It's a Brand Nude Day! 2023

I took a quick glance. There were like five station pairs in all. About half an hour plus. I realized why I needed the towels. It was to provide a barrier between my nervous sweaty ass and the seats.

A woman was in the room already, whom I assumed would be hosting the speed-date event. A nude woman. She called out, "Hi everyone, my name's Mary, and I'll be your guide to help you have a fun time here. Okay, quick show of hands, who's done the speed-dating thing before?" Most of the participants raised their hands, including Leslie. I didn't. The host continued. "Anyone do nude speed-dating before?" No one raised their hand, either because they didn't want to admit it, or they were new to it like me. "So, we have some seasoned going in and some seasoning to add then!" Like it was a freaking cooking show or what have you.

Mary laid out the general plan of how things would work. "We'll all draw numbers, well, except for me of course, women from this green bag and men from this gold bag." At least the bags weren't pink and blue. "The women will sit on this side of the table in order of their numbering, and the men will do the same on the other side," she said, gesturing to each in turn. "Women will remain in their seats and the men will move to the next seat to their left at the end of each turn. When you guys leave the end seat, you will go to the first seat at the beginning of the table, you all got that? Oh, and use your towels!" Everyone nodded absently, their minds probably on something else. I was struggling to come up with my first interview question.

"Each session will go five minutes, plus another half minute to wrap up, maybe exchange text addresses, say a longing goodbye, et cetera. I will play a soft chime at the end of each segment and at the end of the grace period. You can use the cards with your numbers to write your name, then fold it into a little sandwich sign and place it on your space at the table. Maybe you have no problem remembering names, but you'd be surprised how helpful it can be when you find yourself suddenly drawing a blank." Or shooting them, I joked to myself.

We selected our numbers, I was number one. I moved to the first seat, smoothed my towel on it, and plopped down, waiting nervously.

>>=(||##|||)>

A woman with dark blonde hair sat down across from me. She was cute, but looked tough. "Hi I'm Mary, she said, offering her hand.

So that's how it's done I thought. "Hi Mary, I'm Frank, how do you do?" Her hand was soft, but her grip felt stronger than expected. "What do you like to do when you're not busy speed dating?" I led out. It seemed like a reasonable question.

"I'm a stripper, can't get too much nudity, right? Well, that's my day, er, night job, but I like to mix business with pleasure if you know what I mean. Coming here today is a sort of busman's holiday."

Frankly I was a little taken aback by her answer. I mean, her body was great and she looked fit as hell but I didn't sense any enhancements and strippers all get boob jobs and stuff. I mean, I had heard that somewhere. So I just looked back in her eyes and smiled.

Sensing I was leaving the door ajar, Mary resumed the conversation from her end. "Look, I'm not really a stripper, I just said that to see your reaction. I'm kind of pleasantly surprised how cool you acted, and you didn't even ogle my body right then. I like your smile too, cool and confident."

Confidence and me were on opposite sides of the world at the moment, but I decided not to let that slip.

"Actually," Mary came back, "I like to ice skate."

"Probably not with this hot freakin weather," I joked.

Mary made a slight frown I initially took as a disapproving look. I guess she didn't appreciate dumb lines. But then she jumped back in, explaining, "Of course we have an indoor training facility, with really, really cold ice." I got that one. Mary had slipped into the role of dumb blonde explaining something to an even dumber guy. I grinned broadly at her. She grinned back. She did have a sense of humor. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Training facility, you skate competitively? I don't know you do those leaps and spins. And landings. I'd be down on my ass every time."

This time Mary looked at me like I really was dumb. "Uh, how should I explain.... Oh! Here's a hint, there's regular dating and then there's speed dating. Get it now?"

"Riiight." I still had nothing, and dumb looks were still free.

"My goodness, speed skating? Ever hear of that?" Mary saw the light bulb flicker on above my head and kicked my shin under the table. Woman's version of instigating the 'Angry Pirate' I figured.

And I couldn't restrain myself. I looked through the acrylic table at her high-def legs. Nice. She wasn't kidding she was a speed skater. I caught a glance at her bush when I looked. Of course she caught me staring. "You like, eh?"

"Most impressive, and certainly sexy." I peeked again. "Oh, wait, I apologize, not really supposed to be focusing on that in this venue, are we?" I asked, returning my gaze straight back to Mary's eyes.

