Alex Fields makes the February cover of MEN'S JOURNAL, his private parts barely covered by tight blue speedos. In fact, his pubic hair unconsciously peeks above the slim suit. (Are the editors deliberate or what?) His pecs and abs replicate a Greek god; his biceps and thighs reveal unquestionable athletic strength; beads of water cling to his body as if fresh from the pool. But his face! Goddamn! Too gorgeous to describe. Alex's piercing puppy blue eyes cause newly-discovered admirers to salivate. "Who the hell's this guy?" patrons mumble as they browse magazine racks.
Customers snatch up the periodical by the millions. The conventional alibi when caught is "I bought it for the article." Yeah, right. So, MEN'S JOURNAL accommodates their dishonesty by posting more than photos inside. Alex's bio makes him more than an admired hunk. In addition to displaying the man of the month in top physical condition, the editors profile Alex as a successful 30-year-old criminal defense attorney, married to a gorgeous female in the advertising business, and living in a prestigious neighborhood of North Hollywood.
His legal firm in San Fernando gains notoriety for winning celebrity cases, as well as representing wealthy clientele caught in the web of their own making -- allegations stemming from fraud, embezzlement, or worse (murder). Alex is their Robert Shapiro of the Twenty-first Century with an additional feature: disarming, drop-dead good looks. It's hard to argue with a guy whose appearance is so distracting.
His deep bass voice resonates across chambers. No one -- not even his mother -- can detect an inner propensity so meticulously covered. His secret life is not uncommon -- yet so well hidden even his closest confidants remain unaware.
Alex and Marji's home is located in the hills overlooking the San Fernando Valley. Initially they had priced real estate on the more desirable ocean-side but couldn't afford it -- even with a seven-figure income. Real estate is on a dangerous inflationary spiral in California and will soon burst, as it will in most of the country. But that's another story....
The couple's home is Spanish-style with traditional tile roof, archway passages, hand-crafted oak double door entrances, mission chandeliers, triple-car basement garage, landscaped circular front drive, enclosed patio with pool, hanging gardens, carefully manicured lawn, and an upper level with a Valley view -- best enjoyed at night with all the twinkling metro-lights, oft filmed by studios nearby.
Alex's interests include tennis, swimming, jogging, golfing, racquetball, bodybuilding, fine-dining and travel. To make the cover of MEN'S JOURNAL, someone had to discover the guy. A talent scout noticed him at the Van Nuys Health Club and the rest is history. The background check revealed an attractive career behind the hunk which sealed the deal.
Yet there's more to Alex than meets the eye. To be sure, he's married. So no one questions his sexuality. He associates exclusively with other "straight" men at the gym and club. He acts the part, so why doubt?
Well, Mother Nature doesn't subscribe to artificial stereotypes, does she? Society may attempt to erect barricades, but nature always breaks through inevitably.
Certainly, Alex has a secret. Well, actually he has more than one. But the gate-secret leads to the others where self-denial is finally swept away. Secrets he honestly doesn't fully recognize within himself.
You see, Alex loves to jog long-distance alone at night. No biggee. But in the nude? Yes, he's a streaker, an honest-to-goodness died-in-the-wool lover of nudity. He's forced to hide this from Marji -- well, everyone he knows for that matter. What would happen if his firm found out he runs the hills and valley naked at night? A career killer indeed.
However, he has always skinnydipped in their private pool. Marji too. Even snuck around and swam nude at the gym pool when no one was looking. What good would a pool be if not for naked dips? Seldom does Alex wear clothes around the house. Marji accepts this as the norm because most men all over the world throughout history despise wearing clothes when unnecessary. Besides, who doesn't mind seeing a naked body in such great shape?
But Alex's rump runs are something else to consider. Mooning the neighbors would definitely place the couple's respectable stature and reputation in jeopardy. But the risk factor is part of the equation in gambling, actually a major part of the joy.
