seemed to stick their noses into were.
In my adult life, I have spent a lot of time around schools, higher education not K12, but I have been vigilant to keep my head out of students’ personal business unless I am asked to help, and I leave their parents out of things.
And I remember that it was less than pleasant to let it all grow back out again.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Malcolm in the Middle
Remember Malcolm in the Middle?
I guess I was not the right demographic to really appreciate it, but it did utilize some family nudity.
This scene is from the premier episode where Malcolm’s mother opens the door to a school counselor without bothering to put a shirt on first. It kind of reminded me of when I was a girl, but I am sure that my mother would have grabbed something for her top first. (And she would have answered the mail from school in the first place.)
I guess I was not the right demographic to really appreciate it, but it did utilize some family nudity.
This scene is from the premier episode where Malcolm’s mother opens the door to a school counselor without bothering to put a shirt on first. It kind of reminded me of when I was a girl, but I am sure that my mother would have grabbed something for her top first. (And she would have answered the mail from school in the first place.)
This video is from www.dailymotion.com which has an extensive collection of video, some of it unrelated to the subjects of this site.
Monday, November 23, 2009
My Naked Truth
I recently stumbled upon a site called My Naked Truth (www.mynakedtruth.tv) which maybe some of the people who read what I write might like.
It is run by a woman named Gypsy Taub who lives in the San Francisco Bay area and does a show on local cable television which she posts on her blog.
She interviews various people about sex, spirituality, oppression of free speech and conduct, and the leading conspiracies. She does the interviews naked and the guests are also naked. She seems to be about forty, so she missed the hippie thing but she seems to enjoy the hippie heritage.
The shows will probably bore anybody not into the subjects, but you have to admire her confidence and poise.
It is run by a woman named Gypsy Taub who lives in the San Francisco Bay area and does a show on local cable television which she posts on her blog.
She interviews various people about sex, spirituality, oppression of free speech and conduct, and the leading conspiracies. She does the interviews naked and the guests are also naked. She seems to be about forty, so she missed the hippie thing but she seems to enjoy the hippie heritage.
The shows will probably bore anybody not into the subjects, but you have to admire her confidence and poise.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Boys swim naked -- take two
There has been a lot of stuff on various sites about boys swimming naked at YMCAs, schools, camps, etc. Many have gone on to tell about being forced to be naked while female teachers, fellow students, nurses, or parents came by.
When I mention these stories to younger people (whether male or female) they all think I am crazy. But some older people remember when boys learned to swim naked.
I am not one to call the various posters who say that females were present liars, but I do find the idea highly unlikely. A female medical professional in an emergency seems possible but probably unusual. Mothers, sisters, classmates all seem well beyond what America would have tolerated back then.
I did not get to go to YMCA swim classes. I lacked the prerequisite penis. But my brother Lowell did. I remember him talking about it then and I have discussed this with him recently to make sure that I remember what he said correctly.
He said that they did indeed swim naked. He was not sure whether it was required or not, but they all did it. The instructors were all male, usually college-age guys, and they wore trunks. We both think it was a power thing on the staff’s part, to remind the boys who was in charge, but my brother was never bothered by his nakedness and did not worry about it. The pool in the YMCA where he learned was dank and smelly in a closed, windowless area. They have since replaced it with a new building with a bright, sunlit pool with windows all around. They all wear suits and there seem to be more females there than males, but I guess the M in YMCA does not mean what it used to mean.
There were about three rows on one side where people could watch, but Lowell said that the doors to that area were always closed and nobody was ever there. Once in a while they would see the chief instructor, but he came in from pool level.
They did use those seats for events such as when they did their annual show for the parents and family, but the boys wore suits for that. I remember seeing that a couple of times.
People have also told me that adult men also swam naked back in those days. I do not know for sure about that particular Y, but I guess it was indeed true in some of them.
Our YWCA did not have a pool, but girls I knew who went to ones with pools have all told me that they always swam in suits.
When I mention these stories to younger people (whether male or female) they all think I am crazy. But some older people remember when boys learned to swim naked.
I am not one to call the various posters who say that females were present liars, but I do find the idea highly unlikely. A female medical professional in an emergency seems possible but probably unusual. Mothers, sisters, classmates all seem well beyond what America would have tolerated back then.
I did not get to go to YMCA swim classes. I lacked the prerequisite penis. But my brother Lowell did. I remember him talking about it then and I have discussed this with him recently to make sure that I remember what he said correctly.
He said that they did indeed swim naked. He was not sure whether it was required or not, but they all did it. The instructors were all male, usually college-age guys, and they wore trunks. We both think it was a power thing on the staff’s part, to remind the boys who was in charge, but my brother was never bothered by his nakedness and did not worry about it. The pool in the YMCA where he learned was dank and smelly in a closed, windowless area. They have since replaced it with a new building with a bright, sunlit pool with windows all around. They all wear suits and there seem to be more females there than males, but I guess the M in YMCA does not mean what it used to mean.
There were about three rows on one side where people could watch, but Lowell said that the doors to that area were always closed and nobody was ever there. Once in a while they would see the chief instructor, but he came in from pool level.
They did use those seats for events such as when they did their annual show for the parents and family, but the boys wore suits for that. I remember seeing that a couple of times.
People have also told me that adult men also swam naked back in those days. I do not know for sure about that particular Y, but I guess it was indeed true in some of them.
Our YWCA did not have a pool, but girls I knew who went to ones with pools have all told me that they always swam in suits.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Illinois CFNM Party 1975
NOTE: In the box on the right I allude to something I put on VSFW about a party I attended in 1975. Here it is.
This is based on something that happened when I was 24 years old. But I have elaborated (i.e., fictionalized) it a bit to make it more interesting. I have also changed some of the names to prevent possible embarrassment to others, some of whom probably have good lawyers. And, besides, fiction is more fun to write.
This happened in 1975. I was just out of grad school and had just met the man who would eventually become my first husband, but he was not with me for the couple of weeks I was spending back in Illinois with my parents and old friends. Mary, my good friend since childhood (who had recently become my sister-in-law), called me up to ask me to go on a drive. It turned out that she wanted me to meet her cousin Sydney at her estate.
Mary and I had both been raised in an upper middle-class, suburban environment, but Sydney was upper class, very upper class. Mary was her cousin from the “poor” side of her family and was about twenty years younger then Sydney. We met Sydney at her estate in the afternoon and spent about two hours there. After the introductions we had talked about a lot of things, including the Cubs, Nixon, what my brother (Mary’s husband) Lowell was doing, our attitudes toward a lot of topics, with references to clothes, love, sex, religion, menstruation, and a whole lot of other things.
We walked about the estate part of the time we were talking. It was a nice estate in the western suburbs of Chicago. Sydney’s family was from one of the old families of the Chicago area and Sydney and her husband had chosen a location fit for people of their station.
Mary called me that evening to tell me that Sydney had approved of my coming with Mary to an annual bash at her estate on Saturday afternoon and evening. She told me to dress comfortably for a picnic and have a swimsuit if I had a desire to swim and that she would pick me up a little after one in the afternoon. She promised me that there would be entertainment and that I would eat well.
I really wasn’t sure that I wanted to go spend an afternoon with people that high up in society, but trusted Mary that she wouldn’t get me into something I couldn’t handle. Like most young women in those days, I worried a bit about what to wear to such an event. I ended up buying a new pair of lime green shorts and a matching sleeveless top with embroidery, stitching, and style that I thought would say class. I also bought a new, black, one-piece swimsuit cut high enough to catch anybody’s looks, but not high enough to make me look like a slut.
Mary picked me up on Saturday afternoon as scheduled. She was driving the little green Fiat that she and Lowell had just purchased which probably still had at least two years worth of payments left on it. I wondered how that car would fit in at Sydney’s estate and mentioned it to Mary. She said that she would have liked to have used something better, but didn’t want to borrow her mother’s Oldsmobile.
The drive took about half an hour. We listened to WLS on her car radio and talked along the way, but every time I asked her for more details about the party she changed the subject.
