Meeting Carmen Ch. 01
by gossog ©

Carmen - Library

When I lived up north, when I was 30, I used to go to the library a few 
times a week. I was just starting out with pen and ink illustration, with 
a lot of story ideas but not the drawing talent to flesh them out. The 
library had a good selection of books on technique, as well as many 
graphic novels for inspiration.

The same staff member usually worked that area, putting books back on 
shelves. She was about college age, cute face, with long black hair. For a 
long time, I didn't know her name. I also didn't know what she really 
looked like from the neck down. She always dressed in baggy workout gear, 
sweatshirts, and so on. Nothing ratty or stinky, she was always clean, but 
just... shapeless.

In college, I remembered certain girls wearing more and more loose clothes 
as the year progressed and they put on weight. Based on the library girl's 
choice of clothes, I assumed her body was nothing noteworthy; literally 
just another pretty face.

She was friendly, though usually too busy to say much beyond Hello or 
Pardon Me or Can I Help You Find Anything. Even so, it was evident that 
she was good-hearted and genuinely liked being around people. So running 
into her was a little pleasure, making the day a tiny bit more enjoyable.

One day, as she knelt to arrange books on the bottom shelf, I noticed 
something else: her sweat pants tended to ride down a little in the back, 
like they were getting loose. Maybe she was losing weight; it was hard to 
tell. I found myself intrigued by the inch or so of skin the lowriding 
sweats exposed. 

Over time, they drooped down enough to show that she was wearing, of all 
things, a thong. There was the telltale "whale tail" effect as it peeked 
out from under the waistline of her sweats. I was pleasantly surprised; 
she hadn't seemed like the type. Her personality hadn't changed; after 
giving me a cordial greeting, and satisfying herself that I needed no 
help, she would turn her attention to her work.

As the days passed, she showed a rainbow of different thongs. She gave no 
sign of concern that they were showing, and I had no inclination to let 
her know. As for that few inches of skin I'd see exposed: she didn't seem 
chubby at all. For the first time, I started wondering what she would look 
like in a swimsuit. Baggy clothes can conceal a good figure as well as a 
bad one.

One day there was no whale tail, even though her sweats rode down as low 
as ever. The expanse of bare skin leading downward from the small of her 
back looked huge. So she was either wearing extreme lowrider briefs -- or 
nothing at all. For someone whose body I paid no attention to not long 
ago, this ambiguity obsessed me. That night, I jerked off to her for the 
first time.

I came back the very next day, a Tuesday. Was it too soon? Would it look 
like I was stalking? Not long ago, I paid no attention to how often I came 
in; it didn't matter. I didn't want towait. I was looking forward to no 
whale tail, and imagining her bare bottom under those loose sweats.

We exchanged hellos and she went to work, starting with the low shelf. She 
was wearing a dark green thong. Back to normal. I pretended to scan a 
photo collection while I watched her work. Maybe this was it, as far as 
anything would ever go. Last night I had constructed a fantasy where the 
library had closed for the night, everyone had gone, except for she and I; 
and it continued with my stripping down her pants, under which she wore no 
thong, and unzipping her sweatshirt, under which she wore no bra. In 
mid-day, under bright fluorescent lighting, the girl going about her usual 
tasks, my fantasy seemed silly, and even shameful.

Still, she was compelling to watch. Her long black hair, corralled in a 
ponytail; her pretty face, graceful brows and dark eyes, her expression 
intent as she worked; and that thong, the reminder that there could be a 
wild side to this girl I would never know.

She stepped up on a stool and lifted a stack of books toward the top 
shelf. She must have brushed against a protruding edge or bolt; it snagged 
her waistband as she stretched up. Very quickly her sweats were pulled 
down over the curve of her bottom. Tension gone, the waistband relaxed, 
and the sweats collapsed at her feet. She froze, realizing what had 
happened, and I stared at her bared legs.

Her legs were very nice. Voluptuous. I couldn't believe what I had been 
missing. And the thong made no effort at all to cover a nicely curved ass. 
She gasped, but with a stack of books to handle, she couldn't reach down 
and fix anything. There was no one else in the aisle, but that could 
change at any minute. I would be in a situation very tough to explain. 
Either I had to leave, now, or help her out, now.

I chose the second option and pulled her pants back up to her waist.

As soon as she got down, she glared at me. "What do you think you were 
doing?"

"I was worried someone would see you," I said. "Just trying to help." 
Famous last words, sometimes, those four.

She wasn't satisfied with this, and continued glaring, saying nothing. 
Even though I really hadn't done anything wrong, I could see that this was 
the end of the road for me. If she reported me, I would probably be banned 
from the library. Or worse. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'd better leave." I put 
my book down and walked away.

"Wait," she said. I turned around. She motioned me back. "I know it wasn't 
your fault," she said, in a hushed voice. "And you did the right thing. It 
was just a really embarrassing situation and my first reaction was to shoo 
you away."

"I can understand that," I said. "Luckily, I don't think anyone else saw 
you."

"I'm lucky it didn't happen yesterday." Now what did she mean by that? 
There was just a hint of a smirk. She must have noticed I was staring at 
her. Not good.

I decided to play dumb. "Why yesterday?"

She moved closer, now speaking in a whisper. "Because I didn't have 
anything on underneath. As you well know. Don't even try to deny it."

This sort of trouble I didn't need at all. Hell, what if she was only 17? 
My days of getting involved with girls that age was long gone. "I'm sorry 
if I made you uncomfortable; I was just minding my own business. I'll 
leave now. Sorry."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to get you in trouble," she said. "I'm not. 
You don't have to go."

"Thanks." I was still weighing whether or not to make a tactful escape.

"But I can tell by what you read that you appreciate the feminine body. 
Like these books." She pulled a couple of comic collections from the shelf 
to illustrate her point.

Wally Wood's "Sally Forth", about a blonde army girl who frequently ended 
up naked while saving her troops. I loved that one. Just the sheer 
exuberance of a beautiful body, a gung-ho spirit and some great situations 
where she loses her clothes. When I got better at it, my stories and 
illustrations would have that sort of cheery naughtiness.

There were also Milo Manara's sun-drenched fantasies with many naked 
women; and other books with notional plots but admittedly softcore erotic 
styles. Those were the sorts of women I wanted to draw.

I didn't say anything. It still looked like she disapproved, however 
mildly. There should be nothing wrong with an adult reading those books; 
but interests like that were something most of us found good reasons to 
keep to ourselves.

"We have some more in a storage room," she said. "More European and Asian 
artists. Really too steamy to have out here in the stacks. You should take 
a look."

As bizarre as that offer sounded, I needed no convincing. She had me 
marked as a fan (and wannabe practitioner) of erotic art. I felt I had 
nothing to hide now, and it didn't seem like she had anything bad planned 
for me. I also didn't want to miss whatever treasures were locked away in 
that room.

She led me by the hand into a side hallway, and into a room she had to 
unlock with a key. I liked holding her hand. I wondered if any other 
patron noticed this little scene.

"I'm Ken," I said as we walked in. "I don't even know your name."

"Carmen," she said, shaking my hand. She turned on the lights. Books 
filled the room; stacked boxes subdividing it with new walls, loose stacks 
of them overflowing counters and tables, all marked with different-colored 
tags. "Sorry it's such a mess," Carmen said. "It's over here in the back 
corner."

She showed me a hardcover collection by Serpieri, the Italian artist who 
did "Druuna." His work was hard to find unless you special ordered. Druuna 
was a raven-haired, large-breasted, big-bootied woman in a scifi-horror 
arena, often having to tiptoe through creepy places partially or totally 
naked. She endured lots of sex as well, at the hands of lovers, enemies, 
and grotesque monsters.

"I love the Druuna stories," she said, opening to one in the middle. "In 
our basement at home, I sometimes act these out with my brother and his 
friends."

Oh really. This was taking a quite interesting turn. Again I wondered just 
how old Carmen was. I peeked at the door, made sure it was still closed.

"That's pretty racy stuff," I said, involuntarily looking her over. I 
could not hide my curiosity. "When you act these out, do you wear costumes 
or just street clothes?"

She laughed. "I wear what she's wearing, of course." The implications of 
that were so erotic that at first I didn't even follow through on the 
meaning. "It's pretty easy. Take a look at this panel."

She showed a picture of Druuna hiding in a dark corner, trying to see if 
she had been followed. She was frightened and vulnerable, for good reason: 
she wore only a white dress shirt, completely unbuttoned, revealing part 
of one D-cup breast and all of the other. Below the waist, she wore 
nothing at all, her meaty thighs and pubic thatch painstakingly detailed.

"For this scene," Carmen said, "I just use a man's shirt and leave it 
open. But a lot of the time, like over here, I'm not wearing anything."

Now it seemed like an elaborate prank. This was too over the top. "You're 
making this up," I scoffed, looking her in the eye. "You mean to tell me 
you get naked in front of your brother and friends."

"I am not making this up!" she said, staring straight back. "It's fun. 
It's really hot. You're the only one I've told about it. I thought you 
would understand." She turned to another page, where Druuna was naked, on 
her back on a table, with a standing man screwing her. "So here I would 
be, and his friend is the guy, and he's having sex with me."

"No way," I said. I was fighting two impulses: one, leave now, because 
being alone in this room with this young woman, talking about this, was 
just not right; and two, put my arm around her and see if she protested.

"I know it sounds really weird?" she said, with the upward intonation 
common to younger people. "But there are some ground rules. Some things my 
brother's friend can do but he can't because he's my brother."

"But he still sees you naked," I said. As fantastical as her story was, I 
had become convinced she wasn't lying. She was focused and intense, like 
someone obsessed with a favorite hobby. Dressing up (and undressing) as 
Druuna seemed for Carmen to be exactly that.

"A little more than that," she said. "He's touched my breasts when I'm 
naked, and even sucked them. Kind of strange, how my own brother can make 
me come that way. And he's also touched me down below lots of times, and I 
come that way too. But full intercourse is way off limits. So is kissing."

As she said this, I wondered if she noticed in my face the flush I felt 
while picturing her doing this. Just freeze-frame vignettes of Carmen 
laying back on a secondhand couch, legs spread, eyes closed, her brother 
with a finger in her pussy and his lips around a nipple, her toes curling 
as she's about to climax.

