The Only Boob In Here Is You

A group of us got together to form a nudist club, and we would rent out the hot-tub suite of the local leisure centre for an hour or two on weekly basis. People who were using the suite before the hour we rented were naturally expected to leave before our rented hour.

This, of course, did not always happen. The worst instance of liberty-taking was when a middle-aged man from a culture where nudism is a shocking concept deliberately spent a long time showering, changing, and preparing to exit the suite, to such an extent that it was a good ten minutes into our rented time.

I, along with the other coordinator of this weekly event, approached this man a few times, explaining to him that he was encroaching into our time, and the members of the club wanted him either to leave immediately, or to pay his subscription and disrobe. Of course, he had no intention of doing so; he just wanted to hang around on the off chance that he could see naked women.

In the end, the aforementioned coordinator and I just undressed, and approached him again, naked this time. Nobody else had done so; it was just we two men. This time, the embarrassment of being made to interact with two naked men, and the increasingly remote prospect of cheap thrills on offer at the sight of bare breasts and women’s lady parts, was too much for him, and the slimy old toad left.