sal ganuth

Father and son. Totally comfortable being naked at home in front of each other. But it hadn’t always been like that. It started late one morning when the son, hungover from a session with his mates, came down to the kitchen. Naked. He was glugging milk from the carton when his dad walked in on him.
“Looking good,” dad had said, laughing. The son blushed, tried to cover himself with his free hand. “Chill, son. I’ve been there myself many times,” said dad, dropping his pyjama bottoms to the floor.
“WTF dad!”
And that’s how they became a naturist household.