Camping on Nude DayCamping on Nude Day


Author’s Note: A huge THANK YOU for the beta read and editing performed by patientlee. Any mistakes you find belong to me, not her. (We should all wish to be as kind as her.) This is my Nude Day 2014 Contest Submission. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Now, on with the story:


You’re sort of boring in bed . . .

Claire’s words haunted Jared. Her words still carried the sting of a straight shot poured down a raw throat. The slap in the face came next, Can we still be friends? He closed the Excel document open on his computer, unable to work while being haunted. Instead, he opened a first-person shooter game and began blowing away Nazis or zombies or zombie Nazis with Russian accents and dildo bats as weapons. He didn’t care. An hour of mind-numbing carnage would drown out Claire’s echoes and memories of what might have been.

His apartment had grown as dark as his heart when he pushed away from his computer. Jared groaned. How many hours were wasted to the sounds of gunfire and splatters of blood-colored pixels in an effort to block out Claire’s voice? Shouldn’t he have a group of similarly aged friends living as a group in an across-the-hall apartment, ready to console him with witty banter? Oh yeah, he didn’t live in a sitcom with impossibly pretty friends who could ease him through real-life pain in twenty-four minutes.

Predictable had been the word she had used. Predictability in bed made him boring.

Jared went into the kitchen. He sautéed mushrooms in a wine sauce and built a burger finer than any sitcom’s faux restaurant. Jared enjoyed cooking for the same reasons he enjoyed programming or building spreadsheets. Cooking had understandable rules, methods and systems for success. Like a good computer program, remove one element and a meal lost its magic. Jared programmed the same way. Good code created magic one argument at a time. Too bad relationships didn’t work the same way.

Jared scooped his burger from the frying pan to its honey-wheat bun. Claire had thought the magic to his burgers came from pan frying instead of grilling. She came closer when she guessed it was how he sautéed mushrooms. Jared knew the secret had always been the unexpected sweetness from the honey-wheat bun.

You’re sort of boring in bed . . .

“Bitch,” he told his plate before taking the bite that always tasted best, the first one.

Can we still be friends?

“Fucking bitch,” he mumbled around a mouthful of burger. Claire’s ghost couldn’t subtract from the mix of flavors on his palate. The delighting flavors of sweet and tang worked best when combined with aroma and appearance. He took another bite, felt the dribble of juice slipping down his chin and knew why he was sort of boring in bed. He approached sex the same way, his way. He methodically combined magical elements until magic became mundane. The last bite was never as good as the first. Moving on had been easier in high school and college where a steady flow of new people lurked on the edges of life. Using home as a workplace limited the possibilities of meeting someone new. Jared analyzed his dilemma and studied his options. Like a sitcom, real life was filled with guest stars, too. He had options. Real life included the pretty blonde-haired cashier at the organic market who always ogled his basketful of selections. Real life included a professional network of other programmers, both distant and nearby. Hooking up wasn’t his problem.

You’re sort of boring in bed . . .


She had said he lacked imagination. Claire’s critique rode his empty plate into the sink. Dish washing was always done from left to right. The far left half of the sink was filled with soapy water and the far right side was for rinsing. It was predictable. Repetitious. Jared filled the right side of the sink with soapy water. Did it matter? Did the dish care? If it was sentient would it appreciate the change? He moved the sponge counterclockwise and asked the dish, “Does that feel better?”

Working opposite felt different to him. As far as he could tell, it felt the same to the dish. Working right to left or left to right gave the same results: clean dishes. His system always gave Claire orgasms, multiple orgasms. Ten months ago she had said, You make me feel good in places I didn’t know I had. Now? He chased away the words before they echoed again.

Jared attributed his programming skill to the judicious application of epiphany. Solving programming problems by following one’s education felt like blindly following GPS instructions between Point A and Point B. GPS could provide the fastest route, but fastest wasn’t always best. Elegant solutions included a slightly longer route through the park after an especially stressful part filled with congestion. GPS didn’t measure stress, but drivers did.

Thin without being skinny, Jared believed his physical appearance had met Claire’s taste, or she would have never dated him in the first place. He was confident Claire preferred his rize escort brown eyes from the number of times she had comment on how big and dewy they looked. She had once told him, “You have near perfect bedroom eyes.”

