Olde World Books
Twenty four year old Naomi stepped into Olde World Books, her heart beating like a small drum in her chest. The air inside was thick with the scent of antique paper and dusty leather, a fragrance she had always associated with sanctuary. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders, framing a face that held an expression somewhere between nervous excitement and defiance.
The store was a labyrinth of towering shelves, each one groaning under the weight of hundreds of years’ worth of wisdom. The walls were lined with golden spines, classics from centuries past, their titles embossed in black lettering: Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Moby-Dick. It was her paradise, a place where she could lose herself for hours, days even.
At the counter sat Henry, the sweet old man who ran the store. His eyes were hidden behind thick glasses, but they sparkled with an intelligence that belied his appearance. He looked up as she entered, and his gaze landed on her, not in a predatory way, but rather like one might eye a rare bird that has flown into their garden.
"Don’t tell me you’re here for the 50% off?" he grumbled, his voice like creaking wood. "Some young whippersnapper thought it’d be a good joke on poor old me."
Naomi smiled, her lips curving in a way that lit up her eyes. "I’m afraid I am," she admitted, her voice soft yet steady. "But also, I’ve never been to a bookstore like this before, nude. It seemed like an adventure."
Henry looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. "Well, don’t let me stop you," he said, turning back to his book, a first edition Tale of Two Cities resting on the counter.
Naomi took a deep breath and began to undress, her fingers working the buttons of her blouse with a newfound freedom. She had always been comfortable in her own skin, curvy where nature intended, strong where she willed herself to be. The fabric fell away, one layer after another, until she stood bare before Henry, her shoulders held back, her head high.
The old man did not look at first, but as Naomi moved further into the store, he peered over his glasses again. His eyes followed her like a curious child’s, watching as she ran her fingers along the spines of books, pulling out Anne of Green Gables, then To Kill a Mockingbird, and finally The Catcher in the Rye.
"Where are the older ones?" she asked, turning to him. "The really old classics?"
Henry heaved himself up from his stool, his bones creaking like an old chair. He led her through the maze of shelves, past Gatsby and Hemingway, until they reached a hidden corner. There, on a small wooden table, sat a stack of books bound in leather so worn it was nearly white.
"These are from before my time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Before your grandparents’ time even."
Naomi picked up the top book, a first edition Pride and Prejudice with gilded edges. She opened it carefully, her eyes scanning the yellowed pages, each word written in a hand that had been stilled by time.
Henry watched her, his expression softening. He saw not just a naked young woman reading books, but someone who understood their true value, the stories they held were not just words on paper, but portals to another world.
After she had gathered an armful of books, a pre-1950s collection, Henry walked her back to the counter. He rang up her purchase, his fingers moving over the keys with surprising dexterity.
"You know," he said as he handed her a small brown paper bag, "you can come here any time you like. Nude or not."
Naomi looked at him, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "I’d like that very much," she replied. "A place to just... lose myself in books."
Henry smiled, a rare, genuine smile, and nodded. "You’re welcome here, Naomi. Always."
As she left the store, clothed once more, she could feel his eyes on her back. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but rather as if he were watching over someone special. She carried with her not just books, but a promise, one of freedom, of wisdom, and of a place where she truly belonged.
And so began her weekly visits to Olde World Books, each time stripping away more than just her clothing. With every trip, she left a little bit of the old world behind, and took with her something far more precious: the knowledge that she was not alone.
Naomi doesn't have a "models page", but she does have a members only gallery that you can view HERE
Just to be abundantly clear....none of these "women" exist in real life. They are 100% computer generated by Ai. All the Ai "models" are generated to represent "women" who are over 18 years of age.
Down the bottom are two images of 22 year old Stefani, another textual inversion I am trying out. It really does seem a bit hit for Ti's, but this one (so far) stays the same, but posing seems like a big issue.
Join now to see more artistic nude photos
