Naked in New York Part One
written by:
KathHal

Naked in New York, Part One

During an encounter a few months ago with a first-time couple, the wife looked at me at one point ands shook her head. "Kath," she said, "it looks to me like you LIKE running around naked. I am OK with being nude in situations like this, but my friend, you seem to dote on it!"

I had to laugh, for the four of us wore not a stitch of clothes -- Hal, me, and the other couple, Jane and Fred. After a couple of good rounds of shared fucking, we had adjourned to the living room to have another drink and relax. No clothes, of course, which is standard procedure at our house.

Me and nudity. I had to stifle a grin. Yes, there WAS a story to be told. And this is what I related that evening.

At the end of my sophomore year in college, as an economics/finance major, I received the offer of an internship at the New York offices of a major brokerage firm. The position gave me the chance to see the "business" from the inside, and I accepted the offer without hesitation. Part of the deal was that I would have my own private apartment in a building where the firm rented a number of units for use by persons on temporary duty in the city.

The chance to live alone in New York, and to actually work on Wall Street, excited me. I was also taking a creative writing course that year taught by a man who was on leave from his regular job as an editor for a mainline New York book publishing house. When I mentioned that I would be in New York for the summer, he brightened and said we would have to "get together," for he was returning to his regular job when the semester ended.

Charles was in his early 30s, a nice-looking chap, six feet and maybe a few inches more, with a nice smile and a ready wit. As is probably true of any 20-year-old woman who enjoyed sex, I wondered idly how he would be in bed. But he had never expressed such an interest in me, and I never seriously considered such a role for him.

I shall fast forward through my first days: work was as good and rewarding as promised, the apartment was small, but clean and comfy, and I made friends both with other interns (seven of us, from colleges all over the country), and with full-time employees. And, of course, an old boy friend who lived on the East Coast came up one weekend and fucked my socks off for two days! (Just what a horny gal needed, to be sure.)

Then, a surprise call from Charles, the creative writing visiting professor. How was I liking New York? Having a good time? Learning a lot? And, finally, "what say we have a drink tonight when you get off work?"

Hmmm. Why not? He seemed an OK guy, and he might be a fun date. So we met at a midtown bar, and enjoyed a good talk over two rounds of drinks. I found myself warming to him the longer I talked.

How did I know? Well, my erotic-arousal meter, aka my pussy, was getting slightly damp ,and the longer we talked the wetter it became. To me, that is a sure-fire indication that my body knew more than the rest of me. In any event, when he suggested that we have dinner that weekend, I agreed. And when he offered to cook for the two of us -- well, why not? I agreed to come over to his apartment, which is up near Columbia University.

i must confess that when I went home I immediately began wondering what it would be like to fuck Charles. He was older, to be sure, by more than a decade. But two of the best -- make that three -- of the best fucks I had ever had were with guys older than me. Not by that much, to be sure, but men with a bit of experience seemed much better in bed that guys of my own age, who were still learning how to please a woman, for the most part. I even found myself masturbating several times and imaging that it was Charles's cock pleasing my cunnie. Hmmmm. Well, if he asks, I shall make my decision then.

Date night. I rode a cab uptown, and found myself in a very nice upper-floor apartment with a gorgeous view out over the East River. Given Charles' profession as an editor, I was not surprised to find each and every wall covered with book cases! And, for a bachelor, he seemed to be a very neat housekeeper.

We had a couple of drinks before dinner -- I was pleased that he remembered that I liked rum and Coke! -- and then sat down to a tasty chicken dish (an Italian name that I do not remember at this late date). We went through a bottle of red wine as we ate and chatted, and I was feeling darned relaxed when we got up from the table.

While Charles cleared the table I took a glass of wine and went over and stood at the window and peered out to the east -- the river reflecting the last rays of the setting sun, the urban clutter across on the other shore, a traffic jam jam on a bridge to the south.

And suddenly Charles was standing behind me, a hand on either of my shoulders, what I considered to be a very friendly -- but non-sexual -- gesture. "Great view, eh?" he said. "I stand here a lot myself, wondering who all those people are...."

His hands exerted a wee bit of pressure on my shoulders, and I let them pull my upper body back a few inches, until my back was against his front.

"Yes, very pretty!" he said, and I felt the fingers of one hand move up and begin stroking my neck, behind my ear, an area of my body which is hyper-sensitive. I shuddered. Wow, I like that! And I could feel a tingle in my pussy.

"Could I have a sip of your wine?" Indeed he could, and to hand the glass to him I had to do a half-turn, the net effect of which caused my upper body to rub against his arm. I liked the sensation -- indeed, I LOVED the sensation of my boobs coming into contact with his body!

He sipped, he handed the glass back to me. "Put it on the window sill," he said. I did. His hands went back my shoulders -- we were his-front to my-back -- and suddenly they moved down, slowly but confidently, towards my breasts.I leaned back, the pressure of my body against his front signaling my tacit approval of him touching my boobs.

Neither of us said a word for several minutes. His hands were now cupping my breasts, as if appraising them. I realized that he would feel my nipples hardening against the palms of his hands. And was that the beginning of an erection I felt rubbing against my bottom?

"Kath," he said softly, "a confession?"

"Hmmm?" I murmured in reply.

"The first or second time I saw you in my class," he said, "I thought to myself, 'what a super-looking woman! I would really like to know her better.' And now here we are!"

I giggled, "Well, Professor, you certainly know your way to a girl's heart -- or to an area of her body that adjoins her heart, at any rate!"