A female valet took Mary’s Fiat to park it and we went up to the hostess, arriving at the same time as a couple in their 50s who had just left a Mercedes with another female valet. The woman was wearing a patterned sundress and white shoes, the man seemed to be only wearing a pair of shorts and an unbuttoned shirt. A tall blonde woman of about thirty wearing what looked like a maid’s uniform like you see in the movies but with a much shorter skirt, greeted us. She checked the couple’s names off a guest list and then ours and suggested that we might want to walk back to the pool. We could hear a band playing 50s music and people talking and laughing, but when we were about halfway around the house, the couple in front of us suddenly stopped and the man suddenly reached for slipped his shirt off while his wife reached for his shorts and pulled them down. It happened so quickly and I had not expected it, so it did not register for a while that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and was now naked.
The wife gathered his clothing into her hands, spoke softly into his ear, and they went on. I held up for a few seconds so that they would be out of earshot and, whispering, asked Mary what had happened.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “The men just all have to be naked, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” I asked. “It must be quite a deal to them. And what’s this all about and why didn’t you mention it?”
“Well, you’re not a man and, anyway, if I had told you, would you have stayed away?”
She had me there. She knew me too well. I had to agree that I would have come anyway.
Sydney saw the couple in front coming by and greeted them. She hugged and kissed them both on the cheek and gestured toward the pool, saying something to them. They went on and we caught up with her. She hugged Mary and planted a kiss on her cheek and turned toward me smiling.
“So nice to see you again, Lee. I’m sure you will have a good time. There’s plenty of food and music and the pool’s great. And as I am sure there are some other attractions that you and Mary will find interesting.”
I told her that it was nice to see her again and that I was sure I would enjoy myself. We went on and I grabbed Mary’s arm and told her I wanted to talk to her alone for a minute.
“What’s this all about?” I asked. “The men are all nude. I see about six men here and not a one of them is wearing a thing except for on their feet and heads. These people didn’t invite me here just to look at them, did they? What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. Sydney does this party every summer. And the women run it. So the men are all naked. They’re all the husbands of women guests.”
“Well, I’m not a guy. Why did you bring me?”
“Sydney always invites me. She’d like it if I brought Lowell, I imagine, but Lowell won’t come. He’s heard enough about these things that he freaks out. He’s got a good build and it’s not that he’s afraid he won’t measure up, but he prefers not to come and I certainly wouldn’t make him or even beg. He does tell me to come so I do. Sydney wants to have more women than men here, anyway.
“Yeah, he would. But he’s no prude. There must be something more to this than just some male nudity.”
“Not really. The guys all take it off. That’s pretty much it, but I think Lowell thinks things are more sexual than that here. There is a definite sexual component to this party, but it is designed to make couples hornier for each other, not for wife swapping or anything. Sydney invites me because she has always had a soft spot for the youngest girl cousin and she likes to have a few extra women anyway. When everybody’s here, I imagine it will be about ten or twelve couples and six or seven extra women. You and I will help her make the numbers disproportionate. And to eat well and be well entertained. I had to bring you out here to meet Sydney the other day so that she could get to know you and approve having you as a guest. Nobody here is a stranger to her and Barton. After all, you can’t invite just anybody to a party like this one where so many of Chicago’s movers and shakers are running around with their pants off.”
“So all I have to do is pretend that this is a normal rich person’s barbecue and not notice that the men are naked?”
“You can notice. You can compliment them on their parts or talk about them to other women while they are around. You can even handle them if they aren’t hard. And they may want you to help with suntan lotion. The women like to see the men at least semi-erect. But don’t do anything to get them off. That is severely frowned upon. The sexual component of the party is supposed to help the wives, since they all get to go home with some very horny men. Last year I heard some of them telling me how good the screwing was the year before.”
“You were here last year?”
“And the one before.”
“Lowell has chickened out three times now, has he?”
“Well, two years ago we weren’t married yet and, besides, I don’t think that Sydney expects all the women to have men who are into this kind of thing. Like I said, a few extra girls gives her a balance she likes better.”
“You mean that Sydney’s husband will be naked too?”
“Yes, I’ll introduce you to Barton soon. He really looks good for a guy of fifty. And I dare say he has what it takes to keep Sydney feeling good,”
She started to snicker.
A woman who seemed to be in her forties approached us. She was wearing a nice, reddish orange, one-piece swimsuit with a matching coverup.
“Mary,” she said tentatively. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry but the name escapes me.”
“Lydia, darling. Lydia. My husband is Wayne. You’ll recognize him because he is shaved this year. I don’t think any of the other man have done that.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to see you again. This is Lee.”
We exchanged greetings. Our meandering had brought us close to the pool. There seemed to be two women and three men in the pool, the women both wearing suits. Mary noticed a tanned man probably about thirty sitting on a chair by the deep end. He was not naked and was wearing a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt.
She asked Lydia, “Why the guy in the trunks? Do you know?”
“That’s the lifeguard. He’s new. He’s in trunks to keep him from being confused for a guest and having somebody distracting him in case he needs to pull somebody out or something. And I would bet that he could be a distraction. Brad and Syd always make sure that there is a lifeguard, but they’ve never had a guy before. I guess he’s the husband of the woman who did it the last couple of years. She wasn’t available so he’s filling in. Syd said he was a high school swimming coach, but I forgot which high school she said. I’m going in for a dip. Enjoy yourself and we’ll chat later. Why don’t you go to the bar. The bartender is very good.”
She headed into the pool and we headed to the bar. Mary told me that the drinks would be free but that the bartender would need a tip. We found the portable bar set up between the pool and the house. A woman at the bar partially obscured my view, but I could tell that she had just bent down in the bartender’s direction. When she got out of the way and we could see him, I could tell that he was naked, just like the male guests. He was also nearly fully erect. He was wearing a bowtie and there was a garter around his left thigh holding his tip money.
“What would you ladies like?” he asked. Mary asked for a Heineken which I think was still an imported beer then. I wasn’t certain I wanted to be looking up the restroom so soon, so I ordered a bourbon and water, my father’s drink and the one he had taught me when I was coming of age. Some of the girls I went to college with thought it was a man’s drink, but I liked it.
“Which brand of bourbon?” he asked and rattled off several names, most of which were strange to me.
He could see I was puzzled and said “never mind. I’ll find a good one for you.” He poured out a good shot and after adding a very small amount of water handed it to me. Mary said she’d cover the tip and placed a couple of bucks inside his garter and reached up and gave his penis a quick stroke.
“If that’s what the tipping is like, it looks like he’s been fairly well tipped,” I said to her as we walked away.
“Well, it’s safer to stroke him than it is the guests and I guess it’s expected,” she noted.
“What do you mean, safer?”
“Well, the guests are all supposed to be hard when they go home so they can give their wives a night to remember. If you get a guy off by mistake there’s a price to pay.”
“What’s the penalty?”
“I guess it’s pretty much up to the wife of the guy. I only saw it happen once and that was a couple of years ago. You know, this isn’t the only party like this that most of these people go to. They probably have four or five each year at various places. This is just the one that Sydney and Barton have. So they have their codes of conduct pretty much worked out. If you get a guy off you have to lick up all the come whether it comes straight from the tap or is all over the furniture or the ground. I guess that’s the case no matter who does it or to whom. But in the case I saw two years ago the wife was right there when it happened. The woman had quickly taken most of the come in her mouth and the wife wouldn’t let her swallow or spit. She made her eat her out right there with everybody watching and use her mouth to put her husband’s come into her cunt.”
I answered that that did not seem to be a real bad penalty.
“Maybe not to you because you’re half-dyke anyway, but to most of these women who are so afraid of lesbians and lesbian activity, it is a major shame to be doing something like that. And with their friends watching!”
I decided to ignore the comment about my sexual orientation. I knew she was kidding and I don’t think I have ever been even as much as a quarter “dyke.” I was more amazed learning about the homophobia (which I don’t even think was a word yet then) that these women seemed to have.
‘You mean that they think it’s quite all right to have all the men running around naked and trying to keep them up but they cannot stomach a little girl-eats-girl action?”
“That seems to be the way it is. Kind of strange, isn’t it? Of course, none of these guys would ever admit to going down on his own wife, although I imagine that some of them do. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there are only one or two whose own wife has ever given them a blow job. These older people think of fellatio as ‘whore sex.’”
