Nude Day Terror at the Camp SitebySusanJillParker©
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A day of naked pleasure, not everyone celebrates Nude Day the same way, some go camping. Then, again, some celebrate Nude Day by going camping, while flashing.
Married three years ago today, July 14th, National Nude Day, George and Crystal celebrate Nude Day every year by Crystal getting naked and flashing her naked body to unsuspecting men. Something they've done, before they were even married as adventurous fun, when they were dating, they continued the tradition of flashing men to add spicy flavor to their marriage. Then, with sexy pillow talk later, about all their erotic adventures of exhibitionism and voyeurism, they'd replay their flashing incidences, while in bed together making love.
As much as he enjoys the look of shocked surprise on the lucky men she chooses to flash, George loves watching his wife parade around in the buff, especially when there are lots of men watching her naked form. He knows, after Crystal is done flashing for Nude Day, she'll be so aroused that she'll give him inspired sex. After she's done flashing for Nude Day, she'll come to bed wild for sex and hot for his cock. After she's done flashing for Nude Day, they'll return to the somewhat normal, albeit sexually promiscuous couple they are.
Only, this year, Crystal wanted to do something totally different for this combination Anniversary and Nude Day celebration. Rather than answering her hotel room door naked and walking through the hotel corridor to hit the vending machines and/or to get ice from the ice machine naked, she wanted to take her flashing outdoors. An outdoorsy type of woman, anyway, with a lot of begging, bribing, arm twisting, and cajoling, she convinced her husband to take her camping.
"Camping? Are you crazy? Camping? Are you nuts? I'd never go camping. Has all that blonde hair dye finally penetrated your mini brain? Do I look like a camper to you? Have you mistaken me, a city boy, an investment banker, as a Boy Scout and a lover of nature and the outdoors? I haven't gone camping since I was a kid. I hated it then and my opinion of camping hasn't changed any now. I hate the outdoors. I hate bugs. I hate that infernal noise that crickets make at night. Give me room service any day to bugs and sunburn."
"You don't have to be insulting, George," said Crystal with patience, while pleading her camping case to his voyeur side. "Think of all the fun we can have with you flashing my naked body to so many men around the campsite, George," said Crystal, while fondling his cock through his pants and blowing in his ear, before falling to her knees to unzip him, remove his prick from his pants, and stroke him. "Did you forget about that? Just imagine all the men, who will see me naked on Nude Day, our third wedding anniversary. You know how hot I get, George, when you flash men my naked body," she said taking his cock in her mouth and sucking him.
Never could he refuse Crystal anything, when she was sucking his cock. Giving him the best damn blowjobs he's ever had, she was such a talented cocksucker. Against going camping at first, he relented, when Crystal told him about all the flashing she'd do, as she blew him. Imagining all the fun he'd have flashing Crystal's naked body around the campsite, he still wasn't keen on the idea of camping, until he thought of all the naked fun they could have with all the men in the forest, who loved to camp, hunt, and fish.
He imagined himself standing off at a distance to watch men watching her dressing and undressing from her open tent flap. She could lose her bikini top in front of a select few men down by the water. Later, they could have sex in the forest knowing someone passing will see them and/or someone was watching them. Maybe he'd get lucky and, while she sunbathed naked, as she always does, three or four men would take Crystal and give her a gangbang, while he watched from a distance. Once upon a time, when she traveled the world high on drugs and alcohol in her modeling career, gangbangs were her preference.
A long drive to the campsite, by way of New Hampshire's long, winding Kangamangus Highway, George didn't mind driving because he was driving his brand new car, a triple black, custom made Bentley convertible. The only thing better than the feel of the car he received through the steering wheel and from the supportive driver's seat, was the looks of admiration and envy he received from the other drivers and passenger on the road. He loved it when people pointed and rubbernecked to get another look at his car, as he drove by them.
So much better than any of his old cars, mere Mercedes and BMW's, this car was worth every penny of the more than three hundred thousand dollars he spent to have it custom made for him. Taking care to park his car in a shady spot and out of the way of bird poop, after putting up the top and setting the alarm, he parked his treasured Bentley, a real black beauty, away from any trees. Then, following her lead, by taking the path least traveled, as if she had been here and done this before, he followed Crystal away from the campsites and through the dense forest, as if he were her luggage carrier, she was an explorer, and this was the uncharted wilderness.
