Nude or Naked? by Joseph Lance Tonlet
Originally posted 12/20/2015 at Fangirl Moments And My Two Cents
Being naked outdoors or in front of strangers has always been an odd concept for me. Specifically, being naked in the presence of others in a non-sexual way.
I think part of it is my self-admitted skewed perception of some things. Yeah, it’s no secret I’m slightly twisted, *winks*, and nudity is one of those areas. I tend to think there are only two reasons for being naked: 1) to bathe, and 2) to get naughty with someone. Thus, the concept of getting naked in front of others, in a platonic way, such as a nude beach, is completely perplexing to me. What? We’re not bathing or having sex? Then explain to me again why we’re getting naked? Hell, even Merriam Webster has slightly different definitions for the two words. While nude has a more wholesome, innocent feel to it, naked seems to indicate a more risqué, indecent motivation.
Many of my friends, including my husband, don’t share the same outlook on shedding their clothing. We live in southern California, specifically in San Diego, and have a nude beach nearby. We generally go a few times a summer, and where the hubz always gets naked, I rarely do. Again, if there’s no sex involved… *chuckles*
In the co-writing of Quillon’s Covert, Louis Stevens , my cohort in crime on this naughty tale, and I decided nakedness (or, in this case, nudity) would play a central role in the story. Indeed, the two main characters, Martin (the father) and Marty (the son), spend a few weeks a year together at their secluded, mountainous, family cabin. And, they spend that time together nude.
They relaxed on the sofa, each quietly lost in their respective books. Martin with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Marty still resting his head on his dad’s thigh. Martin held his book in one hand while the other rested on Marty’s torso—his thumb absently brushing small circles at the center of his son’s chest.
“Chocolate?” Martin murmured.
Distracted, Marty responded, “Uh huh.”
When neither moved, Marty finally reminded him that he’d gotten the last pair of individually wrapped Dove candies and it was Martin’s turn.
After a few moments, Martin set down the paperback and grabbed the bag of chocolates. “Fine. But I’m unwrapping more than one apiece.”
As his large fingers attempted to extract the candy from the foil, his son asked, “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How did the naked thing start?”
Marty laid the tablet on his chest and turned his head. Martin felt his son’s head tilt back and wedge itself firmly between his thighs. He knew Marty got some sort of twisted pleasure out of watching him fight with the candy.
Martin’s eyebrows were pulled together in concentration. “Um, I don’t know.” The foil had put up a plucky fight, but he’d finally won. “Yes! I got one.”
Marty immediately opened his mouth and made an ahhh noise. Martin looked down and reluctantly released the chocolate into his son’s waiting mouth.
“Spoiled Spawn,” he huffed before snatching up another of the foil puzzles. More often than not, what did and didn’t trigger Marty’s choking phobia still perplexed Martin. Apparently, his son was fine with Martin dropping chocolates into his open mouth.
“My dad started bringing me up here when I was eight or nine…maybe even before that.” He shrugged. “Nudity’s just always been a part of Quillon’s Covert.”
He paused and looked down at Marty. “Does it bother you?”
His son stopped chewing and rolled his eyes. “You’re doing it again, Dad.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to me like I’m a little kid.”
Martin scanned the length of Marty’s body. There was no doubt his son wasn’t a little kid anymore. The baseball team track runs, the weight training, the nearly constant physical activity Marty enjoyed, all had an obvious effect on his maturing physique. The knowledge of how much that pleased the boy—the young man, he corrected himself—made him smile.
He glanced at Marty’s crotch and wasn’t the least bit surprised the boy was sporting an erection. It had been nearly a week since the sunblock hardon incident, and Martin had good-naturedly needled him about it—asking if it was sunscreen in general, or the smell of coconuts in particular that Marty found irresistible—because he didn’t want the boy to feel self-conscious about something completely natural. That would have flown entirely in the face of what Quillon’s Covert stood for; this was a place of relaxation and camaraderie and bonding. Since then, Marty had been freely pitching a tent more frequently than not.
“Okay, so let’s talk about something a bit more grown-up. You wanna talk about sex?”
He watched Marty’s Adam’s apple bob up and down a few times before the boy responded.
“Wuh-wuh-what duh-duh-do you muh-muh-mean?”
There were a number of factors that went into decision of nudity being an integral part of Quillon’s Covert, but the primary one, at least on my part, was to explore that completely foreign notion that folks can be together nude without sex playing into the equation. Of course, as you might imagine, sex does manage to sneak its way in, *naughty grins*.
So, regardless of whether you fall on the nude side or the naked one, I sincerely hope you enjoy this unique journey of a very open-minded father and son.
Peace,
JLT
#pleasurethroughdenial