Stripped For Florida: Michael, Part 3
By Willie B.
williebflorida@gmail.com
Copyright 2011 by Willie B., all rights reserved
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* * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of
sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
* * * * *
Stripped
For Florida
Michael,
Part 3
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* *
Name:
Michael
"I
told your swim coach that we might invite the team to our house for an informal
get together -- and I did mention that you were not allowed to wear swim trunks
at home, so we'll see."
"Mother!"
"Don't
be ashamed of a thing. Now, new rules,
strip down and don't let me see a stitch of clothing on you in this house again
or I'll let your father take over. He
tells me that naked is the only way to raise a boy."
That's
how the conversation went two weeks after Thanksgiving and I have never been
allowed to wear anything at home since. As usual, my mother issued this as a
"directive" from my father.
As
soon as I get in the door I am to undress completely and leave my clothes on
the floor. My mother comes and takes them away.
When it is time to leave the house for school she brings what I am to
wear at the last minute, freshly washed and pressed. I've never had a friend come to the house for
a visit. But I have to stay naked all the time no matter who else comes
over. My mother's friends gather at the
house twice a week to sip tea, eat delicate bites of pastries and worry about
whether they are getting fat. They have
now instituted the habit of having me wait on them, bringing cups of tea and
water on a tray and leaning over to serve each one in turn. When they don't need food or drink they tell
me to go swim laps in the pool, or practice diving. I should mention that I'm not only naked, but
usually at least partially erect as well.
Yes, it is the same gel from France.
"Michael, rub some of that gel on yourself," orders my mother.
"Don't you know my friends are coming over soon?" I'm used to being hard, naked and on display,
but it isn't so enjoyable being a slave for my mother and her friends. It isn't
like last Thanksgiving when we did seem to have a warm, cozy family feeling for
the first time I can ever remember.
*
* *
Name:
Sarina
Michael
is getting used to being naked. He never
complains when my friends are over for tea and he must stay with us and serve
us hot tea in the glass cups and saucers from France, or the tall glasses of
ice tea, or the tumblers of water, or the small demitasse with rich Italian
espresso; not the Cuban coffee so popular in Miami, but dark roasted coffee
beans made the Italian style in the large copper espresso maker. He looks so cute with his tanned body and
semi-erect penis going from one of my lady friends to another with the small
platter of sweets.
"Would
you care for another sweet, Mrs. Olivander.
May I take your empty cup, Mrs. Desparto?"
"You're
the sweet," teases Mrs. Olivander.
I know she is tempted to tweak Michael's erection. I tell her to go ahead but she just laughs
her high-pitched laugh and bats her eyes coyly.
"You think I don't get enough at home, don't you? I know my husband isn't a hunk like yours
Sarina, but he's good in bed!!!"
Actually
my husband is quite good looking. He is
good in bed as well. He insists that I
perform well, too, and that is my job. I
must look and perform well at all times.
After all, am I not becoming an accomplished film star in my husband's
business? He says Marina is getting
better at it, but that I am a natural.
Now
that Michael is nude at home all the time I make sure he gets enough sun to be
nicely tanned. He applies the gel from
France before my friends come over so that he will be hard. I am not sure if he is supposed to be hard at
the Cap in France this summer. The time
is coming up soon. I will need to
consult with my online chat group and find out what reaction people will have
to a boy being accidentally erect in public.
If I had my way I would keep him that way all the time, but I have two
complaints about the gel. It does not
seem as effective as the first time the girls applied it to Michael's body, and
it wears off rather quickly, in my opinion.
Really, it keeps him only half-hard during our afternoon teas.
Irene
-- that's Mrs. Desparto -- says she has to bring her daughter next week. Something about her housekeeper being away
and not wanting "J" home by herself.
I always thought girls were more self-sufficient, but if she's as
incapable as my Michael I can understand.
"Sure, bring her. I'm sure
she'll be bored to death, but maybe she can bring a book to read." What
kind of name is J, anyway?
"I'm
sure she'll be fine," Irene remarks, "and there's always Michael to
look at."
I'd
forgotten that might be of interest to a young girl. "How old is she?" I inquire.
"Michael's
age."
