Must Love Dogs

[EddieDavidson]

One thing I love about this forum is that I can post very quickly without submission taking so long.

One thing I do not love is often the feedback that I receive is far from constructive. I used to think this was a great site for collaboration but then a few trolls got me so frustrated that I set aside the stories they trolled and never returned to them.

They wrote feedback like "Go outside and touch grass" or basically to stop writing because it wasn't their personal idea of a story. If that's your feedback, that's not the inspiration I am looking for.

I am also not looking for "You should finish it."

I'd love to get some insight. Feel free to private message me with it! (please)


Last night, I worked on this story, but this morning, I am not sure I want to finish it. I also thought about removing the lead-in.

I wrote a story last night that was good (IMHO). Jeff answered Diane's personal ad "Must Love Dogs" and we discover early in the story that she felt anyone who loved dogs, would be loved by dogs back. Dogs only love good people.

She can't have a dog at her apartment because she lives in NYC and her lease forbids it. I won't spoil it for you in case I do publish it but I will just say that Diane is a home nudist and she has been reluctant to allow a man she is dating to meet her kids (For what should be obvious reasons).

However, one fine July day, it's been six months of casual dating and Diane staying arms-length from Jeff. Jeff is also a single parent with a son (Who is the story teller) that he shares custody with. The storyteller's mom is the anti-diane - very conservative, very vanilla. Doesn't like "too much flavor" in her food. You know the type?

Diane offers to introduce Jeff to her daughters and son, and meet his son at the same time. She suggests the NYC Body Painting day in Times Square.

My plan was to have them think this is a bit odd/extreme but Diane's reasoning is that as a home nudist, if Jeff and son react maturely to nudity it will be safer to bring them over to her house. Storyteller just thinks maybe they should have tried to eat pizza first and go from there, but Diane likes being adventurous because her ex-husband was kind of a dick and anti-adventurous.

I start writing what I think is a fun walk to Father Duffy Square where the event is taking place. I add some bonding moments, and they see Desnudas taking pictures with tourists. This is a real thing at Time Square. It's usually hispanic ladies, big titties, wearing mostly body paint, maybe Statue of Liberty themed. People will often come up and proposition them, offer to buy their sweaty panties, grab their butts while they take pictures, ask to sign their tits. They aren't as common as pigeons but they are as iconic as Naked Cowboy.

Who incidentally, is not naked. He wears underwear with cowboy hats and boots, and one of Diane's daughters points out that is very New York, to say something is one thing but its not when you get there.

I realized as I was writing all this that it's not super exciting and in fact, might bore you. I tacked a short portion from when they first arrive at the festival to the start of the story so that I begin with an exciting and provocative place. You don't know these characters yet and their motivations but it gives me a chance to offer some foreshadowing, grab you by the balls and make you realize "Oh, this is going to be an ENF/CMNF story!! nice."

Then I say "It was hard to believe I was being painted by my Dad's girlfriend's oldest daughter just thirty minutes after meeting her."

I transition back to their meeting at 42nd Street station, and start the story proper after giving you a taste of the story.

Once I come full circle to where the story began, I had to jump forward again so that I don't repeat all that. I started to fall out of love with Diane and her life. The reason is that I've written Diane or women quite like her in a dozen other (mostly) unpublished stories and I wasn't feeling it. I lost interest.

Thoughts on how to revive my interest? I have zero feedback normally.

[EddieDavidson]

(This is all rough draft format)


“I want Jeff to do me!” Diane’s daughter was completely nude and jumped up and down excitedly. Everything she wore to the Nude Body Painting event was off, and her exquisite tight little body was fully exposed.

I’d never see a girl a little older than me, act so natural and excited about being naked. In truth, I’d seen plenty of nudity on the Internet but I’d never seen a female naked in person.

Now, I was in one of three tents in Father Duffy’s Square off of 7th street in New York City. The square with the red steps people use as bleachers was perfect for looky loos that were curious about the crazy people who had stripped off and begun applying paint to themselves and each other.

Dozens of people were already either naked or in various straights of undress as they were painting one another in an annual Body painting festival that took place right out in broad daylight near Times Square. Taxis, buses and foot traffic walking past with

Clara’s titties were shaped like small pyramids, culminating in cherry red pointy tips. They didn’t jiggle, there wasn’t enough fat on them to jiggle or bounce when she hopped around with excitement about being naked. A full hairy bush of curly black pubes, no tan lines on her thin sun-kissed bronzed body. Her two braided pony tails of brown hair slapped her shoulders and back as she hopped from foot to foot excitedly.

My father was horrified. “Um, your mom or sister should probably do you, Glitter,” he gently called Clara by her nickname. Even though there were several other naked people stripping down and getting painted for the Annual Body Paint Day in Father Duffy’s Square, it seemed like all nearby eyes were on the cute girl’s smiling, eagerly innocent but completely unexpected request for my father to paint her nude body.

“I am sorry, but it looks like I have already been claimed,” Diane chuckled as if she had no choice, while Patrick grabbed his mother’s wrists and hastily made her walk backward to a table so that he could paint her. Patrick had so many ideas, and he was eager to begin. He rubbed his hands together fiendishly like an adorable chipmunk that had been spliced with a diabolical mad scientist. His mom put up no resistance at all, as she chuckled.

Patrick was my age, yet we were so different. Diane’s son was gregarious, outgoing and not at all bashful. I was introverted and cautious about everything. Patrick looked like the hometown hero that gets the girl. He’s the blonde, handsome kid that the crowd roots for and should be the main character in anyone’s story but you got me instead.

I am the introverted, brainy, star wars nerd who was too afraid to take his jeans all the way off, standing there with my shirt over my shoulder because I think my shoulders are bony. I look like Jesse Eisenberg’s introverted cousin with black curly hair and a big nose.

“What do you want to be, Mom?” Patrick sized up the paints, brushes, sponges, and supplies available to us for body painting. He was completely naked. His dong was impressive, but what was more impressive to me was that he didn’t have a raging boner like I did.

Nobody did. There had to be at least eight men completely naked already around the three tents we were using for body painting and not one of them had popped wood.

It shocked me, because even though my father’s date was certainly the hottest woman at the event so far, there were about twelve naked women or women in just a thong or various states of undressing.

Many were chubby or older, but titties are titties, and they were just casually naked as if people walking past on 7th avenue should expect naked people on the sidewalk as they shop and visit the various tourist attractions around Times Square.

Diane had short brown hair, a beautiful face and a sassy smirk that made it seem like she was thinking of a joke that only she knows. My father’s date had perfect fake tits that were lifted and separated in the most unnatural but sexy way possible. Her nipples were perfectly symmetrical but strangely they stuck out about three inches like two pieces of weathered clay.

Her pussy was shaved bald, and she had a tattoo on her butt cheeks that I couldn’t read because she had sat up on the table and was looking around to get inspiration.

“Oh, you can do me anyway you like, Patrick,” she decided when she couldn’t make up her mind on a design for her body painting. The wording of her answer made my cock twitch in the most shameful of ways.

She was my FATHER’S GIRLFRIEND. I’d never met her until today, but I knew I shouldn’t be lusting after her. “Casey, why don’t you do your sister?”

Clara’s older sister had stepped out of her clothes while I wasn’t looking. I frankly didn’t think she’d actually strip down. When we met the girls at the Subway, she seemed more than a little reluctant and skeptical about participating.

There she stood, six foot tall, blue eyes, Platinum blonde hair, built like Wonder Woman’s Goth little sister. She still wore the spiked black collar she had on when I met her and a pair of Doc Marten boots but nothing else.

My eyes flicked up and down her body in what felt like an eternal perfect moment. Unlike her mother, Casey had sprouted perfectly natural, tits that sagged like two perfectly ripe butternut squashes hanging off her chest and sloping back up to expose her cherry sized nipples. God-damn, they were the nicest tits I’d ever seen in my life.

Hands down, I preferred the natural imperfection of Casey’s youthful, veinless titties, to Diane’s smooth, surgically perfected, Barbie Doll knockers.

I glanced down at Casey’s belly button, and watched the piercing move as she replied to her mother “Let’s get this over with, Glitter. What kind of puppy do you want to be?” She sighed reluctantly and turned toward her little sister.

I caught just enough of her well trimmed muff to want to see more, before she turned and exposed her perfect milky white, unpainted bubble butt to me. I began to study how the half-crescent of her shapely buttocks jutted out and admire the sexy ass crack that she clenched so tightly that I had no hope of seeing the treasures contained within the darkness.

“No!, No! I want Jeff to do me,” Clara hopped up and down stubbornly.

“Mom said that I have to do it, and as you see,” Casey extended her arms to emphasize her naked form to her little sister “I didn’t want to be here and do this, but here I am tits out, getting stared at like a zoo animal. If mom says I gotta paint you, I hope you like black and purple because I don’t do any other colors.”

My father appeared relieved. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked down. He was still in his underwear and hadn’t stripped down completely, just like me.

“It’s okay,” Diane shrugged dismissively at Casey, as her younger daughter pouted over not getting her way. “Jeff, would you mind? Can you paint Clara up like a puppy dog, please?”

“Oh goody, goody, gum drops, goody, goody, gum drops,” Clara bounced around from side to side.

I noticed a few men glancing in our direction, but most paid little attention as even more people started stripping and picking out painting stations or talked to one another at the event. One guy even snapped Casey’s picture while she stood akimbo waiting for her mother to finish her thought.

Patrick was already painting his mother’s tits orange with a sponge brush, creating flowery loops around the outside of her nipples. He had absolutely no thought for his mother’s modesty as he held them in his hands.

”Well, I could but I don’t want to make Clara Belle uncomfortable, are you sure?” My father didn’t want to blow his chances with Diane by doing something that might make him seem like a pervert.

Clara Belle was insistent that my father paint her, and she crossed her arms stubbornly over her tiny titties.

“In retrospect, I probably should have chosen a different venue for introducing our kids to each other. I always wanted to go to Body Painting Day in NYC and I knew it was coming up this weekend. I’ve always dated guys that were too afraid to come to it, and you seemed like you were a little adventurous and daring, so I thought, why not? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable Jeff, but Clara clearly wants you to paint her – so paint my daughter.”

“Oh, I am sailboat and long walks on the beach adventurous,” Jeff mused with a sweet smile as he quoted from the single’s ad he answered online when he first met her. “The title of your ad said must love dogs, so I thought we’d go to a dog park. I didn’t know that I’d be painting your daughter up like a puppy,” Dad sounded more than a little reluctant.

“It’s okay, Clara. Come over here, and Mommy will paint you up while Patrick paints me,” Diane didn’t seem disappointed. She was simply too polite to push the issue with my father.

“Urrrgggghhhhh,” Clara narrowed her eyes at my father and growled like an angry dog.

“Now hold on, I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Dad offered brightly. “I just um, you know, I thought I was going to paint you,” he said to Diane.

“You can paint me later,” Diane winked at him suggestively.

“Gross, get a room you two,” her older daughter scrunched her nose in disgust and glared at the camera guy who had taken pictures of her. She didn’t try to hide her nudity but with one stare she silently told him she’d shove that camera so far up his ass that he’d be taking pictures of his colon with it. He moved away abruptly.

“I just don’t want to paint any place you don’t want to be painted, okay?” My dad moved over to Clara Belle gently and picked up a brush and started futzing with the paints.

“I want to be painted top to bottom, Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” Clara bounced on her toes excitedly. All was forgiven, no more scowling anger. “Mom, can I wear my tail and collar?”

“Jeff, the reason I titled my single’s ad Must Love Dogs, wasn’t that I loved the original movie. I’ve actually never seen it. I can’t stand romantic comedies and people say I look like Diane Lane and now that Patrick mentioned it, you do look a bit like John Cusack, so we should probably watch it one night.”