"It's a little strange," she said. "I mean, you definitely don't tell all 
your friends about it. Or your parents. But it's mostly my brother's 
friend instead of my brother. He even has a steady girlfriend and he 
hasn't told her about me."

I was still silent. Carmen was one weird chick. To think what I had not 
known this about her just 20 minutes ago. But she was fascinating. I knew 
I would stay here and keep listening to her until she kicked me out.

She regarded me clinically, hands on hips. "You still don't believe me."

"Actually, it's strange enough to be true," I said, and regretted it. It 
seemed weaselly, like I was trying to cover both sides of the argument.

"Here," she said, skimming through the pages, stopping at one she liked. 
"You can be this guy, and I'll be Druuna." Druuna was dressed in a red 
thong, sidled up against a wall, trying to hide and listen for pursuers. 
"I don't have the right thong, but I'll do what I can."

"Right now?" I could hardly believe this.

"Of course." Carmen took off her sweat pants, revealing those lovely legs 
again. Her skimpy green thong was slightly sheer, showing off her trimmed 
bush. But I forgot about that for awhile when she pulled off her 
sweatshirt.

It was criminal what that baggy sweatshirt had been hiding from the world. 
She wasn't wearing a bra; perhaps she never had been. Her breasts were 
amazing, C to D cups, large without being ridiculous like Dolly Parton or 
something. Standing there in nothing but her green thong, she made a great 
live-action Druuna. This would be the winning costume in a Halloween 
contest (well, OK, just for the skin it showed.)

"You're beautiful," I said. "Just like the real thing."

"I am the real thing," she laughed. "Druuna's just a cartoon."

I was tongue-tied for a second, still staring at her breasts.

"Even though, I don't have her hair, and I don't quite have her boobs 
either," she said. "But it seems to be close enough for the guys."

She had a point, though I disagreed that she lacked anything substantial 
compared to Serpieri's heroine. Sure, her hair was straighter than 
Druuna's impossibly wavy mane. Her breasts weren't quite as big or 
buoyant, and her hips weren't as wide. But she was right: she was the real 
thing, better than any cartoon.

"Nothing wrong with you at all," I insisted.

"You're so sweet," she said. "Now, back in character. You come over and 
find me." She walked into the back corner of the room and posed, looking 
vigilant and frightened.

I hesitantly walked closer. Looking at her in costume was fine, actually 
it was great, but what would my involvement be?

"No, Ken, you're my lover," Carmen/Druuna said. "You thought I was dead. 
There's a lot of passion here. Now get over here and kiss me."

"I'm sorry, I gotta ask. How old are you?"

"Twenty. Don't worry."

"That's a relief. Anyway, I just turned 30."

"At this point, I could be 13 and too many guys wouldn't even care."

Here goes nothing, I thought. I quickly strode up, put my arms around her 
and gave her a quick kiss. "Don't worry," she said, and clung to me, 
locking her lips on mine. She had a lot more experience with this sort of 
playacting and was much better about getting into character. If she was in 
Druuna's head now, in the girl's body, I still felt a little awkward, not 
knowing what exactly my part was. For a moment.

Having her nearly naked body squeezed against mine changed my mind. Forget 
the play. She might be making out with Druuna's lover. I was making out 
with Carmen, and enjoying every second.

"You're hungry for my body," she said. "Take it." I fondled her breasts 
hesitantly at first, still wondering if metaphorical midnight would 
strike, she would push me away, and I'd have to find another library. But 
she was absolutely into this.

"The next panel," she said, "you take off my thong. Go ahead."

I peeled it all the way down. Her pussy glistened.

I tasted each breast, nibbling, caressing the nipple with my tongue, as 
one hand caressed her curvaceous ass and another explored the moist slit 
between her legs. My feeling of awe, of almost disbelief at the situation, 
was fading away. She had her hand between my legs, cradling my dick 
straining against the inside of my jeans.

"Ready for the next panel?" she said. I didn't know what was coming up, 
but I had a pretty good guess.

She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled everything down to my knees; then 
leaned back against the wall, legs slightly spread, arms up. She didn't 
close her eyes, or lick her lips, or have this slack open-mouthed 
expression that was supposed to signify passion. She looked directly at 
me, with a huge smile. Come and get me.

I didn't need a comic book to show me what to do next. I shuffled forward, 
pants around my ankles, crouched down a bit to get the angle right, and 
held her shoulders as I plunged in.

She was wet, but still really tight, so we had to go slowly the first few 
strokes. But after that it was deliciously smooth, in and out. She nibbled 
on my lips and licked my chin, and I freed a hand to caress her left 
breast, because I just adored the pair she had. Seeing her topless for the 
first time was almost more enticing than when I stripped her thong, 
leaving her naked.

"We should be quiet," she whispered. "The room's not soundproof."

"I'll cover your mouth with mine," I said.

I was nearly ready to come, and it seemed like she was also close, when 
she suddenly stopped moving, and put a hand to my chest to stop me. We 
froze literally mid-thrust, with my dick halfway inside.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

She put a finger to her lips. And then I heard it: someone had unlocked 
the door and was opening it.

Luckily we were in the back of the room, behind a stack of boxes, and 
probably couldn't be seen from the doorway. She'd be in more trouble than 
I would if we were caught.

"Carmen?" a male voice asked. "You in here?"

They were looking for her! "Shit," she whispered, almost silent, making me 
lip-read. "Don't. Move."

"Lights are on," a female voice said. So there were at least two people.

"Are these her clothes?" the man said.

That was one mistake we made: Carmen had tossed her sweats, top and pants, 
onto a table.

"Looks like it," the woman said. "Was she changing in here?"

"Who knows."

My legs were getting cramped from my half-crouch position; I couldn't stay 
motionless forever. I straightened up a bit, which forced my dick the rest 
of the way in. Her eyes went really wide, as if aghast at how presumptuous 
I was being. Like she was minding her own business, and then this guy 
ripped off all her clothes, and now look what he was doing.

"Should we take them to lost and found?" the woman said. "Maybe she just 
forgot them."

"Where would she be, then? We've looked everywhere."

Carmen's vaginal muscles contracted really tightly when I pushed in, and 
it just felt awesome. So much that it was really the wrong thing to do, 
but I slowly moved out and in again. She shook her head, frantic.

I knew it wasn't really fair to her at all, taking advantage like this. It 
sounded like they were going to take her clothes; even if they didn't 
discover her here, how would she sneak out wearing only a thong? And if 
she did get caught here, completely naked, having sex...

Another person, judging from the voices, poked her head in the room. 
"What's going on?"

"Looking for Carmen, her mother's on the phone," said the first woman.

I thrust out and in again, noiselessly. Carmen's eyes were a plea to stop.

"Is she on break?"

"No."

I continued thrusting slowly. Carmen closed her eyes and gritted her 
teeth, breathing heavily but trying to conceal the sound. All we could do 
is hope they wouldn't make a search of the room and would leave soon. But 
I didn't want to stop. My dick was so hard it felt like it was going to 
snap off.

The three of them were discussing Carmen's clothes when I resumed 
caressing her breasts and finger-painting smaller and smaller circles 
around her nipples. She started shuddering, and kept her teeth clenched, 
as if trying not to scream. One final thrust, and a tweak of both engorged 
nipples, and she came. That was more than enough for me and I shot too.


"Let's go," one of the women said. I guess they didn't hear us. The door 
shut.

After counting to ten, I pulled out of Carmen, yanked my pants back up and 
peeked around the stack of boxes. "They're gone. And your clothes are 
still here."

"Thank God." She was slumped against the wall, head leaning forward, hair 
cascading over.

I fetched her sweats and she quickly put everything back on.

"You're OK?"

She smiled. "More than I bargained for. You could have got me fired!"

"We've got to stop meeting like this," I joked.

"I'm serious. You took a big chance."

"You didn't have fun?"

"You know I did," she accused.

"Well, I'd like to see you again, but a better idea would be outside the 
library."

"How about this weekend, we could go do something."

"How about Saturday, during the day," I suggested. This was Memorial Day 
weekend. "It's supposed to be about 75 all weekend. We could do something 
outside."

"There's a big crafts fair in Capital City."

"Sounds good. When and where should I pick you up?"

She shook her head. "I still live at home. No offense, but my parents 
would freak if some 30-year-old guy was picking me up. So I'll meet you at 
your place."

"Okay. What'll you tell them?"

"Oh, out with friends shopping or something. So how about... 10 am?"

"Perfect." I grabbed a piece of scrap paper and wrote down my address.

It was only a matter of time before the people looking for Carmen might 
check our room again. She poked her head out, saw everything was clear, 
and turned left toward the stacks, while I turned right toward the 
bathrooms. I didn't see her again until Saturday.

(Story will continue) 

Meeting Carmen Ch. 02
by gossog ©

*

At 7 in the morning on the Saturday before Memorial Day, it was already 
obvious this would be a beautiful day. I hadn't felt this sort of warmth 
in the air since last August. In about three hours Carmen would show up, 
and then we'd head over to Capital City to browse around the crafts fair. 
Then hopefully back to my place, and a longer session of sex without the 
danger of being walked in on. Owning my own townhouse had its advantages.

She arrived at 9:55, about five minutes early, so I was still upstairs 
when the doorbell rang. My townhouse had a strange up-and-down layout, so 
that more units could be packed into our complex; so at a landing halfway 
down the stairs, I could actually look down through a small window to see 
who was at the front door. Side view, from above, a little bit from 
behind.

What I saw as I turned the corner stopped me in my tracks.

Carmen was wearing sweatpants again, just like at the library; today's set 
was light gray and loose, hanging really low at her hips. Whatever undies 
she wore (usually a colorful thong) couldn't be more than an inch from 
poking out.

Instead of a matching sweatshirt or jacket, she had a white cotton top, 
like a thin T-shirt, with a scoop neck. I craned my own neck to get a 
better look. She's pretty well endowed, and the top showed a good amount 
of cleavage. Even better, it was obvious she wore no bra.

I bounded down the stairs and opened the door. She looked even better from 
the front. If she had dressed like this at the library, top clinging to 
her curves, nipples prominent under the light fabric, she'd be out of a 
job now.

"You look stunning," I said.

She smirked. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Yes, yes," I said, ushering her inside and shutting the door. "I don't 
think I've seen the gray sweats before."

She glanced down at them. "I can't really wear these ones to the library. 
They're so loose... all the bending and stretching I do at work, you'd 
have to follow me around all day, pulling them back up."

