Jerry Takes Me to the Nudist Resort

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Ass Gape

Growing up, it was just me, my mom, an unknown father and a dead grandfather. I had no male role models in my life- until Jerry started coming around.

He wasn’t the worst of my mom’s boyfriends. In fact, after a couple months of seeing him on weekends, I started to like him. He often took us both out on dates, and was always a gentleman. A large and in charge gentleman that turned heads wherever we went, since he looked like fat Elvis.

Our family dynamic, regardless of who my mom was dating, was unconventional. Mom was a 70s burnout flower child, still on the freedom and love train. I’m lucky she didn’t grow up in Cali because the Manson family would have taken her impressionable soul and I wouldn’t exist today. She was witchy, highly sexual and very open with me and her many lovers, which included the various “pastors”, “teachers” and “shaman” that she romanced over the internet. This summer in particular had her flying out to see her new online boo- a young holistic healing coach who was a celibate asexual that was preserving his seed and therefore wouldn’t make a move on her old tired ass (her words). Whether it was all true or not, she convinced Jerry that he had nothing to worry about, so he allowed it. By this time, we were living at Jerry’s, so I had to keep him company for the week.

“Guess it’s just you and me kid,” Jerry said as he reclined in his lazyboy.

I was in the computer/ dining room, probably on Teen Chat Avenue, talking with strangers about Dawson’s Creek.

“Got any plans for us?” I asked, half jokingly.

Other than the occasional restaurant and movies trip with mom and Jerry, I had no life in this town. I hadn’t started my new school yet, and my old friends were hours away. Not that they would be any fun here anyway.

I was ready to carve out a new life in Hagersville. A new look and a new persona. I didn’t want to be the pale, scrawny, flat haired, flat chested science dork anymore. I wanted to flirt with boys.

“How about we treat ourselves,” Jerry said, “Ponderosa for the week?”

I almost choked on my Cherry Coke.

Ponderosa was the nudist resort on the outskirts of town. To a normal family, this suggestion from a step dad would be out of line, but mom and I had been visiting Ponderosa since I was little like it was no big deal. In fact, that’s where she and Jerry met. Nudity wasn’t mandatory, so me and most of the other kids and teenagers wore clothes. To us, the resort was just a place where we could swim and make fun of naked old people.

In my best casual, not-at-all-embarrassed voice, I agreed to spend a week at the nudist resort with my mother’s boyfriend. We packed our bags that night and left the next morning.

*

The lobby was packed- we had just missed the breakfast buffet.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in!”

The boomers at Rosa always had cheesy phrases like this. Mr.Morrison was a regular, and a high school teacher. I so badly wanted to meet one of his students so I could tell them about their teacher’s saggy ballsack.

“What, no Sherry!?” he yelled, aghast.

Jerry explained that she was out on a holistic cleanse and that I would be his date for the week. I thought that was funny. Just a step father and his daughter bonding at the ol’ nudist resort. We said yozgat escort our hellos and headed up to our standard two bedroom suite. I changed into my bathing suit, Jerry changed into nothing, and we started straight for the pool.

*

Mr.Morrison was already nipples deep in the water, Pina Colada in hand. Jerry plopped into a beach lounger with the morning paper. I, observing that there weren’t many people around yet, did a cannonball off the diving board. Despite my best efforts, I splashed Mr.Morrison, which invited him to talk to me.

“Hey little girl, you got chlorine in my drink!” he joked.

I cleverly responded with something along the lines of “it will just get you drunker.”

He laughed. The man looked over to Jerry and, noticing he wasn’t paying attention, motioned me to come over to him. I figured he was going to offer me some of his booze, so I obliged.

“Nice stroke,” he flirted, creepily referring to my frog-legs-spread whip kick technique. I awkwardly laughed and told him to give up the goods. I reached for the Pina Colada. He grabbed my wrist and said, “I’ve got something better”.

He must have sensed my nervousness, so he got creepier.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

I told him to stop playing. He reached around me and grabbed a second drink from the ledge. Looked like some kind of straight alcohol with ice cubes in it.

“That’s not my style,” I told him honestly. I only had a palette for Peach Schnapps, Pina Colada and Strawberry Daiquiris.

“It’ll warm you up.”

He must have noticed my goosebumps, which were only partly due to the fact that we were outside in a non heated pool before the sun even had time to warm up the day. I didn’t actually think that it would warm me up, but being that I was the kind of girl that caved into peer pressure- even when that pressure was coming from a peer 20 years older than me- I reached for the glass.

I coughed, nearly puking from the burn. Mr.Morrison shushed me. In a desperate attempt to hide my beet red face from Jerry, he grabbed my head and forcefully dunked me under the water.

I remember wondering what Jerry would have done at that moment, if he did see. While I was under, I fantasized about him launching up from his lounger, lifting Morrison out of the pool by the hair and punching his glasses straight into his eyeballs.

I whipped my wet hair hard as I came up, hoping to get Morrison in the face with one of my long ropey strands. I looked over to Jerry. He was watching us from over his paper. He chuckled, and went right back to reading. Some father figure.

Not long after did I begin to feel the placebo pangs of, what I thought at the time was, genuine alcohol intoxication. Given what was unfolding before me though, it was most likely just anger and nerves. I hung by the pool ledge and watched as a thick boned, big breasted, curly red headed lady set up next to my step father. She had the audacity to push my stuff off of my lounger and onto the floor.

Bold of her, I thought. I had never seen her around before, but she must have known Jerry. Although I couldn’t hear their conversation, they seemed to be getting along real chummy.

“So your mom tells me,” Mr.Morrison chimed in, “that you’re a legal yozgat escort bayan woman now.”