Patrick continued painting his mother’s tits while she explained her real reason for the title to her single’s ad.

“When I got divorced, we were about to get a puppy. We were all very excited about extending our family to include a pet – everyone except my ex-husband who hated dogs but didn’t tell me that. We picked out the perfect little dog but he hated my husband and probably for good reason. Dogs can sense good people, and I thought anybody who loves dogs, would be loved by a dog.”

That was a truly sweet sentiment, and I was touched by it.

Her eldest stuck her finger in her mouth, pushed it down her throat and tried to make herself actually vomit over the sentimental story. It was classic Casey-face behavior and surprisingly her mother wasn’t angry about it.

“Oh stop, you wanted a dog just as badly as Clara and Patrick!” Diane assured her.

“Nobody wanted a dog more than Glitter!” Casey countered with what she considered to be Clara’s undisputed love of dogs.

“That’s where Clara got her nickname. Clara picked out the name Glitter because when you use Glitter it gets everywhere and she felt it made people happy wherever it got stuck.”

My throat became dry, and I felt a melancholy sweetness wash over me. This family bickered and argued but they loved one another so deeply. I was envious of their bond because I was an only child.

“We didn’t go through with the adoption of the dog after the divorce because our lease forbids dogs. Clara cried for about a month, and it nearly broke all of us, but then one day Clara put on the collar we got for Glitter and started running around the house barking and yapping playfully and told us if we can’t have that Glitter – she’d be our pet.”

It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard, and my mom forces me to watch Christmas Hallmark movies with her every year – so I know sappy and heartfelt when I see it.

“Clara is autistic mom, she gets off being Glitter because it’s a form of self-stimming to bark like a dog as a form of non-verbal communication, sensory regulation, and to cope with stress and overwhelming emotions,” her older sister explained in a way that suddenly made the behavior feel more practical and pragmatic. “That’s why you indulge her and let her get away with insisting a total stranger paint her body.”

Diane’s eyes narrowed and for a moment, the sound of the New York Cabs, Double-Decker Buses, the hot dog vendors, the hustlers selling tours of the statue of liberty on the street corner, the naked participants at the event, the sounds of the city stopped and all I heard was an awkward silent pause. It was as if when Diane really did get serious with her kids, they could tell from the silence that they went too far.

“Yes, I am well aware that your sister is autistic. A fact that embarrasses her and now you’ve made not only my date and his son aware of that fact, but half the participants here probably overheard you.”

Clara’s eyes reddened and her pretty face went form a sunshiny day to hiding behind darkening storm clouds in an instant. Patrick stopped painting his mother long enough to cast an angry stare at his older sister.

“I am sorry, Clara,” the tough, mature, goth girl suddenly sounded like a vulnerable unsure teenager that just realized her mistake and made an honest, heart-felt apology to her little sister. Casey said “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. Autism isn’t anything to be embarrassed about. Everybody has something. You know what I have right?”

“You have resting bitch face, and Cuntism, so you can’t stop being an uncontrollable meanie butt and sour puss?” Claria dried her eye, sniffed and said it with a straight face that was so dead pan that It was almost comical.

“Yes, that’s right, except Casey resting bitch face has progressed to stage two,” Patrick added. “Now, she has wake up bitch face.”

I thought just like when his older sister couldn’t stop firing back insults at her little brother when they got into a little teasing match that Casey would say something cruel to both of them.

“That’s true, and for only 12 cents a day, you can send your donations to the Help-A-Bitch foundation,” Casey turned in a semi-circle to address all the looky-loos who had stopped to eavesdrop on the conversation. “You can help a bitch like me, who is afflicted with all the time bitch face, and Advanced Cuntism. I developed it as a mechanism to deal with my shitty life, and my parents’ divorce. Okay? Fuck off and go back to painting your tits,” she told one heavy set woman who was painting her own body in a crazy pattern of red and blue swirls.

Diane’s family lightly chuckled their forgiveness for what Casey had said earlier and let the matter drop. Patrick went back to painting his mother’s tits.

“You are worried about embarrassing Glitter, but did you ever stop to think maybe I would be embarrassed about having half of New York see my big fat ass hanging out on the sidewalk?” she shot a thumb toward her cute ass as she addressed her mother.

“You don’t have a shitty life, Casey. You WANT a shitty life so you can play the victim and blame everyone else for not doing enough for you. I am legally obligated to put a roof over your head and food in your tummy. I spend every single day dedicating my life to giving you the best life you can possibly have, girlfriend.”

Casey opened her mouth to reply but Diane insisted she wasn’t done talking and Casey would have to wait until she finished.

“You live in a nice apartment, go to the best school I can afford, and you are loved by the best people in the world. You don’t have an ass that needs to be hidden, and you’ve proven that by wearing the skimpiest, tightest leather miniskirts, WITHOUT panties, may I add, to said expensive school despite it being against the rules. We are all naked, so it’s not like you are the only one without clothes, and you have something nobody else has ever seen. Today is not about Casey Mulloley and her Advanced Cuntism or Bitchography. Why don’t you paint Lucas, and let this drop? We’ll talk about outing your sister for her autism when we get home.”

“I am sure I am going to have time on the wall over it, it was a shitty thing to do, Mom. I am sorry. You didn’t ask me if I wanted to get painted. You volun-told us we were going to get painted like you always do and didn’t even ask if I wanted to do this.”

“Look, I get it, Casey. You have been pissy and bratty because you’d like to keep things the way they are. Your Cuntism flairs up anytime I dare to bring around some guy that I like and voila, you magically make my date disappear and think twice before getting involved with the crazy naked lady raising three kids on her own. You are not going to get time on the wall if you just zip your lip and talk to me later at an appropriate time. We are all naked and getting painted. You already have your clothes off and no one here cares,” Diane extended an arm to the three tents of what must have been about 30 nude or semi-nude participants in Nude Body Painting day.

Patrick grabbed her arm and silently began decorating with finger paint that he dabbed along the lines of his mother’s graceful arms.

“You matured early, and since you looked like an adult people treat you like one. I volun-told you to get your CUTE ass, by the way, there are women who would kill for a perfect butt like yours,” Diane observed before adding “to get out of the apartment and come have fun with all of us because it’s important to me that you meet Jeff. Just like everyone else, I make mistakes and I’ve picked some real losers. I was careful this time with Jeff and he’s special. I thought we could go to Juniors and eat pizza or do something traditional and play it safe, but I really wanted to do this body painting thing, but not alone. I wanted it to do it with the people that I love.”

“Fuck you,” Casey’s response wasn’t angry. She said the words to her mother in the most endearing, loving way that facetiously made it sound like she was disappointed she’d run out of ammunition for her argument.

“I know, I know, you wanted me to argue with you some more, air more dirty laundry, and scare off Jeff and Lucas so that you three can have me all to yourselves. Is that it?” Diane smiled lightly.

The thought that some of Casey’s antics since we met her were performative to test my father and see if he met her standards had occurred to me, but it made more sense that she was simply trying to maintain the status quo in her family life and had no intention of letting my father get close to her mother and change that. Casey’s silence confirmed that her mother knew exactly what her daughter was like.

Diane casually twirled her fingers so that Casey would know the discussion was over, and she should paint my body.

A prospect that I was genuinely terrified of having done because I was harder than an SAT written by a Vulcan instructor in his native language.

Casey spun on her heel, and suddenly all of her attention was focused on me. She stood like a punk rock Amazon and even though she was only a few inches taller than me, she made me feel very small with her eyes.

“Why aren’t you naked, yet?” she asked. “Too busy staring at my butt or laughing about how weird my family is?”

“Actually, I love how you all accept each other and communicate. I am an only child and..”

“Enough with the stories, Chumley. No one cares, and you may be fascinated by us because we have tits, and pretty faces but our shit will sour when you get to know us better and you won’t feel that way. So, let’s fucking get on with this. If I have to be naked, you damned sure have to be naked.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore than you do,” I tried to find some common ground and express some mutual empathy for her situation as I adjusted my belt nervously. I felt like I had no choice but to get naked now that she asked me to strip.

“Pants off, dick out, mouth shut,” Casey listed off what she wanted like she was ordering a cheeseburger at White Castle. “That boner you’ve had since 42nd Street is probably ready to explode if it hasn’t already,” she rolled her eyes.

I began to blush. I thought I had managed to hide my constant erection by adjusting my pants. I unzipped it.

“I am not…um, not like that,” I stammered a defensive excuse that clearly meant nothing to Casey.

“Look, all guys get boners. You can’t help it, you are perverts. It’s not like yours is the first one I am going to see. I doubt I am going to be impressed,” she said as she watched me pull down my baggy, ill-fitting jeans and noted my underwear.

“Nice underwear,” she folded her arms in front of herself, with amusement. “I didn’t know they came in yellow stain. I am guessing a little brown skid in the back?”

She was obviously patronizing me, but the underwear I had on wasn’t perfectly clean and I began to blush even harder.

“Let me see if I have this straight. You knew you were going to a body painting day where you had to be naked, and you wore dirty fucking underwear that hasn’t been washed in a month or more?”

“No,” I whispered as a suggestion Casey keep her voice down and not humiliate me further. “I didn’t really think about it, but I assumed we could wear pants or underwear or something.”

“Underwear ALL the way off,” Casey pointed to my feet. “Dirty socks too. I Am not painting you with those skids on your ass, and those ugly socks on your feet. If you do become my step brother, you are going to have to stop dressing like a total dick head.”

“Maybe he has early stage Dickheadism like Patrick, did you ever think of that?” Clara teased playfully. My father was struggling to deal with his own uncomfortable situation as Clara fidgeted and didn’t stay in one place long enough for him to paint her. He had been painting Clara’s stomach and just her stomach this entire time.

“That’s an incurable disease, Glitter. You probably shouldn’t joke about it because he can’t help his awkward nervousness,” Casey responded with a warm and fuzzy but slightly patronizing imitation of how people often address her sister’s real disease of autism. “I think they both have Nevernudeism,” she added as she pointed to my father’s underwear. “They won't take their underwear off because they think their pricks are special wands that nobody else is allowed to see.”


“I was just going to take mine off after I finish painting Clara Belle, so that I didn’t make her uncomfortable,” Dad offered a nervous defense of his choice to keep his undies on. It made sense to me but not to anyone else.

Patrick turned his head, and said “I’ve got my wang-dang out, so does every other guy here, except you two.”

He was right, any guy who was getting painted had his dick out, but there were no erections anywhere. Most of the women were naked, but some wore tight thongs or had duct tape strategically placed over their nipples and pussy slit.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were also naked,” Clara admitted to my father and then added “I’d also really rather you call me Glitter.”

“If your sure,” Dad wasn’t sure, but he started to take his underwear down as Clara wasn’t reluctant in the least about what she just told him.

“I think you’ve painted my tummy white enough, do the rest of my puppy fur now, please,” she raised her arms and shimmied her body back and forth

“Well, you sure are comfortable with your nudity Clara, I mean Glitter,” my father tried not to stare at the cute girls tits swinging back and forth as she danced in place excitedly.

“That’s because we are home nudists, I am always naked at home,” Clara admitted.

I had my pants down around my ankles and I was cupping my dick with my hand, trying not to spooge in my hand and desperate to just masturbate so I could get all the cum that was welling up inside of me out of my balls and into a tissue.

“That’s another reason I didn’t invite you over, Jeff,” Diane explained as her son pantied straight lines with his fingers down his mother’s arm extending from her arm pit. “I wanted to see how you handled nudity, and presumably Lucas. If you both giggled or gawked and were uncomfortable, I’d be more cautious about inviting you over. We don’t wear clothes in our apartment. It's started as an expression of freedom after my divorce, but it’s actually a very healthy way of normalizing the body, just like this event.”