There was a table of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers near the bar and we each filled a plate and took our food and drinks to a table near poolside and sat down on deck chairs and looked out over the estate. A whiff of smoke came by from the recessed barbecue pit and, despite the hors d’oeuvres and appetizers, I felt a little hungrier. I noticed that every table had a bottle of suntan lotion and looked across the pool and saw one of the women applying some to two of the men, making sure that she covered the places which might get exposure less frequently.
Two more couples were coming in and we saw one husband removing his clothes at the same halfway point by the side of the house. The other couple came on out to the pool area both dressed. I had not noticed it but one of the women, I think Lydia, had gone over to where the band was sitting and said something to them. They began playing the theme to The Stripper and the man stepped up on the diving board.
It became obvious that he was doing a parody of the Cybill Shepherd as Jacy, stripping on the diving board in The Last Picture Show. As the band played and both men and women shouted, “Take it off, George,” he slowly took off every item he was wearing, throwing them into the pool, starting with a tie and ending with a pair of white briefs, laughing and joking with the audience as he did it. When he had finished stripping, he seemed to slip and did a belly flop into the pool. The lifeguard stood up but decided that the man was in no real peril.
Another guy and one of the women swam over and collected the man’s clothes and handed them to his wife. She took them away, for what I assume was safe keeping.
Mary mentioned that another guy had done pretty much the same thing the year before. She did not know if somebody was assigned to do it or whether it just happened twice in two years.
A few minutes later Mary suggested that we go swimming. I thought it was a good idea, but asked her if I needed to wear the swimsuit since there were nude swimmers already and nudity seemed safe enough in this environment and I always prefer not to worry about a wet suit. Mary suggested that it was probably not a good idea since she had never seen a woman swim naked at one of these parties. I knew that I was an outsider, a guest’s guest so I chose not to act differently from the other women.
Syd has set up three changing booths for our convenience. Two were not in use Mary and I entered them and changed into our suits. Actually, I have always thought that I was one of the few who actually look better naked than dressed. I prefer swimming naked to swimming with a suit, but if I have to wear one I have always preferred a one-piece one since my boobs are small and my hips a bit larger than I would like. After noting that none of the other women was wearing a two-piece suit, I was doubly glad that I had brought that one-piece.
We swam for a while and got out and put on our cover-ups. We went for more drinks. This time I took care of tipping the bartender, giving him two good strokes along with the cash. He expressed his thanks, but that is what bartenders who have just been tipped do.
As we drank the second round, I continued to look about. I noticed that most of the men did not seem to be socializing with their wives. The moved about mainly in groups with an occasional guy breaking away for a bit, often to find a bathroom, I think. The women stayed basically in groups of two or three and the conversation seemed to be mostly about the same things that wealthy women might talk about anyplace else including their trips to various Caribbean and European destinations, problems with domestic staff, fashion, and gossip, with just an occasional mention of any male nudity.
Once in a while we saw a woman walk up to some of the guys, talking or helping them with their lotion or giving their penises strokes, but they never seemed to leave anybody more than half-staff. I figured that none of them wanted to be the one who got a guy off.
Mary was about to suggest that we take a walk about the estate when Barton came up to us to greet us. He gave Mary a quick hug and introduced himself to me. Like all the other men he was naked. He was well tanned and it looked like he had done a lot of his tanning here or someplace else where he didn’t need to keep his pants on. I remembered Mary snickering when she had said that Barton could make Sydney very contented and understood the reason. I’ve never been one to think of penises in terms of inches or centimeters, but it was obvious that Barton had no peer at this party and few elsewhere as far as either length or thickness was concerned. He was also the only one I had seen who was uncut. Of course, they were all in various degrees of erection so I could not make a true comparison.
‘So, how are enjoying our little party, Lee?” he asked.
I said something dumb like it was showing me new insights on how men and women could get along together. Mary reached over and gave him a couple of quick strokes and, turning to me suggested that I might want to stroke him also.
Barton could see that I preferred not to and must have figured that I was just too shy to work on him,
“I understand that this is the first time you’ve been to a party like this,” he said. “Please just a couple of strokes. I’m far from hard so there is no worry and I wouldn’t be a good host if you didn’t get at least a couple goes at it.”
I reached over and stroked him twice. He thanked me and placed a kiss on my cheek. As he walked away, I looked over and saw a naked man about twenty feet away. I recognized him from newspaper pictures. He wasn’t a man whose picture would have been in the papers often, but I was sure that I had just seen one of the biggest insurance honchos in Illinois naked. My father would have known him and he probably didn’t like him. But I remembered that Mary had warned me that what I saw had to be kept quiet and I never mentioned it to him. Both men are no longer with us, so that temptation to indiscretion had gone.
Going on, I told Mary that I was afraid that I had made a poor impression on Barton. She assured me that Barton knew that I was “a fish out of a different bowl” and that the party wasn’t over and I might be talking with him again. She suggested that I give him a stroke or two then if he didn’t seem too hard.
I thanked her. We got up to walk. We went past the badminton courts into a little woodsy area where a bench had been placed and we sat down. Mary asked me if I was enjoying myself.
I assured her that I was. After all, how often does a girl get good food and drink, a swim, and a look at naked men? I told her that even if nothing else exciting happened, that I would consider the party something to remember for probably the rest of my life. She told me not to expect much more and she was pretty much right.
While walking up a slight hill behind the barbecue pit we got a glimpse of the crew working the barbecue pit. There were two women and a man in the crew, all dressed and all wearing heavy aprons for protection. I noted to Mary that the man wasn’t naked. She noted that it was entirely impractical in the pit and I had to agree. Besides, I guess, they probably weren’t concerned about how hard he would be for his wife or lover when he left.
We walked on by the badminton courts and Mary picked up a racket and asked if I wanted to play. It did not seem that anybody had yet. I figured that a little exercise would not hurt and said yes, but before we could get started two men came up and asked if they could join us. The one who was not shaved introduced himself as AJ.
“Let me guess,” I ventured to the other man. “You must be Wayne.”
“Who told you?”
“Lydia told me that you’d be the only guy here who was shaved.”
‘Well, it seems that she’s right. I like it and she likes it. I’m really surprised that more guys don’t do it. If they ever do, their wives won’t let them switch back.”
We ended up playing mixed doubles badminton for a while. It was obvious that AJ, although younger and seeming in better shape had been drinking more. We traded partners and the side with him lost both times as he just couldn’t seem to make the right moves. He also seemed obsessed with looking at the girl he was playing against.
When we quit playing and started heading back to the main area where dinner was about to be served, AJ told Mary that it was a shame that the women were not allowed to strip too since she would really be able to make the party more exciting. I began to feel a bit slighted. My boobs certainly aren’t big like Mary’s but I felt certain that my nudity would be able to liven a party too. Wayne quickly reminded AJ that female nudity was not even to be discussed at the event, but did add that I could do fine in that regard too. As I thanked him, I wondered why they found something like this so in need of more excitement. But I did grab him and work his soft penis into a semi-erect condition and placed a kiss on his cheek in an attempt to thank him for detecting and countering AJ’s slight.
When we arrived by the buffet area which had been set up near the pool, a woman of about sixty whom I had not seen before recognized Mary and came up to her.
“I hadn’t seen you this year. I wondered where you were,” Mary told her.
“Had a flight delay in Hamburg,” she answered, “and it has really fucked up the schedule. I was supposed to be back Thursday and I just got here. I missed George doing the diving board strip, they tell me. That must have been fun. He does have a sense of showmanship.”
“It was nice,” Mary assured her. “Agnes, this is Lee.”
We assured each other that we were glad to make the acquaintance. I remembered Mary mentioning Agnes as being witty earlier and wondered if we would be eating together.
And indeed we did. Dinner was served in just a couple of minutes and the spread was immense. They had roasted a pig, several turkeys, and a bunch of lobsters, and there was plenty of it all. There was corn on the cob and some dish I had not known of made of pea pods, almonds, covered with a sauce made with some kind of white wine which had some kind of garlic taste. Baked potatoes with a sour cream sauce which seemed to have both chives and onion greens.
I noticed that the lifeguard had been allowed to go off of duty and was eating with the guests, sitting next to a couple who seemed to be in their thirties. Kind of egalitarian, I thought.