"I don't think I'd mind that," I said.

"Whatever we do today, besides the craft show, I'm not dressed for 
something formal," she said. "This is totally about comfort."

"Funny how you look just absolutely hot in your 'comfort' wear," I said.

On the drive to Capital City, about 30 miles, I wished I owned a 
convertible. The air was now balmy, almost tropical. The entire day was 
open, and I had a gorgeous girl, in a skimpy top no less, in the passenger 
seat.

We had to park a few blocks away from the craft fair. Several downtown 
streets were closed off so that dozens of artists, food sellers and 
entertainers could set up their booths. We heard a reggae band in the 
distance and could smell barbecued meat -- vendors getting ready for 
lunch.

It was obvious the warm weather had brought every hot girl in the state 
out of hiding, dressed in her most flattering, revealing summer wear. Most 
of them left their bras, long pants, and full-length anythings at home. 
Several times Carmen elbowed me in the ribs and whispered mock outrage at 
the "slutty things youngsters were wearing these days." (She was more 
modest than the others in one respect: she practically the only girl in 
long pants.)

Some examples of the women I saw in the first ten minutes:

A blonde coed in pink hotpants and matching clingy top, with no bra. She 
had the cheerleader look, and her tall, handsome boyfriend (star 
quarterback, maybe) completed the picture. She was just breathtaking. She 
wore a permanent "you're not in my league" simper, and I think she enjoyed 
men staring at her perfect breasts, nipples poking the pink top, as that 
made her all the more unattainable.

A woman of about 30 years, with long brown hair, pushing her infant in a 
stroller. Passing women cooed at the cute baby while their guys were more 
interested in the mother, dressed in a miniskirt and tube top.

Another woman wore a yellow bikini top sheer enough even when dry to show 
her areolae and nipples, and cutoff denims skimpier than any miniskirt. A 
good proportion of her firm buns were visible below the frayed, faded 
denim; and to further stir up men's imaginations, she left the top button 
of her cutoffs open. Certainly she wore nothing underneath, tolerating the 
rough denim against her bare skin. If I had been lucky enough to see her 
bend over far enough, I might have glimpsed bare pussy lips. But I never 
got the chance.

Another girl, even younger than Carmen, wore only a pink bikini, very 
tight, showing nipples and the "camel toe" of probably a shaved pussy. The 
material was so thin it might have been underwear rather than swimwear. 
Almost nothing was left to the imagination, and she looked very 
vulnerable. She was probably lucky to have her three girlfriends in the 
pack for protection.

Okay, one last example. A blonde girl, in a skirt with side slits all the 
way up, revealing a lot of the curve of her butt as she walked; and a tank 
top with very loose arm holes, providing a clear view of her braless 
breasts if she bent forward. Carmen gave me a dirty look for staring at 
this girl too long.

Among all this pulchritude Carmen, beautiful as she was, as revealing as 
her top was, didn't stand out that much. That was probably just as well. I 
could sense a little wariness in her posture at times; to go braless in 
public probably took a lot of nerve. Same for the loose sweatpants. Even 
though she had shown off to me and a few people her age, it had always 
been in private, in the basement or in a storage room. From what I could 
tell by her library attire, she preferred to be well-covered in public.

She still got her share of admiration from the guys, especially when 
bending forward for a closer look at the crafts for sale. This provided 
rewarding views from several angles. She asked me if I noticed any guys 
checking her out. I told her that this was happening all the time.

She was tempting fate with those loose sweatpants and they eventually did 
fall. The first time, I happened to be walking behind her; and her butt 
was coincidentally where my gaze was focused anyway. I caught the sweats 
quickly and pulled them up, so she ended up flashing for only a fraction 
of a second. Long enough to see that she wore no knickers or thong at all.

"Good catch, Ken," she said.

"You're even braver than I thought," I said, lowering my voice. "Wearing 
nothing at all underneath?"

"That's why I wanted to go someplace we wouldn't see anyone I know."

"Still a lot of people."

"I know," she said, her eyes bright, like they were Tuesday when she was 
describing her erotic playacting of "Druuna" scenes. "I'm always thinking 
about it. Half afraid I'll expose myself and half hoping it'll happen."

"I'm 100% for the second option," I said, patting her butt.

"Careful!" she said.

I walked in back for a while, enjoying the view, and making sure her 
waistband didn't sink any lower. One time I thought it was too low and 
gently pulled it up, but she admonished me. I was not to touch her sweats 
unless they actually fell down.

OK, then. I looked forward to another flash of her bare butt.

When we reached the end of one block, she took me in her arms and gave me 
a big wet kiss. "This whole thing is such a turn-on," she said, still 
hugging me tight. "It's so dangerous. I'm really tempted to just run back 
to the car and make out in the back seat."

"I'm not the guy to dissuade you there." Just having her in my arms, her 
body against mine, her beautiful face so close to mine, was making my cock 
stir. She looked in my eyes and suddenly I didn't care about anything else 
at all, and we started making out right there at the street corner, people 
filing around us.

"I think we're making a scene," she said, swaying against me. "I-"

She let out a small shriek. "They're down, they fell!" She gripped me 
tight, as if I was saving her from drowning. It was the same panic 
response she'd shown in the library storage room, when we were almost 
caught. We stood there for a moment, her anxious and me unable to do much 
with her clinging to me.

I reached down, felt her bare bottom, and looked over her shoulder. It was 
true. Her movement must have wriggled her sweats loose. She was naked from 
the waist down.

"I'll let you go, just pick them up," I said.

"Are you kidding? I can't bend over like this! And I don't want people 
seeing in front either!"

"Okay, let go and I'll drop down." I guess she had a point: but the more 
we debated this the longer she would stay exposed. Already guys were 
pointing her way, nudging their friends and grinning.

I squatted down and took just the quickest moment to marvel at her lovely 
legs. Her pubic area I took a little longer to gaze at; her black bush and 
her slit that I swear looked already moist. I briefly thought that if I 
started licking her, she'd change her mind about getting her pants back 
on, never mind the crowds.

"Come on!" she cried, and I yanked her sweats up. It was like a curtain 
closing on an act I wanted to continue. I glanced around; we had a bit of 
an audience, even if they tried to avoid eye contact with me.

"We'd better scoot," I said, and took her hand. I didn't want the 
onlookers following us around all day. "You okay?" We walked briskly 
across to another aisle of booths, trying to lose ourselves in the crowd.

"I'll be okay. I just have never felt that petrified before," she said, 
her voice shaky. "I don't know why I didn't expect it to be like that. 
What I was thinking. Pretty stupid." She was folding her arms over her 
breasts, something she hadn't done all day. Not to keep warm, but to 
conceal what her shirt showed off.

"Should I take you home, and you can change clothes?"

"Yeah, we should probably head back," she said. "I wish I didn't have to 
worry about these sweatpants anymore."

"Can't you do the drawstring tighter?"

"I took it out," she said sheepishly. "Looser and more comfy that way."

"I'll keep a close watch," I said, placing my hand at her hip. Tempting as 
it was to slip my hand under her waistband and feel nothing but bare skin 
underneath.

We didn't head directly to the car. Enough interesting booths were around 
that we settled back into browsing. Framed watercolors, wooden toys, 
homemade salsas, all kinds of stuff. My attention was mainly on Carmen. 
After a while she was more at ease, no longer shivering, and had dropped 
her arms to her sides.

"It's so weird," she whispered to me as we admired a bronze statuary. "I 
was totally scared out of my wits back there, but it was also really hot. 
Especially when you waited to pull my sweats up and I knew you were 
looking at me. Every second that went by, where I knew everyone could see 
me, it was like more... I don't know. Part of me wanted you to take even 
more time."

"I think you're definitely a thrill-seeker."

"I've gotta be the most chicken thrill-seeker there is! Everytime I ride a 
roller-coaster, all the time I'm in line or even when we're going up the 
incline, I'm fighting off a panic attack. I think, no way will I ever do 
this again. But after the ride is done, I'm like, 'who's ready to ride it 
again?'"

"Would you let your pants drop again?"

"Not for a while. But yes, I'm already thinking about when will it happen 
again."

I could hardly believe my good luck. A gorgeous, enthusiastic girl like 
Carmen, and on top of that a budding exhibitionist. Right now my dick was 
in heaven and writing postcards.

I took a look around, scoping the crowd. It didn't seem like anyone who 
had seen her bottomless episode had followed us closely. She was getting 
the usual attention, but no more. Her accidental exposure wouldn't have 
any long-lasting consequences.

At the end of our aisle was a collection of bohemian clothing that caught 
Carmen's eye, and she tugged my arm. Running the booth was a younger guy, 
probably Carmen's age; he was obviously as attracted to her as she was to 
the clothes. To him, the two or three other women shopping might as well 
have blinked out of existence.

"Hi, can I help you find something?" the seller said. He was reasonably 
handsome, with the callow enthusiasm and brashness of a freshman rushing a 
frat.

"I don't know," Carmen said, scanning the selection. Racks lined the edges 
of the booth and a central divider right behind the seller. Skirts and 
tops were splashed with earth tones and some tie dyes. "What do you think 
I would look good in?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, you'd look good in anything. I don't know if our 
clothing would make much of a difference."

Carmen looked at me, almost laughing, and I said to him, "Aren't you one 
smooth-talking dude."

He faced me and put his palms up, conciliatory. "Didn't mean to be a jerk 
about it. You just have good taste in women."

So he was a little smarter than he looked. "That's cool," I said. 
"Thanks."

He turned to her. "As for what would look best... one of the darker 
skirts, I think. Goes well with your skin tone and hair color."

We introduced ourselves. His name was Stu. (I'm Ken.)

Carmen explored a bit and found a couple skirts that looked interesting. 
"You wanna get those?" I asked. She had left her purse at my house.

She thought this over for a minute, and I waited for an answer. Instead, 
she asked Stu, "Is there any place I can try these on?" in as guileless a 
manner as she could muster.

Of course there wasn't; these were 12-foot open-air booths, collapsible 
canopies on stilts. No fitting rooms. Stu furrowed his brow, obviously 
wanting to accommodate her. "The best place is probably on the other side 
of this rack," he said, pointing behind him. "In the back corner you're 
pretty much hidden in three directions by hanging clothes. If Ken stands 
guard, you might have enough privacy there."