“Amen to that,” a heavy black woman with charcoal colored skin, and short black wavy hair that was probably a wig, agreed. Her tits were so long and fat that they hung down over her belly and her nipples pointed to the pavement.

“Yeah, home nudism, all the way. That’s how I want to raise my kids if I ever have any,” a skinny white guy was crouched at her ass, painting the American flag on her exaggeratedly huge ass with his fingers. “It’s just skin,” he added and introduced himself as Blaze.

The only thing he was wearing was a colorful knitted Rastafarian cap with Jamaica’s colors of black, green and gold, with marijuana leaves embroidered on the side, and a big 35 mm camera hanging from a strap around his neck.

Blaze looked like the classic Starbucks barista that plays hackey sack and ultimate frisbee in central park, smells like weed, patchouli and incense, and listens to the Spin Doctors and R.E.M. I’ve seen guys like him working at the comic shops that I visit.

They usually wear tye-dye, ride an e-biki to work, and keep their nappy blonde dreadlocks in a man bun.

Blaze was naked, but he just gave off that Shaggy from Scooby Doo vibe. When the skinny guy stood up his long dick drooped down like a flagpole. “This is my life partner, Mistress Boo.”

it seemed like a really odd pairing, but this was New York and odd pairings were the norm.

“Pleasure to meet, y’all,” she said with an inviting smile that made you looked directly at the gap tooth in the center of her mouth. It made her look kind of trashy and sexy. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but it’s nice to meet folks who aren’t here for a cheap thrill and believe in artistic expression.

“It’s a pleasure, I am Diane, this is Jeff, and his son Lucas, these my daughters Casey, Clara and the artist that is using my body as his canvas is Patrick.”

Patrick turned on his heel, doffed an invisible top hat, and spoke in a mock upper class Victorian accent. “Charmed, the pleasure is all mine, Mistress Boo, and Blaze.”

“A fellow Aesthete and student of the arts,” Blaze looked up from his girlfriend’s massive black ass with amusement. “I moved to New York to attend art school, but then I discovered Mistress Boo! What are your inspirations? Mine are Robert Crumb, and works from the Spanish Museum in Prado, artists like works by Titian, Rubens, Tintoretto, and Velasquez.”

“I am just painting daisies and rose bushes on my mom because they smell nice like her,” Patrick sounded dumb but sincere and he instantly charmed the couple.

“You do you, little man,” Blaze smiled.

“Will you paint a few on me, when you finish?” Mistress Boo asked.

“What about right now,” Patrick audaciously put his hands on the black woman’s tits, lifted them up and started to paint yellow roses around her chocolate colored nipples.

“Oh, okay, this is happening,” Mistress Boo looked amused but shocked that Patrick had dared to grab her tits. “I always say no time like the present,” she smiled at him and watched as he painted her tit.

“Are you going to watch my brother or get your junk out so I can see what I am working with?” Casey sounded slightly jealous when I lost focus and observed the goings on with her mother and that other couple.

“I am hard, so I was waiting for my boner to subside,” I whispered through clenched teeth as I blushed furiously.

“I want to blow this popsicle stand and end this humiliation sooner than later, so the sooner we paint each other, the sooner it ends,” she said as she pulled my hands away.

My dick twitched and spasmed involuntarily when she reminded me that I’d get a chance to paint her, and as terror filled my veins when she pulled my hand away and exposed my boner.

I thought she was going to laugh, but instead Casey seemed pleasantly surprised. She even raised her eyebrows a little and regarded my cock as if she was assessing it for size, girth and beauty like I had when I discovered her tits for the first time. “Nice dick.”

I doubt anyone in a tent full of painted penises and boobs would have paid that much attention to me, even with an erection if she hadn’t said anything. My own special magic trick is that I am able to blend in and make myself disappear by being so ordinary and unremarkable that people look past me.

Unfortunately, Casey has pretty much only one volume setting and that’s loud. My father turned his head and looked right at my boner and I couldn’t have been more mortified.

My father gingerly painted around Glitter’s face meticulously trying to get whiskers and make her appear like a dog, while avoiding her tits completely.

Glitter looked at my cock, and also seemed impressed. I expected her to be horrified. Her older sister seemed streetwise and experienced but Glitter had an innocent quality to her that made it a shock that she silently assesed my cock.

Several people were in the tent behind me, and they probably heard Casey as well but I had my back to them and I was not going to turn around and expose myself to even more humiliation.

Diane glanced in my direction, but she didn’t crane her neck to see my pecker. Patrick did. He stopped with yellow on his paintbrush while still painting Mistress Boo’s first titty and stood on his tippy toes to see my cock.

“We are about the same size when I am hard,” he shrugged. Mistress Boo flashed him a wicked smile and told him to do her other titty the exact same way.

Even Blaze from across the tent, looked in my direction and assessed my pecker and I thought his cock was much bigger. He didn’t make any jokes.

I’ll be honest, I had never been so conflicted on whether to be flattered or humiliated in my life.

“No way, his chocolate bar is much thicker,” Casey grabbed my cock like it was a spoon in the silverware drawer and gave it a strong squeeze.

“Casey, he’s probably not used to having his dick handled like that,” Diane warned sweetly.

“How am I supposed to paint it then?” Casey asked without even turning around.

“That’s a fair point, it’s just skin but it’s his skin, so be gentle,” Diane warned.

Casey rolled her eyes and mouthed her mother’s response silently to simultaneously mock her and express her annoyance.

“Did my daughter just imitate me?” Diane asked with a half smirk. Casey glanced at me with her pretty blue eyes bearing down on me.

“No,” I said.

“Bullshit, I thought you’d tell the truth,” Diane laughed. “Time on the wall, tonight for Casey.”


Casey was clearly not happy about that. “How long?” she asked.


“Thirty minutes,” Diane decided.


“You know I didn’t have to come out here today and strip butt naked to meet your boyfriend,” Casey offered that she’d done a favor to her mother.


“Yes, you did, because I said you had to come, and besides, what else did you have to do besides sit in your room all day and sulk?” Diane shot back.

“Gah, this is so embarrassing,” Casey whispered to me as she held my cock like it belonged to her. That surprised me because she was normally over the top and loud. “You know there are guys out there that would pay me good money to touch their dick, right?”

“Just because you are a popular whore with a lot of clients doesn’t make you any better of a whore,” Glitter turned her nose up, while continuing to encourage my father to paint her tits. He was very reluctant to bring his hands down.

“Dayum,” Mistress Boo was impressed with Glitter’s moxie.

“If I am going to handle wood, I may as well get paid, I am not a cock hound like mom,” she glanced over her shoulder at her mother while cradling my dick and touching it like it was Play-dough or clay she was shaping into something else.

There had been air of just joking around until Casey called her mother a cock hound. That’s when I heard the silence. It fell over the tent like an oppressive blanket of anger. Diane was clearly hurt and unhappy that her daughter chose that word to describe her.

Only thirty minutes earlier, we were complete strangers. Now, I stood in the hub of Midtown, only a few feet from the sidewalk in an open tent with them completely naked while Diane’s daughter held my dick and I wondered how things had escalated so quickly.

Things like this just never happened to me. Thirty minutes ago, I was standing outside 42nd Street Station waiting for my father’s girlfriend to arrive so we could meet her and her family for the first time. I had never heard the terms “Time on the wall” or Home Nudist and now I was doing my best not to shoot cum all over Casey’s tits while she said things to her mother that I’d never in a million years dare say to mine.

[EddieDavidson]

It was early on a Saturday in July, the wind was blowing as it always did in the theater district. It was a brisk day of people, cars, buses, and planes flying overheard.

Black women from foreign countries hawked tour passes to oblivious tourists. Dozens of people from all over the world briskly walked past us and nobody waited for the signal to cross the street unless they were from out of town.

The smell of New York is like no place else. Pollution, fresh and hot pizza, sweat falling off dozens of people as the humid air pulls it out of our salty skin, the exhaust from tax cabs, and just the smell of being lived in combined with the Hudson river made it unique.

There was no part of New York City more pungent than Time Square. We rarely visited, even during New Years Eve because when my mom always thought it was too risky.

If my mother even knew what I was going to do that day, she would have insisted that I not go. It was a good thing she didn’t. At first, I really didn’t think it would be so surreal.

I was standing next to my dad with my hands in my pockets. I hoped Diane wouldn’t make it and I could hit up Tamashii Nations Store or Midtown Comics and geek out for a while.

It wasn’t long before I saw her. I knew Diane from the many times my father described her too many and she appeared lost until she saw my father. Then she smiled broadly just like she suddenly found what she was looking for.

“Diane, over here! Hi!” My dad waved at his new girlfriend. She was new to me anyway. I’d never met her. They had been dating for six months, and it was the first time I was going to meet her and her family.

Dad was over the moon about this woman. He must have changed his clothes four times and took two showers before he got on the subway to come all the way out to Times Square of all places.

“Hi,” Diane appeared relieved to see us. Her face instantly lightened and she smiled at me as if she knew me right away. She hopped up and down and I noticed her big tits didn’t bounce once when she did.

She was wearing a very loose-fitting broad cloth dashiki that had been painted with African designs. It was basically a poncho and walking around barefoot on the streets of New York. I could tell just from her smirk and lack of makeup that she was earthy and witty.

Diane exuded a sort of natural beauty that didn’t require makeup to look like a movie star. She had medium brown hair, and I have to admit, she was far better looking than my own mom.

“Lucas, I know that a body painting festival is an unconventional way to get to know people and you are out of your comfort zone. I just want you to know that I wouldn’t bring you here if I wasn’t sure this was the one. I want her to know you and I want you to get to know Diane and her daughters and son.”

I almost missed her daughters as Diane made her way to us from 42nd Street station. Casey exuded a punk rock, take no shit attitude without needing to dress goth or emo. Her body language read “Fuck with me, and I will put my boot in your ass.”

It was a good life skill in New York City, and one that I had yet to come close to mastering.

She had medium platinum blonde hair, that was shaved in an undercut with layers. She wore a leather collar around her neck and had serious attitude. She wore a thin tank top with the Nirvana logo and Kurt Cobain’s face on it. She also wore very tight shorts that hugged her curves with Doc Marten boots. It was humid in New York that July afternoon, so I could understand the top and shorts, but the boots and collar made her look awkward and much taller and intimidating than she already was.

I assumed that was her reason for wearing them.

The shorter girl with her reminded me of Greta Thunberg immediately. Her name was Clara Belle, but she hated that name and casually referred to herself as Glitter or Clara. It seemed like her mom only called her Clara Belle when she needed Clara to pay attention to exactly what she was being told. I didn’t know it at the time, but Clara lived with autism and the name Clara Belle and Glitter were part of her coping mechanisms. She was Clara Belle when she had to be serious and pay attention, and she was Glitter when she wanted to be carefree and she often slipped casually between personalities without noticing.

Her family accepted her autism for what it was, never shamed her, and never patronized her for having it. Clara had autism and so her older sister had Cuntism, and it was just as incurable. It was something she invented her incessant need to be bratty, selfish, vain, cruel, and sabotage her mother’s relationships along with her own.

Her brother Patrick called his disease Jism which was a funny play on the word autism and the idea that any sort of ism is a bad thing. The girls eventually explained it to me that it meant he liked jerking off all the time, but it was also their word for the male condition of frustrating things boys do that girls don’t. The girls chose to rename it Dickheadism, but Patrick frequently disputed it and insisted Dickheadism was a pejorative like saying Aspergers and the proper diagnosis is simply “Jism”.