Jared was too intelligent for wasting energy worrying about the length and girth of his manhood. Like an absolute number, it was an unchangeable element of the equation. His prick was slightly longer than average for Caucasians, and other women had assured him the bulbous head was a delight when he was inside of them. He doubted Claire longed for a different shape inside of her any more than the dish cared about being washed in a counterclockwise motion.

Jared had his preferences, too. He didn’t care for large breasts. He preferred Claire’s smaller breasts and he perceived her pointy nipples as remarkably sensitive. He preferred her short dark hair, too. And her pointy nose. . .

He often wished life provided a trumpet fanfare whenever an epiphany arrived. Dissecting individual elements had him chasing the elongated, flexible posterior extension of his spine. Jared didn’t have a tail, and he wasn’t going to find his answer by analyzing individual elements for compatibility. He felt like GPS guidance neglecting a trip through the park after a bout of congested street warfare. Something had to change if he wanted her to stop haunting him.

Ten days had passed since their conversation. Could détente follow a relationship that had never been hostile? He sent a text. One word and nothing more without a prompt response from her, “Hello.”

Her reply came within seconds, “Hi there!”

“Are we really still friends?” he asked. She would understand his blind spot, how he sometimes took people at face value without catching deeper meanings.

His phone rang. “Of course we are,” Claire said in a voice filled with sunshine. “How are you?” Her question sounded genuine and he accepted that as real.

“Good,” he said, though it felt like half a lie. Jared didn’t like lying, not even half-way.

“So what’s up?”

“Me,” he said, giving her an out-of-character response.

“Doesn’t that qualify as too much information?” she asked. Jared was poor picking up on emotional clues, but he caught the caution in her voice and smiled to himself.

“But you asked,” he said.

“Is that why you texted me?” He could hear the confusion in her voice.

“No, consider that a bonus. I was wondering how you were doing. “How’s work?” Jared heard Claire relax as the conversation veered into safer territory. Was safer boring? He happily listened while she caught him up on the drama inside her tiny department at the college. Along the way his laughter was genuine, and his questions engaged her to tell all. He didn’t mind. He missed Claire in other ways, too, and a happy half hour slipped by with the unnoticed ease usually reserved for the New York Times’ Sunday crossword puzzle.

“It’s getting late,” Claire observed, “but this has been fun!” Again, she sounded genuine.

“I missed getting my update. You should start a blog.”

“I could never do that,” she giggled. “Who would believe me?”

“I would,” he said and heard her yawn. It was after eleven and Claire, ever the creature of habit, was up past her bedtime. “Guess I’ll take care of my business and head to bed,” he added, drawing the conversation to a close before she could.

“What business?”

“The long, hard, aching business straining for immediate attention,” he hinted. He waited while she sorted out his suggestion.

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Are you really . . .?” He laughed. “I mean . . . never mind. None of my business.” She gave a self-conscious giggle.

“It’s okay. You’ve seen, held, licked and ridden it. Though we’re just friends, maybe it’s okay acknowledging it even between friends?”

“Have fun,” Claire purred.

“Oh trust me, I will,” Jared finished and hung up. His prick wasn’t hard or straining, yet. A bit of porn on the computer screen fixed that problem. He masturbated, cleaned up and went to bed wearing a hint of a smile. Claire had spoken with him. She had sounded entertained, in a good way, when he said he was going to masturbate.

Jared waited three days before reaching out to her again. “Hey you,” she sang as she answered the phone. “What’s up?” Was she thinking about his last answer to that question?

He avoided repeating his last answer. “I’m calling for my update. How’s work?”

“Wow! Really?” She sounded pleased. “Nothing really happened. Well, there was this one funny thing . . .”

Claire’s office was responsible for dorm rooms and managing the Resident Advisors on each floor. When a problem exceeded the RA’s ability, Claire was called in to help. There was always something funny or interesting happening. Twenty minutes slipped by before Claire asked about his work. Jared kept his answers brief. As a programmer working from home, his days were filled with writing or analyzing lines of cryptic code, and the last thing he wanted to do was bore her.