Marji simply understands he's out jogging the neighborhood, clothed in shorts of course. And tennis shoes, naturally. Little does she know -- as soon as Alex reaches Pembrooke Park the shorts and shoes come flying off to be carefully tucked behind a designated shrub. Dr. Jekyll is transformed into Mr. Hyde at that vortex, or rather, Bigtime Lawyer to Mr. Streak. The duplicity of his character is in stark contrast. His public image is one of dignity and respect; his private one of openness and shameless nudity.
What is it that drives Alex to risk his upscale life in exchange for hours of public nakedness? Exhibitionism? No. Something else inside says, "Alex, wouldn't you want to be liberated from the artificial world you endure -- to become the individual who freely expresses what he truly is instead of the image-building you've manufactured for yourself?" The internal dare is gleefully accepted. Something warm and enticing inside Alex drives him to strip religiously, something paranormal yet overwhelmingly welcomed.
What is nakedness but an expression of truth? Doesn't Alex Field's concept of the legal system go hand-in-hand with his nude lifestyle?
The words of Shakespeare strike a chord: "This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."
There is more to the nudity compulsion than mere sensuality. Or exhibitionism. There is message and purpose. Alex is driven by the desire for absolute freedom, to express oneself openly and honestly, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him, God. Physical openness correlates somehow with emotional and sensual well-being; embracing truth requires an honest assessment of the whole self, visible and invisible, internal and external. The expression of body awareness is one manifestation of truth. The feel of the Pacific night breeze against his bare ass and ballsack, to him, is a symbol of that liberation process. Still, he cannot share his newfound joy with others for fear of rejection. It's so far-out, nobody would listen. Nor believe.
For months Alex carries out his fantasy literally. Midnight, as usual, it commences. He cautiously dodges traffic, flees in the darkness to avoid headlights, and uses vegetation for cover. The running "track" is therefore erratic, not in uniformity. Alex's deep tan provides protection to a degree. Dark skin is difficult to detect. The midnight streak develops into a game. Every week, however, he comes a little closer to the edge. His usual run lasts two hours, approximately 12k with pitstops, waterbreaks and dog chases. Alex's feet become calloused from use, like the Native Americans centuries before, hard as shoe leather. The way they ought to be.
His internal voice dares him to take a further step, "Why don't you stop by Get-N-Go [convenience store] on your run tonight to get a cold Perrier? You like the guy working the nightshift, don't you? Why not strike up a conversation when you're standing in front of him naked? Undoubtedly, there'll be an immediate topic of discussion, guaranteed."
Alex accepts the challenge. Besides, he knows Bill personally. Liberal sort of guy. Met him at the gym working out -- besides seeing him occasionally at the store since it's less than a mile from the house. Gets gas there. Bill is also about 30, good-looking like Ben Affleck but with rugged features, into mountain climbing and rappelling. Unknown what he thinks about public nudity. Alex doesn't know his marital status; doesn't care.
When Alex casually strolls into Get-N-Go, Bill is totally dumb-founded. After a moment of shock and awe, he suddenly recognizes Alex. A broad grin gradually scrolls across his face. "What ya doing here, Alex? Forgettin' somethin, aren't ya, pal'?" Bill asks followed by a loud booming laugh.
Alex joins him bursting out laughing. He then responds, "No, Bill, I'm like this every time on my nightly jogs. Nobody's ever seen me.... well, no one's ever recognized me.... I guess from being distracted by my equipment. (Pointing to his privates followed by more laughter.) I'm quite discreet and know how to hide behind trees and run back alleys and canyons. It's a perfect time of night for this kind of 'sport.' I know how to keep from being detected."
Bill then reveals his own interest, "I've been known to hike nude at King's Canyon a time or two. Got caught naked up at Big Bear a couple of years ago. The couple just laughed it off. To be honest, Alex, I probably enjoy the 'sport' about as much as you do, if not more."