• • •
Name:
Michael
When
I woke up this morning I stood looking down at the blue of the swimming pool,
the water flashing reflections of sunlight and glass. Now that I don't have a bed to make, pajamas
to change out of, clothes to change into, or laundry to sort, I feel lost at
times. For an introvert like me it is difficult to have very few routine
chores, like sorting clothes and getting dressed. I don't have friends, not
really.
It
used to be just my mother--my mother and a succession of various men who passed
through our lives as we moved from one cheap apartment to another in the armpit
districts of South Florida's endless sprawl. This glass house is part of what
my mother married into: husband, stepfather, career, home, mansion . . . all
part and parcel of what she calls her "life solution." Before hitting
upon the current combo she tried temporary jobs, get rich quick schemes,
lottery tickets, pyramid schemes, alcohol, ecstasy, and a lot of sex. Through it all I was shunted from one school
district to another, met more teachers, counselors, academic deans,
vice-principals and fellow students than an entire school of kids should have
met in a lifetime. Let's face it, to
survive I'd learned to keep my own counsel, keep my grades okay and stay in the
pool. Swimming was my haven. If someone as introverted as I had become
could be said to have friends, they were my fellow swimmers. I wasn't one of the boisterous,
towel-slapping locker room types. I
didn't crow and show off on the diving stand.
But all the swimmers knew who I was.
After all, as many schools as I'd been at in those few years, I'd been
on almost every swim team in the district!
My
mother promised or threatened to invite the swim team over and to show off our
indoor pool and my enforced home nudity, but that has yet to happen. She tried to get me stripped for school, I
think. That attempt was
unsuccessful. The experiment that did
work was buying custom made Australian nylon swimsuits for the team. They even sport the school colors.
While
no one could actually see into my bedroom, I could see every inch of the pool
area. At this moment in time my
stepfather walked boldly into the room, scanned the water and dived cleanly
into the water. He was a fit man, and
from a swimmer's point of view I admired the dive and the style of his strokes
as he knifed across the pool. His skin
was tanned in the way that comes from wearing little or no clothing in the
tropics; his dark hair had just a few traces of silver -- a full head of hair
and a masculine covering of fine dark hair across his body. Yes, my stepdad was nothing shabby in the
physical appearance category. Obviously he had a knack for making money. He had
a strong sense of style, from the modern lines of this house to the fine
details of cutlery and cuisine. He also had strong opinions, and no one in his
life escaped them, from those related by blood or marriage to those who
received a pay check from one of his numerous businesses.
Knowing
I am one of those under the closest of scrutiny I try to keep a low profile.
• • •
Name:
Papa
My
daughter Marina is really developing as an actress. Of course, she is not as naturally talented
as my wife, but youth and practice will make up for that. Michael is getting used to being nude around
the ladies. I think he will benefit from
the summer in France. Nudity is much
more accepted there and of course he will also meet some girls. If you could only know the difference between
my experience with girls at that age!
Perhaps we have let him lead too sheltered a life. My wife mentions that the daughter of one of
her friends is coming over next week. Still, I think it will be in France where
he will become more comfortable with his own body and with members of the
opposite sex.
• • •
Name:
J
I
wasn't looking forward to going with my mother.
Another tea party, really!
"I can stay home, mom, really.
It isn't like Dolores does anything when she's here."
"That's
not the point," retorts my mother. "Dolores keeps an eye on you. I don't know what mischief you'll be up to if
she isn't there."
So,
I have to tag along on one of my mother's endless social rounds, listen to
gossip, drink tea, discuss the latest minuscule changes in fashions. Besides, what mischief does my mother think I
can get into at home. I can't drive,
have no car, no money. It isn't as if
the place is stocked with drugs or cute boys.
No, it is just me, my iPod, the TV, the pool. The stupid pool. I don't really like swimming all that much. I
mean, it's okay but it is boring to swim alone.
So,
at first I thought, wow, another millionaire mansion, although I have to admit
this one is more interesting than most places that cost a bundle in Miami. This edifice isn't made of faux granite and
tall pillars and tan and orange stucco.
