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Skunked

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Babes

Author’s note: This is my submission for the Nude Day 2019 challenge. Unlike the other stories I have submitted so far, there are no power games here and nothing rough. This is just “boy meets girl, boy gets naked, girl gets naked, hanky panky ensues”. I do hope that you enjoy it. Please vote and let me know in comments what you think. Also, fwiw, the characters are fiction, but the locations named exist.

I appreciate all of you!

Thanks, Belle

******************

So, the thing about living in the country is you never know what kind of critter is gonna show up in your back yard when you least expect it. Or on your front porch (but that’s a bear cub story for another day). What I like about it is the privacy. I can do whatever I want in my back yard and know that there aren’t any nosey neighbors watching. ‘Course, it helps that my property backs up to a national park, and that most of the people wandering out this way are hikers passing through.

Anyway, there I was, hanging out in the yard, by which I mean the part of my acreage I bother to mow. I’d parked myself under a favorite tree, just chillin’ in my Adirondack chair, with a bourbon on the rocks and a Kindle on the table beside me. It was the middle of July. This high up in the mountains, with the trees as tall and dense as they are, it was pretty nice outside. Humid, cuz that’s what you get in Virginia in the summer, but with a breeze and the promise of a good thunderstorm before sundown.

I may or may not have been reading; I may or may not have been dozing. Ok, I was three quarters asleep, and the bourbon on the table hadn’t been my first. Sue me. It was Sunday. It was hot. Even the birds were snoozing. You know that completely relaxed feeling you get, right when you’re going from sorta awake to definitely asleep? That’s where I was, stretched out. Driftin’.

I’d wandered outta the house in a cotton nightshirt that stopped north of my knees, barefooted, hair pulled up in a bun on the top of my head. I’d started out reading, I promise. I guess maybe my mistake was picking a book on the history of the first Congress. Or maybe the second bourbon was my first mistake. Anyway, point is, I’d quit paying attention to anything but the inside of my eyelids. I was counting on nothing happening.

I was wrong.

Luckily, I heard him traipsing through the woods before he got too close. I guess he wasn’t really trying to be quiet anyways. It was probably the underbrush rustling, or maybe he’d stepped on a stick. Whatever it was, some noise jolted me out of my relaxed state just in time to see him emerge through the tree line.

Then the breeze picked up. I smelled him and gagged.

I was standing by then, a step or two in front of the chair. He broke the cover of the trees and I hollered at him to stop.

He did, startled. Put his hands up and dropped the backpack he was carrying.

“You’re on private property, dude.” I yelled, trying to make a point but be friendly at the same time.

“Sorry, ma’am. But I need some help.”

It was the ‘ma’am’ that got me. I may have a couple of gray hairs, but that’s just cuz both my parents went gray early. I doubted I had five years on this guy.

“‘Ma’am’, please,” I scoffed at him. “Save that shit for your momma or a church lady.”

I rolled my eyes hard and closed some of the distance to him. Then had to stop, because, jeez, he smelled like he’d been dragged through an old dung pile and then freshly shat on for good measure.

“Good lord, man.” I covered my mouth and nose with my hand; my eyes watering. “D’you piss of an entire family of skunks?”

He shook his head ruefully. “No, ma’… uh, miss. Just one big angry one.”

“Well, that was enough, I reckon.”

He nodded. His eyes simultaneously pleading for understanding and surveying me. That’s when I remembered that I had almost nothing on, and that the shirt was kinda thin. And that, for as short as I am, my tits are kinda big, and, well, so is my ass.

We were standing about ten feet apart, a little less than, maybe. He was dressed in typical hiker gear, long pants, boots, and a t-shirt. He had a long sleeved t-shirt tied around his waist. The backpack he’d dropped was big, making me think this wasn’t a day trip. He was tall, big framed, with wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and a short beard.

He grinned and said, “Falling into the pile of bear scat probably didn’t help…”

I had to laugh. I shook my head, “D’you face plant into a corpse along the way, too?”

Now he was laughing. “It’s hard to say. I started running so fast, I might’ve tripped over a zombie and not realized it.”

I guffawed, gestured for him to follow me. I stopped at my chair and table set up, handed him the now watery bourbon I hadn’t gotten to. He knocked it back it one swallow.