I am sure that was his strange way of finding common ground with his sister when someone teased Clara by saying she had Aspergers or calling her an “Aspie” to be cruel. It was also because he just liked saying “Jism”.

A great example of Dickheadism/Jism is that if Patrick pissed all over the toilet seat, and the floor in the bathroom and then left the seat up, he’d blame it on his “Jism”. The girls would get pissed, but his mom would often playfully write it off as a ‘boys will be boys’ type of thing. “He can’t help it that he was born with a penis and the DNA of his dickheaded father, girls. My curse is that I love Patrick, even though he looks just like that narcissistic asshole.”

His sisters happen to agree that Patrick was the spitting image of his father, and many of his charming jokes reminded them of how their father was on the surface when he wanted to present himself as the good guy. Unlike my parents, their father had very little to do with them after the divorce and they liked it that way.

Diane had her own form of “ism”, which I wouldn’t find about until much later. Their family had a philosophy “Everybody has something” and probably without consciously realizing it allowed Clara to feel like she just had a flavor of something everybody else had and she wasn’t a victim or any less fortunate than anyone else.

They created their own fake diseases that embodied their eccentricities, bad habits, CD, compulsions, self-doubt and social anxiety and they didn’t use it as permission to continue bad behavior. They used it as an example of how they would recognize their flaws, foibles and shortcomings and try to construct coping mechanisms to overcome them.

I had no idea at the time how absolutely wonderful this family was for doing that because my experience with autism in my personal life had been largely non-existent. I knew that autism was different for everyone on the spectrum and there were probably so many people who had gone undiagnosed that it was far more prevalent than anyone could truly understand. This isn’t a story about autism, though. It’s a story about people and one of them happen to have autism that sometimes made her choose to bark, yip, hop, wag her butt like it was a tail.

At this time, I didn’t know these people at all. My father only knew Diane and a little about Casey, Clara and Patrick. He was excited to meet them and move to the next step in their relationship, but a bit nervous that it would be at Nude Body Painting Day. He’d asked me to be mature about it and I was reluctant, and nervous to be nude myself, but thrilled at the idea my father had found someone so interesting.

I was still living part time with my mother, and she wasn’t like Diane at all. She was safe and boring and if she had a choice of flavors, she picked the least flavorful option. Diane was full of life and that was perfect for my father. I wanted things to go well for him.

Clara moved faster than most people. If you’ve ever seen how a squirrel twitches it’s nose and moves it’s tail or arm really fast and then stops to consider what you’ll do next, that was her body language. She moved rapidly and stopped and stared at you awkwardly, sometimes sniffing and sometimes whispering for no reason like she was confiding something in you.

As Glitter, her movements took on a more puppy like eagerness, wagging her butt, shifting excitedly in place, mouth slightly open, rapid breathing, and occasional yips and low growls like a well behaved puppy.

I had no idea Clara acted that way when in social situations. At the moment, all I saw was an eager girl a little older than me walking straight toward us with her sandy brown hair in long braids slapping her shoulders and back, a silly grin, and a plain round face.

She wore a simple plaid skirt and white top, with sneakers and ankle socks.

Patrick was about my size. He was clean cut, looked like the all-American Disney channel idea of the boy next door. He also looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. He wore a Batman shirt, and jean shorts with high top sneakers. He was confident but not cocky. He walked with a purpose, head up high and shoulders back. I could imagine him planning to buy the shops and high rises nearby as he looked up at them like he already owned them and they just didn’t know it yet.

I suddenly felt over dressed, because I wore long pants and a polo with sneakers and Diane’s family had come ready to strip down for the Body Painting Festival.

My dad had told me to go on YouTube and check out all the videos of past events, but I hadn’t done that. My mom monitored my computer use, and one time I got in trouble for watching women in transparent nightgowns clean their rooms on YouTube when she put a porn blocker on her laptop that I couldn’t disable. I didn’t want the search for nude body paint to be in my history because my mom was the kind of woman that would check it.

I also simply hadn’t given much thought to this day because I kind of assumed we’d all chicken out and not go through with it.

That’s what my mom would have made my father do if he had planned this. I hadn’t even told her about it, and part of the reason I hadn’t checked

“Hi, you must be Lucas, I’ve heard so much about you,” Diane greeted me warmly with a handshake, and then she pulled me into a warm hug. I could feel her nipples pressing against my chest through her dashiki and they were rock hard.

“I am sure it wasn’t true,” I joked and looked down.

“This is my daughter Casey,” she introduced the punky blonde first to me and my father. Casey appeared to be sizing us up and waiting to pass judgment.

“Nirvana?” My dad asked as he read her shirt. “I loved them. What’s your favorite song of theirs?”

“Are you testing me to see if I am not a poser and actually listen to Nirvana?” she challenged my dad right away.

“Um, no!” Dad nervously stumbled and pantomimed pulling his foot out of his mouth. “Sorry about that!”

He had clearly just been looking for some common ground. I assumed Casey had a chip on his shoulder as big as her natural tits that sagged perfectly in that little beige tank top.

“You done reading my shirt, smart guy? Or are you staring at my tits?” She snarled at me. I noticed the hint of metallic braces when she curled her lip angrily.

I immediately looked away and began to blush.

“Don’t mind Casey,” Diane told me. “Your father and I dated for six months, and I purposely chose not to talk about my kids or personal life because I am very protective of my family and don’t want them hurt by bringing in someone new too quickly. I’ve already made that mistake. I also didn’t want to run your father off by having him meet us and think we are nuts!”

“We’re dysfunctional, I a bitch, she’s autistic,” Casey pointed to her little sister and “He’s a perv,” she described her little brother.

“We put the fun in dysfunctional,” Diane admitted. “I love all three of you unconditionally, flaws, or rough edges. I know who you are, because I made you and it’s unconditional Casey. These two came all this way from Forest Hills to come to this body painting festival at my request. I felt it was time for us to all meet. The least you can do is be polite.”

“Oh mother dear,” Casey assured her mom with a snarky grin. “If that’s the least you think I can do, I can do far less than be polite!”

Her little sister and brother couldn’t contain their chuckles.

“I assure you, Casey’s bark is worse than her bite,” Diane said dismissively.

I got the distinct feeling that Casey wanted my father to get angry so that she could convince her mom not to date him. I just wasn’t sure why she’d sabotage her mother’s happiness.

“This is my daughter Clara Belle,” Diane introduced her other daughter. Clara had seemed so outgoing a moment earlier, as she danced and skipped. Now, she stood in an exaggeratedly shy pose and backed away from us like a rabbit that was afraid she might be walking into a trap.

“You can call me Glitter or Clara, but not Clara Belle,” she decided. She leaned forward and sniffed us both from a distance as if she were deciding whether she liked us based on our lack of body odor.

“Hi Clara, this is my son, Lucas,” My dad greeted her warmly but didn’t lean in or try to touch her. “I am Jeff, and it’s our pleasure to meet you! We’ll address you by whatever you want.”

“You can call her Shitter, Clitter, Slitter, Hitter, Pitter-Patter, Titter-Tatter, Knitter, Dipshitter,” her son joked.

“Dipshitter is just add a dip to the first one you said,” Clara stuck her tongue out at her little brother.

“This is my youngest,” Diane introduced her son with some chagrin. “I think Patrick is about your age, Lucas. You probably have a lot in common.”

“You look like John Cusack,” he pointed at my father.

“What about my two dollars…..” my father quoted a line from a classic John Cusack movie from the 1980s, but Patrick didn’t get the reference. “I’ve never heard I look like him but I’ll take it. I wish I had his money.”

Dad squinted a little at Diane and mugged like a pensive John Cusack. He certainly wore his black hair like Cusack did and had a similar facial structure.

“I think he looks a bit like Jimmy Fallon,” Diane decided as she used one finger to lift his chin and stroke the stubble on his face. She kissed my father on the lips sweetly as they locked eyes.

“I’ll definitely take that,” My father almost swooned when Diane kissed him.

“You look like a young Jessie Eisenberg,” Patrick pointed at me as if he was accusing me of something that I had done wrong.

“I have heard that, before and you look like um, the actor that played a young Anakin Skywalker in the Phantom Menace,” I replied. I hated the comparison because Jessie Eisenberg usually plays the annoying pussy in movies, but I shared those same awkward mannerisms.

“I don’t know who Anakin Skywalker is,” he admitted. “Is the Phantom Menace a Batman movie?”

I was startled and I honestly thought he was joking with me.

“That’s like saying you don’t know who Han Solo is,” I scoffed playfully as if he couldn’t be serious, until Patrick shook his head and gave me a blank stare that he didn’t recognize the name Han Solo, either.

I took a deep breath and was about to launch into an impromptu outline of the Star Wars movie timelines and all the critical characters along with a healthy dose of lesser known trivia that most people do not know, when my father stopped me.

“We have to start walking if we want to get to this event,” Dad shepherded us toward Father Duffy’s Square where the event was taking place.

“I kind of geeked Lucas from birth. He was named after George Lucas. His middle name is George, and he knows pretty much any Star Wars trivia you’d ever care to know,” my dad declared proudly.

I straightened a bit and absorbed his praise.

“Ooh, I have a Star Wars trivia one that I’ve always wanted to know,” Casey snapped her fingers like she was trying to recall the question as she smirked at me mischievously. “So, in Star Wars, was Captain Picard in the Empire, or was that Donald Kirk? I know they had the light sables and learned things from that Kermit frog guy in the swamp about hopping, right?”

What Casey had said was so wrong on a molecular level, that every fiber in my being throbbed with cringe and anger. I absolutely hated it when people mixed up Star Trek and Star Wars but this was so bad that I did not know where to begin to answer her question.

“She’s just trying to turn your screws, Lucas,” Diane flashed me a knowing grin and then launched an angry stare at her daughter to silently warn her against insulting me.

“What? It’s just a dumb television show. I am glad they cancelled all of them and won’t make more,” Casey shot me a patronizing, but broad fake smile and her braces were on full display. I could imagine kissing her with braces on and us getting locked together.

I was about to say that Disney was making television shows and feature movies, but her mom’s glance was all I needed to realize I had taken Casey’s bait and she had managed to get under my skin again.

“We call her Casey Face, Fart Face, Casey-Fart, Poop-Fart, Fart-Fart, Fart-Bran, Case-a-beer, Casey at bat, Casio-Ho, Brace-Face, Ace of Case, because all she wants is another baby, oops, she’s gone again,” her little brother sang the last one in the style of the 90s hit and did a funny little dance with his neck.

“Call me those names and I’ll suffocate you in your sleep,” Casey stopped smiling. “Then YOU will be gone again!”

Patrick had managed to amuse me and his sister Clara. We covered our mouths to contain our chuckles.

“Ace’s Hole, Cay-Cay, Koo-Koo, Poo-Poo, Ring around the Casey, Case in Space, she’s in your face! Casey-Macey-Big-Fat-and Lazy, Cold Case, Cold hard case, Spacey, Kevin Spacey, Grape Ape, Hairy Ape, Casey-Ape, Case Closed, Hard Case, Soft Case, Lost Case, Case-A-Case-A-Chameleon, You come and go, you come and go, you come and go-oooohhh!” he sang the last part to the tune of Karma Chameleon by Boy George. He was completely unmoved by his sister’s threat of bodily harm.

There was nothing particularly vulgar or cruel in the litany of nicknames that he spit out rapid fire. It was like a well-rehearsed comedy routine and judging from his sister’s patiently annoyed reaction as she waited for him to finish, I assumed she’d heard this all before and wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of giggling.