I felt my face flush. He said it in the exact same perverted tone that my mom said it in when she wished me a happy 18th birthday just a month before. Why the hell would my mom blab about me to Rosa randoms? Looking back now, I realize that wasn’t out of character for her. Mom has a big mouth, and no sense of shame or privacy.

Also looking back now, I realize that this was probably the day that I really did become a woman. It marks the day that I first embarked on my journey of losing my carefully crafted sense of schoolgirl shame and privacy.

This was the day that I became a little more like my dear mother.

Mr.Morrison, still ogling the red headed witch, took a sip of his Pina Colada and said, “you’d give these old Betties a run for their money.”

I asked what he meant.

“They’d give anything to go back in time for a body like yours.”

I was flattered. Any compliment regarding my pale lanky flat chested flat assed boy body was welcomed, even from creepy old dudes. I wondered if he talked to his students like this.

“I don’t know why you hide it!” he pulled at my bikini strap, snapping it against my shoulder.

“Strut your stuff girlfriend!”

I cringed.

Like I previously mentioned, I hated my body. They literally called me flat ass at school, and I was the recipient of that “you’re so flat the walls are jealous” joke so often that it actually became funny to me.

I looked down at my bikini top. Double A cup. That bikini top, like my bras, was just an excuse to feel like a woman. They supported nothing and served no purpose other than to hide my nipples from the world. Speaking of which, my nipples looked nothing like these other women’s- not even like my own mothers. Theirs were almost always dark, hard and perked. Mine were soft, pink and puffing out of my chest. I remember when I was younger I asked my mom why that was, and she told me what I now know to be true. Nipples get chaffed over time. Bodies change. So I rest assured that maybe mine would one day too.

I wondered if my nipples would at least get hard in the cold water.

I grabbed Mr.Morrison’s whiskey glass and slugged it back, like a main character in a movie just before they did something bold.

“Woah-ho!” exclaimed Mr.Morrison, “Down the hatch!”

I’m sure it looked cool at the moment, but I kept my lips tight and really only let a baby sip down the hatch.

I’ll try and make it no big deal, I thought, as I clumsily unstrapped my bikini top from under the water and dipped myself down. I opened my eyes to watch my top float off of my tits and sink down to the pool floor in slow motion.

My hypothesis failed- my nipples weren’t hard, but I’d be lying if I said the cool chlorinated water didn’t feel good against them.

I stayed down there until I couldn’t hold my breath anymore. I pushed myself up from the pool floor for my grand re-emergence. I let myself leap out the water like a dolphin, bare chest in the wind.

“Now you got the idea!” yelled Mr.Morrison from the shallow end, raising his whiskey glass in a toast.

I stayed in the pool that morning until I was good and pruned. Older folks escort yozgat started rolling in for their early bird dip, flashing me warm elderly smiles until they gave me the confidence to show myself on land. I swiftly climbed out and quickly shuffled to the diving board, fighting the urge to cower and cover up my naked chest, and fighting the urge to glance over at Jerry.

I wasn’t ready to pull off a running dive, so I just teetered on the edge of the board, bounced off and dove on the spot. What happened next was only appropriate, given where I was and how randy I was feeling that day.

My bikini bottoms slid off of my butt under the water.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened to me after a dive, but it was the first time that I didn’t frantically try and heave them back up. This time, I shimmied those pesky bikini bottoms right off, and kicked them out into the water in front of me.

“When in Rome,” I thought, and would say if Jerry asked why I was suddenly nude in the pool.

The whip kick never felt so good as it did that day. Totally nude and aerodynamic, there was nothing getting in between me and the water.

Of course I was in no rush to get out of the pool at this point. I kept wading hard to obstruct my naked body in waves, dipping in and out, being sure to keep my bare ass from bobbing up to the surface. I kept my nipples concealed in ripples.

I felt that special kind of exhilaration bubble up inside me. I even reached down and pet my clit a couple times, shaking at the fact that no one knew that I was bare- and throbbing- down there.

I know the word for that thrill now. Exhibitionism.

A couple more dunks- and a few more secret bean flicks- and I figured it was time to get out. The deck was getting packed and my naked body wasn’t going to stand out any more than anyone else’s. I submerged one last time to fetch my clothes, and the first thing I saw after rubbing chlorine out of my eyes was Jerry’s hairy toes hanging off the ledge. I looked up to his fat brown ballsack and beer belly. I wondered how my mom- and how that bitch that pushed my stuff on the floor- found this body type sexy.

Have you ever been repulsed by something so much that it starts becoming attractive? I still think about this often, and my best guess is that, since repulsion is just the opposite of attraction, there must be a thin line between the two.

I crossed the line that week, when I became sexually attracted to my step father.

“Get out, let’s warm up in the sauna,” he ordered.

“Yes sir,” I eagerly responded. I was excited at the prospect of the invite, but nervous about having to step out in the open. That would be my true test as to whether the liquid confidence Mr.Morrison fed me was actually working. My ass, nipples, and clit were about to see the sunshine for the first time.

Although a part of me wished Jerry had brought my towel with him, he managed to make me feel comfortable with my naked state. He stood over and watched me haul my butt up the pool ladder, bathing suit clutched tightly in hand, but made no cheeky remarks. He didn’t call attention to the fact that my little tits and peachy wet bush were sticking out as I shook myself dry. And he didn’t crack a joke as my flat bare butt skirted by him to grab my stuff off the floor next to that redheaded woman, whose ass was still plopped in my lounger. I avoided eye contact, but from my peripherals I saw her flash me a wink.

I wondered if she liked what she saw.

Jerry was already en route to the sauna. I slipped on my flip flops and followed.

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