"Honey, where are we going? The campsites are way back there," he said turning to look, as all the people faded from view, before disappearing over the horizon.
"We're just going to the end of this trail, George," she said walking five yards ahead of him. Hypnotized by watching her perfect ass arousing him, as if her butt cheeks were a live metronome that kept beat to her footsteps, he was content just watching her walk.
With Crystal walking without complaint of the heaviness of her knapsack, walking as if she was sashaying down the runway in a fashion show, he didn't want to appear, as the wussy man that he is by complaining, but he did, after a while.
"I'm getting tired," he said readjusting the heavy knapsack that he carried on his back and shoulders. "How much further is it?"
"It's just over the next rise, George."
"What in the Hell do you have in these knapsacks? Shoes? It's wicked heavy," he said repositioning the straps on his shoulders again.
"All the camping gear we need to set up camp with, sweetie," she said. "We can't camp out, unless we have a tent and cooking equipment," she said.
Half an hour later, after walking away from the campsite and through the woods for more than a mile, following a long winding, uphill foot trail, they finally came to a clearing.
"How much further, Crystal? This backpack is so heavy and I'm getting winded with all this walking. The only walking I'm use to doing is going from the house to the garage and from my desk at work to the coffee machine."
"We're here, George," she said walking to the end of the trail that stopped a hundred yards before reaching a high cliff that overlooked the vast splendor of the White Mountains.
"Thank God," said George dumping his heavy knapsack on the ground and collapsing in a heap.
Crystal ran to the cliff edge to look out at the view. When standing at the edge, as if overlooking Niagara Falls, there was a mountain stream of cold, clear water below. The rapid white water splashed white foam over big boulders that were washed clean from being there for thousands of years. Picture perfect, the view was spectacular.
"This is it! The end of the road! Look at this view, honey. It's so beautiful. This will make for a perfect campsite," said Crystal tossing back her long, blonde hair, as if she was about to give him a blowjob. "I want to take some pictures," she said reaching for her phone and taking half a dozen photos in all directions.
She surveyed the area with awe, while looking out over the vast vista, as if she was an explorer discovering a new territory. Only she looked ridiculous going camping with her long, manicured nails, designer outfit, and wearing her spiked, high heels, instead of sneakers. No longer Daddy's shooting, hunting, fishing, and adventure girl, once she started modeling, after she moved to Boston from Texas and married George, she was a spoiled diva.
"I don't like it here at all, Crystal," said George looking around with nervousness. "Something about this place doesn't feel right to me. I'm picking up on a bad vibe and my gut is never wrong. Trust me, I know. My gut has kept me out of prison."
"With all that walking and all this fresh hair, your gut is probably just hungry, dear," said his wife walking to him to pat his corpulent waistline.
"Nah, my radar is picking up on something and I'm always right. I always listen to my instincts. I have the instincts of a street cop."
"You a street cop?" She looked at him and laughed. "Make sure you tell the judge that you should have been a cop, when he tries you, convicts you, and sentences you for tax fraud, tax evasion, and for absconding with millions of your clients' investment funds."
"Very funny, Crystal, but most of those clients are dead or incapacitated in a nursing home. They have no idea what they have, don't have, and how much I took from them. Moreover, I worked hard for their money, investing it wisely for it to grow into small fortunes for me to steal. Much like Zero Mostel in the Producers and Nathan Lane in the remake, as Max Bialystock, I was the only friend many of them had. Taking them out to dinner, talking to them on the phone, and sometimes even forcing myself to have sex with them, their own children abandoned them to the likes of someone like me."
"Keep justifying what you did as altruistic and soon you'll believe that you're a hero, instead of a the villain and a common thief," said Crystal laughing.
"You don't seem to have a problem spending the money I give you, Crystal," she George with a defensive attitude. "Besides, after they signed over their power of attorney to me, all of our holdings are so hidden in the Cayman Islands that no government lawyer and CPA can untangle it to get to me. Even if there was a problem, with our assets all so liquid, we can leave the country at a moment's notice and disappear without a trace. I've already paid a man to prepare phony passports to get us out of the country should there be a warrant for my arrest."
