Summer of Poison Ivy & Nudity

"Shall I finish?"

"Yes. Please."

She stayed still as her father dabbed the areas around her cunt and butthole. He was careful and diligent. When he was done, he stood, went over and picked up her shirt, and handed it to her.

"Better?" he asked as he looked his naked daughter in the eye. She'd was sitting on the floor, crossed legged, giving him a frontal beaver-shot, as she put her shirt back on.

"Splendid!" she said sarcastically. She stood, picked up her panties, and stepped into them. She looked at her father and said, "I'm sorry for acting like a brat. I'm not mad at you. I'm upset by my circumstance. I've had poison ivy before on my ankles. It was annoying. Now, I have a case that is one hundred times worse. I'm not handling it well. I wasn't ever expecting to be naked in front of my father."

He nodded and said, "Hopefully, this will be a quick case. I'll mix up the water/baking soda paste and leave it and the vinegar and cotton balls out so if you need to stave off the itching sensation, you can take care of yourself."

"Except for the parts, I can't reach." She smiled and added, "Thank you."

Amy went to her room and got dressed. She did some sketching and painting in between itching flare-ups. They got through the first day. Amy needed to apply some kind of anti-itching aid every three to four hours. She stripped for each treatment. For the next two treatments, she did what she could and then, grinned and bared all to her father, and let him finish the job.

For the third treatment, she stripped completely and let him do everything. They didn't speak. The session ended with her fully exposed, legs spread, and on her hands and knees. He gathered the used cotton balls, took them into the kitchen, and put them in the trash.

She stood, dressed, and passed him walking through the kitchen to her bedroom. She was carrying her bra and panties. She saw her father look at them and said, "Why should I bother to put them on? I'll need to get naked for another dosing soon."

^^^day 3^^^

On the morning of the third day, Bart was up first. He shaved, showered, dressed, and made breakfast. Amy showed up looking haggard. He smiled at her as she entered the kitchen. She was obviously braless under her thin cotton top with spaghetti straps. He could see her breasts jiggling and shaking as she walked. She had on a skirt that hit her mid-thigh. He wondered if she had on any underwear. She'd dispensed with them yesterday to make getting her treatments easier.

"Morning, Honey," he called out. "Did you sleep well?"

She slumped into a chair and said, "No. My rash has gotten worse. The red is more pronounced. I have more and bigger blisters. I'm trying not to itch it, but it's tough to ignore."

"The almanac said it would get worse before it gets better. I thought we'd try the oatmeal bath and since I had the oatmeal out, I made us oatmeal with fresh berries for breakfast."

Amy scratched her arm and leg and said, "Sure. Why not? Oatmeal for my insides and my outside."

After they had breakfast, Bart dragged a galvanized tub into the kitchen. He heated water on the stove and prepare a warm bath for his daughter. He dumped oatmeal into the tub and mixed it around. She watched and fought the urge to scratch.

"There. I hope this gives you some relief. I'll go fishing and give you some privacy to enjoy a nice soaking. Hopefully, I'll catch our lunch."

"Thanks, Dad." she came to him and gave him a hug. He smiled and hugged her back. He left. She stripped and eased herself into the warm water. "Oh. Fuck! This bath feels good."

In a half hour, Bart had caught nothing. "Damn! This is a run of bad luck. Not only haven't I caught anything, but I've lost four of my favorite lures," he said. He returned to the cabin to get more. When he was within earshot, he heard his daughter in the kitchen complaining.

"Ouch. Damn it!"

From the back porch, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"I have more blisters today. The towel is aggravating them. It's too abrasive."

"Oh."

She said, "The oatmeal bath was nice. It has calmed the itch. Getting dry is now the issue. I can't stand the scratchy towel on my irritated skin." She came to the screen door and asked, "Would you mind if I came out on the back porch and let the sun dry me? The towel is too rough to use."

"No. Not at all. There's no one around. "

She opened the door and stepped through. She held the towel in front of her dripping body. She blushed and said, "I still feel weird being naked in front of you."

"I understand. I feel that way too. I can make myself scarce." He started to walk away.

"Wait. This is silly. You've seen everything and you'll see it again when you paint me with baking soda or swab me with vinegar." She dropped the towel and exposed her nude body. The red rash couldn't diminish her youthful beauty or her firm, fit body. Her breasts jutted out as if they weren't subject to the law of gravity.