We went around back. Stu was right -- hanging clothes mostly obstructed 
the view from anywhere outside the booth -- but not all the way to the 
ground. Instead, there was a gap of about two or three feet, like a 
dressing room with curtains that didn't hang down far enough. Anyone 
happening to look our direction would get a decent view of Carmen's legs, 
to at least mid-thigh. Certainly something that would pique a man's 
interest. If he was really perverted and dropped to the ground, peering 
up, that view would be really indecent.

She looked at the gap and seemed hesitant at first, but convinced herself 
it would be OK. I stood in front, quite close to her, forming the fourth 
wall.

"Let's do the long skirt first." She pushed her sweats down, stepped out 
of them and bent over quickly from the waist to grab them. Stooping down 
would have meant flashing her bare bottom to those outside. Even so, I was 
surprised at how erotic the situation was. She was bottomless, nearly 
naked, not far from a whole lot of people.

She shimmied into the skirt, back to some degree of decency. She checked 
herself out and frowned.

"You don't like it?" I said. I wasn't a fan either; the skirt was a dowdy, 
homely brown. But Stu was right: Carmen looked beautiful in anything.

"It's not that... I just would never wear it with this top. So I can't 
tell."

"I could get you another top," I said, but she waved me off. Instead, she 
pulled off her own top and handed it to me. This ensemble was more than 
fine with me. Large, shapely bare breasts go with just about anything.

"Cute", I said, giving one breast a light squeeze.

"Stop that!" she said, slapping my hand. "If you get me excited, we'll be 
in real trouble."

She turned around, checking herself out from several angles. "I wish there 
was a mirror here." I enjoyed the view as she dithered a bit more, and 
eventually decided against the skirt.

She didn't ask for her top back; instead, she took off the skirt and now 
stood there naked. The close quarters provided enough privacy that she 
felt well at ease, as far as I could tell. Still, the situation was very 
hot, and she was nearly irresistible. I folded my hands behind my back, 
which seemed to help.

I guess I stared at her too long; she put her hands on her hips and said, 
"Were you planning to give me the other skirt?" I guess I have a weakness 
for naked women showing some attitude, because she looked hotter than 
ever.

"Sorry," I said, and handed her the mini.

It slipped out of her fingers, and I wonder if that was deliberate. It 
landed at her feet. To pick it up, she didn't bend from the waist this 
time, but instead squatted down. She peeked outside, now well underneath 
the hanging clothes that served for walls, and froze there. For a second, 
maybe two, she stayed bent over, on her tiptoes, leaning forward, her 
breasts nearly touching her thighs, down toward the knees; and then she 
shot up straight, like a jack-in-the-box, holding the skirt.

"Whoops," she said, looking nervous, breathing heavily. "I think about 50 
people saw me naked."

"Fifty-one," I joked. "And this one wants to take you home."

"I've never been so exposed," she said. "I'm hot already."

It showed. There seemed to be a slight flush in her face, and her nipples 
were hard. "Here, feel me," she whispered, and took my hand between her 
legs. "Feel how wet I am?"

"It feels awesome," I said, reaching out to caress her breast.

At this she froze, probably realizing she was close to getting into 
trouble. "We have to stop," she said, giggling. "You can wait. Be 
patient."

She put on the skirt, unfortunately hiding her lovely bush once again. But 
this skirt was nothing like the matronly knee-length brown one she had 
rejected. It was a black micro-mini, just long enough to cover her butt. 
About as long as my outstretched hand, little finger to thumb. I know 
because I checked.

"I think this violates some city ordinance," she joked. It wasn't the kind 
of skirt in which she could sit down. Or bend over. Or any number of 
reasonable-sounding activities. She turned around slowly, showing me a 
360-degree view. It occurred to me that going topless with the skirt was a 
great idea. Showing off up top, while the skirt always threatened to 
reveal what was below. Some sort of balance.

"Find anything you like?" said Stu, from behind the rack of clothes. At 
least he didn't push them aside and poke his head through.

"Maybe," Carmen said.

"Why not show him?" I whispered.

Her eyes sparkled. She thought about this for a long time, and nodded. 
With one arm, she covered both breasts as well as she could and slowly 
backed around the corner toward Stu. I hopped around her to the front, to 
get a good view of both Carmen and his reaction.

She kept her back turned to him, peeking over her shoulder. "How do you 
think it looks?"

He looked stunned, but still brazenly looked her up and down, seeing her 
bare legs for the first time, and bare back, separated by a small band of 
material. As a bonus, he probably got a partial side view of her right 
breast, depending on the angle, as it was only covered in front by her 
fingertips.

"It looks fabulous," Stu said. "Do you plan to wear it just like that?"

Wise guy, huh.

"A lot of the parties I go to, I might not walk in like this, but it's 
usually not that long before I leave my top somewhere," she said, and I 
had an idea this was made up, but both Stu and I were eating it up.

"There is one problem," she said, frowning. "The material really itches." 
She pretended to scratch her bottom, in the process lifting the skirt to 
reveal the lower halves of her cheeks. "I don't know how long I could 
stand to keep it on." It was obvious to both Stu and I that she wore 
nothing underneath.


 
Meeting Carmen Ch. 02
by gossog ©

"I guess it depends on the party," Stu said. Sweat was beading on his 
forehead.

"Yeah," she said. "Some places it's cool to just have everything off. 
Others it doesn't matter, because guys are always reaching underneath 
anyway. But some parties, if you're completely naked, you're just prey. 
It's kind of scary."

She scratched again, raising the skirt to flash most of her bottom, and we 
were speechless.

She let it drop, and shook her head. "Sorry, Stu; I didn't see anything I 
liked today. Will you have anything new tomorrow?"

"Sure will," Stu said. "I'll be here Monday also."

"Let's go get changed," she said, and returned to the back corner.

She stripped off the skirt, and this time I couldn't resist her, taking 
her in my arms and kissing her. She was fine with this and we made out for 
as long as we dared.

"Nice party story," I whispered. "Do those sorts of things really happen?"

"No," she laughed. "All for his benefit."

"You've probably given him jerk-off material for a month."

"Not to mention everyone who's peeked under, seen my bare legs, and is 
wondering what's going on."

"Ready to head home?"

"If we can't finish up right here, I suppose we must," she said. She got 
back into her sweatpants and top. We walked out and thanked Stu, who 
almost begged us to come back tomorrow. However, we later agreed that we 
didn't want to do the craft fair two days in a row.

At home we fooled around, had sex, watched a DVD, didn't finish it, sent 
out for dinner, etc. All great fun, but not as interesting to the reader 
as what happened earlier in the day.

At 10 pm she had to head home. As for the Sunday, her day was clear, and I 
begged out of a casual friends' BBQ picnic. There would be about 40 people 
there. I wouldn't be that sorely missed.

I walked her to her car. "See you in 12 hours," I said as she stepped in. 
"I wish you could stay."

"I do, too," she said. "But I'll be back before you know it."

Another kiss, and she drove off.

(Story will continue; at least 3 more chapters) 

Meeting Carmen Ch. 03
by gossog ©

We had an excellent time yesterday, a sunny Saturday with many, many cute 
women wearing revealing clothing, Carmen most of all. To my delight, she 
looked forward to doing the same sort of thing today. Not a complete rerun 
of yesterday, not the craft fair all over again; but still meet in the 
morning, spend the day outdoors, and head back to my house for some 
fooling around.

At 9:45, I set up camp on the landing of my stairway, that perfect spot 
where I can gaze through the small window to see who's at the door before 
she even knocks. I'll agree that's a little voyeuristic, but then Carmen 
proved to be an eager supplier for that sort of demand. Anyway, I wanted a 
glimpse of her as soon as she arrived.

At about five minutes to 10, she walked up to the door, but didn't ring 
right away. She wore a cute pink outfit, her trademark sweatpants riding 
low on the hip, and a skimpy top, showing her midriff. She wore no bra. 
Very similar getup to yesterday's, but I didn't mind at all.

I was thinking how lucky I was to be with a girl who considered this to be 
casual wear, and anticipating seeing her loose sweats give in to gravity 
again, when she raised the stakes. She glanced behind her, hooked her 
thumbs in the waistband, and pushed her sweats down. She wore nothing 
underneath. Only afterward did she ring the doorbell.

That took bravery on her part. She was the kind of girl who would attract 
attention fully clothed. Now she stood bare-assed on my front step, which 
faced a public street.

I must have been staring at her awhile. She rang again, rousing me out of 
my reverie, and I came downstairs. I opened the door and feigned surprise 
at her half-naked state. "Uh, what's going on?"

"About time!" she said. "I was standing out here in the open like this!"

"But how..." I said, looking down.

"Oh. They slipped off after I rang," she explained. "I thought you'd be 
here in a few seconds anyway."

I didn't mind that she was fibbing to justify her dare; I thought it was 
even charming. I was also keeping a secret, and to point out hers would 
have meant revealing mine.

"Aren't you going to offer any sort of help?" She was acting distressed 
about the situation, but her smile was a giveaway. 

"Sure, I'll help," I said, and reached toward her chest.

She grabbed my forearms, laughing. "That is not helping!"

"Sorry." I pulled up her sweats without any further mischief. I scanned 
the street to see if anyone was watching; I didn't see anyone. That didn't 
guarantee no one saw her.

I took her inside. Her hair was a little damp, with the scent of shampoo; 
her skin, dry, warm and clean. When you have a gorgeous woman in your 
arms, you know what a turn-on these ordinary sensations can become.

"I changed my mind about going out today," I said. "Let's get these 
clothes off you and just stay in."

"You never want to wait," she scolded. "It'll be much more fun if you 
wait. I promise."

We drove back to Capital City, this time planning to visit Hillside Park. 
There was a river walk, flower garden, and scenic overlooks; great for a 
sunny afternoon. We had lunch at a bistro across the river from the park.

Afterward, I ran into Gary, a friend from a few years back. I hadn't seen 
him since New Year's. He was hand in hand with a woman I didn't know; 
their body language cried out "brand new couple."

Gary had done quite well for himself. His new woman, Lynn, was small, 
about five-three, Chinese, with very light skin, and an incredibly cute 
face. She wore petite red satin shorts, and a matching collarless 
short-sleeve shirt. She had a shapely yet modest pair of breasts, but to 
my dismay she wore a bra. (I knew Carmen's wardrobe was spoiling me, but I 
still felt cheated.) She also wore a red OU baseball cap, with her long 
ponytail pouring out the back. I love that cute tomboy look.