I noticed that some of the men had discreetly placed napkins over their genitalia so I concluded that this was not against the rules. I thought silently that if I were running a party like this that I wouldn’t allow this, that I would make it possible for them to have their partners eat whatever they spilled off of them, but I remembered what Mary had said about the attitude toward oral things.
When Mary, Agnes, and I had gone through the line, Agnes suggested that we join a woman she saw at one of the tables. The woman was named Liz. She was about the same age as Agnes, but while Agnes was tall and gray-haired, Liz was obviously short and had black hair that obviously had come from a bottle.
Mary and Liz sort of remembered each other and Agnes introduced her to me. We must have spent close to two hours sitting there and talking interrupting ourselves only to refill our plates. Barton and Sydney had even thoughtfully provided a couple of waiters to make the trips to the bar for us. They were young men dressed like the bartender who took their tips in similar manner.
We actually had some good discussion, but most of it did not pertain to the naked men around us. Agnes gave us some insights into current German life where she had just spent two weeks. I learned that her son was a colonel in the Army in Frankfurt and she had just been visiting there. I inferred that both she and Liz were widows whose husbands must have left them well off. As we talked more I learned that Liz was also a retired bank executive and that Agnes had done some college teaching in American history.
When I mentioned that I was taking a position in Madison, Liz mentioned that her father had known Fredrick Jackson Turner. I was only vaguely aware of the name, but Agnes quickly mentioned some of his ideas. Somehow we got to discussing whether we were now pushing sexual frontiers and what the effects of doing so might be. I remember Agnes clearly being in favor of the more modern attitudes toward nudity and sex and the sexual liberation of women which we all seemed to think was happening, and women’s opportunities to take some initiatives, but Agnes was dead set against marital infidelity. She alluded to the party we were at, noting that it was fun for all, that a lot of inhibitions and insecurity were being addressed, but that she really appreciated that the often erect penises we all got to enjoy were headed home to their rightful targets.
As it was beginning to get dark Sydney got our attention.
“Well, I’ve enjoyed myself tonight,’ I told her. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”
She told me that was happy to have me and that I enjoyed myself. She gave Mary a quick hug and we went back to Mary and Lowell’s place. All told, if somebody added it all up, we had drank too much with what we had picked up at the bar and the wine available at the buffet when we ate, but we made it back to her place safely. We should not have done so and the woman valet that Sydney had hired had suggested that she could get us a driver, but we were young and stupid. However, we did make it back to their place. Mary suggested that we go in for a bit and I went in with her. Lowell was there. I really don’t remember all of the details but I guess Lowell could tell we were drunk and suggested that I stay with them until I sobered up a bit. He called our parents and told them I would be with them and I ended up spending the night on their sofa. The next morning he took me back home. Looking back, I have thought that he probably was not really playing the younger brother role, but did the right thing. I think that both Mary and I can appreciate that now,
But all in all, it was quite a party. Mary tells me that Sydney and Barton held them for several more years until Barton had a stroke and they no longer felt up to the partying, but I never got to go to another. Mary went a few more times until she and Lowell moved out of Illinois. Mary had suggested that maybe I could accompany her again, but I was never in Chicagoland at the right week. She and I did have lunch with Agnes and Liz once when I was visiting there.
I have been in CFNM-type situations before and since [and CMNF and NMNF], but this one was has a special place in my memory, maybe because I saw so many of the movers and shakers of an older generation unabashedly naked in front of their women and their women’s friends.
This happened in 1975. I was just out of grad school and had just met the man who would eventually become my first husband, but he was not with me for the couple of weeks I was spending back in Illinois with my parents and old friends. Mary, my good friend since childhood (who had recently become my sister-in-law), called me up to ask me to go on a drive. It turned out that she wanted me to meet her cousin Sydney at her estate.
Mary and I had both been raised in an upper middle-class, suburban environment, but Sydney was upper class, very upper class. Mary was her cousin from the “poor” side of her family and was about twenty years younger then Sydney. We met Sydney at her estate in the afternoon and spent about two hours there. After the introductions we had talked about a lot of things, including the Cubs, Nixon, what my brother (Mary’s husband) Lowell was doing, our attitudes toward a lot of topics, with references to clothes, love, sex, religion, menstruation, and a whole lot of other things.
We walked about the estate part of the time we were talking. It was a nice estate in the western suburbs of Chicago. Sydney’s family was from one of the old families of the Chicago area and Sydney and her husband had chosen a location fit for people of their station.
Mary called me that evening to tell me that Sydney had approved of my coming with Mary to an annual bash at her estate on Saturday afternoon and evening. She told me to dress comfortably for a picnic and have a swimsuit if I had a desire to swim and that she would pick me up a little after one in the afternoon. She promised me that there would be entertainment and that I would eat well.
I really wasn’t sure that I wanted to go spend an afternoon with people that high up in society, but trusted Mary that she wouldn’t get me into something I couldn’t handle. Like most young women in those days, I worried a bit about what to wear to such an event. I ended up buying a new pair of lime green shorts and a matching sleeveless top with embroidery, stitching, and style that I thought would say class. I also bought a new, black, one-piece swimsuit cut high enough to catch anybody’s looks, but not high enough to make me look like a slut.
Mary picked me up on Saturday afternoon as scheduled. She was driving the little green Fiat that she and Lowell had just purchased which probably still had at least two years worth of payments left on it. I wondered how that car would fit in at Sydney’s estate and mentioned it to Mary. She said that she would have liked to have used something better, but didn’t want to borrow her mother’s Oldsmobile.
The drive took about half an hour. We listened to WLS on her car radio and talked along the way, but every time I asked her for more details about the party she changed the subject.
A female valet took Mary’s Fiat to park it and we went up to the hostess, arriving at the same time as a couple in their 50s who had just left a Mercedes with another female valet. The woman was wearing a patterned sundress and white shoes, the man seemed to be only wearing a pair of shorts and an unbuttoned shirt. A tall blonde woman of about thirty wearing what looked like a maid’s uniform like you see in the movies but with a much shorter skirt, greeted us. She checked the couple’s names off a guest list and then ours and suggested that we might want to walk back to the pool. We could hear a band playing 50s music and people talking and laughing, but when we were about halfway around the house, the couple in front of us suddenly stopped and the man suddenly reached for slipped his shirt off while his wife reached for his shorts and pulled them down. It happened so quickly and I had not expected it, so it did not register for a while that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and was now naked.
The wife gathered his clothing into her hands, spoke softly into his ear, and they went on. I held up for a few seconds so that they would be out of earshot and, whispering, asked Mary what had happened.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “The men just all have to be naked, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” I asked. “It must be quite a deal to them. And what’s this all about and why didn’t you mention it?”
“Well, you’re not a man and, anyway, if I had told you, would you have stayed away?”
She had me there. She knew me too well. I had to agree that I would have come anyway.
Sydney saw the couple in front coming by and greeted them. She hugged and kissed them both on the cheek and gestured toward the pool, saying something to them. They went on and we caught up with her. She hugged Mary and planted a kiss on her cheek and turned toward me smiling.
“So nice to see you again, Lee. I’m sure you will have a good time. There’s plenty of food and music and the pool’s great. And as I am sure there are some other attractions that you and Mary will find interesting.”
I told her that it was nice to see her again and that I was sure I would enjoy myself. We went on and I grabbed Mary’s arm and told her I wanted to talk to her alone for a minute.
“What’s this all about?” I asked. “The men are all nude. I see about six men here and not a one of them is wearing a thing except for on their feet and heads. These people didn’t invite me here just to look at them, did they? What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. Sydney does this party every summer. And the women run it. So the men are all naked. They’re all the husbands of women guests.”
“Well, I’m not a guy. Why did you bring me?”
“Sydney always invites me. She’d like it if I brought Lowell, I imagine, but Lowell won’t come. He’s heard enough about these things that he freaks out. He’s got a good build and it’s not that he’s afraid he won’t measure up, but he prefers not to come and I certainly wouldn’t make him or even beg. He does tell me to come so I do. Sydney wants to have more women than men here, anyway.
“Yeah, he would. But he’s no prude. There must be something more to this than just some male nudity.”
