Stacy and her parents had come to an understanding. In order to avoid bloodshed, a socially distanced vacation would be a really good idea. Summer vacation, hormones, close quarters, and a cantankerous 15-year-old female—who was smarter and more cunning than the collective wits of her family—were becoming a combustible mix that was likely to spill out into the evening news.

Luckily, Stacy had a friend named Bridgett who lived two hours away. Bridgett was a nice girl who could put up with Stacy’s bluster and usually bring her back to some semblance of civility. But sometimes, her attempts at calming down her friend were thwarted by an entity she did not believe in.

On the first day of Stacy’s banishment, the two of them took a walk so that Stacy could wail and moan about the idiocy of her family and humankind in general; it was a very long and noisy walk. After several hours, Stacy finally achieved a state of mind which was not going to lead to dismembering some unfortunate soul. Although hardly an ideal state of mind, it was far more preferable to the one she was burdened with before the walk. They’d made their way through a jungle of row homes and had reached the back gate of Bridgett’s family’s row home when some movement across the alley caught Stacy’s hyper alert eyes.

“Hey Bridgett, was that guy…”

“Yeah Stace, he was naked.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“He’s naked all the time. I’ve seen people in his house and he was still naked. One of them was a little boy. He was sitting in a chair and the boy was clothed and sitting on the floor. Other than the no-pants thing, everything else seemed fine,” said Bridgett.

“Wow. And the neighbors…?”

“The cops have been called a couple of times, but the man is in his own house. I was thinking about it and if some woman was walking around in her home naked, she’d be calling the cops and complaining about all the peeping Toms in the neighborhood. This guy does the walk around his house naked and the cops are called on him. When he’s outside, he’s dressed sensibly. He seems like a nice, slightly overweight, middle-aged man.”

“And you said people come over to visit?”

“Stace, I don’t know if they’re family or hookers or what, but apparently, someone trusts him with a kid. Maybe he’s European or something.”

The guy walks in front of the window facing the alley again.

“Or maybe he’s just a fuckin’ perv,” said Stacy.

He needs help, said the little voice in her head.

“Stacy, it’s really none of our business, let’s go in and have a nice drama-free time finding stupid shit on YouTube.”

“Wonder if he answers the door that way?”

“C’mon Stace, get a grip. You came here to relax, get away from your folks, stay out of trouble. You don’t need whatever you’re thinking about doing.”

“It’s not what I’m thinking of doing.”

“I’m not doin’ it, Stace, and I hope you won’t do whatever your thinking of doing. Everyone just walks around and avoids looking in his windows or stares at his windows depending on…whatever. We all just leave this guy alone and pretend we all haven’t seen his dick recently when he comes outside and talks to people.”

“Not much of a dick from what I can see.”

“WHO CARES? Besides, that’s kinda rude. There’s not much he can do about the size of his dick. He could stand to lose 30 pounds, but…”

“Why are you sticking up for him Bridgett? You spying on him from across the alley?”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m going in my house, and if you have any sense at all, you’ll come with me. And if you want to just sit around and make fun of him, I got binoculars for my birthday a couple of years ago when my parents thought I was interested in bird watching. Even I think bird watching is boring.”

“Wow. If you thought it was boring, bird watching must be the worst thing ever. Bridgett, I’ve got this thing in my head about this guy and I just can’t let it go. If you don’t want to come along, fine, I’ll be back in about an hour or so.”

“What are you going to do, Stace?”

“I dunno. See? That’s the best part. TTFN.”

They went their separate ways. Bridgett watched her friend make her down the alley. She thought it strange that Stacy was complaining about the nude man walking around his house. Both girls were dressed in way that would have been considered scandalous had they not been attractive 15-year-old girls. It’s amazing what 15-year-old girls can get away with, and Stacy was always pushing the envelope.

Because this was a row home community, the houses didn’t have any side yards, so unless you could leap row homes in a single bound, you’d have to walk around the block to get to the front door. Stacy counted how many houses there were between her naked prey’s house and the end of the block. She then recounted the houses from the other side of the homes so she could find the house she was looking for without any embarrassing trial and error. She used the time to think up a believable ploy that would get her access to the home and give her a reason to come back. She walked slowly up to the home to allow for some rehearsal time for her lines. She was ready. She knocked and the door opened. The man hid behind the door. Only his face and right shoulder were exposed.

“Oh, hi. I’m…uhhh…hoping you could help me with something,” said Stacy.

“Well, sure, I’d be happy to if I can.”

The man sounded pleasant and easygoing. Stacy expected a creep factor that could be sensed from miles away, but except for the obvious, he seemed normal.

“Well…ummm, I…uhhh…don’t want to be rude, but ummm…ummm, are you naked?”