Diane and Clara had slight giggles on their face, that grew with each nickname, and expanded in direct relationship to how much Casey shrunk and tried to mask her embarrassment with knotted brows and an angry stare.

I found Patrick’s sense of humor to be very endearing, and I instantly liked him after that. I liked old music and I got some of his references like Grape Ape. I assumed we might make good friends, and looked forward to introducing him to the Star Wars universe of films and books.

“I wish you would come-a-come-a-come-a - come and go the fuck away, drop in a river with Dad and float out to sea like two turds flushed out of a toilet into the Hudson,” Casey was mortified, and the tone of her words wasn’t hateful and it was obvious she didn’t really mean what she said. It was more likely that Casey was just pissed that her little brother managed to get under her skin when she went to such great lengths to act like she doesn’t care what people think about her.

“Fuck Dad,” Patrick agreed with his sister, and added “I am nothing like him. He can float alone.”

“That’s why I love you and haven’t chosen to throw you down the garbage chute, Patrick. You look like the King of all assholes but you can’t help that, so I keep associating you with Dad. Do me one favor though, if you would be a dear and do more going than you do cum-a-cum-cumming, I could use the bathroom once in a while,” his older sister snickered as she sang the last bit to the tune of Karma chameleon.

I could tell their jokes had no malice, and I could tell that Casey would never wish her brother away from their tones of voice, even though what they said were things two siblings that couldn’t stand one another would say. It was pretty obvious he was just pushing her buttons the way she had done to me.

“I’ll cum and go, and the cum again,” he made it obvious he was talking about having an orgasm. “It’s my jism acting up! I’ve got a boner coming on,” he grabbed his dick and pretended to jerk off even though there were people all around going in and out of shops on a busy Times Square sidewalk.

I thought his behavior scandalously shocking but his mom didn’t say a word about his double entendre. My mom would have lost her shit right then and there and probably sent me to therapy if I had done that.

“You probably think we are completely cuckoo,” Diane explained to me but also said it for my father’s benefit. “We live with total honesty, no secrets. We’ve only had each other for so long, and our love and trust for each other is so deep we can say things to one another that may sound cruel or inappropriate but it’s our crazy way of coping with a crazy world.”


“No, I actually say what I mean and mean what I say,” Casey said with a tone that suggested she was still being facetious. She tore into her little brother. “The only cumming and going you do is with your left hand, and don’t worry because if you ever get a girl to feel sorry for you and give you some pussy you won’t get her pregnant. The best form of birth control in the world is your face and personality combined. It puts everyone out of the mood to do it,” Casey scowled at him.

“How would you know, Sis? You don’t use birth control,” he quipped sarcastically without taking any of it personally. I admired how breezily he handled his older sister. “You let the guys raw dog it from the back!”

Patrick lifted his leg, fucked the air like he was fucking his sister’s pussy, spanked her invisible ass, and winked as if he were completely unbothered by being in one of the busiest parts of New York City.

“New Yorkers have seen and heard everything, Patrick but we aren’t at home, so cool it, or you will get time on the wall when we get home,” Diane said.

“But you just said we get to put each other down because we love each other,” Patrick pouted like he was being cheated out of a good time.

“Yes, I am glad you are listening to what I say. I just said that if you keep on grabbing your dick, and embarrassing Jeff and Lucas, then you will get time on the wall. You heard that, right?” she asked her son with a smirk.

Patrick’s initial reaction was to offer some witty response, but I think he immediately realized he was on thin ice and cooled his jets.

Casey stood tall and proud, like she had just been vindicated, before continuing to walk along the sidewalk toward the venue.

Casey intimidated the hell out of me. I would have tried to argue that the girl that felt sorry for me and was wiling to have sex was in the mood to do that, so it follows my face and personality are not deterrents but then I’d probably realize my pedantic need to explain the joke’s fallacies were probably determinantal to my chances of sexual procreation.

“Okay, okay, you two. That’s enough pot shots and bickering. Time on the wall goes for anyone who makes an ass out of themselves,” she said before adding that she didn’t want to hear it was due to some incurable disease that forced them to act like assholes, either.

“Engage your coping mechanisms, Clara Belle, Do you hear me?” she asked her youngest daughter.

Clara groaned like she hated the name but acknowledged her mother. I assumed she just thought it sound old fashioned, but it was a secret trigger that Clara’s mother had taught her to use to focus when she needed to focus on instructions.

“Goody Gum Drops, Now, we came here to get painted, and that’s exactly what we are going to do, whether you like it or not, the three of you are going to have fun, have I made myself perfectly clear?” Diane could barely keep a straight face as she addressed them sternly.

“Yes, happiness is mandatory,” I didn’t have to see Casey roll her eyes to know that she had when she confirmed her mom’s instructions.

“Eye, Eye,” Patrick rolled his fingers up and placed them over each of his eyes like they were binoculars. “Eye spy naked body paint on the horizon, matey, with my little eye!”

Casey took a deep breath like she was going to offer some smart ass remark to her little brother, but thought better of it and released the breath when her mom stared her down to remind her of what she had just said.

“Good, your little eye is spying. Clara Belle is focusing, Casey Face has turned off Bitchcraft mode, we are good to go and we are going to have fun. It’s just skin, nothing to be ashamed of, it’s freedom of expression, artistic and you are doing it whether you like it or not,” she added with a playful snicker. Diane held up a small utility bag and asked us if we had something to put our clothes in. “Did you guys bring a bag to put your clothes in?” she asked as if she expected us to strip while we were several blocks from the event.

“No, I didn’t think about it,” Dad apologized and asked if he should stop along the way and pick up a bag from one of the many stores.

“You were just going to leave your clothes out in New York, and hope someone didn’t swipe them?” Casey laughed at my dad.

“Not a problem, no need to buy a bag, we have plenty of space to spare, and there is more than enough room in our bag for two more stowaways,” Diane offered sweetly as we continued briskly toward the Nude Body Paint festival.

My father and Diane took the lead together, walking hand in hand. My dad carried her bag politely and the two of them seemed like they were deeply in love.

I felt a little guilty because Diane’s butt was remarkable. It was breezy out and the Dashiki she wore wasn’t tight but it hung on her body in the humidity in a way that allowed me to imagine the shape of Diane’s thicc butt cheeks.

I could imagine that she had a smaller butt on top of her cute ass just by the way the material hung on her body and fell between her ass crack as she walked briskly with my father.

I knew I shouldn’t be perving on Diane. She was completely out of my league and twice my age, and she might be my stepmom someday. Yet, I thought about women almost as much as I thought about Star Wars, Video Games, and anime.

In fact, anything that combined those things held my interest in the sincerest of ways.

[[[ image 02_anime.png goes here centered ]]]

No one noticed us. In New York, most people are too busy and it’s hard to shock a true New Yorker. We were in the thick of tourist central though, and out of towners occasionally glanced at Casey’s scowl because of her tight booty shorts and lack of bra to hide her perfect natural tits in the tank top.

A few older men craned their head to watch Clara skipping and hopping enthusiastically. It didn’t matter how she was dressed. Her youthful energy just made her fun to watch.

The majority of stares were for my father’s date. Diane had hot body, but a lot of women in New York have hot bodies. It was the simple fact that her Dashiki occasionally blew up when the wind hit it and for a split second you might think you caught a glance of her perfect ass crack.

It looked to me like she wasn’t wearing any panties, but it was a thought I dismissed. I told myself that I shouldn’t even internally debate whether Diane wore panties or not. I also assumed no woman would wear a very breezy poncho without something underneath.

Diane adjusted back down almost immediately. I assumed even though she was going to a Nude Body Paint festival, we weren’t there yet and she was just keeping her modesty like most women have to do.

“Having fun staring at my mom’s ass?” Casey confronted me and I almost fell down, because she caught me right as I was watching for the poncho to rise from the wind and thinking about Diane’s ass crack and all the reasons that I shouldn’t be thinking about it.

Diane and my father stopped and spun around to look at me with disappointment. I was left flat-footed with a massively guilty look on my face and my reaction made my guilt fairly obvious.

[EddieDavidson]

“She’s just busting your balls, Lucas,” Diane decided almost immediately to let me off the hook. My father glared at me like he was never going to forgive me for getting called out checking her butt.

“But Mom,” Casey insisted that she revisit my guilt, and stood her ground on the sidewalk just outside of a busy Starbucks.

I felt like I was a coffee bean and I was being roasted and ground into a delicious cup of coffee.

“It’s just a butt. If he is looking, so what? We are all going to be naked soon enough,” Diane shrugged.

“Fully naked?” Casey and Clara both expressed sudden shock.

“What did you think Nude Body Paint Day meant?” she asked them with a look of confusion. “It’s not a big deal in Times Square. Have you never heard of the Naked Cowboy and the Desnudas?”

“Naked Cowboy wears underwear,” Casey looked disappointed that he wasn’t actually nude. “Just like everything in New York it’s false advertising.”

“Are the Desnudas the ladies that dress up like the statue of liberty and take pictures for money?” Clara asked. I’d seen them in the news but my mom had never let me stop and look at them on the few occasions we went to the Midtown. I assumed they were street legal pasties and thongs.

“Yep, we’ll probably see a few on the way to the body painting festival if we aren’t late because we kept standing around,” Diane encouraged everyone to keep walking.

“Don’t they wear thongs?” Clara asked.

Diane stopped again and turned around in frustration. “Are you wearing a thong?”

Clara hesitated for a moment, and thought about her answer. I was shocked. If anyone asked me if I had on underwear the answer would be yes, and I wouldn’t have to think about that.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Fine, let me see it,” Diane crossed her arms, leaned on one hip “Go on, pull your shorts down.”

“What, here? In front of Starbucks?”

“If you have on a thong then you aren’t going to show anything to anyone they wouldn’t see at the beach. Go on, take the shorts down.”

Clara shrunk like a flower returning inside it’s bloom. “I can’t do that out here! There are so many people!”

I didn’t expect her to be so reluctant about it.

“They all have the same thing you do between your ass crack, and half of them have the same thing you do between your front crack. Look, nobody cares,” Diane whipped her Dashiki up, exposing her hairless pussy and bare ass as she spun in a whirlwind like a Merry Go Round on the sidewalk. “Woooh!”

Diane earned a few stares, and even some people tried to take a picture but they weren’t fast enough but nobody complained or freaked out.

“If someone wants to see my butt crack so badly because they’ve never seen one better then I feel bad for them. I am flattered that people got a smile or laugh, and one day I’ll be so old that nobody will want to look. You girls should enjoy the power of being young and beautiful while you still are, because I didn’t. I was repressed and taught to hide everything with layers of clothes.”

Diane started to walk forward after making her point. We all followed and she added “Your grandma would have given me more than time on the wall if she caught me in a thong. She would have considered it risqué’ and tawdry. I’d rather that you learn to be comfortable with your body, accept how you look and that people are going to find it beautiful than think your choice of undies or lack thereof really matters.”

The girls looked reluctant about getting naked, and they glanced at each other to silently express their thoughts, but they continued to follow their mom and soon they stopped talking about it.

I had just seen a grown woman that my father was dating spin in circles without panties out in the open of downtown and my mind was blown as I tried to save mental snapshots of the glimpses I had just seen. I’d seen the hint of Diane’s tattoo on her butt cheek but her spin was so fast I hadn’t

“Do you rarely wear panties?” My father asked as we neared one of my favorite stores in Midtown.

“I wore this one piece so that I could pull it off quickly and get down to business. I thought I told you to do the same,” she said before answering his question “I never wear panties. I don’t own any, Jeff.”

My father was stunned. I think he was pleasantly surprised or at least that’s how it looked.