“Not really. The guys all take it off. That’s pretty much it, but I think Lowell thinks things are more sexual than that here. There is a definite sexual component to this party, but it is designed to make couples hornier for each other, not for wife swapping or anything. Sydney invites me because she has always had a soft spot for the youngest girl cousin and she likes to have a few extra women anyway. When everybody’s here, I imagine it will be about ten or twelve couples and six or seven extra women. You and I will help her make the numbers disproportionate. And to eat well and be well entertained. I had to bring you out here to meet Sydney the other day so that she could get to know you and approve having you as a guest. Nobody here is a stranger to her and Barton. After all, you can’t invite just anybody to a party like this one where so many of Chicago’s movers and shakers are running around with their pants off.”
“So all I have to do is pretend that this is a normal rich person’s barbecue and not notice that the men are naked?”
“You can notice. You can compliment them on their parts or talk about them to other women while they are around. You can even handle them if they aren’t hard. And they may want you to help with suntan lotion. The women like to see the men at least semi-erect. But don’t do anything to get them off. That is severely frowned upon. The sexual component of the party is supposed to help the wives, since they all get to go home with some very horny men. Last year I heard some of them telling me how good the screwing was the year before.”
“You were here last year?”
“And the one before.”
“Lowell has chickened out three times now, has he?”
“Well, two years ago we weren’t married yet and, besides, I don’t think that Sydney expects all the women to have men who are into this kind of thing. Like I said, a few extra girls gives her a balance she likes better.”
“You mean that Sydney’s husband will be naked too?”
“Yes, I’ll introduce you to Barton soon. He really looks good for a guy of fifty. And I dare say he has what it takes to keep Sydney feeling good,”
She started to snicker.
A woman who seemed to be in her forties approached us. She was wearing a nice, reddish orange, one-piece swimsuit with a matching coverup.
“Mary,” she said tentatively. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry but the name escapes me.”
“Lydia, darling. Lydia. My husband is Wayne. You’ll recognize him because he is shaved this year. I don’t think any of the other man have done that.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to see you again. This is Lee.”
We exchanged greetings. Our meandering had brought us close to the pool. There seemed to be two women and three men in the pool, the women both wearing suits. Mary noticed a tanned man probably about thirty sitting on a chair by the deep end. He was not naked and was wearing a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt.
She asked Lydia, “Why the guy in the trunks? Do you know?”
“That’s the lifeguard. He’s new. He’s in trunks to keep him from being confused for a guest and having somebody distracting him in case he needs to pull somebody out or something. And I would bet that he could be a distraction. Brad and Syd always make sure that there is a lifeguard, but they’ve never had a guy before. I guess he’s the husband of the woman who did it the last couple of years. She wasn’t available so he’s filling in. Syd said he was a high school swimming coach, but I forgot which high school she said. I’m going in for a dip. Enjoy yourself and we’ll chat later. Why don’t you go to the bar. The bartender is very good.”
She headed into the pool and we headed to the bar. Mary told me that the drinks would be free but that the bartender would need a tip. We found the portable bar set up between the pool and the house. A woman at the bar partially obscured my view, but I could tell that she had just bent down in the bartender’s direction. When she got out of the way and we could see him, I could tell that he was naked, just like the male guests. He was also nearly fully erect. He was wearing a bowtie and there was a garter around his left thigh holding his tip money.
“What would you ladies like?” he asked. Mary asked for a Heineken which I think was still an imported beer then. I wasn’t certain I wanted to be looking up the restroom so soon, so I ordered a bourbon and water, my father’s drink and the one he had taught me when I was coming of age. Some of the girls I went to college with thought it was a man’s drink, but I liked it.
“Which brand of bourbon?” he asked and rattled off several names, most of which were strange to me.
He could see I was puzzled and said “never mind. I’ll find a good one for you.” He poured out a good shot and after adding a very small amount of water handed it to me. Mary said she’d cover the tip and placed a couple of bucks inside his garter and reached up and gave his penis a quick stroke.
“If that’s what the tipping is like, it looks like he’s been fairly well tipped,” I said to her as we walked away.
“Well, it’s safer to stroke him than it is the guests and I guess it’s expected,” she noted.
“What do you mean, safer?”
“Well, the guests are all supposed to be hard when they go home so they can give their wives a night to remember. If you get a guy off by mistake there’s a price to pay.”
“What’s the penalty?”
“I guess it’s pretty much up to the wife of the guy. I only saw it happen once and that was a couple of years ago. You know, this isn’t the only party like this that most of these people go to. They probably have four or five each year at various places. This is just the one that Sydney and Barton have. So they have their codes of conduct pretty much worked out. If you get a guy off you have to lick up all the come whether it comes straight from the tap or is all over the furniture or the ground. I guess that’s the case no matter who does it or to whom. But in the case I saw two years ago the wife was right there when it happened. The woman had quickly taken most of the come in her mouth and the wife wouldn’t let her swallow or spit. She made her eat her out right there with everybody watching and use her mouth to put her husband’s come into her cunt.”
I answered that that did not seem to be a real bad penalty.
“Maybe not to you because you’re half-dyke anyway, but to most of these women who are so afraid of lesbians and lesbian activity, it is a major shame to be doing something like that. And with their friends watching!”
I decided to ignore the comment about my sexual orientation. I knew she was kidding and I don’t think I have ever been even as much as a quarter “dyke.” I was more amazed learning about the homophobia (which I don’t even think was a word yet then) that these women seemed to have.
‘You mean that they think it’s quite all right to have all the men running around naked and trying to keep them up but they cannot stomach a little girl-eats-girl action?”
“That seems to be the way it is. Kind of strange, isn’t it? Of course, none of these guys would ever admit to going down on his own wife, although I imagine that some of them do. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there are only one or two whose own wife has ever given them a blow job. These older people think of fellatio as ‘whore sex.’”
There was a table of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers near the bar and we each filled a plate and took our food and drinks to a table near poolside and sat down on deck chairs and looked out over the estate. A whiff of smoke came by from the recessed barbecue pit and, despite the hors d’oeuvres and appetizers, I felt a little hungrier. I noticed that every table had a bottle of suntan lotion and looked across the pool and saw one of the women applying some to two of the men, making sure that she covered the places which might get exposure less frequently.
Two more couples were coming in and we saw one husband removing his clothes at the same halfway point by the side of the house. The other couple came on out to the pool area both dressed. I had not noticed it but one of the women, I think Lydia, had gone over to where the band was sitting and said something to them. They began playing the theme to The Stripper and the man stepped up on the diving board.
It became obvious that he was doing a parody of the Cybill Shepherd as Jacy, stripping on the diving board in The Last Picture Show. As the band played and both men and women shouted, “Take it off, George,” he slowly took off every item he was wearing, throwing them into the pool, starting with a tie and ending with a pair of white briefs, laughing and joking with the audience as he did it. When he had finished stripping, he seemed to slip and did a belly flop into the pool. The lifeguard stood up but decided that the man was in no real peril.
Another guy and one of the women swam over and collected the man’s clothes and handed them to his wife. She took them away, for what I assume was safe keeping.
Mary mentioned that another guy had done pretty much the same thing the year before. She did not know if somebody was assigned to do it or whether it just happened twice in two years.
A few minutes later Mary suggested that we go swimming. I thought it was a good idea, but asked her if I needed to wear the swimsuit since there were nude swimmers already and nudity seemed safe enough in this environment and I always prefer not to worry about a wet suit. Mary suggested that it was probably not a good idea since she had never seen a woman swim naked at one of these parties. I knew that I was an outsider, a guest’s guest so I chose not to act differently from the other women.
Syd has set up three changing booths for our convenience. Two were not in use Mary and I entered them and changed into our suits. Actually, I have always thought that I was one of the few who actually look better naked than dressed. I prefer swimming naked to swimming with a suit, but if I have to wear one I have always preferred a one-piece one since my boobs are small and my hips a bit larger than I would like. After noting that none of the other women was wearing a two-piece suit, I was doubly glad that I had brought that one-piece.
We swam for a while and got out and put on our cover-ups. We went for more drinks. This time I took care of tipping the bartender, giving him two good strokes along with the cash. He expressed his thanks, but that is what bartenders who have just been tipped do.
