Saturday, November 16, 2013

How I Became a Naked Sleeper, Runner, and Swimmer

I was a good boy. At night, I took my vitamin. I brushed my teeth. I put on my pajamas. I said my prayers. I went to bed. Then, I was very, very naughty. I thought about boys. They were from school. They were from summer camp. They were from the swimming pool. I thought nasty things. We would get naked. We would dance naked. We would do things naked. We would shake our ding-dongs.

In Sixth Grade, I became restless at night. I'd take off my pajamas and try to sleep with nothing on, but that made things worse. I'd get endless erections. I couldn't sleep at all. Finally, I gave up. In my pajamas, sleep returned.

In Seventh Grade, we had to read A Separate Peace by John Knowles. It was about two boys in boarding school. Gene was the narrator. He was a nerd, but his roommate was a big, popular jock. His name was Phineas. The book was so gay --and I loved it. By the end of Chapter 1, I was hooked:

Boys ambled past our door toward the bathroom, and there was a period of steadily pouring shower water. Then lights began to snap out all over the school. We undressed, and I put on some pajamas, but Phineas, who had heard they were unmilitary, didn't...(Knowles 20).

Fucking A! Phineas slept naked. That's how I saw it. He might have left on his underwear. Gene never says for sure, but no matter. I wanted a guy. I wanted a roommate. I wanted to play with him undressed.

That summer, I ejaculated for the first time. From then on, I jacked off like no tomorrow, but I still couldn't sleep in the raw. It was just too much excitement. How I wanted to do as Phineas did!

When I was 15, I visited my stepbrother, if you could call him that. He was married and 16 years older than I was! At the time, he lived in a trailer. My dad and stepmom took the spare bedroom. I got a sleeping bag on the floor of my stepbrother's office, but I was alone, and I was going to get through the night buck-ass naked no matter what.

I stripped off my clothes and put a white sock on my raging hard-on. A wet dream was a real possibility. I got in the sleeping bag, thought about guys with big chests, and slowly fell asleep. Sure enough, I had a nocturnal emission, but this one woke me up. It felt so fucking good. I went back to sleep.

Morning came, and I woke up so excited. I'd slept through the night totally nude. I felt like a real man. I was one of Finny's soldiers now. I was also dry and clean. Socks are Man's best friend --and clean up is a snap!

Since then, I've done my pagan god proud: I've fucked my fair share of guys. Of course, the greatest advantage of sleeping without a stitch on is easy access. Over the years, bed mates have woken me up with sucking, sword play, dick pulling, butt offerings, and knocking at my door.

I even enjoy mundane things, like waking up and walking balls out and bare-assed to the bathroom to take a piss. My house is my nudist colony. I love walking around in my birthday suit, and I expect my trysts and boyfriends to do the same.

Another advantage of sleeping in the altogether is self-confidence. I'm proud to walk around unclothed in locker rooms. I also take risks. Whenever the coast is clear, I run or swim naked. As a result, all this closet nudity relaxes me. Stress seems to fall away.

I feel so free and --and get this-- normal. There's an unbelievable naturalness to it. We Americans associate nudity with sex, but I sometimes forget I'm in the buff at home, when I read, write, cook, vacuum, jump rope, run inside, or clean things up.

Sleeping and doing other things au naturel ultimately is a nostalgic thing. It reconnects me with my not-so-innocent childhood fantasies. Someday, I'd like to find a really cool lesbian and father a couple of sons. I've seen countless fathers with their sons, but the boys seem happiest when they undress and shower with their dads in locker rooms. There, they are free from women and clothes.

I don't want any sons of mine to grow up with all the puritanical hangups I had. I want them to enjoy household nudity, I want them to be proud of their bodies, and I want them to secretly streak every chance they can get.

Who knows? Maybe things will change by then. Perhaps there will be more areas to exercise bare-skinned. Hell, we might even get to wash our cars stark naked. That would be sweet --no more fucking wet shorts. Ironically, while sleeping naked, I sometimes dream of being unclothed in public and being embarrassed about it. If public nudity laws change, I wonder if I'll still be ashamed in my dreams, or will it be like the Garden of Eden again?

Photo credits:
Sleeper 1 -- Chris Ryan;
Boy on Knees 2 -- Charley of Sean Cody;
Two Guys Showering 3 -- Reese Rideout (left) and
     Topher Dimaggio of Randy Blue;
Bare-Assed Boy 4 -- Ben Moss;
Reclining Muscle Dude 5 -- Matt Stone;
Couch Fuck 6 -- Stu (top) and Spencer of Sean Cody;
Beach Runner 7 -- Unknown origin;
Cook 8 -- Shay of Fratmen;
Man with Baby 9 -- L'Enfant (1987) by Spencer Rowell:
     Adam Perry (model) and Stelios Havatzios (baby);
Truck Wash 10 -- Model Jason Taulb by photographer
     Michael A. Downs for All American Guys.

Book Cited:
Knowles, John. A Separate Peace. 1959. New York:
     Scribner, 1996. ISBN 0-684-83366-2.