Jared knew programmers without social skills. He had slept with a couple of the prettier ones. Amongst his nerdier friends, he was a legendary cocksman for his ability to talk to women. He had never found it difficult. As a teen, Jared had spent hours studying and memorizing bits from great comedians. He used to recite those bits, word for word, and study the reactions. Along the way, he developed an impeccable sense of comedic timing. He knew good humor from bad and used it to his advantage. Along with a great smile, good grooming habits and a kind way with words, girls liked him.

As weeks passed, Jared accepted his new status as friend and confidant, nothing more. Claire admitted she was dating again. He wasn’t surprised, and she wasn’t alone with seeking out physical companionship. Jared enjoyed a couple hook-ups at conventions with pretty programmers high in intelligence and low in social graces. The cute, blonde cashier at the organic market became an occasional overnight guest. Whatever Rayne the cashier lacked in intelligence was replaced with a zeal for life and an appreciation for his bedroom skills.

Sometimes he wondered if he was a ticking time bomb. Would Rayne grow bored of his skills as the months passed? Her appreciative cries of pleasure suggested otherwise.

After weeks of being “just friends,” Jared asked if Claire would meet him for lunch. At a tiny, boutique-style eatery near campus, they laughed and smiled like old friends. “That was nice,” Claire said as he walked her back to her office. They did it again the next week until lunch happened once a week for several weeks in a row. “We hired a new girl,” Claire told him. “She’s nice. You would like her. She’s into computers, too.”

“I’m doing okay,” he assured her.

“Oh, you and Rayne are serious?”

Jared was unsure how to quantify his relationship with Rayne. Did sex three times a week count as a serious relationship? That wasn’t how it felt with Rayne, and he never questioned it. They would get together, enjoy amazing sex, and sometimes she spent the night. He didn’t worry about quantifying their relationship. He knew sometimes people asked the question they wanted to answer. “What about you? Are you getting serious with someone?”

Claire dropped her head and rearranged her salad without taking a bite before looked back up. “I don’t know.” She gave him a gentle smile that confused him. Why would it matter? He didn’t expect her to remain single. Too much time had passed. Why would she be worried about hurting him?

She overloaded her fork, announced “I love their salads” and happily chewed. Jared saw through her ruse. He took a smaller bite of his lunch as he considered her. If life was a chess game, and he knew it wasn’t, it felt as if she had just sacrificed her queen. Claire had many redeeming qualities. She was kind to animals, enjoyed gross-out comedies and seldom flaunted her privileged upbringing. However, Claire was an exceptionally poor chess player.

No trumpets sounded a fanfare as his epiphany arrived. “You’re dating Ricky again, aren’t you?”

Claire blanched and struggled with swallowing her mouthful of greenage. Jared didn’t need her confirmation. “He called after we stopped dating,” she gushed with an explanation he didn’t need. Richard “Ricky” Sutterfield was Claire’s blind spot and Jared’s Kryptonite.

“But why?” Jared asked, stunned she would go back to a man who had treated her as poorly as Ricky.

“He just calls sometimes,” she said, misinterpreting his question and thinking he was asking why Ricky had called. Sorting out her mistake did little to answer his question. “I don’t know. He’s fun, I guess.”

Jared heard, He’s not boring in bed. He shoveled a forkful of salad into his mouth. Unlike Claire, he kept his forkful bite sized. Swallowing, however, still required a sip of water.

“Look, I know Ricky can be a bit of a cad. I’m okay. I’m being careful.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Jared managed and he meant it. He also meant it when he added, “If you need to talk, I’m here for you. Okay?”

“You’re the best,” she said, patting his hand and Jared knew he was nothing more than Claire’s friend and confidant. They shared the check for lunch.

He walked her back to her office and met Lori, the woman Claire had suggested. Jared was polite and nothing more. On his way home, he stopped by the organic food market. Rayne’s face lit up as soon as he walked in the door. Though she was in the middle of ringing someone up, she abandoned her register station and greeted Jared with a big hug. When she darted back behind her register, she apologized to the customer left waiting. “Sorry, he’s my boyfriend.” As Jared shopped, he decided that was truer than he had allowed over lunch with Claire. He used her checkout line. “Looks so good,” she fawned over his purchases.

“You’re worth it. Dinner tonight?” he asked. Her smile was answer enough. “Stay the night, too?”

“Dinner isn’t the best part about spending the night,” she said with a wink and a smirk.