With that, Alex whips out some change from the small pouch tied around his left ankle and drinks the full bottle while still standing nude in front of Bill. Bill admires Alex's physique. Alex catches him through the corner of his eye scanning his entire sweat-drenched body then focusing in on his cock and gorgeous bubble ass. He realizes this whole scene is caught on camera but thinks, "Who cares?" The simple pleasure of being the attention of a friend's eye brings a sense of accomplishment.
Alex is crossing over into a whole new dimension. The duplicity enhances the sensation. If it was known, there would be less incentive, if any at all. But there is a darker side conjuring up the fear of the unknown. By expanding his double life, Alex in actuality is breaking into the discovery stage into truths about himself long buried in self-denial. Forbidden fruit? Pandora's Box?
His nightly pitstops to Get-N-Go continue. Alex and Bill's conversations grow to include whole new realms. Sports, movies, the environment, politics, religion, the legal system. They constantly laugh and share experiences shared by no others. Alex dashes into the stockroom every time a customer or vendor approaches. They have the emergency plan down pat.
One evening Alex arrives a little late. He hasn't had sex for three days; horny as hell. After a pause in their conversation, Bill again scans over Alex's entire body. After all, Alex is magazine material; what's not to admire? Indeed lust after?
"Like what you see, Bill?" Alex abruptly asks as he looks down at his own proud member at half-staff.
There's a long hesitation. Bill finally breaks the ice, "Yeah, Alex, I have to be honest: You've got a great looking bod. Hell, Alex, I'll just say it: You're hot!"
That raises Alex's cock to full-staff. He doesn't even attempt to conceal it. And so does Bill's under tight jeans. So much that the constricting pants hurt like hell.
"Hey, Bill, I've never been with another man. But I always had that curiosity. I always liked to look at other guys. Want to step back into the stockroom a minute?" Alex suggests.
"Sure, Alex, if you don't mind. I've always swung both ways myself. Never made it a habit to stick with one or the other; just stick 'em both," Bill snickers.
Alex asks for instructions, "Now, what do I do next, Bill?"
"Just stand as you are and let me suck you dry," Bill responds as he drops to his knees and encircles Alex's engorged 9" penis into his mouth. Bill interrupts briefly to explain, "I love the way a man tastes, Alex, so don't worry about letting it shoot off in my mouth. Here goes...." Bill goes to work on Alex, massages his asscheeks with his hands as he bobs his head up and down over Alex's dick.... Then craftily licks the shaft up and down before placing his balls wholly in his mouth. Bill fingers Alex's asshole, something new to Alex.
Bill again breaks the motion by standing up. He gives his friend Alex a passionate look. Without a word their lips lock, then open to allow their tongues to entangle. Bill whispers in Alex's ear, "You're a gorgeous man, Alex. Damn gorgeous. I want every inch of you, man. I want your manjuice inside me." The two men -- one fully clothed and the other fully naked -- stand embracing in a convenience store in the middle of the night.
Bill returns to the stooped position and works to completion. Just before Alex releases, Bill positions his fingers carefully between Alex's anal cavity and ballsack so he can feel the pulsating sensation of his prostate as it works to force long strands of white semen down Bill's throat. Bill tastes Alex's manhood with delight. He gulps it all down like delicious pudding, then licks his lips.
Bill next whips out his own cock and masturbates. He wishes they could both be naked. Maybe another time.
Alex is not startled by this newest revelation, just perplexed why he hid it from himself all these years. "Hey, I'm not queer, Bill. I just like what we just did, that's all," Alex summarizes. "And I like you, man."
Bill concurs, "Me too, Alex. Me too." There's still a contradictory mix of denial and acceptance. Such is common with most males of the human race.
Alex continues his homebound lap, donning his shorts just before daybreak.
After a brief nap, he awakens with the pounding questions, "What happened last night? What did I just do?" Dr. Jekyll can hardly believe Mr. Hyde exists.
The nightly runs continue -- moon or starlit or rain. Alex calls his little treks "Moonlighting." He actually gets his fix on the regiment. But Bill and Alex's explorations expand. Soon Bill gathers enough courage to strip naked on duty. Suck sessions become fuckfests. Alex learns how to penetrate a man's ass, but before that to prep, lubricate and massage the target. A woman's vagina never felt so good. And something about being in the arms of another man is so secure and strengthening.