“ONE PIECE!” I heard Clara scream the way that a girl yells about some teen idol like Justin Bieber. The fact that we were only a few feet away from a store that sold the merchandise from the anime seemed amusing to me but I assumed that other than Patrick, I was probably the only one to get the irony.

“Yes, that’s what I said. I wore a simple one piece. I should have made you and your sister wear one too. We sat down and talked about the rules today, did it go in one ear and out the…”


“NO, ONE PIECE!!!” Clara pointed again to the store window of Tamashii Nations Shop. It was all things Bandai Namco, DragonballZ, Digimon, and One Piece were some of my favorite things featured there.

They’d been around since the days of Pac Man, but brought the world quirky games like Katamari Damacy and classic button masher fighting games like Tekken.

I was an old school Pokemon card collector but I rooted for Digimon because I liked the underdog and Pokemon was everywhere. I had never seen a girl go crazy for anime before.

There were some who liked manga and anime, but Clara started to nearly spasm and convulse as she pressed her entire body to the window and clung to it. “Oh my god, Tony Chop Chop! He is so fucking cute!”

“It’s actually Tony, Tony, Chopper!” I held up a finger to correct her. I felt vindicated that I knew more about this particular character than she did.

Clara glanced at me like I was an asshole, and tears started to well up in her eyes, as her lips began to quiver. I worried that I had caused her to be angry but she was just so in love with the character.

“You don’t understand. My sister has been calling him Tony Chop Chop since she was she first saw him appear. She worships him like a God,” Casey walked closer to the glass and gazed inside.

“I do not!” Clara shot back angrily. I enjoyed the anime but I wasn’t nearly as passionate as she was about it. “Tony Chop Chop is an animal who ate the Human-Human Fruit, I am a human who ate the puppy-puppy fruit. We are soul mates. One day, I am going to marry Tony Chop Chop!”

“Do they have Carrot?” Casey pressed her tits to the window and unlike her sister, she wasn’t able to get her face close enough.

“Yes! Right there! Carrot! In her Sulong form!” Clara pointed eagerly when she recognized the character. I have to admit that my admiration for Casey grew exponentially now that I knew that we had a common interest.

“If you want to give me a nickname, You can call me Carrot,” Casey leaned harder into the glass to get a better look at the nearly life sized white female rabbit with big tits, and glowing red eyes

I wouldn’t have taken a bet that Casey liked anime or knew anything about it. I was incredibly impressed that she’d like Carrot, but then Carrot has an ass kicking attitude and so did Casey.

“Why? Because you like sticking Carrots up your butt?” Patrick laughed. He had no interest in staring in the window and seemed to think it was all a waste of time.

“No, I like sticking Carrots up YOUR butt and when you get time on the wall again, I am going to come over and remind you of that,” Casey assured him.

She was introspective for a moment and then explained “Carrot is loyal to her fellow minks and her friends and allies. She’s a kick ass musketeer, and she has to learn control of her physical strength, speed, and heightened Electro abilities,. She can fly and overwhelm enemies under a full moon.”

“C’mon girls, you can look in there later,” Diane insisted.

“But Mom,” the girls both complained and continued to scan the showroom floor for items they were interested in. They were ladies after my own heart and the only reason I didn’t do that was I knew we had to keep going.

“Yes, BUTT, Mom…as in yours will both be roasting if you BUT Mom, me again, now c’mon, I promise. I’ll take you here another time if you behave today,” Diane assured them.

I liked Diane. My mom said that anime was a huge waste of money and that one day I’d realize it was a fad like Archie and Jughead comic books. My father indulged me a little but he had no interest in talking about the things that I liked besides Star Wars and even then I wondered how much he really did that because he was interested and how much was just to have something we could talk about.

“The girls walked slumped shoulders away from the anime store and I consoled them.

“I love Namco Bandai,” I said.

“Bullshit, you are just saying that because you know we like it,” Casey said.

“No,” I laughed so hard that I had to hold my belly. It was funny to hear someone tell me to my face that I wasn’t nerdy enough to like things manga and anime.

“I assure you, girls. My son begs to go into the store harder than you do every time we come to Midtown,” My father vouched for me.

“Then you may not be half bad after all,” Casey started to open up a little more, and she and her sister asked me questions about the things I enjoyed for most of the walk. We ignored the Disney Store, Forever 21, all the little hot dog stands and stores and talked amongst ourselves.

One Times Square is where they drop the New Year’s Eve Ball every year and it’s probably the most iconic part of all of Midtown. It was hard to maintain our bubble of nerdy conversation with so much happening.

“Look, there is the Naked Cowboy,” Diane pointed to some shirtless redneck in a cowboy hat, white underwear and a pair of boots holding a guitar and busking for tips. I wasn’t impressed.

A disgusting and sweaty costumed Elmo walked up and tried to get us to tip him to take a picture with him. My father politely declined the offer.

“Ooh, the M&M Store!!” Clara got excited about going inside to get some candy.

“You and sugar is like crack cocaine for a crack whore,” Diane assured her daughter. “It also goes straight to your thighs!”

“You say everything goes straight to our thighs,” Casey replied with an annoyed scowl.

“You know what also goes to your thighs?” Diane didn’t wait for an answer before adding “My paddle! And I brought it. Don’t think I wont bend you over here right here and spank any of you if you keep asking for it.”

Diane didn’t sound very serious about following through on her threat.

“Good, there is an always on webcam here. Make sure you make me bend over with my ass crack pointing toward it so the whole world can kiss my entire ass,” Casey said.

“Speaking of ass,” Diane changed the subject and asked Jeff if he was hungry. “We have a little time. If we hurry, we could probably grab pizza. I’ve never been to Juniors and I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Oh, Juniors! You are going to love it. It’s authentic New York pizza and the cheesecake is the best in the city,” My dad acted like he was an expert on it but he’s only taken me once or twice in my entire life.

“Pizza will go to your thighs, Mom,” Casey shot back with a playful imitation of her mother as an annoying fuddy duddy – and it sounded nothing like how her mother really spoke.

“That’s true, I just don’t want anyone complaining you are hungry because we’ll be there for a while,” Diane said.

“Did you bring the protein bars?” Casey asked.

“In the bag,” Diane proudly pointed to the bag my father was carrying and told us both that she had cold bottles of water in a small cooler and protein bars if we needed them.

“Did you bring my tails? Can I wear one after I get painted?” Clara was skipping along with an excited expression on her face.

“Yes, I brought the tails but let’s see if they allow that,” Diane answered somberly.

“Why wouldn’t they? What kind of puppy doesn’t have a tail?” Clara asked.

“Aren’t you going to be embarrassed wearing a dog tail in public?” Casey asked her little sister.

“I would think it’s more embarrassing if your pink pooper is visible. The tail will hide your stinker so that nobody sees it,” Clara shrugged.

“Not for me, thanks,” Casey decided with out much internal debate.

“I brought tales for Hound, Bitch and Glitter, in case you change your mind and they allow it,” Diane said cryptically. I assumed Casey was the bitch because Glitter was Clara’s nickname and that either Diane or Patrick was hound.

“Check it out, Mom. They allow THAT on the side of the road,” Patrick pointed to two Desnudas. I’ve heard of them but never saw them in person.

It seemed hard to believe that the city allowed women to parade around in sexy, revealing get ups like cheap Vegas showgirls and pose for money but they did. Two Hispanic women were posing with a wholesome looking fantasy while the father appeared nervous, he might accidentally touch these women somewhere on their exaggeratedly huge butts or tits.

It seemed hard to believe that the city allowed women to parade around in sexy, revealing get-ups like cheap Vegas showgirls and pose for money, but they did. Two chubby Hispanic women were posing with a wholesome-looking family right there on the sidewalk in front of the Davidson Theater. One of them was dressed like some kind of Miss America ponygirl with a feathered hat, bridle and bit in her mouth, and metal clips on her nipples. The taller one had exaggeratedly huge tits and long, thick nipples. The father appeared nervous he might accidentally touch these women somewhere on their exaggeratedly huge butts or tits.

[[[ image 03_butter.png goes here centered ]]]

“Jeez, they must have let those rutting titty beasts loose in the M&M store because the sugar REALLY went to their thighs,” Patrick laughed hysterically at the women, and his sisters did as well.

“Thirty minutes time on the wall for body shaming! Thirty minutes,” Casey announced like she couldn’t wait for her to brother to get in trouble as she pointed at him.

“What? I was just kidding,” Patrick said dismissively.

“You gave me thirty minutes on the wall for saying you had thunder thighs, yesterday! He called those ladies rutting beasts!” Casey demanded justice loudly, and feigned outrage. “Those are human beings, Patrick. You should be ashamed of yourself. All bellies matter.”

“Mom, I was just joking! Besides, I have jism, I can’t help myself. If I see a fatty, I have to say something about it,” Patrick teased.

“Okay, okay, lets call that one a warning,” his mother mused. “You didn’t mean any harm and it was well out of their ear shot. But…”

“Bullshit!!!” Casey fumed.

Diane turned to her daughter and said “I was about to warn him that Jism or not, if he does that to anyone, female or male at the body painting convention then his dick will be in a sling and time on the wall will seem quaint. Does that satisfy your need for fairness, Carrot?”

“You called me Carrot?” Casey brightened.

“That’s what you said you liked isn’t it?” Diane asked.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would take me seriously. Okay, I like that, Carrot sounds good.”

“It fits because you are a vegetable, sis,” Patrick pushed his luck just a few inches too far.

“Now, you have time on the wall. Thirty minutes,” Diane decided firmly.

“What? A Carrot is a vegetable, is it not?” Patrick argued.

“Thirty minutes, want to make it forty-five or would you like to stop while you are ahead?”

Obviously, time on the wall was something that motivated them and it didn’t sound that bad.

“Those two look like twins,” Patrick scaled back his mean spirited commentary and pointed at two chubby Hispanic women who wore such little body paint that they were practically naked. I noticed a man touching one of their butts while they negotiated the price of a picture.

[[[ image 03_twins.png goes here centered ]]]

“Could you imagine how humiliating it would be to get up every day, seven days a week, and strip butt naked, beg tourists for money and let them touch your butt?” Casey asked.

“Gross,” Clara shook her head that she wouldn’t be interested. She was an extrovert sometimes, but she drew the line with that.

“I don’t know, it sounds kind of adventurous,” Diane smiled wickedly as she thought about the life of a Desnudas performing for tips. “There was a time before Guiliani when this entire area was filled with strip clubs, porn theaters and sex toy stores. The Davidson theater is one of the last ones,” she pointed to an archaic old building with the image of a creepy old man painted n the side. The old man wore square black glasses, had a long grey handlebar mustache and a well trimmed grey beard.

“He looks like a fucking pervert,” Casey decided, and her brother and sister both agreed.

“Yeah, he was. That’s Ian Neff. He used to write saucy pornographic novels. I read everyone of them I could get my hands on when I was your age,” Diane admitted.

Her kids found it hard to believe.

“What? I was repressed by my parents, and told I was a dirty girl if I liked my pussy touched. Ian’s stories are passe’ compared to what you find on the Internet these days, but back then it would have been scandalous if your grandma found out I had them.”

“Did you ever work downtown?” Jeff asked.

“I have a saying, Jeff. Don’t ask a question if you may not like the answer. I’ve been a stripper before, and you know I have a wild side. I am a Teacher now, and while it’s a nice fantasy to come down here as a Desnudas, it’s just talk.”

“What subject do you teach, Diane?” I asked. It felt strange calling her by her first name. I’d never dare that with my own mother.

“Yoga,” She explained.

That threw me for a loop. I assumed that Diane meant she taught English or Math.