Her voice was lower than I expected. Not a James Earl Jones bass, of 
course, but the smooth, reserved, precise tones of a documentary narrator.

Lynn seemed a little aloof at first, particularly when she raised an 
eyebrow at Carmen's attire. I tried to figure out why. Disdainful of 
Gary's choice of friends? Culturally conservative? Or maybe jealous of 
another woman who might attract Gary's wandering eye?

Gary and Lynn had no big plans for the day, so they joined us. Within a 
few minutes I saw my fears about Lynn were unfounded. She warmed up to us 
quickly, and had an appealing, offbeat sense of humor.

We sat around a small table at an organic juice bar, sipping our drinks. 
Gary and I got caught up on his new job, and then I popped the big 
question: "So how did you two meet?"

Gary chuckled. "I'll let Lynn take this one."

Lynn took a moment to compose herself, as if preparing for a piano 
recital.

"I was at Borders when I noticed this guy at the magazine rack. He was 
kind of cute, in a goofy sort of way. I was curious to see what he was 
reading, so I came over to take a look. I was kind of shocked at what I 
saw."

"Better Homes and Gardens?" I joked.

"No," she said, grinning. "Any other guesses?"

Carmen shrugged.

Lyn said: "Playboy's Exotic Asians."

Carmen laughed and I groaned. "Aw, bad timing, Gary."

Gary shrugged, sheepish. It looked like he had sat through this story a 
few times.

Lynn said, "He picks it up, puts it underneath his stack of other books, 
and sneaks off to another section. And I'm so dismayed by this that I 
follow him. I go up to him and say point blank, 'What's that magazine you 
have?'"

"Busted," I said, chuckling.

"I was expecting," Lynn said, "that he'd be all defensive, or pretend he 
got it by accident, that sort of thing. I wanted to give him a hard time 
and watch him slink away with his tail between his legs. Instead, he's got 
this guilty look, but otherwise he's just totally honest about it."

"Well, he could have bought it for the articles," I ventured.

"There are no articles," she said. "Just pictures. Naked chicks, cover to 
cover. So much for that excuse."

"What did you say after that?"

"I was still pissed off. I mean, page after page of naked 'exotic' Asian 
women, how am I supposed to feel? The other stereotypes are bad enough. 
But having people who look like me, all submissive, with their clothes 
off, just pisses me off."

"I see your point," I said. "But how, after all that, did you end up 
together? Did he just start hitting on you?"

She smirked. "Worse. I guess I was charmed by his honesty or something, 
because instead of making him crawl away I said, 'Why don't you put that 
thing back on the shelf and meet me in the cafe.' And he did."

That was just like Gary. Always getting up shit creek but at the last 
second finding a paddle.

"So he buys me a coffee and we sit down, and I grill him some more. Do you 
have a girlfriend? Do you have an Asian fetish? And so on."

"And I'm looking a little wistfully back at the magazine rack," Gary 
joked.

Lynn shot him a cross look. It lasted only a second, and she smiled 
afterward, but I hoped she'd never send her evil eye my way.

"So what were your answers?" I said.

Gary said, "No, no girlfriend; broke up two months back. And no, no yellow 
fever. I like all hot women. I don't discriminate."

"More of this disarming candor and I stop the interrogation," Lynn said. 
"So we're just talking about all sorts of things, and all of a sudden it's 
six o'clock. I say I'd better get going, nice to meet you, blah blah blah. 
And then he asks me out. And I'm surprised to hear myself answering yes."

"That's so romantic!" said Carmen.

"Really?" said Gary.

"Of course. All the classic movies start out with the man and woman not 
liking each other. Philadelphia Story, Pride and Prejudice..."

"That's a good point," said Lynn. "I never thought of it that way."

"How was the first date?" I said.

"Gary was pretty smart about it. He called his friend Rick, who was on the 
second date with his own girlfriend Stacey, and set up a double date at 
the comedy club. We have a few drinks, we're laughing, and we don't have 
to sit across from each other and make small talk. By the time we do have 
dinner everybody's warmed up and we have a good time. That ends at about 
10, and Gary invites us all back to his hot tub."

"Just like 'Blind Date'," Carmen laughed.

"If it was just Gary, on the first date, I would have never gone," Lynn 
said. "But with another couple, it seemed OK. Gary took me back to my 
place to pick up a swimsuit. By that time I'm feeling brave enough to take 
something a little daring. Back at his house, when everyone else is 
already in the tub, I change inside and walk out in this skimpy little 
black bikini. Both guys' jaws basically dislocate and just hang there."

"You'd have to see it to believe it," Gary said.

"I'm not like those big boobs centerfolds in those magazine Gary is so 
fond of," she said, passing him a stern look, "but I look pretty good in 
the right suit. And that black one just does everything right.

"So we hang out for another hour or so, drinking wine and relaxing. We're 
all feeling good, but no naughty stuff. You can kind of tell that Rick and 
Stacey are going to spend the night together. At about midnight, we all 
dry off, and they say goodbye. Three nights later, I go out with Gary 
again, and... now, we're an item."

"Good for you," I said. "I'm glad you guys hit it off."

Gary said, "Lynn, aren't you going to tell Part Two?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. No."

"What's Part Two?" said Carmen.

"It's kind of personal." Now Lynn was looking a little embarrassed.

"Come on, we're all adults," Gary said. "They're good friends. Afterward, 
they can tell us their story."

Lynn relented. "Okay. Um, 'Part Two' starts when Rick and Stacey are 
saying goodbye. I don't feel like leaving yet, so I ask Gary if we can 
stay a little longer in the tub. We've all had some wine, and I'm feeling 
pretty good."

She paused and looked at each of us, but she easily had our rapt 
attention. Part Two was looking pretty promising.

"He climbs back in the tub, and I'm about to. I'm standing there on the 
rim, he's looking up at me, and I can tell he really likes what he sees. 
Then I convince myself, and gather up the nerve, to take off my top. For a 
while, I'm just standing there, with him staring at me. Staring at my, you 
know, boobs. I'm feeling a little lightheaded, nervous, but still 
excited."

I confess I've had a very vivid image of this scene in my mind, well after 
the telling. If only I had been there...

"I finally," she continued, "gather up the courage to climb in with him. 
Then one thing leads to another, two plus two is four, etc. etc."

"That takes guts," I said. "Especially for a guy you just met. Especially 
that guy."

She laughed. "Well, in one way it was a sure thing. I'm Asian, I was 
topless; I knew that was his thing."

"You may want to end the story there," Gary said.

"Yes, long story short -- there is no Part Three -- we spent the night."

"A cute story!" Carmen said. "I like it."

"Thanks," Lynn said. "So how did you two meet?"

I let Carmen handle that one. She recounted everything that happened in 
the stacks, up to and including my pulling her sweatpants back up. She 
left out the Druuna playacting, both with me and with her brother. For 
good reason. But she did include almost getting caught in the library 
storage room: we had sex on our first date, too. She might not have said 
so if Lynn had not already admitted the same thing.

"Our stories have a lot in common," Lynn said.

"You're right, come to think of it," said Carmen. "Both guys with an 
interest in the, uh, naked female form; both of us sort of catch them at 
it; and then both of us following a hunch and doing something really 
daring."

"You took a bigger chance than I did. I can't imagine how frightened I'd 
be. Naked, having sex with your guy, hiding in the corner while people are 
trying to decide if they should take your clothes away? That's extreme."

"Yeah, there was more risk of being seen. But taking off your top and 
climbing into a spa with a guy you met that day -- that takes guts too."

"Glad things didn't get out of hand!"

There was a lull in the conversation for a bit, Lynn looking pensive, 
until she faced Carmen as if conducting a TV interview. "Are you doing a 
dare right now?"

"Oh, what I'm wearing?" Carmen said. "Yeah. Two, I guess. One is go 
without a bra; and the other is these loose sweatpants."

"See how low you can let them go?"

"Sometimes they fall all the way off. And I don't have anything on 
underneath."

"No way!" Gary exclaimed.

"Easy there, honey," Lynn said, palm toward Gary. To Carmen: "You're not 
kidding? No undergarments of any kind?"

"No, I'm not." Carmen hopped off her stool, stood in front of Lynn. 
"Here's proof." She pulled out her waistband just enough to show Lynn.

Lynn's eyebrows perked up. "You are braver than I am."

Gary said, "I need to verify this too. With my own eyes."

Lynn picked up her glass, which had some melting cubes and very diluted 
juice. "Gary, I think you need cooling down."

She was half joking, though. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

We finished our drinks and walked toward the park. Gary was sneaking peeks 
at Carmen's chest, irritating Lynn, but who could blame him. The top clung 
to her breasts, outlining every curve, its V-neck showing a few inches of 
cleavage. Slight shadows suggested her dark areolae through the pink 
material, and the telltale bumps of her nipples implied that Carmen was a 
little excited about showing off like this.

I think Lynn was determined to hold her tongue, and not get riled up by 
his gawking. She certainly seemed to enjoy Carmen's company, and soon they 
were chatting about mutual interests, leaving the guys to themselves.

Hillside Park overlooks the city, and perched on one hill is a botanical 
garden, free to the public and supported by donations. It was one of those 
places none of us had visited, even after living here for years.

We let the girls walk ahead as we ascended the wide path, one perk being 
the view we had.

From the back, Lynn was firm and compact, her butt just curvy enough to be 
feminine. I found myself comparing the shape and flow of her slender legs 
to the proportions and lines I study when drawing a figure: the subtle 
curve of the calves, the way the muscles in the thigh blend and define its 
shape. If only I could see her in something more revealing, such as the 
maroon underwear/bikini the young woman was wearing the day before. More 
and more, I was finding myself quite taken with Lynn.

Not that I was any less appreciative of Carmen; I have plenty of lust to 
go around. All our walking had caused the waistline of her sweats to inch 
down even farther than I thought was possible while still staying on. She 
had a little bit of "plumber's butt" showing, though she'd be the sexiest 
plumber anyone had ever seen. Gary was also following this development 
like the final reel of a whodunit film.

Our patience was rewarded when friction gave way to gravity, and her 
sweats fell down. "Uh oh!" she cried, kneeling down to grab them, and the 
pulled them back up as she straightened.