I started to shake his hand, but the malodor almost overpowered me. I realized there was a distinct bottom note of unwashed man, made exponentially worse by the skunk spray and bear pendik escort poop.

I’d stepped back a bit, because he was even taller and broader at the shoulder than I’d first realized.

“Thanks,” he said, after he finished the drink. “I’m Jamie.”

I laughed again. “Really? No bullshit?”

He looked startled and perplexed. “Yeah, Jamie Calendar.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that my name’s Jamie, too.”

“Oh, really?” he exclaimed, apparently relieved that I wasn’t some addlepated hillbilly.

“Yep, Jamie Shaw. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jamie Calendar.”

He gave a half mocking bow, “Likewise, I’m sure.”

I returned a mocking curtsy.

Then he looked longingly at my house and I heard his stomach rumble. I stepped into his line of sight and shook my head firmly.

“Sorry, dude, you are not going in my house smelling like that. I can hose you off out here, but that will only do so much. You have other clothes in that?” I gestured to the backpack.

He glanced at it, then looked at me sheepishly. “I’ve been walking this section for three days. My friends are supposed to meet me at McAfee’s Knob trail head tomorrow morning. This” he gestured to himself “was my last clean set…” His voice trailed off. “I doubt anything in there smells better than what I’ve got on…”

“Well, it can’t smell worse.”

I pondered for a moment. I don’t know what possessed me. Other than, he was a good looking guy, and I was feeling a little feisty. I rocked on my heels as his stomach rumbled again and the breeze wafted his stench in my direction.

“I could offer to wash what’s in your backpack, and we’ll figure out something about your skunked clothes. But, I’m telling you right now, I don’t have anything in the house that’ll fit you.”

He looked at me sideways, and said impishly, “Not even your husband’s clothes?”

I met his look with my own sly smile. “Don’t have one of those. I keep hearing how much trouble they are to maintain.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.” Turned and grinned at me, “That’s not why I don’t have one.”

“Some people say wives and girlfriends are just as much bother…”

He tried to look sheepish and failed miserably. “Possibly. Never had a wife. My last girlfriend just took off with my best friend’s girlfriend.”

I whistled long and low. “Oooh. That’s gotta hurt.”

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “That’s sorta what prompted this misadventure.”

I may or may not have deliberately crossed my arms under my tits, pushing them up. There were some interesting happenings south of my stomach, and the vibe I caught indicated no objection on his part.

“So, Jamie, the offer stands.” I said. “We’ll wash what’s in your backpack. You can hose off the first layer of muck out here, then you’re welcome to the shower. I’ll scrounge something for us to eat.”

“But, you don’t have anything for me to wear in the meantime?”

I met his eye with my best firm stare. “Nope.”

He shrugged. “Well, ma’am,” he started, winking as I rolled my eyes at the honorific. “I think I have no choice but to take you up on your kind offer, and hope that you won’t take advantage of my vulnerable state…”

We were both laughing before he’d finished. I gestured to my deck, and as we climbed the few stairs I pointed out the spigot and hose. He dropped the long sleeved shirt onto the deck and undid his pants, pulling his t-shirt off in one fell swoop.

I managed not to whistle. His broad chest and shoulders were clearly almost all muscle. He wasn’t scrawny like most long distance hikers. The definition in his back made me think the physique wasn’t just a gift of mother nature. I turned toward the house, hearing clothes rustling, and imagined him taking off his boots and socks, then the rest. I distracted myself with the hose. The garden hose, I mean. I adjusted the nozzle so that the spray wasn’t too much like a pressure washer, and let it run until the water was cool.

When I turned around, Jamie’s back was to me. And, yes, I paused for a while to admire the view of his ass. Cuz, um, damn.

I hosed off the skunked clothes, avoiding his boots. He glanced down and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “I was gonna do that too.”

He was standing there, arms and legs spread, a real life Vitruvian Man, if Da Vinci had drawn him from behind. He glanced back over his shoulder, saying “Do you mind spraying me off? I’m not sure I can get everything on my own…”

Would I mind? Honey, I doubt he coulda stopped me. I told my hormones to behave themselves, and said “Sure, no problem.”