"In this case, it's quite acceptable, but just so you know, my boobs are down here," she replied, overtly flashing me this time. Yes, I had also checked out her boobs and looked back down through the table again. It occurred to me that Mary could probably crush my head like a grape if I should ever be so lucky as to have it between her thighs.

"Do you like hiking?" I blurted out without thinking and started running phrases together. "Maybe we could go together; I really like hiking up mountains; going up through the trees then popping up above treeline, so beautiful..." I didn't like to talk much, but sometimes I could get all revved up.

"Give me your number," Mary said, without a trace of ennui or sarcasm. So I pulled it up on my phone and handed it across the table so she would have it but I wouldn't presume to have hers, which she obviously could have second thoughts about. She smiled, seeming to appreciate my thoughtfulness. Well, that went easily enough, although I wasn't so naïve as to ever expect a call from her.

With that, the first chime sounded. That was a quick five minutes.

"It was lovely meeting you Mary. I hope you and I have the opportunity to spend a little more time together."

"I liked meeting you too Frank. Although I didn't learn much about you, you've sparked my curiosity. I hope you enjoy the rest of your session!"

The second chime sounded. I arose and grabbed my towel. My ass wasn't sweaty at all. I noted that my dick was back too with no hint of a self-induced man-gina.

>>=(||##|||)>

I sat at the next partition over and glanced at the name card, which said 'Beth'. "Hi, I'm Frank," I said, propping up my name card.

"Hello Frank. As you've undoubtedly noticed, my name's Beth." In addition to being sort of curt, Beth looked younger than Mary, with dark eyes and a mane of raven hair. She was on the thinner side, but not petite, and not too angular. Minimal bush, too. I checked that straight away this time. Beth was extremely pretty, if not quite stunning.

I started to ask her something about herself, but Beth leapt to her first question. "So Frank, you're outside the usual demographic here, aren't you?"

I sensed we were already off on the wrong foot and was a little defensive. I was going to retort with "Why you thoughtless, ageist bitch," but thought better of it, instead saying, "Gee whiz Beth, I don't recall there being age restrictions for this event. As I'm sure you know, folks of all ages participate in nudism."

That didn't dissuade her from her chosen topic. "Gee whiz, Frank, who even says 'gee whiz' these days? Besides, I was referring specifically to the speed-dating event itself."

Beth had a point, as I realized I was definitely the oldest person in the room. Glancing down for a moment, I also noted she had two other good points, with firm nipples protruding from her cute, conical breasts. "Still," I concluded, "regardless of my age or unattractiveness, I have as much right to participate in this as much as anyone. Anyway, if I was some young stallion I'd probably be sporting a raging boner and dribbling precum like a leaky faucet. I don't think they want that here."

Beth considered my answer for a moment, a thoughtful expression passing over her countenance, then dove right back in, changing gears. "All right Frank, I'll ask you about something else. "How often do you jerk off? Masturbate, to be clinical about it."

I had fielded a similar question before and was ready for it, even though Beth fired it from out of the blue. I laid my enthusiastic answer on her. "Ah, like ten times a day! On average, probably," I added nonchalantly. I hoped she'd be a little put off, and either dismiss me as a total wanker or figure I wasn't someone she'd want to mess with.

"Wow. That's uh, pretty prolific." Beth thought about it further and added, "Doesn't it get sore?"

"More like aching than getting sore, ha. You know, anticipating my next session and all." That seemed to throw her for a loop and she didn't say anything for a minute. I wasn't particularly sure I wanted to know Beth any better. Teasing is one thing, but being a dick about it is quite another. Perhaps she was just teasing, but I had no way of knowing that for sure, so I kept to the low road myself. Being spiteful for no real reason, maybe just flexing my sarcasm muscles.

"How about you Beth, how often do you rub one out against your broomstick?" I had met a couple pagans and had considerable respect for them, but wasn't feeling too much respect for Beth so far.

"Gee whiz," she said robotically. There was an almost ironic feeling between her now saying gee whiz and at the same time apparently missing the gist of what I'd just said. Beth stayed on point, though, then upped the ante. "Not constantly, but yeah, sometimes. And sometimes else, I like it when someone watches...." Well, that was definitely a tease. She looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction. I maintained a poker face, trying to convey disinterest, although in truth it was actually almost a fetish with me.