From outside it is all blue green glass and angles and sharp
corners. Flashes of light caught the
triangular panes of glass as if reflected off water. Inside, I quickly ascertained that this was
true. An indoor pool took up a major
amount of space to the left of the soaring entry area. Marble floors reflected light, glass caught
the light, water shimmered in the light.
What
I wasn't expecting was the naked boy. He's terribly shy! I tried catching his attention when we first
arrived, but he was busy being ordered about by my mother's friends. "A glass of tea, Michael. Please bring me another demitasse. Those sweets are just terrible for my figure,
so Michael, make sure I only eat one."
When they were done with that they ordered him to swim. He seemed relieved to dive into the water and
get away from all of them. His tanned
body sliced the water cleanly and he stayed under for so long I was afraid he'd
drowned. When he came up he looked
embarrassed to see me sitting on the edge of the pool right near him. Come to think of it, he probably stayed under
so long to avoid me as well.
I
smiled at him and waved. His eyes got
big, like he didn't know what to do and he dove back under and swam to the far
end of the pool. Still, I stayed and
watched him and smiled each time he surfaced.
I didn't even mind that he was naked or that his thing was so . . .
hard. For some reason, on him, it seemed
normal and nice.
• • •
Name:
Sarina
My
son is very shy with girls. I watched
him when my friend's daughter came over the first time. I asked Irene to bring J back the next
week. I think Michael will have to get
used to being around girls. After all,
if he is to be part of the family business I'm not sure he can only do it with
boys! That is just a joke. My husband assures me that there will be no
problem with Michael after he spends a summer in France. We leave in two weeks and everything is
prepared. It is especially easy to get
ready to take Michael since he will only be taking a pair of flip flops, cut
off shorts and a tank top. Oh, yes, also
a toothbrush. I will purchase the
remainder of his toiletries in France.
He is to be absolutely naked all summer with nothing else to distract
him from being in his own body. Except
for food, drink, sunscreen, soap, toothpaste and shampoo he will have
nothing. Claudine says she will keep him
shaved, so he does not need to be in charge of his own razor.
I
am not sure about J. She seems to like Michael, but I will decide when we
return whether she is a good influence for my son, or not. Perhaps my husband will be able to advise
me. Oh, I also have decided that Michael
will not have any condoms this summer. I
have informed my online chat room that I do not think he should have that much
fun -- it may be a distraction from being a pure nudist boy. Oh, dear, that means I'll have to let my
husband inform him that he should not get some girl pregnant just because he
has no condoms. He is not ready for that
activity yet.
• • •
Name:
Michael
The
fateful day has arrived. We are leaving
for France tomorrow. My stepfather has
supposedly decreed that I am to be dressed in a pair of flip flops, very short
cutoff denim shorts, and a tank top. I
have been given a small bag for my passport and a toothbrush.
"We'll
buy you some toiletries when we get to the Cap," informs my mother. "Other than that you will have
nothing. Your step-sisters are to watch
over you, but I have given them strict instructions not to spoil you. You are to be a perfectly naked boy with no
money and no entertainments. If you get
bored then you will have to get used to just being by yourself. Your stepsisters will probably enjoy trying
on clothes, shopping, getting some make-up, but they are to get you nothing
except healthy food to eat and the necessary toiletries."
My
mother says "toiletries" as if they are some magical substance
available only in France. As for being used to just being myself, what else
have I been doing all these years? Anyway, I like Jeannette and Claudine. My mother and stepfather will be traveling in
Spain and elsewhere in France for most of the summer, so I'm actually looking
forward to getting a break from their machinations.
We
drive to the airport, go through security, wait in the lounge, board the
plane. My mother places me along the
aisle of the plane. The flight attendant
is making sure that everyone is securely buckled in, tray tables up, seats
upright.
"Aren't
you a little cold, young man?" she asks me.
I
shrug. In fact, the air conditioning is rather uncomfortable, but what choice
do I have.
"He's
going to spend the entire summer as naked as the day he was born,"
announces my mother quite loudly. Heads
turn from rows away. "So, he should
start getting used to it now. We have
dressed him in old, raggedy clothes that can be thrown away when we arrive at
Cap d'Agde. Then he will be a nudist boy with nothing to wear. I would strip
him here if it were allowed."
The
flight attendant smiles indulgently at my mother. "We do require the
minimum attire while on board, ma'am.