"Whatever, George. I'm sorry I brought up work on our vacation," she said rolling her big, blue eyes and appearing already bored with the conversation. She looked out at the vast horizon again, before looking back at her husband. "So, why don't you like this spot? What's wrong with it? Look how beautiful it is. It's perfect. With the winding Kangamangus Highway in the distance, the views of the White Mountains in every direction are breathtaking. So much better than the smelly ocean, I just love the clean mountain air," she said taking a big, deep breath of fresh air.
"Why don't I like this spot? Well, for one," he said turning to look behind him through the woods. "We're too far out in the woods and too isolated. We're nowhere near the other campers. I'm sure there are bears out here. The restrooms are more than a mile walk back and I can't even see my car from here. Afraid something will happen to it, my new Bentley isn't even broken in, yet. Already, the best car I ever owned, I just love that car and I don't want anything to happen to it, Crystal."
"So that's it, you don't like this spot because you can't see your car. I know you love that car, George, the triple black goes with your black heart," she said with a laugh.
"Hey, all the great men from Rockefeller to Carnegie to Vanderbilt to Zuckerberg all had a checkered past of stealing from and/or taking advantage of the less savvy and/or less fortunate."
"Unfortunately, nothing has changed. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Even though, as your wife, I'm reaping the benefits of your unconscionable thieving through insider trading practices, exorbitant fees, and defrauding your clients, I still get a pang of guilt and a feeling of remorse, when I see the unemployment numbers on television and when I see old people eating cat food," she said fluffing out her blonde hair, before staring down at her fingernails. "Still, here we are on our vacation in the White Mountains and away from all of that."
"Maybe if I stand on this rock, I can see my car," said George ignoring his wife's sudden rash of conscience.
"Oh, stop worrying about your damn car, George. It's perfectly fine where you parked it between those two campers. No one can steal that thing with all the anti-theft devices you installed. The only thing that it doesn't do is shoot tear gas at anyone walking too close."
"I waited nearly four months for them to build that car, Crystal. It was my bonus to myself for surpassing all of my financial goals," said George with pride, while looking around to see why his wife so loved this spot. Other than the view, there wasn't anything he liked about it. "We're just too far away from everything out here. There's nothing way out here but trees and bugs," he said swatting at and missing a big bug that dive bombed him. "I can't even imagine this place at night."
"What fun is camping in the woods, George, if you're camping with a crowd of other people. We may as well stayed home and camped out in our backyard."
"I wanted to camp out in the backyard and put on a Nude Day flashing show for the neighbors to see, but you wouldn't hear of it. I wanted to have a Nude Day party with all of our guests attending the party naked. We could have had James setup our tent by the pool and Hilda could have brought out some barbequed food, while we pretended we cooked it around a campfire," he said with a satisfied smile. "To be honest, I wouldn't mind flashing Hilda my cock, on the pretense of it being Nude Day. She's very cute. Maybe if I had asked her, she'd join in the Nude Day fun and get naked, too."
"George please don't flash the household staff your cock. I'd be so very embarrassed," said Crystal with a hand to her shapely hip and a holier than thou attitude. "And I can't believe you're lusting over Hilda, when you have someone like me," she said pointing her manicured finger and stomping her high heeled foot with attitude.
"Yeah, well, as embarrassed as you're not, when lying out naked by the pool, while the staff looks out upon your naked body from their windows or when delivering you a cold drink or the phone, how is you flashing your tits, ass, and pussy to James any different from me flashing Hilda my cock or from me wanting to see Hilda naked?"
"That's different, George. I'm not flashing. I'm sunbathing. From my first modeling shoot, so as not to have tan lines ruin my shots, I've always sunbathed in the nude."
"I see," said George with a laugh. "Besides, Crystal, the reason why we're here is to celebrate our anniversary with Nude Day flashing activities," he said looking around their enormous, mountaintop campsite. "What's wrong with this picture?"