Possibly Gary regretted walking behind Carmen at that point. He saw a 
flash of her bare bottom, very nice in itself, but Lynn got a glimpse of 
her dark bush. So did a young couple approaching us. The guy looked our 
way for while, as if waiting for instant replay, while his woman took his 
arm and glared straight ahead.

Lynn laughed. "I can't believe I just saw that."

"That's part of the dare," Carmen said. "It happened a couple times 
yesterday, too."

"You didn't say anything about yesterday," Lynn said. "So you did the same 
dare?"

"Yeah, a few people got a good look."

"I think you should increase the dare today."

Carmen arched an eyebrow. "I don't think I will. I'm new at this, but I 
think that changing it midway might get me into trouble. I'll work up my 
own dares, thanks."

"Well, this isn't really a new one. You could do the same dare, but... a 
little more daring."

"How would you do that?"

"Next time, let me pull them up instead of you. I'll do it whenever you 
say so. But you should try to postpone saying so as long as possible."

"No, sorry," Carmen said. "That's too much control in someone else's 
hands."

"That's the fun part. I mean, I'm not going to get you in trouble. I'm on 
your side. But in your mind, there'll be that lingering sense of doubt; 
that feeling of 'do you really trust her?'"

"Why would I do that?"

"It's like a roller coaster," Lynn said, by coincidence using the analogy 
Carmen did yesterday. "You know you'll get through the ride without even a 
scratch. But when you first get to the very top and look down, there's 
still that instinctive feeling you have about five seconds to live. That's 
the thrill."

Carmen thought this over. "Okay. But you have to do a dare too."

"That depends. What do you propose?"

"This one's simple. You are wearing knickers, right?" said Carmen.

"At least someone is," Lynn joked, to which Carmen stuck out her tongue.

"Your dare," Carmen said, "is to take off your shorts and put them in my 
bag. You get them at the end of the day."

Lynn looked down, picturing herself in her knickers. "I don't know."

"Come on, I've already shown a lot more than you will! It's just like 
wearing a bikini bottom. Lots of girls are doing that today!"

Meanwhile, the image came to my mind of the blonde, stacked girl we saw 
yesterday in the denim cutoffs and the sheer yellow bikini top. What was 
she doing today? Maybe wearing the matching bikini bottom as well, her 
bush and butt easily visible, tinted yellow? So many girls you see only 
once in passing, and would love to find again.

Lynn accepted the deal. "Okay. But I get to change in the bathroom."

"Okay," Carmen conceded. It was a deal.

We found a set of restrooms. The girls went inside while the guys waited. 
It gave us a chance to compare some notes.

"Carmen is a fox!" Gary said. "I can't believe you found somebody like 
that at the freaking library!"

"Don't sell yourself short," I said. "Lynn is really cute, too. You scored 
big time."

"They get along well. I guess we should take up tennis or something."

"I don't think either of us would mind mixed doubles," I said.

"Too bad they don't hate each other," he said. "Wouldn't mind seeing a 
knock-down, drag-out-"

We had to stop there because the girls came back out. This was apparently 
a magic bathroom. Lynn had transformed from attractive, refined girl to 
innocent-looking sex object. She looked hesitant about appearing in public 
like this, but reluctant to back down on her word.

Her knickers were red (like everything in her wardrobe?) and small, just 
like bikini bottoms with spaghetti straps. An inch or two of skin was 
exposed between the waistband and the hem of her now-loose shirt. There 
was the slightest curve in her slim belly. Her legs looked long now, even 
at her height.

She had taken off her baseball cap and untied her ponytail. Glossy 
straight hair hung down to her shoulder blades.

Carmen explained that she had stepped up Lynn's dare, and taken her bra as 
well. Lynn's nipples made gumdrop-size bumps under her shirt.

"You feel okay, Lynn?" I asked.

"Really overexposed," she said. "Carmen says not to cross my arms or try 
to hide myself, but it's hard not to do that."

"I have some more dares for you two," Gary joked.

"No, Gary," they said in unison; and then joked about the effectiveness of 
stereo "No, Gary's" versus mono.

The garden wasn't crowded, but there were usually enough people around so 
that we knew the next "Carmen event" would have probably have an audience. 
However nervous she might have been, she didn't once touch her waistband, 
to hang onto it or lift it up.

Lynn at first did not at all appreciate the attention she was getting. I 
could see her stiffen up whenever someone passed, trying to act natural 
but wishing the person would just scoot by without looking. After a while 
she seemed to realize that it wasn't that dangerous, going braless and in 
bikini bottoms in public, but with three friends and in a progressive, 
tolerant area of the country. Nobody was going to throw holy water on her.


As for me, I was getting a little obsessed with her, imagining her slim 
body and small breasts underneath her shirt. She was halfway to being 
naked. Just two items of clothing left to go.

In a garden aisle, we were examining a blossom of deep red that could have 
matched Lynn's outfit when Carmen's sweats dropped.

"Wait," Lynn cautioned. "Nobody around but us right now." Carmen quickly 
did a full 360-degree survey; Lynn was right. Gary got a good look at her 
butt and her bush, and probably wanted to pinch himself, see if he was 
really awake.

"Let's go back up," Carmen said. "Someone's going to come any minute."

"Not yet," Lynn said. "Just keep an eye out." For his sake, Gary couldn't 
stop staring.

Good thing it wasn't chilly out; Carmen had almost nothing to keep her 
warm. The aisle we were in was still clear. Lynn kept a lookout, back and 
forth along the grass pathway. Carmen did the same. I mused that if she 
really wanted to put her trust in Lynn, she'd close her eyes, and let Lynn 
dress her when she decided to.

"Do you want to take off your top?" Lynn whispered.

"No!"

A family of five turned the corner, in loud summer attire, two kids on 
foot and another in a stroller. Coming this way.

"Up, now!" Carmen said.

Lynn tugged upward, but Carmen was standing on her sweats. She must have 
stepped out while she was looking around. "Get your feet inside!" Lynn 
said.

"Help me!" Carmen said, trying to find the leg holes.

"No time. Step back a little."

"What?" she said, incredulous.

"There's no time. Step back, pick them up, and hold them in front."

Carmen did so, and yanked up the sweats, holding them in front as if in 
the aisle of a clothing store, checking them for length. The family seemed 
to take an eternity to walk past, the mother scowling and herding the kids 
to her opposite side, the father sneaking glances. Carmen pivoted with 
them like a compass needle, her sweats hanging like drapes, obscuring from 
sight but not concealing the fact that her legs and bottom were bare. 
Meanwhile her breasts and nipples were as conspicuous as, well, high 
beams.

I imagined how she would look if Lynn had convinced her to take her top 
off as well, and realized my jeans had been partially hiding a boner for 
some time now. I gently laid a hand on Carmen's bare bottom, startling 
her, and I had to apologize.

"Coast is clear," Lynn said.

Carmen practically jumped into her sweats. She surveyed the walkway like a 
hawk hunting fieldmice.

"I'm sorry how that turned out," Lynn said. "I didn't mean to expose you 
like that."

"No, it was my fault," Carmen said. "I shouldn't have moved. Anyway, I 
think I'll pull up my own pants from now on."

"That sounds wise."

"I can give you your clothes back if you want."

Lynn shook her head. "I'd have to walk all the way down to put them on. 
Besides, I've gotten used to it now."

In a higher terrace, there was a railing overlooking Capital City, the 
river, and more aisles of flowers. "We should get a picture," Lynn said, 
pulling a small camera out of her purse.

"Let's get one of all of us. Find someone to take it," Carmen said.

A trio of 20-something men, holding bottles of beer, had already noticed 
the women and were scoping them out, no doubt resenting Gary and I for 
being there at all.

"Maybe those guys?" Lynn asked, reluctantly. But there was no one else 
around at the moment.

"Can you go ask them?" Carmen said. "I don't want to flash them while I'm 
walking over there."

"You know, I could have a little fun with this," Lynn smiled. "You guys 
will watch out for me, right?" We would. Nothing would get out of hand.

She flipped her hair back and sauntered over to the men.

"Wow," said Carmen. "She was nervous at first, but now she's eating it 
up."

"You're a good influence on her," said Gary.

What she said to the guys was too far for us to hear, but they 
enthusiastically followed her back to us. "The four of us against the 
railing," she instructed, handing the camera to a blond guy.

He took a couple shots of us standing at the rail, guys in back, Lynn and 
Carmen in front.

"Good?" Lynn asked.

"Looks great," the guy said.

"Thank you so much," she said, walking forward.

"You'll send us copies?"

"We're flattered, but no."

"How about one more with your shirts off?" his friend said.

Lynn's polite smile vanished. "Okay. Thanks a bunch. Bye now."

"You're sure?" the guy said, not getting the point.

I stood up and joined Lynn, matching her sternness. "Bye bye. Thanks. 
Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Geez," one said. "Chill out." They slunk off. "Dressed like that," I 
heard one mutter.

"Some guys can't take a hint," Lynn said.

The bad vibe didn't last long. "This is beautiful," Carmen said, gazing 
out over the railing. We could see terraces beneath us and trails leading 
back to the river crossing. On the other side were shops and restaurants, 
the outskirts of the city center. Between our overlook and the river was 
also a wide slope of lawn, where several people had spread out towels and 
were sunbathing.

We stood there quietly for a while, letting gentle sounds swirl around us. 
The occasional light breeze; people playing and talking in the distance; 
even the hum of traffic in the city. We might have stayed fifteen minutes 
there, almost in a meditative state.

"Carmen?" said Lynn, as if to gently rouse her from sleep.

"Yeah?"

"You ready for another dare?"

Carmen looked at her suspiciously. "If we both do it, sure. What's your 
part?"

"We're both doing the same thing. It'll be fun!"

"Which is..."

"We both stand here and take off our shirts."

Carmen looked ready to protest, but Lynn cut her off. "It's not as bad as 
you think. We stand with our hands on the railing, looking out over 
everything. People from far off can see us, but there's not much we can do 
about that. But we do keep an eye on people close by."

Carmen's eyes widened, and I already knew she was hooked.

"Even better," Lynn continued, "Ken stands in back of you and Gary in back 
of me. When you or I say 'cover,' he has to cover our breasts with his 
hands. Then you say 'uncover' when the coast is clear, and he takes his 
hands away."

"So it's to see how long you can go..."

"Right. Are you game?"

