The warm evening breeze kissed my bare skin as I stepped out of my house, my 36C breasts bouncing slightly with each confident stride. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in orange and pink, and the world felt alive and electric. I took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill my lungs and send a rush of freedom through my veins.

This is it. I thought, This is living.

I didn’t need clothes to feel complete—my nudity was my armor, my declaration of independence. My neatly shaved pussy tingled as the breeze blew against it. I smiled to myself, reveling in the way my body felt so utterly exposed yet so right.

I was heading to the forest, my favorite place to unwind. The trees whispered secrets to me, and the dirt path beneath my feet felt like an old friend. I moved quickly, my naked form gliding through the evening air, my heart pounding with exhilaration. I knew the risks—cars occasionally passed by, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could hide forever. But I was careful, always ducking behind electric poles or slipping into bushes whenever headlights approached.

No one needs to see me unless I want them to. I thought, my confidence unwavering.

But tonight, fate had other plans.

As I approached my neighbor’s house, I heard the low rumble of a car engine. My head snapped toward the sound, and I froze. Too late! The car was already turning into the driveway, its headlights catching me in their glare. My heart leapt into my throat as I recognized the vehicle—it was my neighbor, Mr. Wilson, a man in his 60s, divorced and quiet, with a kind face and silver hair that always looked a little windswept. He stopped the car abruptly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of my standing there, completely nude.

My cheeks burned, but I didn’t move. I could run, of course, but something about the way he was looking at me—not with judgment but with curiosity—made me stay rooted to the spot. He rolled down the window, his voice carrying through the stillness of the evening.

“Stacey? What are you… why are you…” He trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. Here goes nothing.

“Umm… Hello, Mr. Wilson,” I greeted, smiling blatantly.

“I’m a nudist,” I added, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “I don’t wear clothes. This is who I am.”

He blinked, tilting his head as if trying to process this.

“A nudist,” he repeated, almost to himself.

Then, surprisingly, he smiled—a warm, genuine smile that made me feel a little less exposed.

“Well, that's… something,” he grinned. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk about it.”

I hesitated. Invitations from men—even ones as harmless as Mr. Wilson—always made me cautious. But something about him—about the way he hadn’t laughed or sneered or made me feel ashamed—made me nod.

“Okay,” I said softly and smiled. “Just for a little while.”

I followed him into the house, my bare feet padding silently against the cool hardwood floor. The interior was cozy and lived-in, with soft lighting and books scattered around. He gestured toward the couch, and I sat down, my body tense but my mind curious. He took a seat across from me, his eyes studying me with a mixture of fascination and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about this… lifestyle of yours.”

And so I did. I told him about my love for the outdoors, for the way the sun felt on my skin, and the freedom of being unencumbered by fabric. I spoke of the nude beach I frequently visited, the hikes through the forest, the cycling trails where I felt the wind against my most intimate places. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving my completely exposed skin, and when I finished, he nodded slowly.

"That's... incredible,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve never thought about it that way before. It’s like… you’re so connected to everything. To nature. To yourself.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.

“Exactly,” I said, excited. “It’s not just about being naked. It’s about being free.”

He leaned back, his gaze drifting over my body. I could feel the weight of it, the way his eyes lingered on my breasts, my pussy, and my legs. But it wasn’t lecherous—it was almost appreciative. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, “I think I’d like to try it. Being… free.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“Really?” I said, surprised.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yep, really,” he responded. “If you’re okay with it.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

He stood up, his hands trembling slightly as he began to unbutton his shirt. I watched, my breath catching in my throat, as he stripped off his clothes, revealing a body that was older but still strong, still full of life. When Mr. Wilson was finally naked, he turned to me, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“How do I look?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Umm… you look good, Mr. Wilson,” I said, and I meant it.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against my arm. His touch was tentative at first, but when I didn’t pull away, it grew bolder. His fingers traced the curve of my breast, and I let out a soft gasp, my body responding to his touch.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yes.”

His hand moved lower, brushing against my pussy, and I moaned softly, my body arching toward him. He was hesitant, unsure, but I could feel the desire in him—the way his breath hitched as he touched me. I wanted to stop him but I couldn’t. I had already begun to enjoy his touch.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

“I want you,” I said, my voice trembling. “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened with lust, and he pulled me into his arms, his lips crashing against mine. The kiss was hungry and desperate, and I melted into it, my body pressed against his. He laid me down on the couch, his hands exploring every inch of me. I groaned with pleasure, my pussy wet with anticipation.

Mr. Wilson positioned himself between my legs, his cock hard and ready, and he looked into my eyes, his expression filled with awe.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Yes,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m sure.”

He nodded, and then…

He didn’t waste a moment. His hands slid down my sides, his fingertips brushing over my hips and my thighs, until they settled just above my inner thighs, warm and inviting. I bit my lip, my breath hitching as his face dipped lower, his breath hot against my skin. I could feel his hesitation, his uncertainty, but there was also a hunger in him that I felt more than saw. His silver hair tickled my thighs as he leaned in, his tongue teasing the very edge of my neatly shaved pussy.

“Oh…” I moaned softly, my hands finding their way to his scalp, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Please…”

His tongue flicked against my clit, tentative at first, testing my response. When I arched my back, my hips lifting off the couch, he groaned against me, the vibration sending a shiver of pleasure through me. He started slow, his tongue circling my clit, teasing me and making me squirm beneath him. My moans grew louder, more desperate, and he responded by pressing harder, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently.