“You look like you don’t approve, Lucas,” she noted with a grin. Diane didn’t seem offended. “I give massage, and teach Yoga for a living. It must have some value since people are wiling to pay for my services, huh?”

The others looked at me like they expected me to put my foot in my mouth.

“I’ve never tried it,” I admitted.

“Would you like to try some Yoga?”

“Right now?” I scrunched my nose up.

“Hah, no! That would be funny. If you don’t think we are all nutjobs and you are willing to adhere to the rules of our house, I’d love to teach you some Yoga and give you a full body massage.”

The phrase “Full Body Massage” made my dick throb since my cock was put of my full body. I assumed Diane didn’t mean that my pecker was included but it was a nice fantasy.

“Since your teacher is dating your Dad, I’ll even give you the friends and family discount. What do you say?”

“How much is that?” I asked nervously.

The others chuckled lightly and Diane held up her fingers into a zero. “I won't charge you a thing. If you are a diligent student and want to learn, I already have three apprentices. I might just put you to work!”

“Don’t do it, it’s a trap,” Patrick covered his mouth as if he were trying to hide what he was saying, but it was just for comedic affect because he gave me the warning out loud.

“Yeah, she pays in kisses and hugs. You are better off working at Starbucks,” Casey admitted.

“Are material things really worth more than a kiss and a hug of gratitude from your wonderful mother who gave birth to you with this amazing vagina and taught you everything you know?” Diane feigned being hurt by their comments.

“Oh look, they’ve already begun!” Diane pointed to Father Duffy’s square in the distance. We had to pass through an open plaza with red folding chairs and tables, and street vendors. We were surrounded on all sides by huge buildings, some of which featured massive electronic billboards flashing images of cool, sexy people.

I could just make out three open tents covered by blue roofs, but completely open otherwise. There was a sign indicating it was the body

“Oh good, we aren’t late,” Diane pointed to her wrist and said that she didn’t know the time. “It’s half past the crack of my ass,” she teased playfully as she strode up. “Did you bring the entrance fee?”

“We have to pay to participate?” my dad was surprised.

“It’s for Charity,” Diane explained as she pointed to a sign “Nude Body Paint Day raises awareness for art, self-expression, and the legality of public nudity for artistic purposes, rather than functioning as a traditional charity fundraiser. The event promotes body positivity and human connection. Thirty-dollar donation, unlimited paint, prizes available.”

My father was surprised, by the requirement but handed his credit card to the organizers. They didn’t ask us our ages, for identification, nothing.

“Six, please,” he handed the card to a chubby topless volunteer with red hair and cats eyeglasses.

“That’s $180 dollars, will you be participating in the games, or just general admission?” the topless woman said. Her tits were huge but they disappeared under the table. I quickly looked around and most of the women looked like her.

There were some decent looking women accompanied by men but most of the ones that appeared single were around my dad’s age or older. There were skinny old men with beards, fat women, even a few black and Asian people but mostly everyone was white.

“What kind of games?” Diane asked.

[EddieDavidson]

“Games and contests,” she clarified and held out a sheet of paper. It included prizes but they were mostly discounts and gift certificates to local restaurants and stores. There were categories for most creative statue, most erotic, most artistic, and they offered better prizes.

The biggest prize was a $200 dollar cash prize for whoever raised the most awareness and donations.

“That would just about cover the cost of entry,” Dad asked if Diane was interested.

“Hell yeah, I am interested! Let’s do it, Cowboy!”

Diane had already slipped off her Dashiki, and was standing there naked as she shot off invisible six shooters with her fingers.

“Can we be naked outside of the fenced in area?” My father asked when he saw that Diane had stripped off in the admissions area outside of the cordoned off area.

“Oh, absolutely. You are free to leave, come back, go anywhere you want. It’s a free country, and we encourage exploration and interaction. Some of the contests like the human statue are going to be performed in the plaza space near the red steps,” she said, and indicated the fenced off area was only for participants.

“The area behind the fence is for some of our participants who are agoraphobic and don’t like crowds. If you need a place away from the non-participants, you can go inside the fenced in area and touch up your paint without fear someone is going to try to touch your butt or steal our stuff. We have complimentary water and snacks, and an air conditioned van for people who get too hot.”

“Ooh, complimentary water! I didn’t need to bring my own,” Diane smiled.

“We do ask for a donation for every bottle of water to defray the costs but it is tax deductible and goes for a good cause,” she smiled.

“Do we need some sort of arm band. How will you know we signed up if we leave and come back?” My dad asked when the woman shook her head that we were fine.

“It’s a nude event so you don’t have to wear anything at all, or just take off what you feel comfortable taking off. It would be kind of illogical if we made you wear an arm band. We’ll know it’s you.”

My father seemed pleasantly surprised, and we went into the tented area and found a spot to start getting ourselves painted. That brings us to where you came into the story.

Casey was holding my dick in her hand like it was an ordinary household item as she spoke to her mother. She’d just called a Dick Hound and Diane’s furious silence sucked all of the air out of the room.

Even Mistress Boo, the black woman with the enormous tits that couldn’t stop talking to save her life, was quiet.

Casey stood her ground. She didn’t cower, or cringe or offer an apology. She didn’t try to walk back what she had just said.

“Well,” Diane let the tension in the tent reach a boiling point before finally breaking the silence with a single word. We hung on her reaction as we waited for her to lash out at Casey. “That is what it says on my label!”

Diane smiled wickedly, turned around, hopped up on the table with her knees and stuck her butt out at us. I was finally able to read the tattoo, but obviously everyone else in her family including my father knew what it said before she bent over.

[[[ image 04_dickhound.png goes here centered ]]]

She had the word “Dick” tattooed on her left butt cheek and “Hound” tattooed on the right in a dark Tannenberg style Germanic font. She seemed rather proud of it and even stuck her tongue out at us as she bent over and let us look.

“Oh hell, yeah! I love that,” Mistress Boo announced. “That’s real?”

“It’s my real skin,” Diane admitted.

“I am a performance artist and I like to use my body to send a message. I’ve thought about tattoos, but I am too ashy and chocolate for it to really show up,” she admitted. “You are pretty kinky to get something like that. Does your husband let you hop on cocks anytime you want?”

“I am not married,” Dianne admitted as she adjusted herself so that she could return to her original position facing us. “This is my boyfriend, Jeff.”

“Hang on now, I was admiring that backside,” Mistress Boo lamented the change. “Are you poly?”

“Polly?” Diane wasn’t sure what Mistress Boo meant.

“You could come live with me and Blaze, be our live in love slave. We are building a polyamory household.”

“I am a package deal and you’ve heard my son and daughters bickering since we arrived. You’d still want me?” Diane asked. I couldn’t believe she’d ask that question right in front of my father.

My father was busy continuing to avoid painting any naughty bits on Clara and the cute girl continued getting antsy and impatient. She’d take her tight braids out and let her sandy blonde hair fall down around her shoulders, which gave her a much older and more mature quality.

“Oh hell yeah, you could all come. Your boyfriend too. I’d do him right. I like white boys! These two fine young men could light up my life,” She cooed as she imagined it. “I’ve got two sons about their age, but they are too shy to come in the naked tent.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I think everybody should be comfortable with nudity and our obsession with repression and normality is unhealthy,” Diane admitted.

“That’s what I say,” Mistress Boo smiled.

“Leon and Kareem will come around one day, in their own time,” Blaze said stoically as he started to take some Christmas tree lights out of a box and unwind them.

“If they see these pretty white girls today, they may just cross in here, but I told them I ain’t paying thirty dollars each for them to play looky-loo. They either drop them jeans and walk around butt necked or they can go fuck around at the stores until I win that prize money.”

“We heard about the contests and games,” Diane smiled at them. “Which ones are you most interested in?”

“I am going to try for most creative, first. Blaze is going to paint words like Freedom, Fight the Power, and Solidarity on my body and then bind me up with those Christmas lights to symbolize the oppression we face, even though we paint slogans all over ourselves. “

Blaze began to strands of green Christmas tree wire around the big woman’s stomach, and chest in a figure eight pattern.

“That’s quite a commitment to your message,” Diane noted.

“Shit, I am innit, to winnit, bitch. Oppression is never supposed to look comfortable. I am going to be lit up, painted up and doing my thing. The real commitment is getting a tattoo of your message on your ass like that. I can wash my paint off, that never comes off.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving dick, and I am not afraid to admit that I enjoy it. I used to be afraid to tell people that I like sex. They got the wrong idea and thought that meant sex with anyone, any place, anytime. It’s a wonderful fantasy but the reality is that you can love to go boating but you don’t have to do it exclusive to all else.”

“Are you a hound for that pussy? Because if you want to eat, I might have a dark berry for you to gnaw on,” Mistress Boo unabashedly pointed over her shoulder to her ass. Blaze took her hands and brought them behind her back and began to bind her wrists together.

“No, I’ve tried it and it’s not quite the same thing. I like to ride and be ridden but I don’t thing I’d get a pussy hound tattoo. Would you, dear?” Diane asked my father.

“Huh, what?” Dad had tuned out the conversation. He was diligently going around Glitter’s tits, as he painted her mid section and clearly distracted.

“If things progress, would you be willing to get a matching pussy hound tattoo to match mine?” Diane asked.

My father is typically well spoken and I’ve seldom seen him at a loss for words. “I, um, well, I am not really a pussy hound though. I’ve never …”

“Ever had yourself a three way with two hot mama’s? Blaze goes both ways, we could make it a foursome. Ever been with a black woman, sugar?” Mistress Boo asked my father point blank if he’d like to have sex without saying those words. “You fine. I’d rock your world.”

Diane arched an eyebrow at my father, to see his reaction to the offer.

“I’d have to think about that and talk about it with Diane,” Dad didn’t say no. That was shocking to me. I assumed that he’d say he was with Diane.

“We haven’t opened up our relationship to others, and we haven’t discussed that possibility, Mistress Boo,” Diane smiled at her sweetly. “If we do, I’d certainly be down to try your dark berries if you can eat strawberries as well as you talk about it.”

Damn it, my cock was spurting and throbbing and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Oooh, gross,” Casey glared at me as if I had just betrayed her as she dropped my cock and shook the cum off her hand. I didn’t complete a full orgasm but I deposited enough jizz that she definitely noticed. She shook her hand angrily.

“You probably shouldn’t have held on to his cock that long if you didn’t plan to shake up Lucas’s bottle,” Diane warned her.

“I wasn’t stroking or jerking him off, he just glazed my palm,” Casey looked at me with disgust as she wiped her hand off on a towel.

“It’s perfectly natural, Carrot. Do you want me to shame you and Glitter every time one of you has a wet, dripping cunt at home?”

“That’s different, and would you please not talk about our,” Casey stopped and said the word “”cunt” very gingerly before adding “in front of everyone? It’s highly embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t humiliating to announce to everyone in the tent that the snake you picked up bit you?” Diane asked.

Mistress Boo seemed amused by that turn of phrase, but I didn’t quite get the reference.

“What?” Casey clearly didn’t either.

“If you pick up a snake, you know it may bite, right? If you hold a guy’s cock for long enough, you know he may shoot. It happens. It’s just a tiny little squirt of mayonnaise or suntan lotion that you can easily wipe off, Casey. It’s no different than when you or your sister leave a little snail trail behind on the seats at home.”

Patrick laughed and repeated the word “Snail Trail”, which I presumed had to do with their girly emanations.

“You are one to talk. Your drippy cock leaks and drizzles constantly and you beat off nine times a day or more, so I don’t know where it all comes from,” Casey stated very loudly to her brother.

“Casey, you just asked me not to talk about you and your sister’s pussy, but now you mentioned Patrick’s overactive sex drive and embarrassed him. That seems like a double standard, doesn’t it?” Diane asked as Patrick returned to painting her body.

