tagMatureNaked Nightmare

Naked Nightmare



Copyright Oggbashan July 2017

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.


Several times in the last month I have woken in the night after a disturbing nightmare. I have been walking to work dressed in one of my office outfits of calf-length grey skirt and white blouse when my clothes vanish and I'm naked. The first dream happened about six weeks ago when Michael, my husband, was away for a couple of nights attending a family funeral. When he returned the dream didn't happen for a couple of weeks but now it's back.

I'm sure there is an explanation in a book about such a dream. What disturbs me is that passers-by stare, point and make rude comments about my sagging breasts, stretch marks and flabby skin.

A man at a bus stop says in a carrying voice that I should cover my sagging breasts. A woman beside him adds that all my skin is wrinkled. A cyclist complains about my floppy buttocks. I cringe as I walk past the building site. When I am dressed the workmen have ignored me. Unlike the preconceptions of builders I have never heard them comment on any passing woman, whatever their age and body shape.

This time a builder shouts at me:

"You go girl! You've still got it. You look great."

Even though it's in a dream that makes me feel slightly better. I wave at him. He blows a kiss.

I know that I don't have the perfect body I had when I was in my early twenties. How could I have? I've lived, had children and now I'm a grandmother working the last few months before I retire on a well-earned pension.

Michael still loves my body. He regards the imperfections as reminders of the great times we've had together. His body isn't perfect either. He has scars from hard work, from unpleasant experiences, and from more than sixty-five years of living.

The repeated dream was affecting my self-esteem. I'd become more self-conscious of my body. I've taken to wearing higher necked clothes, longer skirts, opaque tights and I became reluctant to undress in front of Michael. Whenever we made love I wanted the lights out. It made for some difficult fumbling as we tried to fit our parts together. Michael still loves kissing between my legs but has to explore under my floor length nightdress before arousing me.

Michael had noticed the gradual change and he tackled me about it. It was almost a relief to talk about it. He took me seriously. Although I know he loves me as I am, I was still unhappy with my self-image. I didn't want him to see my naked body even though he knows it in every detail.

Michael had a radical solution. He searched the net and found a nudist site about thirty miles away. He rang them up and talked to one of the staff. Apparently they are used to reluctant first-timers and offer a sample mid week couple of days at a low price. They have a special one for over-60s for Wednesday and Thursday in three weeks' time. Michael had to work hard to persuade me to consider it before he booked.

Apart from my recurring dream I'm worried about Michael. Since the funeral he has been unusually subdued, almost anxious. The death of an elderly distance relation hadn't been unexpected. Michael normally wouldn't have gone but his last surviving aunt needed help to get to and from the funeral. His account of the funeral seemed as if it was a celebration of the relation's life, not a sad gathering. Michael had met some of his wider family and renewed contacts. Yet he seemed preoccupied since the funeral.

I had the nightmare again last night. I was wearing one of my voluminous brushed cotton long-sleeved nightdresses that I had bought while on a caravan holiday years ago when the heating didn't work. Michael was sleeping nude, as usual. When I woke up from the nightmare my nightdress had scrunched up around my waist. My bare legs were twined around him. My naked pussy was pressed against his comforting back. I snuggled against him. My nakedness was protected by his body and I was able to go back to sleep without a repeat of the nightmare.

But next morning, Tuesday morning, I was worrying about deliberately shedding my clothes tomorrow. Would the nudist camp cure me of my recently acquired prudishness, or would it be too much for me to strip before strangers? I worried about it all day, so much so that some of my colleagues noticed. When one of them asked, I replied that we were going away for a couple of days tomorrow to try something new and I wasn't sure I'd enjoy it. I was relieved that my telephone rang before she could ask for details.

The call was from Michael. He had just heard the weather forecast. There might be heavy showers and thunderstorms. He thought that we might have to defer our nudist experiment if the weather was really bad.

"Don't they have some facilities under cover?" I asked.

"Hang on, Joan, I'll look at their internet site," he replied.

I waited.

"Yes," Michael said, "they have a recreation room, an indoor swimming pool, at least one covered tennis court and the dining room and bar are indoors."

I took a deep breath. I would go through with this. I didn't like waking up every night with a mild panic attack.

"Michael," I said, "I'm determined. We'll go. I don't care whether it rains, hails, snows or whatever. I want to do this."