"There's nothing wrong with this picture," said Crystal holding up her camera to take more photos of the panoramic vista. "It's so beautiful. I'm going to send these to Daddy in Texas."
"No, not that picture, this picture," he said looking at her. "There's no one here for you to flash but birds, bugs, chipmunks, and raccoons. Where's all the men? You said you'd flash campers, hunters, and fishermen."
"To be honest, George. I need a break from flashing," she said with sadness. "Except for you by my side, I need to be alone. I'm tired of servants hovering over us, George, and after you had me flash the chauffer my pussy, when getting out of the car the other day, he's been different around me, more distant, standoffish, and not friendly at all. I know he saw my pussy and now he acts, as if he's afraid he'll lose his job for looking. Rather than being watched by the household staff, rather than flashing strange men my naked body, it's so much more fun to have some alone time with you."
"There's no reason why we couldn't have some alone time in a hotel suite, and remind me to have the head housekeeper fire the chauffer, when I get home."
"You're just being the girlie man that you are, George. Grow a set, just for today and act like a man for once. Embrace the outdoors. Breathe in that fresh mountain air. Enjoy the view, George, enjoy the view."
"Yeah, it's easy for you to be out in the outdoors. You're a country girl from Texas. Your Daddy took you big game hunting on African Safari. Born, raised, educated, and having worked in Boston all my life, my father didn't so much as take me to a ballgame to see the Red Sox play at Fenway Park. He was too busy. When he wasn't working, he was sleeping. Instead of circumventing the globe in the way you were a jetsetter Daddy's girl and supermodel, I spent my childhood masturbating over topless black woman in National Geographic in the back of the Boston Public Library in Copley square."
"Don't blame me for your sad, sorry life. Daddy invited you on safari with us. You could have came with us and bagged some big game," said Crystal. "You didn't want to go."
"Your father never liked me. Afraid that he'd mistake me for a hippo, I'd rather suffer through another seminar of IRS tax code changes than pretend that I was a big game hunter in the jungle of Africa. Even the lions would know they have a victim in me. Besides, in the cozy way that you two act together, something tells me that you bagged more than big game, when going on safari with your daddy."
"Just what do you mean by that, George?" With her hand on her hip, looking as if she was a mad Russian posing for a vodka commercial, she looked at her husband with steely, blue eyes.
"Everything with you is Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Just how much of a Daddy's girl are you? Tell me," he said pausing, before speaking, as if having second thoughts about what he was going to ask her. "Have you slept with Daddy? Did you suck Daddy's cock, Crystal?"
With her eyes welling up, she looked at her husband, while kneading her hands, before turning away to look at her beloved mountain view.
"I comforted my father, after my mother died, if that's what you mean by sleeping with him. I moved back to Texas from New York to take care of my father," she said raising her chin with stoic justification, "until he got over his grief."
"Did you sleep with him, Crystal? Knowing how much you love sucking cock, did you blow your father, Crystal."
"I, um, comforted him, when--"
"Did you have sex with your father, Crystal?"
"You make loving sex between a grieving father and a grieving daughter sound so dirty, George. How dare you judge me? What we had was beautiful. We came together at a time, when we both needed--"
"Oh, don't give me that crap. Grieving my ass. Tiffany was just another stepmother that your father banged and married. She wasn't even your real mother. You only met the woman the one time, at your father's wedding."
"I was there for my Dad. He was crushed and devastated. He was so down in the dumps that--"
"He married his fifth wife, within six months. Yeah, I can understand how devastated he was, when Tiffany died from electrocution, when her blow dryer supposedly fell in the bathtub and she reached for it without thinking. Isn't that what he told the police?"
"What are you saying, George? Are you accusing my father of murdering my stepmother?"
"Cleared of all charges by the local police, I'm not making any unfounded accusations. What I am saying is like father like daughter, having fucked every photographer and licked and sucked every model you ever worked with both male and female, you're such a slut anyway. In the way that he indulges you and buys you whatever you want, I figured you for having an incestuous relationship with your father, too. In the way that he looks at you and touches you, whenever you're together, especially when he thinks that I can't see, you having sex with your father doesn't surprise me. He's just as horny and perversely perverted as you are."