”Not really,” Casey softened a bit, because she probably realized she wouldn’t win a pissing match with her mother. “If you want to talk about cunts, I can talk about cocks.”

“Why don’t you do more painting and less talking,” Glitter frowned. “I want to get out there and be a puppy and Jeff doesn’t like painting me,” she almost teared up.

“I am painting everything except the intimate parts, Glitter I am sure you don’t want me painting there. I know I am slow but I’ve never been to one of these before. Your mom or sister can finish the parts that I probably shouldn’t paint.”

“Is that why you skipped my boobs?” Glitter brought her hands up to cup her small boobs. “You can paint them. It’s just boobs.”

Jeff looked at Diane and then back at Glitter, and at me for some reason. Casey slid down and squatted in front of me and began to wipe my cock off. I froze in place. She was a hot much older punk rock girl and she was handling my dick. I assumed that talking about it may make her stop so I just enjoyed the ride while it lasted.

“Let me ask you a question, Jeff. Would you have painted Patrick or Lucas’s chest if they asked you to do it?” Diane asked him.

“That’s different, they are guys,” Dad was flustered and couldn’t look up Diane as he blushed.

“Look at my daughter’s tits, Jeff,” Diane insisted patiently. She waited for my father to glance at them. ”There is nothing wrong with tits. They are wonderful and when handled properly it feels good. I agree with you when you say that there are different rules for different genders. Patrick has a cock; his sisters have cunts. I have a cunt. The rules for operating those, have to be different because we have open plumbing and he doesn’t. Men have things that women don’t, and they process the world differently. I don’t believe in a world where one size fits all and I am not a big fan of rules.”

My dad was silent.

“We have guidelines at my house, which are basically rules but the caveat is that rules are stiff and hard like men. They don’t bend with the wind and they can break completely. The Guidelines are like a gentle willow tree that bends and moves with the wind. It’s hard as hell for mother nature to take down a willow tree,” Diane explained.

My father remained quiet and waited for her to finish her thought.

“You just met the girls today for the first time, but you know we are home nudists. I taught the girls that tits are just skin and everyone has nipples. Females can produce milk and ours grow much larger than yours, just like your brains and muscles grow much larger than ours. We have to accept those differences and cherish each other for them, not be jealous.”

“Well said,” Blaze gave her a slow golf clap.

“If you are uncomfortable touching Glitter’s boobs, even though she just told you that you can, then don’t. I’ll do it and everything will be fine. There is no reason everything has to happen so fast, Jeff.”

“We’ve been dating for six months, Diane, and I’ve always known you had a different way of seeing the world. I am in love with you, and I appreciate your wisdom. Your brain is just as big as mine if not bigger.”

“Well, thank you, but I hardly believe that,” Diane blushed.

“I was just nervous that I’d make her uncomfortable, and touch them wrong, or something and I didn’t want to take any chances,” Dad said.

I could tell from the disappointed look on Diane’s face that was a poor choice of words to use.

“Life is all about chances and learning, how can you know if you can do something if you don’t try it?” Diane asked.

“Amen to that,” Mistress Boo agreed. She was being bound with electric wire and being wrapped even tighter as the conversation continued.

“If you really don’t mind, Glitter,” My dad nervously held up his brush and his hands shook.

“Just go ahead and mash them a few times, and then you won’t think that my boobs will break off,” Glitter squeezed her small tits like lemons and smiled warmly. She blushed a bit as she made the offer.

My father was reluctant, but he started to massage her breasts and breathed a sigh of relief as Diane said “See? The world didn’t come to an end. It’s just tits.”

“Well, your right and thank you both. This is something I would never have expected today,” Dad said as he started painting more confidently. “Obviously, I could do your outer butt cheeks and then if you want the front or the inner cheeks painted, your sister or mom could do that.”

“Wait, do I have to paint Lucas’s cock or not?” Casey furrowed her brow and lifted my pecker up. She’d painted it up like a happy worm with a smiley face and googly eyes and she was painting scales on the side.

I hadn’t realized she was painting me. I thought she was playing with my dick. I was just as shocked as everyone else.

“Why are you asking, Carrot?” Diane asked. “It looks like you finished painting it already an you did a fantastic job.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to paint it? Are we not painting butts and balls?” she looked around the tent and saw that other men had their cocks painted. Blaze adjusted his nuts so she could look at the them.

“As long as Lucas is comfortable with it, you can paint him anyway you like,” Diane instructed as Patrick guided her back on her knees on the table and had her face her butt toward the rest of us like she did when she showed off her tattoo. Diane didn’t resist and I could see the pink starfish between her cheeks.

“What if I am not comfortable with it?” Casey asked, still holding my dick like it was Silly Putty.

“You already painted his cock and balls, I am pretty sure your question is not irrelevant, but you’ve handled enough peckers for me to know you are far from uncomfortable.”

Casey blushed and let my dick go. She started to paint the rest of me. A Puerto Rican guy that had heard everything approached and boldly asked “Hey, how about dropping that squirt and painting me, Sweet Cheeks!”

He had stripped down, naked, but he was still wearing an open blue gas station attendant shirt with the name George embroidered on it.

Casey looked up at him with my cock dangling in front of her. She had the brush in her hand, and for a second she just stared at her like she was deciding whether he was brave or stupid. “Sweet Cheeks?” she repeated. “That the line that usually works for you, George?”

She pronounced his name like the George would be if you said George Washington.

The guy grinned and tapped the name on his shirt and corrected her pronunciation “Whore-Hay.”

“You are gonna need more than hay for this whore to want to pull on this little thing,” Casey’s tits swung in my face as she leaned over me to taunt this guy. “Why don’t you go dip your cock in paint?”

“I didn’t call you a puta but if the shoe fits,” he growled angrily once he was shot down. “I will leave you with your boyfriend,” he scoffed at me like I was nothing. Casey was so far out of my league that I doubted anybody would believe she’d date me.

“Fuck that guy,” Mistress Boo said as Blake pushed her forward, made her stick her butt out and tied her even tight. “That’s what I say. Fuck that guy right to hell.”

“Was that okay mom, or do I have time on the wall for being rude when offered a prick?”

“Carrot, you are no doormat. You don’t have to hope on every dick that gets offered, if that’s what you are asking, and he was rude to you and Lucas. You did fantastic. You stood up to him and handled it.”

“So, no time on the wall on tonight? Casey asked with a pleased grin, and bounced on the balls of her face as she turned to face her mom.

“How much time do you have now?”

“An hour, if you’re counting the train,” Casey said, and she sounded almost proud of whatever she’d done to get in trouble. .

“I am,” Diane replied crisply. “I think some time on the wall would do you some good on a nightly basis, but I’ll cut it in half. You’ve only got thirty.”

“Dammit,” Casey whispered.

“Patrick, how much time do you have?” she asked him as he painted her butt cheeks, while leaving the tattoo visible. He leaned in close enough that he could see everything between her cheeks.

“Thirty, why are you taking off time for fantastic art work?”

“No, I think thirty is fair. Glitter, how much time do you have dear?” She asked her other daughter.

“I don't' think I have any, mom,” Glitter said as she waited while my father worked up the nerve to paint the tips of her nipples for her. She was really starting to look look like a painted up puppy. My dad had even painted her nose brown.

Diane nodded like she was taking inventory and making some calculations in her head. “I think all three of you need some wall time every night for a while, whether you earned it or not. Call it maintenance. If you are already being disciplined for something, I’m not stacking another thirty on top.”

“That’s not really punishment then,” Clara said. “That’s just a scheduled time for us to be on the wall. Doesn’t it mean that whatever we do doesn’t matter because we’ll get it either way?”

“I love you enough to discipline you when you are naughty, but it’s very reactive Clara Belle. What if I could give you a small dose of discipline daily as a gentle reminder. That way you aren’t as tempted to follow your sister’s lead when the two of you get up your shenanigans.”

“Awww, but I like shenanigans,” Clara pouted sweetly. “Please don’t call me Clara Bell ever again and I’ll do an hour on the wall for no reason.”

“I will have to address you by your name when you need it, and I have to discipline you when you need it. The gentle reminder would not be for no reason. It would be to save you having a more significant punishment. You girls have been especially lippy and misbehaved lately and I have to try something new to expect different results.”

“Then if 30 minutes is good, why not an hour?” Clara offered a very unpopular recommendation.

“You are a literal brown noser,” Casey protested and called her out for the brown paint on her nose. Patrick complained as well.

“An hour would be excessive, especially on weeknights. I will give it some thought. I’ll hold off on implementing mandatory time on the wall.”

Patrick, Casey and Clara celebrated. That puzzled me because they hadn’t earned anything They still had exactly the same thing that they always had.

“Patrick, are you putting the brush into my butthole or is that your finger?” Diane asked sternly as she remained on all fours and glanced over her shoulder at Patrick.

Casey made a choked sound like she was trying not to laugh and failing. Clara covered her mouth and stopped wiggling long enough to stare.

Patrick jerked his hand back like he’d been caught touching a hot stove. “Finger,” he admitted while a look of shame spread across his face.

I was shocked that he had been so casual about admitting it. His sisters snickered because they must have realized his time on the wall was about to go up astronomically.

“Shit, if one of my sons stuck a finger in my pooper while I was bound up like this, I’d smack him into next Wednesday!” Mistress Boo was trussed up so tightly she could barely move as Blake applied the fishing touches to her body paint.

“Sorry,” Patrick winced ad looked at his finger and a paint brush. He probably realized too late that lying would have been safer. He still had the brush in his other hand, and he held it up a little like evidence. “I was trying to paint closer to your hole without smearing the letters.”

“Are you lying?” she asked calmly.

“Yes,” he admitted.

I thought that would be admit and Diane would explode but she remained calm and asked another question.

“Were you being nosy or funny?”

“Nosy,” he admitted. “Your poop hole kept twitching a little and I wanted to know what it felt like when it closed around my figner. I wasn't' going deep. You barely felt it! I just wanted to see if your sphincter would tighten up if tapped the circle and let it close around my fingertip. I wasn’t trying to make you fart or anything.”

“This isn’t home. You can’t dig in mommy’s butt like it’s a sandbox. You’ve got paint all over your fingers. You can paint around my sphincter, maybe a little flower or a tree growing out of there, but people here are going to think what you are doing is sexual and naughty.”

“It’s not, I swear! I was just goofing around, watching it open and close on its own,” he admitted in a tone that sounded far less contrite. The thing was that hardly sounded like a valid defense to playing with anyone’s ass.

“I know, you weren’t. You were just tapping and I let you do it a little until you started pushing down with your finger. I should have been clear about playing with me when you started painting. Obviously, the same guideline goes for mommy’s pussy. You can paint me any place people can see. Don’t try to get me all wet and bothered or mashing my clit down.”

I couldn’t believe my cock had risen again and was starting to throb. He played with his mom’s butt.

“Damn, You a freaky-deaky bitch,” Mistress Boo acknowledged what I was thinking.

“I breast fed my son, and I never thought once that putting my titty in his mouth and letting him suck was sexual. I’ve allowed Patrick to climb on me, pull on me, explore me in a non-sexual way and satisfy his curiosity and he’s rarely curious. It’s weird we have parts of our bodies like our armpits that we don’t have any modesty about. We don’t have any concern about firmly gripping people’s hands and shaking them, but if the tip of the finger of a hand you’d shake drifts into one spot of your body, it’s automatically supposed to be disgusting and perverted?”

“That’s very progressive,” Blaze’s voice was full of admiration for Diane’s unorthodox parenting style. He tightened some batteries to th light attached to his heavy set black girlfriend.