After dinner, they watched most of a witless romantic comedy. Jared had an appreciation for a vast variety of comedy from slapstick to the driest of dry sarcasm, but the delight people found in the romantic comedy genre was lost on him. However, the impact the movie had on Rayne made it worthwhile.

After the movie, she was eager for sex. Claire’s criticism had changed Jared’s approach. He manufactured surprise each time. He stopped her from getting undressed. Fully clothed on his bed, he kept her lips spellbound as he snaked his hand down her flat stomach, inside her jeans and over her panties. He caressed her sex, rubbing her bushy womanhood through her panties and enjoying how she squirmed.

“More,” she purred between kisses. He raked his fingers over her panties before working them beneath the elastic waistband. His fingers deftly parted her all-natural pubic hair before he placed a single finger against her clitoris. He moved his finger in a tight back and forth motion over her swollen love button while keeping their mouths pressed together. He didn’t stop until her back arched, and the first orgasm of the night wiggled and squirmed through her.

He pulled away from their kiss so she could breathe. Rayne gave him with a look of awe. He undid her zipper and slipped down the bed as he pulled off her jeans. He jerked off her jeans and panties in a single motion, turning both inside out as he tossed them on the floor behind him and pressed his face against her furry pussy. He kept her t-shirt in place.

“Oh fuck!” Rayne squealed. Each time they had made love, Jared had paid attention to her reactions. He knew her clit would be too sensitive and licked around the swollen bud before zeroing back in. He first teased her before pleasing her. She came again, and he didn’t stop. She jumped with jolts of pleasure each time his tongue raked close to her clit. He waited until her jumping had eased, before once more licking and lapping at her body’s most sensitive spot until she cried out with another orgasm. She writhed and convulsed over and over before her body went limp.

“Fuck, you’re do that better than my ex-girlfriend,” she sighed. She held out her arms to him, and they kissed for a long time before anything else happened. Eventually, their clothes came off, and the fucking began. Rayne cuddled against him afterwards, and Jared stroked her blonde hair until she fell asleep.

Jared woke to the sensation of Rayne’s lips wrapped around his hard cock. “Well, good morning to you, too,” he said with a sleepy smile.

“I didn’t get to do this last night,” she said between mouthfuls. “And I really like doing this.”

* * * * *

Weeks slowly passed while Rayne became more of a fixture in his life. Pieces of her belongings found their way into his apartment along with the clutter of her lifestyle. His conversations with Claire tapered off to once or twice a week. They were still meeting for lunch once a week before Jared began wondering if that was inappropriate.

“Does it bother you that I still talk to Claire?” he asked Rayne one afternoon. Her free spirit often confused him. She felt like a whirlwind cluttering his life with a combination of great sex, crappy movies and dirty dishes everywhere in his apartment.

She replied with one of the first four syllable words he had heard her use, “I don’t believe in monogamy.”

“Are you seeing other people?”

“No, but I still hook up sometimes. Isn’t that what you’re doing with Claire?”

“We just meet for lunch.”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a knowing nod. “A fur pie and tube steak lunch, right?”

“Usually salad,” he said, chuckling at her characterization. “What about you?”

“I did my ex-girlfriend the a couple weeks ago,” she said with a shrug. His eyes watched how her bare breasts moved as she shrugged. At Rayne’s insistence, his apartment had become a clothing optional zone. “I remember her being more fun. I think she’s pissed that I’m dating a guy.” Finishing her cup of yogurt, Rayne left the cup and the used spoon on the end table next to the couch. Jared knew both would stay there until he picked them up. “She’s like full-on lesbian, you know?”

“Not really,” Jared said, surprised by her casual confession. He didn’t feel jealous. As near as Jared could figure out, he never felt jealous. Losing Claire to Ricky didn’t make him jealous, only lonely. He didn’t resent her happiness.

“Does blowing the produce manager count?” Rayne asked, cuddling closer to him and stroking his manhood.


“But that’s all we did. I sucked him off, and he never touched me. That’s cool, right?”

Jared uttered three words he seldom said, “I don’t know.” Society had rules. Life, as near as he could ascertain, didn’t. Convention suggested that when a couple started dating, they would become exclusive to each other. He realized he had mistakenly assumed Rayne would follow that convention. Why would she? Rayne was many things, but conventional would never make that list.

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