She smiled bravely and said, "I think it's something we both will have to get over."

She walked out on the porch wet and naked. Bart's eyes scanned her body. He was embarrassed that he checked out her pussy, tits, and ass. She walked passed him, sat on one of the Adirondack chairs, and let the warm sunshine dry her body.

He said, "You get dry. I came back to grab some lures. I'll get them and be off to fish some more."

He did and quickly returned to the lake. He had better luck the second time around. He caught a number of nice fish. He gutted and cleaned them and returned to the cabin around noon. As he walked up the hill he said, "This has to be tough on her. I have to do something."

He saw her on the back porch. She was painting. She was still naked sitting in the shadow of an umbrella.

She saw him and said, "Good. You're back. Can you do me?"

"Ah. Sure. Vinegar or baking soda?"

"It doesn't matter."

He put his gear down. He went inside, put the fillets on a platter, washed his hands, and then grabbed the bowl of baking soda paste he'd prepared earlier. He returned to the porch and found his daughter standing naked waiting for him. He treated her rash. They both blushed. She got on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her and dabbed the soothing solution onto her ass. He thought, "How can I make this less embarrassing for her?"

When he was done, he said, "I'll have lunch ready soon."

"Good. I'm hungry," she said. She returned to her canvas. She studied her work, looked out at the forest scene she was trying to capture and began painting again.

He got the grill going, retrieved and seasoned the fish, and made a spur of the moment decision. He stripped off his clothing. He said to his daughter, "You're going to love this. There's is nothing better than fresh, grilled trout."

Amy looked up from her painting, turned toward him, smiled, and say, "Thanks." She saw that he was naked and the smile left her face. She asked, "What's this about?"

He was facing her and saw the change in demeanor. He said, "I was thinking about what you said. We have to get over being embarrassed about you being naked. I can't change the fact that you need to undress to get your treatments, but I can make it that you're not the only one who's nude. They say misery loves companion. Now, you're not the only one who's naked, blushing, and feeling weird."

Amy scanned her father's naked body. She looked at his limp cock and laughed, "I apologize for laughing. Don't take it personally. A naked woman is a beautiful sight. A naked penis is just funny looking. Thanks for making the sacrifice. Not being the only one unclothed does make me feel better."

The grill made fast work of the fish.

"The fish is almost ready," he said. "Go get us a couple of beers and grab the bag of potato chips."

She went inside, got their drinks, and the chips. When she returned to the porch, he was plating the food. They sat outside and the naked man and the naked woman drank beer, feasted on delicious fish, and ate potato chips for lunch.

Amy dealt with the dishes when they were done. Then she sketched and painted for a couple of hours. Bart remained on the porch. He busied himself with small tasks. He tied some flies that he planned to use to tempt the lake trout at dusk.

She announced, "The itchiness is starting to return. I can do the front of me. Do you mind doing my backside?"

"Not at all."

She stood, splashed the mild acid on the cotton, and rubbed it on the red marks she saw on her chest, stomach, arms, and legs. She handed him the cotton and turned around. While he did her shoulders and back, she asked, "Please do the back of my legs and between my butt cheeks. Those areas are itching worse than my worst yeast infection."

"Okay. I need you down on all fours."

She nodded and got on her hands and knees. He did her back and then her calves and ankles. Next, he focused on the sensitive area in between.

She looked back at him and said, "I should be too embarrassed to display my vagina to you like this, but my skin back there itches like a motherfucker. Take your time. Be thorough."

He nodded and knelt between her legs. He stared at her bare sex. He became fully erect. His heavy erection banged into her right leg. "Sorry," he said. She glanced back to see what had bumped into her. She saw his erection but didn't say anything.

Bart moved back so his dick wouldn't touch her legs and he gently applied the vinegar to her upper thighs with a shaking hand.

"Amy, it's getting worse. There are more blisters and more of the red rash."

"I thought the almanac said poison ivy doesn't spread."

He put the damp cotton on her vulva. He followed the rash and touched the outer lips of her pussy. He answered her. "The book said it doesn't spread. Not even if you scratch. But some parts of you are more sensitive and react quicker to the poison or it could be that the initial outbreaks are on areas that got a higher dosage."