Alex finds himself more and more attracted to other men during day-hours. He surprises himself by giving involuntary glances at other handsome men. Then men's photos, such as his own on the cover of MEN'S JOURNAL, catch his eye. "Am I gay?" he quizzes himself. "Oh, what the hell. So what?" He still has sex with Marji on occasion but finds his new taste for men more gratifying.
The counterexperience is even more of a challenge as he allows Bill to be the designated fuckER as he is designated the fuckEE. It's one thing to penetrate a man; another to be penetrated. But Alex goes wild over virgin experience, anal entrance, the last frontier. Now he knows what sodomy feels like and it's fantastic.
Bill joins him now on nightly naked runs his days off. They both dodge traffic and make further dares just for the hell of it. One dare leads them to Black's Beach off La Jolla where they jog on sand three miles in the nude, then wade the brisk waves to cool off. They watch for the first time as other dudes surf nude. Bill and Alex join them on their second trip. The long hike up and down the steep bluff asphalt trail is worth the effort. They are rewarded by more male encounters at Black Beach's far end. Males fuck openly on a ridge overlooking the blue Pacific.
Over a period of months, Valley residents in the neighborhood hear and spread rumors about naked men running the streets and parks at night. Just rumors. Marji is not alarmed; her Alex would never do such a thing. Yeah, right.
One night Alex is not so careful. He runs in front of a car stopped at a traffic light. Immediately blue lights go off. Sirens sound. Cops! Alex's heart races as he slides for cover down a narrow ravine. Policemen jump out of the car and trap Alex in the box canyon below. They cuff him, read him his rights, and haul him bareass in the back of a squad car -- without the courtesy of even body covering. The cold leather feels great on his bareass.
When reaching precinct headquarters and jail, a law enforcement officer recognizes Alex. "Hey, don't I know you? Aren't you the defense lawyer that made the cover of MEN'S JOURNAL?"
Alex bows his head and nods yes. Immediately all the guys at the station burst out laughing. Reluctantly Alex joins them. A policeman steps forward and unlocks the cuffs. "Now, run on along home, naked boy. But be more careful next time or we'll have to give you the nightstick treatment. Do we need to provide a demonstration?" No need to elaborate. The police still haven't given Alex a stitch to cover his balls.
As Alex reaches the front door, another policeman approaches and whispers, "I work out with you at Van Nuys. Want to go running with me some time? I'm serious."
Alex nods in agreement while recognizing the guy is sincere. His name is Rick.
In a few days Alex runs a new course to Rick's neighborhood. As scheduled, the cop is waiting in the backyard. Naked as a jaybird. He joins Alex and learns the tricks of the trade in avoiding being caught. Well, most of the time.
After a few weeks, the cop is comfortable enough to ask Alex to take a dip in his pool after the long jut. They swim several laps and cool off before Rick locks his legs around Alex while both are underwater. He then grasps Alex's cock. They both laugh then proceed to full intercourse on a blanket stretched out on the lawn. Rick insists on mounting Alex. It's a great feeling for a defense attorney to be porked by a big cop in his backyard. Both are grinning and enjoying the moment.
The new streaking trend soon takes hold in the Valley. Then the nation and world. It's one method for guys to get off their asses and away from computers to start exercising again. Women somehow are not attracted to such latenight adventures. Maybe the difference between tomcats and pussies?
Most law enforcement and courts do not see streaking as a criminal act but rather a harmless diversion that encourages a healthy lifestyle. Alex, a defense attorney, concurs. He will never give up his extracurricular nor put on his clothes when unnecessary. Being naked allows him to see himself for the first time and he never wants to regress from the new reality.
------------------------------------------------------------ NOTE: The above story is written as a fiction-fantasy.
If interested, write to Intelli727@aol.com Derek Hammil