Stacy was never unsure of herself and only sounded this way if she found it to be advantageous. She was about as insecure as a lioness protecting a fresh kill.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

“Ohhhh, that’s awesome. My parents have been taking me to clothing-optional beaches for years. I never get naked, but my mom and dad do, and my brother is 14, so not only do I see him naked, I catch him jerking off every couple of weeks or so. I just love walking down those beaches in my bikini and talking to naked men or boys just to see if they are any different when they have pants on.”

“And are they?” asked the man behind the door.

“I think they are more honest and comfortable when they’re naked. If you’d like to get some pants or a towel or something, that’s okay, but you won’t embarrass me. I think naked men are awesome.”

Nothing she said was true. She never regretted lying to people. Her only regret was that this wasn’t being filmed. The performance was Oscar-worthy.

“Okay then, come on in. I’m going to shut the door.”

“Of course, everyone needs some privacy. Just because no one else has the confidence to be naked in their own home shouldn’t mean you have to be a spectacle for the neighborhood.” Stacy was having trouble with these words were coming out of her mouth. She knew she was a world-class actress, but this was better than even she could believe.

The door was shut and there was a naked man in front of her. This was the first time she’d been this close to a naked man, and she had a decision to make. How far did she want to go? She decided to push all of her chips in.

“Don’t you look wonderful. Can I give you a hug?”

“Uh…uh…yeah, sure?”

Stacy did her best to get arms around this bear of a man and get her bare thigh up against his crotch. She was well aware of the fact that the embrace went on longer than hugs between strangers should last regardless of their state of dress/undress. She wanted to see what would happen and was a little disappointed that the amount of fluffing that occurred was not as much as she’d hoped for. The man began covering himself.

“Oh, don’t do that. It’s so silly when men cover their assets, or worse yet, play with themselves to make their pecker bigger. Just be comfortable with who you are.”

The man dropped his hands and smiled nervously. Stacy couldn’t believe how much control she had of the situation.

“So, you said you needed some help with something?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. With all the excitement I almost forgot, silly me. My girlfriend and I are putting this bed frame together. I’m just here for a couple of weeks and we got an old bed out of storage. We put the frame together, but we need some tools to really tighten those nuts down. Her dad has lots of tools but they’re all locked up. I don’t know how big the head of the screw or its nuts are. But if you had some wrenches where we tighten the screw and another wrench that we tighten down on the nut, my friend and I could work together to make sure it was all screwed down tightly so it wouldn’t move.”

Stacy said the whole thing with a straight face, and her animated style of storytelling involved a good deal of bending and miming which exposed a safe amount of cleavage. She was hoping for some additional fluffing. It was subtle fluffing, but unmistakable. The man’s hands instinctively moved to cover himself, but Stacy’s subtle, cockeyed grimace was just enough to say Now what did we just talk about? The man’s hands returned to his side. Stacy beamed inwardly. She wondered how many foolish things could she could get him to do.

“Sounds like you could use a Vise-Grip and maybe an adjustable wrench or some channel locks. I should have some here in this closet. I’ve got a tool box in there.”

The man walked to the closet and Stacy found his butt repulsive. A flat butt on a man made him look weak. The hair made it even less appealing.

The man opened the closet, bent over, and opened the small tool box. Upon not finding what he was looking for, he squatted in front of the box to search more thoroughly. From this angle, she thought he looked a lot like her German Shepherd, Fritz.

“Doggone it. I thought I had those up here, must be downstairs.”

“I’ll just wait here for you,” said Stacy.

“Sure, that’d be good.”

As soon as the basement door shut, Stacy went to the desktop computer with the unnecessarily large monitor. She tapped the space bar and it came to life. There was a tab open, but it was just the Google start page. She hit control H and the history appeared. The last entry was made four minutes ago and six pages covering five and a half hours became available. Although some of the entries were unfamiliar, everything there was obviously porn. Stacy quickly retrieved her phone and took a picture of each page so she could get a better idea of what made this dark side of this guy tick.

The clanking of large wrenches could be heard through the hollow door and minimal flooring; Stacy figured she had a few minutes to look around. There was a small set of drawers beside the well-worn couch. The first drawer was surprisingly well organized. Now that her naked host was downstairs, she could actually take note of the condition of the cramped little home and was surprised to find it was as organized as the drawer.

To say that the row home was nice would be a stretch, but there were no pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze or dirty dishes. The furniture was old and spartan, but clean. The house was stuffy without being foul. There was nothing new or interesting in the home other than his water-cooled homemade computer and the big screen TV which was doubling as a monitor.