He applied the remedy to her anus and butt crack and said, "The book said the outbreak would wax and then wane. There all done." He touched the cotton ball one last time to her pink asshole.

When he was done, she stood up and said, "Thank you." She slid back into her chair, looked at his hard dick and then, his red face, and she said, "Don't beat yourself up. We're all adults. We know how things work. Men, even good men, get erections. Especially, in circumstances like these. I'm naked. You can see my boobs and pussy. Of course, you got hard."

She shifted her butt in the chair. "It's funny it happened today," she said. "I should have guessed."

"What? Why?" he said with a confused and embarrassed look on his face.

"I'm ovulating."

"How do you know? Can you really tell?" he asked honestly.

She laughed and said, "Dad, I'll let you in on every women's dirty secret. Well, at least those who can menstruate. We stick a finger in our vagina every day. Usually, a couple of times a day. We look at that finger, smell it and maybe, even taste ourselves."

He gave her a look of shock.

She laughed again and said, "It's true. Every woman has a horror story about being blindsided by their period. It catches us unaware and the blood goes everywhere. Our panties can't contain it. The blood gets on our outer clothes where people can see it. If you're lucky, a girlfriend or another woman lets you know you have a big reddish brown stain on your butt or crotch and you rush to the bathroom to clean up. You change your clothes or tie a sweater or sweatshirt around your waist. You drape it over the bloody stain and pray to God that no one sees it.

"If you're not lucky, your boss, teacher, or some random guy points at you and asks 'What's that?'. And you're embarrassed and humiliated."

She paused and looked at his face. Bart nodded.

"That only has to happen once for you to promise yourself it will never happen again. To make sure your period never surprises you again, you check yourself a couple of times a day by sticking a finger in your pussy. You learn to notice the nuances in odor, color, and texture of your vaginal mucus. You learn to detect when that damn red tide is coming and you make sure you're prepared. You also learn to recognize the signs that you're ovulating."

She reached around, stuck her right index finger in her pussy, and swirled it around. She pulled out the wet finger and showed it to her dad. She pressed the index finger to her thumb and slowly pulled them apart. She said, "See how the fluid is clear. No hint of pink or red color."

"Yes."

She sniffed it and then put her tongue to it. She said, "There's no metallic smell or taste. The iron in my blood makes my fluid metallic tasting during my period. The smell is, well considering what it is, mild. Sweet. As good as it gets. It's also less tangy because the PH is more neutral. My vagina becomes more receptive to sperm when I'm ovulating. During the rest of the month, my vagina is acidic to help fight bacteria and yeast infections.

"And see how the fluid it viscous? It's not runny like water. It's tacky and forms a string when I separate my fingers. It looks like the non-yoke part of an egg when you crack one and drop what's inside in a bowl."

"Yes. It does," Bart said.

"A women's fluid is only like that when she is fertile."

"Huh. That's interesting. I never knew that. What does you ovulating have to do with me getting an erection?"

She smiled and said, "So you've learned a woman's body undergoes changes during their cycle. Not all these changes have to do with our vagina. I read an article that said when we are most fertile, our voices get higher, our boobs get bigger, and our scent changes. We also behaved differently. We become more flirty. We sway our hips more when we walk. We wear more makeup and dress in revealing clothing."

Bart nodded to show that he was listening.

"Men pick up on these signals. The piece reported on a study that found lap dancers earned more money when they were ovulating and they earned the least amount when they were on their period. Your reaction to my nudity and fertile state is hardwired into you. You didn't have a choice. You got an erection."

She looked off into the distance and said, "You know, I'm not a virgin?"

He was stoic and silent. She looked at the lake and said, "Two years ago. Prom night with a football player." She laughed and added, "Classic, right? Eighteen-year-old suburban girl gives her virginity up the night of her high school prom. I'm trying to reassure you that I've seen a hard cock before. This isn't shocking."

"I figured that was the case," he said. "You're a grown woman." He looked at her breasts. She noticed. He noticed that she'd noticed. He blushed and said, "Sorry."

She smiled and said, "It's okay. Mom explained to me when I first got boobs that guys like them and they're going to look." She shrugged her shoulders and added, "It comes with the territory. I have periods. You have erections." As she said those words she glanced at his stiff cock.