He's fine the way he is."
However,
she looks at me with a little more interest and her eyes run along the length
of my long, tanned legs.
• • •
Name:
Papa
It
is wonderful to have the entire family together again. We go out for dinner each night and spend
hours trying the different appetizers, going through each course in a leisurely
manner, and enjoying one another's company.
I feel that Michael is a little quiet, but perhaps that is just my
imagination!!! Of course, we had a
little trouble when we first arrived as the finest restaurants at the Cap
require formal dress in the evening.
"But this is a nudist resort," I explain to the maitre d'. I am rebuffed with the particular disdain
that can only happen here in my own country. But all was solved when I made an
impression on the manager of the best restaurant at the Cap. "It is only my son who is to be nude. I
am in formal dress, as you can see," I explained to the manager. "All
day I am in the nude, as is my custom, but in the evening I put on the finest.
Of course, my wife, and daughters, they are in beautiful miniskirts and high
heels. Who can complain? You see, it is only my son who is to be
naked. He is in training to be a fashion
model for my company and can wear no clothes at all this summer."
"A
fashion model? Naked? C'est vrai?"
The manager raises his eyebrows.
"Yes,
of course, it is for my company -- films, you see. The women are in fashions, the boy is
naked. Even when the women are naked,
the boy is still naked."
"Ah,
I see. Your company, it is in Paris?"
"Paris,
London, Miami."
"Monsieur. There is no problem. You are welcome any time. Just make sure your son is naked,
eh?" The manager winked. The next time we dined I had a packet of DVDs
sent up to his office. I am sure he
appreciated the "fashion models."
• • •
Name:
Sarina
When
we go to dinner everyone is formally dressed.
We dine at the fanciest restaurant at Cap d'Agde. My husband explains that he has selected this
particular restaurant because this is the only place where Michael can be naked
while everyone else is dressed. We eat
for hours each evening and he must stay nude.
I wear a short white dress with very high heels. Claudine and Jeannette have mini skirts and
also wear high heels. My husband looks
very handsome in a well cut summer weight linen suit. I see one of the girls at another table
eyeing Michael.
"Have
you spoken to the girl over there?" I ask Michael. "What's her name?"
He
shrugs and looks away. "I don't
know, mother. I never talked to
her."
"Go
over and say hello. Don't be so
shy." I nudge Michael and then
order him to go speak to the girl. He
gets up and actually walks over to the other table and mumbles a good evening
to the girl. She laughs and says
something to him. He nods and rushes
back over to our table.
"What
did she say," asks Claudine.
"Um,
her name is Marie. She says she's seen me around and will find me tomorrow to
hang out."
"Ah,
you have a girlfriend," remarks Jeannette.
Michael
looks down and says nothing.
• • •
Name:
Marie
The
"naked boy" came over to our table and mumbled something this
evening. I'm pretty sure his mother put
him up to it, or one of those older girls that are always with him. But I've been watching him for some
time. It is funny to say the "naked
boy" when we're at the Cap, but he is always naked. There are a few other kids who are almost always
naked, but as odd as it might seem, nudity is mostly for the daytime and
sunshine. In the evening everyone
dresses. Some of the clothing is pretty
provocative -- sexy straps and leather outfits, chains, stiletto heels -- the
rest is summer formal. Only little kids
are naked at all in the evening, and no one else in this very fancy
restaurant. So, "naked boy"
stands out.
I
found him the next day, which wasn't difficult.
If he isn't with the two girls he says are his step-sisters he's almost
always at the same pool --swimming, diving or sunning.
"Naked
boy. I told you I'd find you
today!"
"Oh,
hello. So it is you."
"What's
your name?"
"Michael."
"Hmm,
I'm Marie -- I told you that last night."
He's
so cute when he nods without speaking.
So shy!
"So,
you like being naked?"
He
shrugs. "I don't have any
clothes. It is my mother's idea -- or
perhaps my papa's. Anyway. I am not allowed to have clothes this
summer."
I
sit down beside him and run a finger up his penis. That's right.
I'm not particularly shy when I like someone.
"Want
to take a walk," I ask, standing up and reaching for his hand.
• • •
(The End)