As we drank the second round, I continued to look about. I noticed that most of the men did not seem to be socializing with their wives. The moved about mainly in groups with an occasional guy breaking away for a bit, often to find a bathroom, I think. The women stayed basically in groups of two or three and the conversation seemed to be mostly about the same things that wealthy women might talk about anyplace else including their trips to various Caribbean and European destinations, problems with domestic staff, fashion, and gossip, with just an occasional mention of any male nudity.
Once in a while we saw a woman walk up to some of the guys, talking or helping them with their lotion or giving their penises strokes, but they never seemed to leave anybody more than half-staff. I figured that none of them wanted to be the one who got a guy off.
Mary was about to suggest that we take a walk about the estate when Barton came up to us to greet us. He gave Mary a quick hug and introduced himself to me. Like all the other men he was naked. He was well tanned and it looked like he had done a lot of his tanning here or someplace else where he didn’t need to keep his pants on. I remembered Mary snickering when she had said that Barton could make Sydney very contented and understood the reason. I’ve never been one to think of penises in terms of inches or centimeters, but it was obvious that Barton had no peer at this party and few elsewhere as far as either length or thickness was concerned. He was also the only one I had seen who was uncut. Of course, they were all in various degrees of erection so I could not make a true comparison.
‘So, how are enjoying our little party, Lee?” he asked.
I said something dumb like it was showing me new insights on how men and women could get along together. Mary reached over and gave him a couple of quick strokes and, turning to me suggested that I might want to stroke him also.
Barton could see that I preferred not to and must have figured that I was just too shy to work on him,
“I understand that this is the first time you’ve been to a party like this,” he said. “Please just a couple of strokes. I’m far from hard so there is no worry and I wouldn’t be a good host if you didn’t get at least a couple goes at it.”
I reached over and stroked him twice. He thanked me and placed a kiss on my cheek. As he walked away, I looked over and saw a naked man about twenty feet away. I recognized him from newspaper pictures. He wasn’t a man whose picture would have been in the papers often, but I was sure that I had just seen one of the biggest insurance honchos in Illinois naked. My father would have known him and he probably didn’t like him. But I remembered that Mary had warned me that what I saw had to be kept quiet and I never mentioned it to him. Both men are no longer with us, so that temptation to indiscretion had gone.
Going on, I told Mary that I was afraid that I had made a poor impression on Barton. She assured me that Barton knew that I was “a fish out of a different bowl” and that the party wasn’t over and I might be talking with him again. She suggested that I give him a stroke or two then if he didn’t seem too hard.
I thanked her. We got up to walk. We went past the badminton courts into a little woodsy area where a bench had been placed and we sat down. Mary asked me if I was enjoying myself.
I assured her that I was. After all, how often does a girl get good food and drink, a swim, and a look at naked men? I told her that even if nothing else exciting happened, that I would consider the party something to remember for probably the rest of my life. She told me not to expect much more and she was pretty much right.
While walking up a slight hill behind the barbecue pit we got a glimpse of the crew working the barbecue pit. There were two women and a man in the crew, all dressed and all wearing heavy aprons for protection. I noted to Mary that the man wasn’t naked. She noted that it was entirely impractical in the pit and I had to agree. Besides, I guess, they probably weren’t concerned about how hard he would be for his wife or lover when he left.
We walked on by the badminton courts and Mary picked up a racket and asked if I wanted to play. It did not seem that anybody had yet. I figured that a little exercise would not hurt and said yes, but before we could get started two men came up and asked if they could join us. The one who was not shaved introduced himself as AJ.
“Let me guess,” I ventured to the other man. “You must be Wayne.”
“Who told you?”
“Lydia told me that you’d be the only guy here who was shaved.”
‘Well, it seems that she’s right. I like it and she likes it. I’m really surprised that more guys don’t do it. If they ever do, their wives won’t let them switch back.”
We ended up playing mixed doubles badminton for a while. It was obvious that AJ, although younger and seeming in better shape had been drinking more. We traded partners and the side with him lost both times as he just couldn’t seem to make the right moves. He also seemed obsessed with looking at the girl he was playing against.
When we quit playing and started heading back to the main area where dinner was about to be served, AJ told Mary that it was a shame that the women were not allowed to strip too since she would really be able to make the party more exciting. I began to feel a bit slighted. My boobs certainly aren’t big like Mary’s but I felt certain that my nudity would be able to liven a party too. Wayne quickly reminded AJ that female nudity was not even to be discussed at the event, but did add that I could do fine in that regard too. As I thanked him, I wondered why they found something like this so in need of more excitement. But I did grab him and work his soft penis into a semi-erect condition and placed a kiss on his cheek in an attempt to thank him for detecting and countering AJ’s slight.
When we arrived by the buffet area which had been set up near the pool, a woman of about sixty whom I had not seen before recognized Mary and came up to her.
“I hadn’t seen you this year. I wondered where you were,” Mary told her.
“Had a flight delay in Hamburg,” she answered, “and it has really fucked up the schedule. I was supposed to be back Thursday and I just got here. I missed George doing the diving board strip, they tell me. That must have been fun. He does have a sense of showmanship.”
“It was nice,” Mary assured her. “Agnes, this is Lee.”
We assured each other that we were glad to make the acquaintance. I remembered Mary mentioning Agnes as being witty earlier and wondered if we would be eating together.
And indeed we did. Dinner was served in just a couple of minutes and the spread was immense. They had roasted a pig, several turkeys, and a bunch of lobsters, and there was plenty of it all. There was corn on the cob and some dish I had not known of made of pea pods, almonds, covered with a sauce made with some kind of white wine which had some kind of garlic taste. Baked potatoes with a sour cream sauce which seemed to have both chives and onion greens.
I noticed that the lifeguard had been allowed to go off of duty and was eating with the guests, sitting next to a couple who seemed to be in their thirties. Kind of egalitarian, I thought.
I noticed that some of the men had discreetly placed napkins over their genitalia so I concluded that this was not against the rules. I thought silently that if I were running a party like this that I wouldn’t allow this, that I would make it possible for them to have their partners eat whatever they spilled off of them, but I remembered what Mary had said about the attitude toward oral things.
When Mary, Agnes, and I had gone through the line, Agnes suggested that we join a woman she saw at one of the tables. The woman was named Liz. She was about the same age as Agnes, but while Agnes was tall and gray-haired, Liz was obviously short and had black hair that obviously had come from a bottle.
Mary and Liz sort of remembered each other and Agnes introduced her to me. We must have spent close to two hours sitting there and talking interrupting ourselves only to refill our plates. Barton and Sydney had even thoughtfully provided a couple of waiters to make the trips to the bar for us. They were young men dressed like the bartender who took their tips in similar manner.
We actually had some good discussion, but most of it did not pertain to the naked men around us. Agnes gave us some insights into current German life where she had just spent two weeks. I learned that her son was a colonel in the Army in Frankfurt and she had just been visiting there. I inferred that both she and Liz were widows whose husbands must have left them well off. As we talked more I learned that Liz was also a retired bank executive and that Agnes had done some college teaching in American history.
When I mentioned that I was taking a position in Madison, Liz mentioned that her father had known Fredrick Jackson Turner. I was only vaguely aware of the name, but Agnes quickly mentioned some of his ideas. Somehow we got to discussing whether we were now pushing sexual frontiers and what the effects of doing so might be. I remember Agnes clearly being in favor of the more modern attitudes toward nudity and sex and the sexual liberation of women which we all seemed to think was happening, and women’s opportunities to take some initiatives, but Agnes was dead set against marital infidelity. She alluded to the party we were at, noting that it was fun for all, that a lot of inhibitions and insecurity were being addressed, but that she really appreciated that the often erect penises we all got to enjoy were headed home to their rightful targets.
As it was beginning to get dark Sydney got our attention.
