Natural Reaction

Natural Reaction

Copyright jeanne_d_artois June 2019

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.

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I was beginning to think that revisiting the Naturist holiday camp where we had met over twenty-five years ago had been a mistake. Both sets of parents had been infrequent naturists. Although we lived in the same town, only a couple of hundred yards apart, we hadn't known that we all enjoyed naturism.

Although I knew of Alan, and he knew me because we shared some interests, neither of us had mentioned naturism. It had been a surprise to both of us when we came face to face in this Dorset camp.

Face to face? Perhaps not. Naked body to naked body. Alan's reaction down below had been an instinctive salute. My eyes had been drawn to the movement and then to his impressive size. His eyes had gone to my breasts and the erect nipples that had responded to his salute. We had both been embarrassed at meeting each other completely naked when our previous encounters had been fully dressed at a dance.

I had never been closer to Alan than an occasional dance as one of a group of friends. I had never even kissed his cheek. Why should I have? He had never been an escort, just someone in a crowd that I had danced with, once or twice.

"Fiona?" Alan said cautiously as if he wasn't sure I was who he thought I was.

"Yes, Alan. I'm Fiona," I replied. "But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Neither did I," he replied. "How? Never mind, how about a coffee?"

We went over to the coffee shop. Numerous coffees later and a couple of hours of talking we had decided to be a couple, at least for the fortnight that our families had booked for the holiday. We spent most of the time hand in hand. I had some jealous glances from other younger women on the site. Alan's manhood seemed to salute almost all of them. If I had not been obviously Alan's girlfriend he might have been vulnerable to seduction by several single women, and some not so single. I was protecting him; he was protecting me as well because several men were attracted by my nude body.

That was twenty-six years ago. Less than a year later Alan and I were married. We went to a nudist camp in the South of France for our Spring honeymoon. Late summer we came back to this camp in Dorset. By the end of our week here I was pregnant with our first child. After the birth we tended go on family holidays to more conventional resorts. Neither of us were fanatic naturists. We weren't ashamed of our naked bodies but not dedicated to baring ourselves, especially during changeable English weather.

The warm weather after the peak school holiday season had decided us. We would go back to Dorset for the first time in twenty-five years if there was space at the camp. A quick internet search had shown that there were vacancies and a very cheap rate for a chalet for a week. But was that wise?

The site had improved almost beyond recognition. The chalets had been chilly wooden huts. Now they were solidly built with central heating and air conditioning. Many more areas were covered with space heating. The pond that had been the swimming hole had been replaced by a heated indoor swimming pool with hot tubs and spa facilities. What hadn't changed was that everyone was naked.

Alan was still in good physical shape except for a slight thickening around the waist. His tool still saluted attractive nude females if its rise was slower and not as vertical as it had been twenty-five years ago. I felt frumpy beside him. I had evidence of child-bearing with faint stretch marks and sagging well-used breasts. What hurt me most is that while Alan saluted passing females, he didn't react to my naked body as he did to them.

Over the rest of that first day I watched Alan's instinctive reaction every time. He responded to almost every woman of any age but not me. There were exceptions. The Jones family from our town that we had known since we first met them with our parents twenty-six years ago didn't cause any response. The wife was still attractive even in her sixties but Alan's tool didn't react to her. Nor, surprisingly, did it salute their adult daughters in their twenties even though they had some of the most attractive bodies on the site.

That evening we were sitting on the decking outside our chalet drinking the remains of the wine we had had with our evening meal when the young couple from the next chalet came to us.

They introduced themselves as Tom and Alice. Could we help? Their electricity had failed. They had thought it was a power cut but our chalet's lights were still on so it couldn't be a site-wide cut.

Alan asked a few questions and found out that they had bought a kettle in the local supermarket because the chalet's kettle seemed defective, taking a very long time to boil.

"That's your problem," he announced. "The kettle supplied is low power. A normal kettle uses more energy that the connection can supply. You just have to wait for the kettle to boil -- eventually. I'll reset your power box but you shouldn't use your new kettle."

Alan reset their electricity supply box and showed them how to do it.

"If you use the chalet's kettle you should have that problem again," Alan said.

I had noticed that Alan responded to Alice's naked body, so quickly that Alice had noticed and blushed. As he talked to them Alan's erection subsided and didn't react even when close to Alice.

As we got ready for bed Alan was aware that I was upset. After so long as a married couple we don't necessarily have to say things.

"What's up, Fiona?" he asked as he slid into bed beside me. His erection was against my buttocks, satisfyingly standing proud. I reached a hand round to feel it.

"This," I said, giving it a slight squeeze. It has been saluting women all day but not me. Is it bored of me?"

Alan sat up and looked down at me.

"It's an instinctive reaction that I can't control." He said. "It reacts to naked women but only those I don't know."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why? That's just how the male body works. Why not you? Why not the Jones' daughters? I know you. I have known at Jones' daughters since they were born. They are friends and neighbours. As for my wife, Fiona? I know and appreciate every inch of your naked body. That's why it is erect now. It wants you. But while we are outside together it doesn't react. Perhaps it is to save you embarrassment. The reaction to other women is embarrassing enough for me. I think, no, I know, that after a few days of naked bodies it won't react as it has done today -- except for Fiona in bed beside me."

"It has reacted now," I said, reaching for it again.

"And unless you stop grabbing it, it might make a mess on the sheets. The fact that it reacts so much is a sign that it is in perfect working order and ready to make love to my wife."

Alan was right. It was in perfect working order, as are my insides. We made love often that night, more often than we had done for months. The day after, Alan's salute to naked women was less obvious and slower. Husband and wife had tired it out. By the third day and second night of passionate lovemaking Alan's tool remained quiet no matter how attractive a woman was nearby. But it still saluted me in bed.