The clanking of the wrenches stopped and she’d only looked through one drawer. She’d have time to look through the other three. Other than what she guessed was a modest plastic bag of pot, the next two drawers held nothing surprising. Then she opened the fourth drawer. She found a remarkably realistic looking phallus attached to a strap. At a quick glance, it looked to be about a foot long and perhaps four inches across.

The basement stairs began to creak, so she shut the drawer and took a seat on the couch. There had been enough creaking to assume that he’d reached the top of the stairs, but it was a few moments before the door opened. In that time, Stacy made a calculation. If this guy’s dick was six inches long and an inch and a half wide, that would mean the circumference of his dick was about four and a half inches or so. If the phallus was four inches wide, that would be about twelve inches in circumference. The phallus was twice as long and more than three times thicker. Why would he have a strap-on dildo six times bigger than his own dick?

The man finally showed up.

“Did you do that just for me?” asked Stacy.

“Get the Vise-Grips?”

“No, fluff yourself up like that.”

“Uhhh, yeah I guess so.”

“Well, that was sweet but unnecessary. You looked great when you went downstairs but, uhhh, frankly, you look even better now. You know, I don’t even know your name.”

“Frank. Frank Lecher.”

Stacey began smiling really hard because it was the only thing keeping her from laughing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lecher.”

“Frank, if you like.”

“So, you’re perfectly Frank. You’ve been so kind to me. What are these things?” Stacy asked in her best “I’m just a dumb girl” voice.

“Vise-Grips. There’s a screw down here that you adjust them with. If you adjust it correctly, it will just hang on to whatever you are tightening or loosening so you don’t have to hold on to it.”

“Ohhh, I see. Can I make it grab on to my finger? Oh yeah, look at that, I thought it would hurt but it doesn’t.”

Stacey pushed all of her chips into the middle of the table again.

“Let’s try it on something more fun.”

She quickly dropped to her knees, opened the jaw of the grip a little, squeezed it onto Frank’s penis, and let it go.

“See, look how far it stretches! I’ll bet if you wore that for two weeks, you’d never feel like you had to fluff yourself up again.”

“Look can we get this thing off, it’s starting to hurt.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess fingers and penises are different.”

She decided to tighten it a little, pretend it was an accident, then fumble with it a bit before finally freeing the Vise-Grip. The fluffing was more pronounced.

“I think we may be on to something here, Frank,” said Stacy. “Maybe if you wrapped your dick in cardboard it wouldn’t hurt. The initial results look promising.”

“Food for thought, but you need the Vise-Grips more than I do, though.”

That’s debatable, thought Stacy.

Then as she rose to her feet to leave, she said, “Ummmm, you seem to be such an open-minded man. I’ve kinda discovered porn and there is so much about it I don’t understand. If I brought my laptop back, would you be kind enough to explain some of the things I’ve found?”

“Well, yeah, sure.”

“That’d be awesome. No need to dress up for the occasion, though. I’ll be back in a few.”

Frank was as happy as he’d ever been. Over the years, he’d been naked in front of every kind of human being he could think of, including 15-year old girls on the beach, but he could only dream of having one in his home. He reveled in his good luck for 20 minutes, retreated to his spartan-but-clean kitchen, found a quarter bottle of Jack, and downed it.

The sudden introduction of Old No. 7 into his stomach caused a modest degree of distress. He found a box of Ritz crackers that he hoped would suck up the Jack and leave him feeling relaxed and nausea free.

“Back already?” asked Bridgett. She was waiting in her room.

“Not done with him yet. I need my laptop. I got some pictures of his browser history and it’s six pages and about six hours’ worth of nothing but porn. I want to see what he’s watching so we can have a very intuitive discussion about porn.”


“Because I can.”

“What did you do over there?”

“Not much. Pressed my leg against his junk, attached a Vise-Grip to his dick. You know, the usual.”

“You’re not kidding, are you?”


Then, after a minute or two, “Hey, Bridgett, are those binoculars handy?”


“Can you tell me what Mr. ‘I’ve Got a Severe Aversion to Pants’ is doing?”

Bridgett sighed profoundly. “He’s drinking something from a bottle.”

“What’s he drinking?”

“These are cheap binoculars, not the Hubble Telescope.”

“What’s the shape of the bottle?”

Bridgett let out another profound sigh. “The top of the bottle looks cylindrical and the rest of the bottle looks rectangular.”

“A sexahedron?”

“Only if you’re a horny Roman. That’s Latin. Civilized people would call it a hexahedron.”

“Ya know, Bridgett, it’s a fuckin’ shame people only think of you as being nice. What’s the color of the swill he’s drinking?”


“Probably Mr. Daniels. He’s steeling himself for my next visit. He’s ten moves away from checkmate and he’s either planning for it or doesn’t see it coming. Either way, I win. Damn, I wish I liked chess.”


For all installments of “Ensnared,” click here.