"Nice," I said evenly, grasping at conversational straws. "I'm sure those 'someones' enjoy it as much as you do." The discussion was missing something. A modicum of human emotion for one thing. "So, Beth," I asked, tacking back to bland civility, "what kind of car do you drive?"

I had struck gold and Beth was suddenly off to the races. "Oh, I just love my little beemer! It's quicker than, like, quicksand! The handling is, like, it's reading your mind, what do you call it, second sight?" I didn't bother pointing out that second sight was more like seeing the future, but it was basically close enough for her explanation and maybe also kind of the same thing in this example. Beth wrapped it up then, big time. "And best of all, I cut off all those other fuckers and flip 'em off and they never knew what happened!" I gave up trying to parse that last sentence, and simply admired her chutzpah. Of course about half or so of beemer drivers seem like dicks, so it shouldn't have been too surprising. "What do you drive, um," Beth glanced down at my ID card to cue her recollection, "uh, Frank?"

This was getting good and I wanted to deepen the absurdity but just said, "it's a 1999 F150, straight six, a tractor engine really, 5-speed, bench seat, with cupholders in the doors and manual crank windows." Maybe I did achieve absurdity after all. An absurd truth, what a concept.

"Hey, I know I'm a bit of a ditz, and I apologize for saying anything might have made you feel put out." Beth stared at me in a moment of self-awareness. "I just wanted to have a bit of fun, but not at your expense, not really."

I was touched by her mea culpa, but my inner comic whispered to me, "She said, 'Put out'. Snort."

"I completely accept your apology in the spirit it was given. Actually it was kind of fun just cheap-shotting each other. Usually I wait until I know someone a lot better before going there." I made a cheers motion with an imaginary glass. I bore no resemblance to the memes featuring Leo DiCaprio.

"Frank, give me your phone; here's mine. Put your number in. Do you like receiving naked texts? There was an issue one time so now I always ask first."

The chime sounded just then. I gave Beth a quick one-sided smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow. We swapped phones back and I stretched in my seat. Beth chose that moment to rub my crotch with her foot, once again shattering my illusion of the purity of nudism. Well, shit, I was probably going to have to sit there for the entire transition period to get it back down. I reached my hand trying to bend it downward a tiny bit, hoping to coax it back to less than half mast. Except that Beth continued rubbing my dick with her foot, so my plan was for naught. I shot her an alarmed glance and she merely smiled innocently.

"What?" Beth asked, although both of us knew she knew damn well what. She tapped the keys on her phone for a few moments and my phone dinged. She had sent a text with a photo of her jilling off. Fuck! What was I supposed to do? Drape my other towel over my dick while I got up and walked to the next dating station? I know it wasn't far, but what to do? Wave it in the air like I just didn't care? Sure, nobody will notice either way I thought sarcastically.

>>=(||##|||)>

In my anxiety, my penis began to once again shrink from its throbbing glory. I didn't even have to think of anything to distract myself, like how fucking much would gas prices increase in the coming year. I got up, asked 'mother may I' in my mind, took two giant steps to the left, and plopped down again, propping up my sandwich board card. Yes, I remembered to lay the towel across the seat, for all you germaphobes-in-name-only that may be reading -- GINOS, right?. I pushed my thin shock of hair back and stared across the clear table at a vision of loveliness. I will not cheapen the moment by discussing her looks any further.

"Hi I'm Frank," I said, enthusiastically grabbing her hand and shaking it.

"Whoa, Frank, no rush here, right?" I nodded subtly, composing myself. She had already glanced at my name card the second I set it down. "So hey Frank, I'm Janelle," Janelle said, settling in for the conversation.

"Very nice to meet you Janelle. Sorry about my initial clumsiness when we met. I was off on a mental lark of some kind."

"I get that. You should have seen the other guys. I don't know what that girl said to them," motioning her head to the left, "but both those dudes were freaked out after talking to her."

"Oh. Yeah. I feel like we came to some understanding but darned if I know what it is." I looked Janelle in her eyes. There was a spark of things that would make you lose yourself, if you could only fathom what they were. I let out a little sigh to get a little centered, and it didn't go unnoticed by Janelle.