She was. Certainly there was no objection from the guys. We waited until 
no one was nearby, and then the girls removed their tops. Lynn's chest 
looked about one-third the size of Carmen's, but of course I still savored 
the quick peek. Her A-cup breasts almost disappeared as her arms stretched 
skyward to take the shirt off, but her nipples were as breathtaking as 
ever. It's funny how a guy can have a girl with a heavenly body like 
Carmen's, really out of his league, he's lucky to be with her -- but see 
another cute woman's boobs, and he's instantly imagining one in his mouth.

The girls stood in position, looking resolutely into the distance. Carmen 
was appealingly half-dressed, but now Lynn was wearing hardly anything at 
all, just the bikini knickers. Now I was imagining her naked in my bed.

"If somebody comes, you'd better let us know," Lynn warned.

"Of course," I said. I stood in back of Carmen, waiting for her signal.

Gary tapped me on the shoulder, put a finger to his lips, and motioned for 
us to switch places. Had he read my mind? Or was he just scheming for a 
way to fondle my girl? In any case, I considered it a win-win, and I 
nodded my head. Silently I stood behind Lynn. As long as neither girl 
turned around, and neither of us said anything, they might not be the 
wiser.

"You OK, Lynn?" Carmen said.

"I'm good... how about you guys? Anyone watching us?"

Gary quickly leaned over so his voice would come from behind Lynn. "Still 
clear."

I gazed at Lynn's bare shoulders. Unfortunately the nape of her neck, a 
part of a woman I consider beautiful, was concealed behind a curtain of 
perfect, glossy black hair. The red triangle of her knickers covered the 
most sensitive areas in back, but still suggested the supple shape of her 
bottom.

Carmen happened to glance sideways, and noticed that I, not Gary, stood 
behind Lynn. She looked just long enough to be sure, then returned her 
gaze forward, without saying anything. So she was OK with Gary touching 
her, and with me touching Lynn. Was she the perfect woman or what?

Then the moment came. A man rounded the corner of a lower terrace, walking 
our direction, but 15 feet down. "Hold on..." Lynn said, waiting. He 
ambled closer, taking his time, looking at flowers. He was pretty close 
now. As soon as he gazed up, Lynn said "cover!", followed by Carmen a 
moment later. I pressed my hands against Lynn's breasts, my fingers 
resting on her erect nipples. It was all I could do to resist fondling 
her.

The guy looked straight up at us, but by then there was little to see. He 
shook his head, unable to make sense of the scene, and wandered off.

Lynn noticed the different hands right away. "My god, you switched!" She 
spun around to face Gary and I let go.

Carmen laughed. "That was unexpected." Gary continued to cup her ample 
breasts.

"Did you notice? Or weren't you going to say anything?"

"Fine with me," Carmen said. "Kind of kinky. Makes the dare have higher 
stakes."

"People are watching, Lynn," Gary said. "Let Ken cover you up. It's just 
for fun anyway."

"Whose idea was this?"

"Mine," I lied, not wanting Gary to be in more trouble. Carmen bit her 
lip, trying not to smile too broadly.

As I had guessed, the idea that I had masterminded this to cop a feel was 
apparently not as bad as having her own boyfriend suggest it. "OK, fine," 
Lynn said. "I just got really freaked out. You didn't tell us."

"Wanna switch back?" Carmen said.

Lynn mulled this over. "No. The cat's out of the bag. And it is kind of 
more daring this way." She faced forward again. Gary still had Carmen's 
breasts in his hands. I noticed her sweats had inched down a little.

"Cover," Lynn said, and I put my hands back. She squirmed a little bit, 
but got used to my touch. I let one nipple, then the other, poke between 
my slightly spread fingers. "Watch it," she warned. "You're enjoying this 
way too much."

Gary, on the other hand, was getting no such defensiveness from Carmen. He 
was very slowly and deliberately caressing her breasts as he covered them, 
and there were subtle signs in her posture that she was enjoying the 
attention. She glanced back at me with a half-grin, to show she was cool 
with it, but was I okay?

I nodded back. I suppose I should have been jealous if another man was 
feeling up my girl right in front of me. But with Carmen it was different. 
I had no sense of her taking from me by sharing with him. Too bad Lynn 
wasn't in the same mood. It seemed she was avoiding looking over at 
Carmen, so she wouldn't have to watch what her boyfriend was doing.

Gary grew bolder, and he started openly fondling Carmen, leaving the 
nipples exposed instead of covering them, tweaking them even more erect. 
She only invited his touch as she swayed and moved with his hands. I was 
starting to feel left out.

When Carmen sighed, Lynn looked over, noticed what was going on, and 
barked, "Uncover!" She sighed and shook her head in resignation. "Just... 
be a gentleman, Gary. Don't do what she doesn't want."

"He's fine," Carmen reassured. "Is this going too far?"

"Well, I don't want Ken doing the same thing. Nothing personal."

"No problem," I said, though privately I thought this was highly unfair. 
"If anyone's not having fun, I think we should stop."

"Just a little while longer," Lynn said, daring herself.

"When we're not covering," Carmen said, "where should the boys put their 
hands?" Perhaps she thought Gary needed a little reining in.

"The butt," Gary said.

"No way," Lynn said. "My butt's off limits. How about hands at your 
sides?"

"Okay," I said.

"My butt's okay," Carmen offered. Gary grabbed a sweatpant-clad cheek in 
each palm and squeezed, getting a squeal from her. "Touch, not squeeze!"

I enjoyed what I could of the rear view of Lynn, topless as she was, look 
but don't touch. My hands were itching. Wasn't it time to cover her up 
again? Where were all the other people?

Gary let his hands roam back to Carmen's breasts, until she admonished, "I 
didn't say cover!" He returned to her hips and her bottom, letting his 
fingers play over the waistline of her pink sweatpants. It seemed he was 
going to keep testing his limits. I didn't blame him.

Come on, Lynn, I thought. Look how much fun she's having! You can get in 
on that, too. A man's hands on your nearly nude body, no danger involved, 
just a friend, even though this friend wants you naked, wants to fuck you 
silly? What's not to like about that?

Gary slipped a hand under Carmen's waistband, fondling her bottom, 
eliciting an "Oh!" and a giggle. Oh man. I envied him, not for his doing 
this with "my girl", but for not being able to do the same with Lynn. 
"Watch those hands," Carmen warned, though clearly signaling all systems 
go.

Gary slipped his other hand in, cupping both cheeks now. Carmen protested, 
but was clearly delighted. Lynn tensed up, not favoring this turn of 
events. Carmen's sweats were pushed halfway down her butt, and the 
stretching from his hands was probably the only thing keeping them up. She 
kept her hands on the railing, but now was swaying her hips a few inches 
side to side, back and forth.

"Cover," Lynn said, and I cupped her breasts again. If people were looking 
at us, I wasn't paying attention. Against my better judgment I started 
gently caressing her, letting her nipples play between my fingers. She 
sighed. "You boys are just going to do whatever you want, huh?" If that 
were true, I thought, you'd no longer be clothed.

Gary had the same idea. He pushed down Carmen's sweats to mid-thigh, and 
for a while aimlessly fondled bare skin everywhere he could. She was doing 
a sinuous slow dance, her body swaying while her feet and hands were 
still.

Lynn was moving too, but it seemed mainly a result of my fondling her 
breasts too enthusiastically. As if fighting an impulse to recoil from my 
touch. But she might be starting to respond as well. I had to keep in mind 
not to step in too close; if my growing erection poked her in the back, 
she'd probably go off like a fire alarm and leap over the fence.

Gary pulled Carmen's sweats all the way down. If she had any reservations 
about being stripped completely, she didn't voice them. Instead, she 
kicked out of her shoes, and then out of her sweats, now naked head to 
toe. Her delicious butt jiggled just a bit as she did this; her lovely 
breasts quivered a bit more. He stood there, shaking his head in near 
disbelief, until she peered over her shoulder to see what he was up to.

If anyone was looking her way now, he'd see a full-frontal view, and I 
don't think that bothered her now. She and Gary were no longer playing the 
cover-up game anyway. 

He stepped in close behind her, thrusting, dry humping, his crotch against 
her bare bottom. It probably wouldn't be long before he dropped his own 
pants. They were in a zone, and the outside world had receded. He kneaded 
her breasts, pushed them together, lifted them, squeezed them, tweaking 
her already-hard nipples. She sighed and writhed and shook her head, no 
longer caring who was watching. She shivered when he removed his hands 
from her breasts, and slid them down to her waist. There was an expectant 
moment as she knew where he was going next.

I couldn't see in front of Carmen; my view was to the left and behind. Her 
gasp was confirmation enough of what was hidden from view: Gary had 
slipped a finger inside her wet pussy. "Hey, can we trade?" I wanted to 
ask, but I didn't want to ruin the moment.

Moments later, Lynn did. Looking back, the cause might have been my own 
right hand, on a mission of its own, baring her right breast and heading 
down toward her bikini knickers. Or it might have simply been seeing her 
boyfriend sticking his finger in a naked woman's pussy. I have to admit 
either one justified what she did next.

Lynn spun out of my grip and glared at Gary, livid. "That's enough, that's 
enough, that's enough, stop stopstop!" He dropped his hands. Both he and 
Carmen turned our way.

"You filthy pig," Lynn said. "Each time I thought you would have the 
decency to stop, to pull back, to show a little respect, you kept going. 
You just couldn't help yourself."

Gary evidently thought he could talk his way out of this. "Hey, Lynn, she 
was having some fun. This whole thing was basically your idea anyway."

"Well, I'm sorry, then, Carmen, for bringing you into this." Carmen shook 
her head, starting to say it wasn't Lynn's fault, but Lynn continued. "I'm 
sorry about the whole thing. It's just way more than I can take."

I had moved to Carmen's side by this time, so it looked like a 
three-on-one confrontation. This was my first good look at Lynn topless 
from the front, but now was not the time to be visibly appreciating how 
beautiful she was, dressed in only those skimpy bikini knickers. I kept my 
gaze eye-to-eye or to the side.

"If you feel that way..." Gary said.

"Of course I feel that way!" Lynn snapped. "Carmen, can I have my 
clothes?"

Carmen reached for her handbag to retrieve her shorts, shirt and bra. 
Meanwhile, Gary strolled behind Lynn, glanced at her butt, and suddenly 
yanked her knickers down to the ankles.