He jumped a little when the cold water hit his back; I’d started between his shoulders, thinking that was a safe spot to test how harsh the spray was. I asked if it was too concentrated, and he shook his head, so I used the hose to knock off the top layer of odor, starting with the back of his head and working my way down. Ok, maybe I took a little more time, or was a hair more thorough maltepe escort than the job really called for. I may or may not have let the spray linger at the small of his back, just watching the water sluice over his ass and between his cheeks. I may or may not have bit back the urge to lick the bottom of his spine.

When the spray got to his ankles he turned to face me. My waning sense of propriety put up one last fight, so I looked at his face. I did notice a nice amount of chest hair, and splotches of sunburn on the tops of his shoulders. I may or may not have glanced down long enough to register a dark thatch of hair where a pair of long, muscular thighs met. It’s possible that I stood closer to him than absolutely necessary to make sure I covered all of him. With the water, I mean.

I worked the spray back down to his ankles, being careful around the sensitive bits. Jamie never bothered to cover himself. The grin that cracked his face in two told me he was enjoying this just as much as me.

So, I thought, why not prolong things a little.

“Jamie, why don’t you pull your stuff out of the backpack, and I’ll hose that off too, before we carry it inside?”

“Sure, Jamie,” he chuckled. “Sounds like a good idea.”

He’d left the backpack propped up against the railing, and now squatted next to it to unfasten the clasps, and dig around for the other clothes. For a multiple day hike, he travelled pretty light. I hosed down skunked clothes again, to distract myself. I kept stealing glances at him, catching flashes of movement and telling myself that I was not going to ogle him like some horny old biddy.

He tossed out what few clothes were in the backpack, and he was right about the stench on them. He pulled out some trash, a little bit of food, and took off the small tent that had been attached. Then he carefully extracted a flat oblong package which was wrapped in a heavy plastic envelope, and what looked like a kid’s pencil box. He placed both items on the deck railing, as far away from the general vicinity of the splash zone as he could get.

He asked me to hose off the pack itself and stood, bent over, while I did. Looking at him from the side, I noted how his legs, butt and back would all work together powerfully under the right circumstances. I may or may not have had some very naughty thoughts about being on the receiving end of that kind of power.

My attention drawn elsewhere, I failed to notice that the spray from the hose had been splashing back on me. Jamie stood up and looked right at my tits, and I realized that my shirt was soaked through and stuck to my front. I pulled the wet cotton away from my chest. It made an almost obscene sucking noise and proceeded to stick to me again as soon as I moved.

I felt myself blushing. Jamie didn’t seem to mind my show any more than I’d minded his. Which, I guess, was only fair.

I cleared my throat and said, “So, yeah, the bathroom is in through the sliding doors, down the hall. It’ll be the second door on your left. There’re clean towels in the linen cabinet in the bathroom, and of course, you’re welcome to use whatever body wash and shampoo I have. I don’t think it’s too girly smelling.”

I busied myself picking up the wet clothes and clutched them to me.

I caught his eye again, and for the first time he blushed a little. “Thanks. I really appreciate this. I couldn’t stand myself and it had only been a couple of hours.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll look up the best thing to do for the skunked clothes while you’re washing.”

I heard him take a breath to say something, and my dirty little mind envisioned an invitation to join him in the shower. There was a hesitation and he said, “Thanks again.”

I waved it off, “No problem.” I stood where I was as he let himself in my house. I kept standing there until I heard the shower running. I shook my head, wondering what in the hell I was thinking.

In the laundry room, I threw his clothes in the washer, peeled off my sopping shirt and threw in an afghan to bulk up the load. I started the washer and went to my bedroom. I cleaned off my face and dried myself off in my bathroom. Then I tried to decide what to put on. It didn’t seem fair to be clothed, if he’d have to be naked. On the other hand, I didn’t want to surrender all pretense and just waltz out there in the all together.

Besides, there was a chance he would at least wrap a towel around himself. Also, the thing is this: I’m no one’s idea of a model. I’m short. I’m a little past curvy, charitably called Zaftig. I may or may not have underestimated the age difference by a decade. My flirting skills are more than a little rusty.

It was entirely possible that this sexual chemistry I was intuiting was all in my imagination. He didn’t seem to mind me looking at him. I hadn’t minded him looking at me. But that didn’t mean anything more interesting was going to happen. All that was certain was that we’d have a couple of hours to kill while his clothes kartal escort got cleaned.