"You're sure?"

I wasn't but I screwed up my courage to say "Yes".

"OK. See you this evening. Bye."

Michael hung up. I was committed. I had packed my suitcase yesterday. It was surprisingly light. After all, what do you need to take when you aren't going to be wearing clothes? Sensible flat shoes, sandals, toothbrush, comb, other toilet articles, sun block, first aid kit. I shouldn't have, but I added a long nightdress, bra, panties, top and skirt. I tried to explain to myself that I would need a change of clothing when we left after the stay. Those clothes were really my defence against a panic attack. If I couldn't face nudity I could dress and go for a walk beyond the nudist area. I know. I'm a coward.

That night I had the nightmare again. I was walking down the street to work when my clothes vanished. Again passers-by made rude remarks about my saggy breasts. The building site was deserted. The nightmare continued this time. I walked into the office building. No one suggested that I should be dressed. All the unpleasant people at work were even more insulting about my body. Alan Morris, the manager people love to hate, was very cruel.

In the room where I work I expected the unpleasant comments to continue. They didn't. My immediate colleagues greeted me as they would normally. Their reaction was as if I was fully dressed, except for the youngest. He stood up as I walked past him, smiled, and said:

"You're looking wonderful today, Mrs Amos."

He pulled out my office chair as if he was seating me in a restaurant.

"Thank you, Harry," I replied automatically.

I knew that Harry was basically a nice lad but a compliment on my nude, saggy, battered body was more than I had expected. Why was Harry's reaction different? Even though it was in my dream I thought I knew. Harry is the only man in that room who talks to me as if I might have something worthwhile to say. The rest have known me for years and ignore me, just as they ignore each other. We know we are competent and just work in the same room. There is little need for interaction.

But Harry is still new to the work. He has to ask for advice sometimes. Any of us would give it but I suppose I have given more than anyone else. Why? Perhaps it's because Harry reminds me of Michael when we first met. Harry is the youngest but he's in his mid twenties, newly married, and very much in love with his wife. The rest of us lost our enthusiasm for our routine work tasks years or even decades ago. Harry is still finding procedures he doesn't know. Like many new members of staff he wants to know why we do it this way and not that.

Was I in love with Harry? Was he in love with me? I thought the answer to both questions was no. I liked Harry. He seemed to like me but his love was for his new bride.

Don't get me wrong. I like all the people I work closely with. None of them are obnoxious and all of them are pleasant company when we have time. In my dream perhaps that's why none of them were rude about my nakedness.

I rolled over in bed to hug Michael's back. He moved slightly and his snoring changed to almost a purr of contentment. He loves having my naked body pressed against his.

Naked body? I was naked. I hadn't put a nightdress on. My bare breasts were squashed against Michael's bare back. Was that why my nightmare had ended so well? I didn't know. I went back to sleep hugging my husband's nude body.

I woke up to feel Michael's lips kissing a breast. I eased a hand around the back of his head and held him in place. He sucked and nibbled. I could feel myself almost purring like a cat. Michael loves me and loves my body. A couple of days together at a nudist resort might be wonderful.

Or not. My mood changed. We would be there, today, in a few hours. My repeated nightmare would be a reality. I would be displaying my naked imperfections to everyone there. Even though we might all be new to nudism, I was worried again. I gently pushed Michael away.

"We've got to get up," I said.

"Now, Joan? Couldn't we?"

I knew exactly what he wanted us to do. The idea was attractive.

"No, Michael. I'd like to but we agreed we would leave early. It's a long drive..."

Michael kissed me before I could finish.

"You're right, Joan, as usual. We have to be there by four and need to stop for lunch, but..."

"I know, it would be nice. Perhaps we can make up for it tonight."

"Which reminds me, Joan. Should I be jealous? You said 'Thank you, Harry' in your sleep."

Over breakfast I explained about my dream and how Harry was the only person who complimented me on my nakedness.

"I know you like Harry," Michael said, "so his reaction in your dream might be a reflection of that. He's a nice lad."

"He is," I replied, "but very much in love with his new wife. I shouldn't read too much into his action in a dream. And my colleagues? They treated me as they would normally. They didn't seem to care that I was naked."

"Why should they, Joan? They know you too well. Most of them have been in the same office as you for over a decade. But it was just a dream. Whether it means anything? Who knows? I don't."