He turned me around. He took me in a big hug. A hand went to my chin and tilted it up. A kiss. A tongue pushing between my lips. My tongue rising to meet it. Hands all over my body, stroking my bottom, back to my boobs, fingers deftly unbuttoning blouse and going into to stroke me through my bra....

To the bedroom, me shedding blouse and bra as we walked, Charles doffing his shirt. Not a word, just smiles, as I undid my skirt and let it fall to the floor, and pushed down my panty hose.

I sprawled on the bed, still wearing my panties, and watched Charles undress. Oh, my, and yes he did have a nice cock -- my eye measured it at between six and seven inches, with a crown swollen to the size of a small lemon, and a heavy ball-sack.

He stood and watched me rub my hand over the fabric of my panties. (I was following a rule laid down to me by my aunt, my Mom's younger sister, only a few years my senior: "Kath, if you decide to fuck a guy, make HIM take off your panties! He should do some of the work!"

Charles apparently realized what was expected of him. He leaned, his fingers hooked into the elastic of my panties, he tugged...and away they went, leaving my bare pussy staring up at him.

When fucking, I usually prefer to be on top of my lover at the outset, so that I can get his cock into my cunnie at exactly the right angle, and take it in at a rate that I control. But hey, Charles had a different idea this time: he wanted to mount me, and I welcomed him by spreading my legs wide for him, so that my pussy was ready for penetration....

A Kath Secret -- to me, the act of first-penetration is almost as exciting and pleasurable for me as a climax. To feel my body being invaded by a man's hardness, to have him push my labia aside with his cock and direct it deep into my body, to feel it slide in and out, gliding on self-wettening flesh....

He fucked me. Whew, did he fuck me! Afterwards, we hugged a long time and we exchanged some of the usual post-fuck talk about how good it was...and it WAS good, believe me! He brought me another rum and Coke. With the encouragement of my roaming naughty fingers, he got hard again.

He fucked me. Whew, did he fuck me!

We snuggled, warm naked body against warm naked body. He fingered my pussy and he playfully smeared his cum over my inner thighs. I giggled and told him he should "clean up his mess." Which he did, licking the semen off my legs, and then gently pushing his tongue inside my cunnie to find even more...making me ever more horny.

He fucked me. Whew, did he fuck me!

The third time. Enough for now. I left the bed once, to pee, and (uninvited) he followed me, and he watched me, and I grinned as him as I head the tinkle-tinkle-tinkle into the john. Then his turn, me holding his dick and directly his stream down into the bowl. Naughty girl, kinky girl, but what the hell, I was a New Yorker!

Sweet slumber, happy atop the sheets, hands roaming during the night, his to my pussy, mine to his exhausted dick, which showed not a sign of life..

Dawn, and my god, what is going on? Charles is fucking me again, half-sleeping me, whose pussy is wide-awake and throbbing with delight as that cock goes in and out me again and again, making me cum cum cum cummmmm.

And now, for how I learned to enjoy show-off nudity;

Charles: Kath, my sweet thing, how would you like for a stark naked man to cook you up some bacon and eggs?

Me: Why, Charles, that would be just super! But only if you let a stark naked woman come to the table to eat them!

Charles: Kath, it is now just after eight o'clock on Saturday morning. And as far as I am concerned, both of us can stay stark naked the rest of the day, and into Sunday if we like. What say? Are you up to naked-around-the-house sort of day?

Wow! Such a thought had never entered my mind! But until Sunday? My mental calendar: nothing scheduled. And I though back to the evening. This guy fucked you three times, girl, three times! And he hopped you again first thing in the morning, and from the looks of that cock, which is showing signs of renewed hardness, he is about ready to take you again.

Me: Naked all day? To be sure, but only one condition....

Charles: Condition? What do you have in mind, sweetie?

Me: If either of us gets the urge to fuck, we do it -- and no excuses. That OK with you?

Charles: Fine....and I tell you what...let me take this bacon off the stove for just a minute, and why don't you hop up on the end of the table and spread your legs and...

He fucked me! Yes, again, #5. And we stayed happily nude all day, and all night, and into Sunday afternoon. I read the New York Times naked. I brushed my teeth naked. I washed the dinner dishes (from the night before) naked. I sat naked as we talked -- me in an easy chair, a leg over each arm, the better to show him my pussy. We went back to the window where it all began and stood naked and looked out at the beauty of a summer New York

"You have a very pretty pussy," he told me late in the afternoon, when we came out of the shower for the second time.

"Well, come fuck it!" I suggested, and he did.

It was with real reluctance that I searched out my clothes early Sunday afternoon and put them back on.....after being naked with this gorgeous man for some 45 hours....the longest time I had ever put my pussy on display for a lover. And indeed, many of my previous fucks came with me fully clothed save for doffed panties. To be sure, there had been casual nudity in the privacy of apartments and hotel rooms, but only fleetingly so, and never such a prolonged and deliberate period of undress.

A lingering kiss at the door, the hand-in-hand elevator ride to the ground and into the cab...and the minute I got into my own apartment I was out of my clothes and on the couch, masturbating and reliving in my mind the 12+ fucks I had enjoyed with Charles....and looking forward to the rest of the summer.

The experience -- that weekend, and weekends to come -- taught me the joys of walk-around nudity: to put one's body on display for a lover, and to enjoy the sight of a man both at rest and at full-arousal.

So, my friends, get out of your clothes RIGHT NOW!

Kath