She raised her eyes to his and said, "You and mom have been great parents. I had so much fun as a kid. You supported me in all my endeavors: ballet, horseback riding, and my painting. Mom gave me the birds and the bees speech and she's answered all my awkward questions. You two have been great role models. I see how you treat each other with love and respect. That's what I will demand from my partner."

He looked out at the lake and nodded accepting the compliment.

"It was weird the first time I heard you guys having sex."

He turned his head and shot her a look.

She laughed and said, "It was the summer after I graduated from high school. I came home earlier than expected. Your bedroom door was open a little. I didn't dare peek, but I heard you making love. This was after I had had sex. I recognized the noises and thought isn't it great the old heads still have sex."

She smiled and said, "All my childhood I'd seen the two of you kiss, hug, and hold hands, but for some reason, I didn't think you did it anymore."

"I understand," he said. "The idea of your parents having sex freaks everyone out."

"Yes. I should have known. You and mom are always affectionate. I love the games you play. You write her love notes and sign them 'Armando' and she signs hers 'Fifi'."

He blushed. She said, "Don't be embarrassed. I think it's cute. Give me some credit. I know a little about sex and love. Enough to know that your erection is an involuntary reaction to stimuli. You aren't scaring me or creeping me out. You don't want to have sex with me. This is an example that proves the point that, notwithstanding what Sigmund Freud might think, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

She sat up, touched his arm, looked him in the eye, and said, "Thanks for helping me out. I'm cool with your hard-on. Are you cool with us being naked?"

"Yes."

"Great. Because my bra and panties, all my clothes really, chafe my skin and hurt me when they rub my blisters. I'm staying naked until this rash goes away."

She stood, set up her easel, and got her paints and paintbrushes out. He started to leave. She said, "Please stay. I'd like to paint you."

His face blanched. She saw it and said, "I need to round out my portfolio. You're the only human model available. Don't worry. I'll paint you with a giant dick." She laughed. He blushed. She added, "I'm kidding. I'll blur your genitals."

"Okay."

He sat for an hour and she painted. His erection faded away early on. After she dismissed him, Bart went inside. He hopped in her tub and washed. Then, he disposed of the water and put the tub away.

Amy had him re-treat her poison ivy two more times before dinner. He touched her pussy two more times. He smelled her scent, saw her pink inner lips, and got hard two more times.

Dinner was a simple affair cooked on the grill. They had a beer and watched the sunset. When the sun dropped, so did the temperature. "Let's go inside," Bart said. "I'll build a fire."

"Good idea," Amy said. "I'm going to put a robe on to keep my shoulders warm."

Bart put on a pair of boxer shorts and made a fire. They played cards, drank beer, and enjoyed the flickering flames and the warmth the fire produced.

"Gin," Bart said and he put his cards on the table.

"You win," his daughter said and then she yawned loudly. "I'm ready for bed." She scratched her arm and then her stomach.

"Do you need a treatment?" Bart asked.

"Yes."

He went to the kitchen and poured vinegar into two bowls. He brought them, an empty bowl, and the bag of cotton balls. He placed them on the coffee table in front of the sofa they'd been sitting on. He said, "You do the front? I'll do the back?"

"Yes." She stood and moved to be closer to the fire. She shucked off the robe. It slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor.

"Oh," Bart gasped.

"What?" Amy asked as she turned and looked at him. "Is it getting worse?"

"No. I was struck by how beautiful you are. Your body is silhouetted against the fire. It's a lovely picture."

They turned to the task at hand and applied vinegar to her sores. Then they retired to their bedrooms.

^^^Day Four^^^

Their fourth day was a carbon copy of day three. The weather was just as nice. They spent the day naked, dined on fresh fish, and dealt with Amy's itchiness and Bart's erections as calmly as they had the day before.

^^^Day Five^^^

The fifth day was similar to the day before. Amy had another oatmeal bath and regular treatments from her father. An afternoon thunderstorm drove them inside the cabin. Bart read an old mystery he found on the bookshelf. Amy sketched the nude man stretched out on the sofa.

The weather cleared in time for Bart to catch some fish for dinner. In the evening, they played cards and board games in front of the fire. An untied robe was draped over Amy's shoulders. Her breasts played peek-a-boo. Bart covered his cock by wearing boxer shorts.