“Well, I’ve enjoyed myself tonight,’ I told her. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”
She told me that was happy to have me and that I enjoyed myself. She gave Mary a quick hug and we went back to Mary and Lowell’s place. All told, if somebody added it all up, we had drank too much with what we had picked up at the bar and the wine available at the buffet when we ate, but we made it back to her place safely. We should not have done so and the woman valet that Sydney had hired had suggested that she could get us a driver, but we were young and stupid. However, we did make it back to their place. Mary suggested that we go in for a bit and I went in with her. Lowell was there. I really don’t remember all of the details but I guess Lowell could tell we were drunk and suggested that I stay with them until I sobered up a bit. He called our parents and told them I would be with them and I ended up spending the night on their sofa. The next morning he took me back home. Looking back, I have thought that he probably was not really playing the younger brother role, but did the right thing. I think that both Mary and I can appreciate that now,
But all in all, it was quite a party. Mary tells me that Sydney and Barton held them for several more years until Barton had a stroke and they no longer felt up to the partying, but I never got to go to another. Mary went a few more times until she and Lowell moved out of Illinois. Mary had suggested that maybe I could accompany her again, but I was never in Chicagoland at the right week. She and I did have lunch with Agnes and Liz once when I was visiting there.
I have been in CFNM-type situations before and since [and CMNF and NMNF], but this one was has a special place in my memory, maybe because I saw so many of the movers and shakers of an older generation unabashedly naked in front of their women and their women’s friends.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Boys swim naked -- take one
There was a fair amount of casual family nudity in our household when I grew up and I am sure that there were times that one or both of my brothers or even my father were naked when my mother and I were dressed, but it would only have been temporary and without any policy and design to it, certainly not organized CFNM. The reverse happened also, that I might be naked while they had something on.
But my first memory of a situation where it was standard procedure for females to remain clothed around naked males came when I was about eleven.
My father had a sister [Aunt Linda] who lived in just about the furthest south place in Illinois, near Cairo and near Kentucky. When I was born, she was a widow with two sons [Jim and John] about two and four years older than I was, but she married a widower farmer [Uncle Harold] when I was about three. He had a son [Emil] about the same age as John. When I was about five they had a daughter [Judy] and when I was about ten or eleven, they moved to a different farm, one near Peoria, closer to us. After that move, it became part of our family’s routine to visit them at least once each summer.
When we visited them at that farm the first time, I was about eleven. We had driven down there on a Friday evening arriving late and when Saturday morning came, my father, Uncle Harold, Jim, John, and Emil had all gone out early to do something farm-like. I was sleeping on a cot in my Judy’s second-floor room when she woke me up, telling me that if we didn’t get up soon that the adults would be angry.
I had been unaccustomed to wearing pajamas in the summer, but my mother bought me a new pair and had told me to wear them on the trip, so I got up to change out of them and shower. I had only noticed a downstairs bathroom, so I asked my cousin whether there was a shower on the second floor.
She informed me that the only bathroom was downstairs and that there was a shower in the basement, but that nobody showered in the morning. I don’t think I knew anybody who had only one bathroom in their house and I wondered how a family of six managed with just one. I also thought that not showering in the morning must make some people gross quickly.
Breakfast was amazing to me. I had never seen so many eat so much so early. At home we usually had an egg, a piece of toast, and a glass of juice. My father usually would have a second egg and my parents would both have coffee. Once in a while we had some bacon or sausage as a bonus, but that was usually on Sunday. Breakfast at my aunt and uncle’s was something different. It seemed that everybody was eating two eggs and a slab of ham. A bowl of fried potatoes was passed around. My father seemed to think it necessary to match his brother-in-law at eating and my brothers seemed to think they had to match their father, even though they were but about five and nine at the time. They failed miserably, of course, but seemed to have a good time trying.
After breakfast Uncle Harold had to go to town for something and my father went along. Aunt Linda told the older boys to take my brothers out someplace. (I did not understand the word[s] for where they were to go back then and do not remember what it was. I guess I have never did learn, but it really doesn’t matter for the story. But I am sure that some work was on the agenda.) I would have preferred to have gone wherever the boys were than stay with somebody who seemed such a child. My little brother Larry was Judy’s age but he was outside with the boys, so I guess that the adults assumed that children would prefer to be with the same gender. Judy and I went into the living room and watched cartoons for an hour or so, until our mothers told us we should go outside and suggested to Judy that maybe I would like to see her rock collection. We went outdoors to a shed where Judy pulled a couple of shoe boxes off a shelf and showed them to me. She could be chatty and she had a story for each one, but I really was not interested and the rocks did not seem to be anything more than rocks and pieces of gravel which I assumed were common on a farm.
It was probably about 11:00 and Judy and I were walking about the farm when I heard some shouting and splashing. I told Judy that it sounded like somebody was swimming and she assured me that I had heard correctly. She led me over a hill and I saw a big tank and all five boys swimming and splashing. None of them was wearing anything. I did not think much of that since I had seen Lowell and Larry naked all of their lives and just assumed that everybody was family and that this kind of behavior was normal.
It looked like they were having fun and without thinking or asking, I quickly took my clothes off and jumped in with them. As I was jumping in, Judy was shouting something at me, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to catch what she was telling me.
The boys all welcomed me into the pool with them, although it seemed that John and Emil were both a little surprised to see me. While I was enjoying the water, Judy ran to get our mothers and in a few minutes they and Judy were at the pool and my mother was telling me to get out of the pool and come over to her. I did as told.
My mother found a towel that one of the boys must have left by the pool and dried me off whispering in my ear that I should get dressed. I followed her and Aunt Linda back toward the house.
We didn’t really talk at the time and maybe half an hour later, Aunt Linda and my mother told Judy and me to go back to the tank and tell the boys that it was time for them to come to dinner. I was admonished that there was no time for me to swim right then. Judy and I went and got the boys. Except for Lowell, they had all already left the water, apparently already guessing what time it was, but none of them had dressed yet. Eventually they all dressed and we all walked back to the house.
Uncle Harold and my father had returned by then and after dinner they took the boys off somewhere. Aunt Linda and Judy had gone somewhere else and that left my mother and me alone. She told me that I hadn’t done anything wrong by swimming with my brothers and cousins, but that at Aunt Linda and Uncle Harold’s farm that I couldn’t swim without a swimsuit. “It’s their place and their rules” she told me. “You can swim with them, but you need to wear your swimsuit.”
But the boys got to swim naked. It didn’t seem fair.
But my first memory of a situation where it was standard procedure for females to remain clothed around naked males came when I was about eleven.
My father had a sister [Aunt Linda] who lived in just about the furthest south place in Illinois, near Cairo and near Kentucky. When I was born, she was a widow with two sons [Jim and John] about two and four years older than I was, but she married a widower farmer [Uncle Harold] when I was about three. He had a son [Emil] about the same age as John. When I was about five they had a daughter [Judy] and when I was about ten or eleven, they moved to a different farm, one near Peoria, closer to us. After that move, it became part of our family’s routine to visit them at least once each summer.
When we visited them at that farm the first time, I was about eleven. We had driven down there on a Friday evening arriving late and when Saturday morning came, my father, Uncle Harold, Jim, John, and Emil had all gone out early to do something farm-like. I was sleeping on a cot in my Judy’s second-floor room when she woke me up, telling me that if we didn’t get up soon that the adults would be angry.
I had been unaccustomed to wearing pajamas in the summer, but my mother bought me a new pair and had told me to wear them on the trip, so I got up to change out of them and shower. I had only noticed a downstairs bathroom, so I asked my cousin whether there was a shower on the second floor.
She informed me that the only bathroom was downstairs and that there was a shower in the basement, but that nobody showered in the morning. I don’t think I knew anybody who had only one bathroom in their house and I wondered how a family of six managed with just one. I also thought that not showering in the morning must make some people gross quickly.
Breakfast was amazing to me. I had never seen so many eat so much so early. At home we usually had an egg, a piece of toast, and a glass of juice. My father usually would have a second egg and my parents would both have coffee. Once in a while we had some bacon or sausage as a bonus, but that was usually on Sunday. Breakfast at my aunt and uncle’s was something different. It seemed that everybody was eating two eggs and a slab of ham. A bowl of fried potatoes was passed around. My father seemed to think it necessary to match his brother-in-law at eating and my brothers seemed to think they had to match their father, even though they were but about five and nine at the time. They failed miserably, of course, but seemed to have a good time trying.