And there are more ways to kill time than the horizontal mambo. Or so my best friend from college used to say.

Anyways, I decided on a long t-shirt and a pair of semi-sexy panties. I wandered back through the house and fired up the laptop. Google mentioned a concoction with white vinegar for skunk smell. I mixed some up in a bucket out on the deck, dumped the clothes in and swirled everything around. I found a big towel, and used my feet to dry our wet footprints in the hallway as I went back toward my bedroom.

I sat on my bed for a few minutes, contemplating what I might have gotten myself into. I couldn’t have explained why I felt so comfortable with this guy in my house. Maybe it was his open and honest expression. Maybe it was his comfort and self-assurance. I suppose living this far out in the boonies comes with an obligation to help strangers if they need it. Maybe I was just hornier than I’d been in a while. Also, I knew where my shotgun was. I sighed to myself, excited and feeling a little silly. Then my stomach rumbled.

As I headed back down the hallway, Jamie exited the bathroom. He did have a towel wrapped around his waist, but there wasn’t enough overlap for it to stay. He had the corners gripped in one hand. He followed me into the kitchen.

“I’ve got fresh made tuna and pasta salad. Beer. I figured we could eat out back.”

“Sure. Tuna and pasta salad?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Imagine tuna salad with a few more vegetables, mixed together with shell pasta. I usually sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top. And I have a local brew lager.”

“Sounds great. I’m starving. I guess wasn’t thinking too clearly when I planned this long a hike. I’ve eaten nothing but protein bars for the past day. I went through all my trail mix and ready meals too quickly.”

I nodded and started pulling the food out of the fridge. He reached out to help with the bowl and dropped his towel. He squatted down to pick it back up again, blushing. With the next try, he managed to grab the bowl with the other hand and keep the towel up. He followed me outside, while I carried plates and napkins. He stayed while I got the rest of what we needed.

When I came out, he had served both of us, but was sitting back in the chair waiting for me. He was still gamely trying to keep a hold of the towel. I didn’t say anything until he tried to eat that way too, one handed; the ends of the towel still gripped in his other fist. It just wasn’t working. The towel had spread open when he sat down anyway. I may or may not have noticed that he was pretty well completely exposed.

After we’d been eating for a few minutes, and I saw him reposition for the umpteenth time, I said, “Just let it go and be comfortable, dude. I won’t be scandalized.”

He blushed and laughed at the same time, but relaxed as he dropped the towel ends and settled more comfortably in the chair. His foot brushed against mine and neither of us pulled away. We concentrated on eating in a companionable silence. He had to have been starving, the way he dug into the food.

After he’d put away a serving or two we started chatting, small talk about the weather lately and some local news. By some unspoken mutual agreement, we shied away from personal topics about jobs or family, backgrounds or ex-lovers. I found myself really relaxing, which I don’t usually do around people I don’t know. We’d both finished our beers and he offered to get some more. When he stood up the towel stayed in the chair. I made no bones about watching him walk away.

I watched him walk back, too.

Suffice to say, the show was more than worth the couple of bucks I was spending on food and laundry detergent. He sauntered over to the table, full of young male grace and confidence. A guy who clearly knew his appeal to women but managed to wear it lightly. Like an offer, instead of an assumption. And his schlong? Delicious looking. Delicious enough that I may or may not have literally licked my lips.

He was holding two bottles of beer in one hand, loosely, so that they were level with his hip. My eye was drawn exactly where he wanted it, looking at two stiff cylinders, and a softer, thinner cylindrical appendage protruding from that dark patch of hair. I grinned lasciviously, thinking about what kind of transformation I might be able to elicit from that appendage. He had a bunch of grapes in his other hand.

The smile playing at the corner of his lips revealed a mischievousness matched only by the twinkle in his blue eyes. I suppressed an urge to devour him right down to that twinkle, and casually took the beer he offered. He settled back in his chair now turned to face mine, those long legs stretched before him. He plopped the grapes on his plate and picked one.

I said, “I have to say. A multi day hike on your own is usually not a good idea. Plus, you just took off running? You could’ve gotten really lost.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking so clearly when I planned this thing. I just got up a few mornings ago and decided I needed to walk in the woods. I had a friend drop me off at the Wind Rock trailhead, y’know, in Giles.”

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