“Oh my god, Mr. Wilson…!” I gasped, my thighs trembling. “Don’t stop…!!”

He didn’t. His fingers joined in, sliding between my folds, parting me as his tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of mine. I was so wet, so ready, and he drank me in, his tongue lapping at me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. His fingers found my clit, rubbing it in tight circles, and I let out a cry, my hips bucking against his face.

“Yes! Just like that!” I begged, my voice breathless, my hands tightening in his hair. “Oh god, I’m so close!”

He didn’t let up. His tongue danced over my clit, his fingers worked with precision, and I felt the orgasm building—a coiled tension in my belly that threatened to snap. I bucked against him, my moans growing louder and more frantic, and just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he sucked my clit into his mouth, his fingers pressing hard against me, and I exploded.

My back arched off the couch, my thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure cradled over me.

“Ahhh… I’m cumming!” I cried out, my voice breaking, my body trembling with the force of it. He didn’t stop, licking me through it, drawing it out until I was whimpering, my body boneless and spent.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with my juices. He looked up at me with dark, hungry eyes.

“You’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough, his cock straining against my leg, hard and throbbing.

I stared at him, my chest heaving, my body still trembling from my orgasm.

“You… you’re amazing,” I breathed, my voice shaky.

I reached for him, my fingers brushing over his jaw, tracing the dampness I found there.

"Now... let me see you.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine, and then he nodded, shifting to kneel between my legs. I could see him fully now, his face flush with desire. His cock was thick, standing proudly against his stomach, the tip glistening with precum. I reached for him, my fingers wrapping around his shaft, and he groaned, his eyes closing as I gave him a slow, teasing stroke.

“You’re so hard,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the wetness there. “Does this feel good?”

“So good,” he moaned, his hips jerking slightly as I stroked him again. "You... you’re driving me crazy, Stacey.”

I smiled, a soft, wicked curve of my lips, and then I leaned forward, my tongue flicking out to taste him. He groaned, his hands clenching into fists as I took the tip of his cock into my mouth, my tongue swirling around it. I sucked gently, my lips tight around him, and he let out a strangled sound, his hips thrusting slightly into my mouth.

“Fuck…” he growled, his voice ragged. “You’re going to make me...”

I pulled back, my lips releasing him with a soft pop, and I looked up at him with a teasing smile.

“Not yet, Mr.” I said, my voice low, sultry. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes blazing with need, and I pushed him back, guiding him to sit on the couch. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and my wet pussy pressing against his hard member. I could feel him throbbing against me, and I rocked my hips slightly, making him groan.

“You’re ready for me?” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “You want this?”

“God, yes,” he moaned, his hands gripping my hips. “Please, Stacey.”

I reached between them, guiding him to my entrance, and then I sank down onto him, inch by inch, until he was buried deep inside my swollen pussy. We both gasped, our bodies trembling with the intensity of it. I was so tight, so wet, and he felt so big! He was so right inside my wet hole.

I started moving slowly, my hips rolling against his, my hands braced on his shoulders. His hands slid up my sides, his fingers brushing over my breasts, teasing my nipples until they were hard and aching. I moaned, my head falling back as I rode him, my pace gradually increasing.

“Wilson…” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “You feel so good!”

He groaned, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his hips thrusting up to meet mine. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, our moans mingling as we moved together, our bodies slick with sweat. I could feel the coil of pleasure building inside me again, tighter, hotter, and I knew I was close.

“I’m going to…” I panted, my hips moving faster and harder. “Oh god, Wilson, I’m going to…”

“Cum for me,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands guiding my hips. “Let go, Stacey.”

I cried out, my body tightening around him as the orgasm slammed into me, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through my swollen honeypot. He groaned, his hips jerking as he followed me over the edge, his cock pulsing inside me as he shot load after load of his seed inside me.

I collapsed against him, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and he held me close, his hands stroking my back.

We stayed like that for a long moment, our bodies still connected, our breaths slowly returning to normal.

Finally, I lifted my head, my eyes meeting his, and I smiled softly.

“That was...” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine.

“Amazing,” he murmured against my lips. “You’re amazing.”

I smiled, my fingers brushing over his cheek, and then I shifted, sliding off his lap. He watched me as I stood, my naked body glowing in the soft light of the room. I reached for his hand, pulling him up, and he followed me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re incredible,” I said softly, my voice filled with admiration.

Mr. Wilson smiled, his hands resting on my waist.

“I should probably go,” I said, glancing at the window while the last light of the evening was fading.

“Stay,” he said quickly, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the thought of me leaving already felt unbearable.

I hesitated, my eyes searching his face.

“I can’t,” I said finally, my voice gentle. “I’ve got plans in the forest.”

He nodded, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Of course. I understand.”

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“But this isn’t goodbye,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Wilson.”

I walked out, my bare feet padding softly on the floor. He watched me go, his heart aching with a strange mix of longing and gratitude.

As I stepped outside, the cool evening air greeted me, and I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the day still lingering on my skin. I looked up at the sky, the stars beginning to appear, and smiled to myself.

“Now,” I thought. “On to the forest.”