Michael kissed me.

"But I love my wife Joan just as she is. Neither of us are as young and good-looking as we were when we married but we're not decrepit. We have nothing about our bodies to be ashamed of -- and we'll prove it later today."


On the drive to the nudist camp I was relaxed. Why not? Michael has been driving me around when I'm not driving with him as a passenger. We trust each other's competent driving skills. I can fall asleep in the passenger seat. So can he.

Surely I should feel some anxiety at the forthcoming nudity? I didn't feel at all worried. Why? I didn't know.


At the camp we met the manager. He explained the rules of the site. Beyond the reception area we should be nude all the time. He recommended keeping some footwear if only flip-flops because parts of the site have gravel paths. The regulars could walk on gravel easily. Newbies would find that painful. Anything we wanted, food or drinks, would be charged to our room number and the account settled when we left. He asked us to meet him in the club room by the bar in half an hour. Apart from him, everyone else would be newcomers.

We went to our room and unpacked the few items. I shed my clothes without a qualm. I twirled in front of a mirror on the wardrobe. My naked body was familiar like a loved old dress. A naked Michael stood behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed a shoulder.

"That's the woman I love," he said.

I turned round into a long kiss.

"And you're the man I love," I replied.

We stood side by side in front of that mirror. My breasts sagged but I expected that. My bush was neatly trimmed. My stomach was flabby but not as pronounced as Michael's. He almost had a roll about his waist. If I pinched it there would be a significant amount of flesh between my fingers. But we weren't in bad shape for nearly retired people. We kissed again.

"Ready for show time, Joan?" he asked.

"Yes, Michael," I said. "Let's go."


Apart from the naked manager we were the first in the bar. He served us with coffee.

"You're the first," he said obviously. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, I wouldn't except we are alone, but you are also the oldest first-timers today. I won't mention ages when we're all here, but the next youngest are at least a decade younger."

"How old is the youngest?" Michael asked casually.

"Late 40s I think." The manager replied. "But you two seem very relaxed for a first nude experience. Are you sure this is your first time?"

"Yes," Michael and I said together. I let Michael continue for us.

"I think it is because we are together," Michael said. "After more than forty years of marriage we know each other's bodies very well. Being naked together isn't worrying. It might be if we were alone."

"The others are all married couples too," the manager added.

He might have said more but three couples entered the bar. He introduced us to each other. They were more self conscious than we were.

The rest of the day was an anticlimax. We were nude, naked except for our flip-flops. We went for a long walk hand in hand, returned to the bar area for the evening meal for which large napkins were provided, and just relaxed. It was boringly mundane. We decided to go to bed early because the rain was threatening and we didn't want to get soaked on the way to our chalet.


In bed that night we made love more passionately than we had for months. The nudist site might be boring, but mutual nudity was exciting us in bed.

Over breakfast I thought I would ask Michael why he had seemed anxious after the funeral.

"It's simple, Joan. I didn't like spending a couple of nights away from you. I missed you, and when I came back you had had the dream about nudity and were hiding your body. I wanted you, skin to skin, and I had skin to yards of cotton nightdress."

"I had missed you too," I replied. "I'm sure that's what the dream was about. Without you I was naked, alone, and unappreciated..."

"Except by the builders and Harry," Michael interrupted.

"OK. Except them. But I was frightened of life without you."

"So was I. But there's no need to be. Within a couple of months we'll both be retired and we can spend more time together, as much as we want."

"That sounds great, Michael, but I don't think we need to go back to a nudist camp. We can do far more when dressed. Two days of nudity..."

"Thirty-six hours," Michael corrected.

"OK. However long or short, it's not for us. Once the unfamiliarity is over, it's just boring. We can't go beyond the grounds and there are tourist attractions with a few miles..."

"And tea rooms, Joan! Your favourite places."

"Yes. Tea rooms. A cream tea seems very attractive, but not if the jam and cream is running down my naked boobs."

After lunch we checked out of the nudist resort and headed for one of my favourite tea rooms. We parked, went for a walk along the local river, fully clothed, and came back for a cream tea.

It wasn't nudity we were afraid of, but loneliness. We will be together, dressed or nude, as often as we like. We may be ancient, but we still love each other.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous08/06/17


Love trumps lust

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