After breakfast Uncle Harold had to go to town for something and my father went along. Aunt Linda told the older boys to take my brothers out someplace. (I did not understand the word[s] for where they were to go back then and do not remember what it was. I guess I have never did learn, but it really doesn’t matter for the story. But I am sure that some work was on the agenda.) I would have preferred to have gone wherever the boys were than stay with somebody who seemed such a child. My little brother Larry was Judy’s age but he was outside with the boys, so I guess that the adults assumed that children would prefer to be with the same gender. Judy and I went into the living room and watched cartoons for an hour or so, until our mothers told us we should go outside and suggested to Judy that maybe I would like to see her rock collection. We went outdoors to a shed where Judy pulled a couple of shoe boxes off a shelf and showed them to me. She could be chatty and she had a story for each one, but I really was not interested and the rocks did not seem to be anything more than rocks and pieces of gravel which I assumed were common on a farm.
It was probably about 11:00 and Judy and I were walking about the farm when I heard some shouting and splashing. I told Judy that it sounded like somebody was swimming and she assured me that I had heard correctly. She led me over a hill and I saw a big tank and all five boys swimming and splashing. None of them was wearing anything. I did not think much of that since I had seen Lowell and Larry naked all of their lives and just assumed that everybody was family and that this kind of behavior was normal.
It looked like they were having fun and without thinking or asking, I quickly took my clothes off and jumped in with them. As I was jumping in, Judy was shouting something at me, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to catch what she was telling me.
The boys all welcomed me into the pool with them, although it seemed that John and Emil were both a little surprised to see me. While I was enjoying the water, Judy ran to get our mothers and in a few minutes they and Judy were at the pool and my mother was telling me to get out of the pool and come over to her. I did as told.
My mother found a towel that one of the boys must have left by the pool and dried me off whispering in my ear that I should get dressed. I followed her and Aunt Linda back toward the house.
We didn’t really talk at the time and maybe half an hour later, Aunt Linda and my mother told Judy and me to go back to the tank and tell the boys that it was time for them to come to dinner. I was admonished that there was no time for me to swim right then. Judy and I went and got the boys. Except for Lowell, they had all already left the water, apparently already guessing what time it was, but none of them had dressed yet. Eventually they all dressed and we all walked back to the house.
Uncle Harold and my father had returned by then and after dinner they took the boys off somewhere. Aunt Linda and Judy had gone somewhere else and that left my mother and me alone. She told me that I hadn’t done anything wrong by swimming with my brothers and cousins, but that at Aunt Linda and Uncle Harold’s farm that I couldn’t swim without a swimsuit. “It’s their place and their rules” she told me. “You can swim with them, but you need to wear your swimsuit.”
But the boys got to swim naked. It didn’t seem fair.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Intro -- My Name is Lee
My name is Lee. I am female. That name has caused some confusion, but I hope that if you were to see me that you could tell, even though I am relatively tall and have small boobs.
I was born in 1951 (in other words I will soon be 59.)in DuPage County, Illinois, the oldest of three children. When I was older my parents told me that I have they had determined to name me Lee regardless of my gender. Had I been a boy I would have been Lee Daniel, but since the doctor didn’t see a penis when he pulled me out, they named me Lee Ann. [My mother had an aunt named Ann whom she adored greatly. My paternal grandfather was named Daniel. My brother Lowell ended up with the Daniel.]
Being named Lee Ann instead of Leann or Leanne has sometimes caused confusion and had led me to get on some interesting mailing lists sometimes, especially from people who insist on organizing contact information as First Name -- Middle initial – last name.
I think I have surprised a few job interviewers when they have just see “Lee A” on my CV.
My father immediately gave me the pet name of “Leelee,” but my mother has used the simpler “Lee.” One of my good childhood friends called me “Lee-girl” because we were about second grade and there was a boy in our class named Lee and she called him “Lee-boy.” We were seven years old and I guess that makes sense, but she is still my friend and she still uses it and has spread its use to others. Some others from my childhood days still use it too.
I picked bad husbands twice, but I have picked up some good relatives in the process. I remain in good contact with my stepdaughter from my first marriage and her children who call me “Grandma Lee” and with my brother-in-law and his daughters from my second. The daughters are grown and gone now but we stay in contact and they call me “Aunt.”) Until her death I considered his wife one of the best friends that I had acquired in adulthood.
Additionally, since I have been married twice and divorced twice, I have come by a variety of legal names and I have picked up different nicknames. My stepdaughter from my first marriage calls me “GG,” short for something that her father used, and her kids call me ‘Grandma G.” My nieces from my second marriage and their kids call me “Aunt Lee.” My brothers’ kids do the same. A woman I worked with used to call me “Shorty” because I am 5’10” and she likes the irony. I guess that I am used to answering to a lot of things.
I have spent my adult life in Wisconsin (mainly around Madison) and Minnesota. My principal residence now is in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, in a house my second husband and I bought when we were together. However, since I have been working in the private sector for “Devfabricators” in east central Minnesota, for the last few years (and probably will continue doing so for a few months more) I have rented a cabin in Wisconsin near that job and stay there most weeknights. Members of my extended family are living in my house and taking care of it and I usually am there on weekends.
I have been a consultant and a teacher, usually for one of the several colleges and universities in our area. I have two masters’ degrees but no doctorate and I have never been on a tenure track any place. I guess I just have not been ambitious enough.
We bought our house because my husband’s brother and family lived across the street and the sleaze was having one of his rare periods when he seemed to want us to think that family meant something to him. His brother and sister-in-law were wonderful people and we remained close even after the sleaze was gone. Unfortunately, his brother’s wife died a few years ago. She was one really good woman. Their daughters were teenagers then and they are still close to my heart. And my brother-in-law is a good neighbor.
I was born in 1951 (in other words I will soon be 59.)in DuPage County, Illinois, the oldest of three children. When I was older my parents told me that I have they had determined to name me Lee regardless of my gender. Had I been a boy I would have been Lee Daniel, but since the doctor didn’t see a penis when he pulled me out, they named me Lee Ann. [My mother had an aunt named Ann whom she adored greatly. My paternal grandfather was named Daniel. My brother Lowell ended up with the Daniel.]
Being named Lee Ann instead of Leann or Leanne has sometimes caused confusion and had led me to get on some interesting mailing lists sometimes, especially from people who insist on organizing contact information as First Name -- Middle initial – last name.
I think I have surprised a few job interviewers when they have just see “Lee A” on my CV.
My father immediately gave me the pet name of “Leelee,” but my mother has used the simpler “Lee.” One of my good childhood friends called me “Lee-girl” because we were about second grade and there was a boy in our class named Lee and she called him “Lee-boy.” We were seven years old and I guess that makes sense, but she is still my friend and she still uses it and has spread its use to others. Some others from my childhood days still use it too.
I picked bad husbands twice, but I have picked up some good relatives in the process. I remain in good contact with my stepdaughter from my first marriage and her children who call me “Grandma Lee” and with my brother-in-law and his daughters from my second. The daughters are grown and gone now but we stay in contact and they call me “Aunt.”) Until her death I considered his wife one of the best friends that I had acquired in adulthood.
Additionally, since I have been married twice and divorced twice, I have come by a variety of legal names and I have picked up different nicknames. My stepdaughter from my first marriage calls me “GG,” short for something that her father used, and her kids call me ‘Grandma G.” My nieces from my second marriage and their kids call me “Aunt Lee.” My brothers’ kids do the same. A woman I worked with used to call me “Shorty” because I am 5’10” and she likes the irony. I guess that I am used to answering to a lot of things.
I have spent my adult life in Wisconsin (mainly around Madison) and Minnesota. My principal residence now is in the Twin Cities of Minnesota, in a house my second husband and I bought when we were together. However, since I have been working in the private sector for “Devfabricators” in east central Minnesota, for the last few years (and probably will continue doing so for a few months more) I have rented a cabin in Wisconsin near that job and stay there most weeknights. Members of my extended family are living in my house and taking care of it and I usually am there on weekends.
I have been a consultant and a teacher, usually for one of the several colleges and universities in our area. I have two masters’ degrees but no doctorate and I have never been on a tenure track any place. I guess I just have not been ambitious enough.
We bought our house because my husband’s brother and family lived across the street and the sleaze was having one of his rare periods when he seemed to want us to think that family meant something to him. His brother and sister-in-law were wonderful people and we remained close even after the sleaze was gone. Unfortunately, his brother’s wife died a few years ago. She was one really good woman. Their daughters were teenagers then and they are still close to my heart. And my brother-in-law is a good neighbor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)