"What?" I heard, for the second time in about as many minutes. "You didn't like my previous comment?"

"Oh, no Janelle, I think I understand the gist of what you said, but I'm still trying to shake off the feeling, and I'm not sure where to go right now. You know, what we might perhaps talk about."

"Do you have a job?" Janelle knew how to break the ice with a bland, generic question to get things rolling. At least she hadn't asked me about jerking off or how it felt to be the oldest person there.

"Yes, I do. It's okay, pretty good I guess," I said hoping to deflect the subject. Maybe I would actually prefer making up stories about how much I masturbated. I hoped Janelle was simply assessing whether I was a responsible sort.

Janelle spoke again. "The what-it-is doesn't matter then? I must say, I'm curious about your reluctance to share that." She paused, then delivered. "I know you're not CIA or anything, but ...what... are you?" She seemed to be mulling something over. "...Huh. Hmm...." She stared at me closely again. Apparently Janelle reached some conclusion on her own, because she completely changed the subject.

"How do you feel about nude day? It's kinda funny, isn't it? Think about it: we wear clothing of some kind almost all the time, mostly either because it's cold out or because it's just expected. I'm sure you never go to work naked, for example, yet here you are now, naked."

"I sure am. Sooo, naked." I smiled and shrugged, the universal gesture for 'ask me if I care' or 'ask me how many fucks I give'. I had gotten over my initial reservations, and by this time didn't care one whit whether I was nude. I almost didn't even care if I popped another semi-plus. I wasn't going to run through the streets naked, I didn't think, and I felt cooler than a frozen banana.

Janelle drilled down a little further. "How do you feel about being nude, Frank? Embarrased? Proud? Like showing off your dick, do you?"

I tried to jump ahead two moves, to little effect. "Whoa, Janelle, chill your basic instincts, would you?" Janelle looked at me smugly. She was a real piece of work. In a good way. "Janelle, please stop me if you think I'm just smoking dope here, but isn't part of the point of nude day to minimize the sexuality, and just enjoy the naked body, the feeling of being rid of your clothes and things like that?"

"No," she said flatly. "I think we ought to get together and fuck at some point. I don't care if you are old and fat, I would do you. Do you very well. Think you could handle that?" Janelle didn't mince words.

I reeled back in my seat. Was everybody besides me an incurable horn-dog or something? Was I too, but just didn't realize it? Perhaps I had been missing out in more ways than I had imagined.

I saw the top of Leslies' blonde head above the next divider to the left for a moment. I hoped she might have some answers when I could talk with her. I still didn't answer Janelle. I was going to play my cards close in the meantime. I wasn't sure I even bought her line. If it was legit, there would be time to capitulate. But Janelle wasn't having it.

"No interest, then... I have a hard time accepting that."

"It's not that I would have no interest. More like I haven't met a woman as forward as you before."

"Here what's let's do. Give me your phone," she said, handing me hers. I knew what to do. What the hell, was there really a down side?" "That's a good fellow she said," patronizingly. These comments were starting to wear thin, but I didn't resist. Janelle was that attractive.

The chime sounded. Another surprisingly short session. I didn't end with a boner, but it was close. My phone chimed. Gosh dangit. I looked. It said, "Hi Frank, I apologize for being more forward than you might have liked. I would like to meet and talk with you; you're fun!" I sighed in gratitude. Someone kind of got me. The phone dinged again. It was Janelle again. A photograph of her nude, in a sexy pose. I guess maybe that was the point of being nude? My penis was worn out already responding to these non-affronts, but maybe I could refer to them later.

Scooping my phone and ID card up, I made my way across the two steps to station 4. I was mistaken. It was not Leslie sitting there, but another blonde beauty.

>>=(||##|||)>

"Hi, I'm Frank," I began, not really looking at the woman as I sat down on my drier towel. "How the fuck are you?"

"I'm Arianna," she said, adding, "How the fuck are you?"

"I apologize Arianna. My manners are starting to slip. I don't have any excuse, except that I'm getting worn out during this naked speed dating scenario."

"That's fine, Frank, happy you made it to me." Arianna was another vision of loveliness, only different. Pretty face, and blonde hair in a loose ponytail. Another woman to just die for. I found myself wondering how I had been so lucky as to be here this day.