Yes! I wanted to cheer, surprised at how exuberant I was feeling. Finally 
I had the grand prize: a peek at Lynn completely naked. How selfish was 
that? But I realized that ever since we were introduced, even though she 
was at the time fully clothed, I had been hoping for and looking forward 
to this moment.

She was more furious than I had ever seen any woman, ever, and I suppose 
the sheer wrath emanating from her face could have marred her beauty 
somewhat. I was still infatuated. Her breasts were just the right size for 
her slender frame. Her nipples, encircled by very small areolae, seemed to 
invite the tongue. Her waist flared gently into elegant hips, and her 
pubic hair was trimmed to the same neat triangle that Carmen's was. 

She turned to Gary, raging, and I enjoyed the view of her gorgeous ass. 
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yelled. "I told you I was done!"

Gary raised his hands in supplication, apologizing profusely, but she 
wouldn't be cooled down that easily. She started toward him and stumbled, 
because the knickers were still around her ankles. Instead of getting 
dressed, she growled, kicked everything away, knickers and sandals, and 
started smacking Gary in the arms and chest. He slowly backed away, 
leading her from us and her clothes.

Call me a cad, but seeing Lynn barefoot and naked, screaming and hitting a 
guy, was great entertainment. My dick, which has no conscience at all, was 
straining against my zipper. The make-up sex after an argument like that 
would have to be spectacular.

Carmen was transfixed for a while too, and then suggested that we get away 
while the getting was good. She was still naked, too, and I stood there 
dumbly while she fetched her things and got dressed.

They were still fighting when we walked away. I planned to call up Gary 
later and see how they were doing.

We walked downhill, toward the river and the city. "Sure you didn't mind 
Gary feeling me up?" Carmen said.

"Not at all. In fact, it was kind of hot."

"Plus you got to frisk Lynn."

"Not as much. Hardly fair at all."

"Well, you can frisk me later." She hugged me. "Not right here, though."

"What do you want to do now?" I said. "Walk along the river?"

"It's so warm today... What I'd really like to do is lay out, down on the 
grass. But we didn't bring anything," she said, disappointed. We had 
neither the towel nor the bikini needed for her to best soak up the rays.

"There are probably some shops in town," I offered. I wouldn't mind seeing 
Carmen in one of those skimpy microbikinis, with about the total surface 
area of a postcard. In fact, there were all sorts of sexy outfits I'd like 
to dress her up in.



"Yeah..." she said, not sold on the idea. Maybe she didn't want to spend 
the money. "I could treat you," I said, but that didn't seem to be what 
she had in mind. She gazed wistfully down at the people, mainly girls her 
age, sunbathing downhill from us.

A few minutes passed by and she said, "I don't need to buy anything. I'll 
just go like this."

"Sounds good," I said. Damn, no bikini. Just the crop top and bulky 
sweats.

We were closer to some of the sunbathers now. Carmen pointed to a blonde 
coed lying prone next to a friend reading a paperback. Her top was untied, 
opening a graceful expanse of bare back, and she wore a black thong. Not 
much of her skin was hidden at all.

"You know, I could lay on my stomach with my top off, just like her," she 
said in a low voice.

I loved it when she had ideas like this. "It's the same thing, really," I 
agreed.

"But she has the thong, while I only have these sweatpants."

"A lot more sun she's getting. That thong is barely there."

A light bulb went off over her head. "Yeah! I could simply not wear the 
thong. It's basically the same as her!"

"You'll sunbathe nude?" I asked. Dumb question, but I just had to be sure. 
It was that important.

"Yes. You'll be right there. If you help me strip down, nobody will get a 
chance to see anything except my bare butt. And they'll probably walk by, 
assuming I have a thong, and then do a double-take when they see I don't."

"There is nothing I don't like about this plan."

"I didn't think so. Let's go pick a spot."

We sat down on the far end of the lawn from the trail. It wasn't crowded 
at all; our neighbors were probably 30 feet away, and paid no attention to 
us. Still, we were in view of a lot of people, potentially a very big 
audience for what Carmen was about to do.

"Uh oh," she said, peeking in her handbag. "I still have Lynn's clothes."

"I'll bring them to Gary's later. Just in case they haven't broken up yet. 
I don't want to go back up there right now." Probably having us return 
might make things worse.

Carmen took off her sneakers by herself; the rest of her clothing she 
needed my help with, to expose as little as possible before lying down. 
She wanted to tease watchers with her nude backside, rather than showing 
them full frontal.

She kneeled, leaning forward, facing uphill and away from the sun. I 
lifted off her top over her upstretched arms, causing an unavoidable flash 
of her breasts. I wasn't sure if anyone noticed. She lay down on her 
tummy, head turned to face me.

"It feels a little funny, just laying here in the grass," she said.

"Uncomfortable?"

"Well, there are parts of me that have never touched grass. It's kind of 
refreshing, though. I'm just thinking I'll get some grass stains that are 
hard to explain."

"You can shower back at my place. I'll personally check every square 
inch."

"Oh no!" she laughed. "Okay, ready for the pants?"

She lifted her butt a little, and I pulled down her sweats as she wriggled 
out of them. And that was that: everything was off. Just like the topless 
thong girl on her stomach, but without the thong.

I was glad she didn't have a bikini with her. It was much better to have 
her naked, even prone like this, her best parts hidden. Her backside had 
beautiful, gentle curves, from her shoulders to her waist, up again over 
her bottom, then along those gorgeous legs to end at her feet. I traced 
some of these curves with a finger until she swatted me away.

A nerdy looking guy walked about 20 feet in front of us, checking out the 
girls laid out, and then caught sight of Carmen. Like she predicted, he 
took a second look and his eyes widened. Then he caught my gaze and moved 
on.

"Well, you had your first spectator," I said.

"What did he do?"

"Pretty much - oh, here's some more." Three girls in bikinis strolled by. 
One pointed out Carmen to the others and they all giggled, looking 
shocked. The first girl glared at me for a moment, as if I had put her up 
to this, and then they walked off.

"Maybe there's more traffic here than I thought," I said.

"I can't move now anyway."

"I guess to get you dressed, we should just do everything in reverse."

"You aren't going to take my clothes away, are you?"

"Maybe. No, of course not."

She twisted a little to face me, her left shoulder rising, giving me a 
great view of her left breast which now hung free. "You don't mind if I 
take a nap?" She was sounding a little sleepy.

"No, I'll keep watch."

"Okay." She lay back down. "Good night."

Probably 20 people walked by while she slept before I quit counting. I 
could tell some were offended, many more were titillated, and many 
probably wondered what the story was behind all this: how I had this naked 
woman at my side, like some dude in a rap video, in the middle of Capital 
Park.

But no one harassed us, no one stuck around to stare for a long time, and 
no one called the cops. That's one of the things I liked about this area. 
People weren't busybodies. A naked woman on her stomach on a summer 
afternoon was really no harm to anyone. Except kids, and I saw some 
parents steer theirs away. I wanted to apologize each time that happened. 
But there wasn't a big family crowd here, because the attractions for 
children were elsewhere.

She shifted a bit in her sleep, spreading her legs a little. I tiptoed up 
to check out what the view would be. It was great. Just a little hint of 
her pussy lips were visible, enough to make it obvious she wore no sort of 
thong. The sides of her breasts were visible, squished a little. Her head 
and spill of black hair rested on her folded arms.

After an hour I noticed her breathing a bit more heavily, and shifting 
around a bit; not turning over by any means, but it made me concerned she 
was having a nightmare. Who knows how the strange feeling of sleeping 
naked in the grass might manifest itself in dreams.

I laid a hand on her shoulder and gently woke her up. "Carmen? Are you 
okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, a little groggy. "I was having this big dream. Very 
erotic. You shouldn't have woken me up."

"You can go back to sleep."

"Will you stay? Or did you go walk around?" Still sleepy, she was pairing 
separate questions.

"I stayed the whole time. Never left your side. But if you'd like, I could 
ditch you after you go back to sleep," I teased.

"No way. You'd take my clothes and everything?" She understood I wasn't 
really going to carry out that threat.

"You'd be all by yourself."

"And everybody staring at me, and I'd have no place to go... How would I 
get home?"

"Don't know. Somebody would have to help you."

"Even being here like this, naked, alone, asleep..." This was getting her 
turned on.

"You could get in big trouble."

"You would really do this to me?" She turned again slightly to face me, 
partially showing her breasts. I wanted to reach over and start fondling 
them.

"First I would make you turn over. Hands at your side, everything 
showing."

"Oh my god..."

"And your legs spread, just enough to show everyone your wet pussy. You 
would have to sleep, or pretend you were asleep. And whatever anyone did 
to you, you would not be allowed to open your eyes."

"That's it," she said, and got up on all fours. She straddled me, her 
breasts just inches from my face.

"Aren't you worried people will-"

"Just a side view," she said. "We're just going to make out."

So I was on my back, and Carmen (nude, for those of you not keeping track) 
was on top, her body pressing against mine, her lips against mine, her 
hair dangling over my face. She had thrown caution to the wind; from the 
side, her hanging breasts were visible, and from above, her shimmying 
butt, spread thighs and the treasure between them.

This was heaven. My hands roamed over her shoulders, back and butt. I 
could have stayed like this forever except for one pressing problem. 
"Whoa, Carmen, we gotta stop," I said.

"Too much woman for you?" she teased.

"Actually, yes," I said. "I don't want to go off in my pants."

"We can fix that," she said, with a wicked smile. She crouched up, and 
undid my button fly.

"Oh, no, no, no," I protested.

"Yes, yes, yes," she said, and yanked my pants down to my knees. My member 
sprang up like the flagpole at Iwo Jima.

"You can't be serious," I said. She wasn't listening.

She lowered herself back down onto me, leaning forward a bit but mainly 
sitting up. So much for concealing the goods. Her breasts jiggled 
deliciously as we thrusted. Her pussy was sopping wet and it felt like her 
body temperature was about 140 degrees.

I guess it was good in a way that I didn't last long at all. Part of me 
was terrified about getting caught. Sunbathing nude is one thing. Sex in 
public might have gotten us arrested. Luckily, that didn't happen.

After we were done, Carmen had the same idea. "We'd better get dressed and 
skedaddle!" That silly choice of words set me laughing out loud as I 
pulled up my jeans. I was disappointed as always to see her putting 
clothes back on, but I knew it was for our own good.

I don't know who saw us out there. Certainly some people had to. We slunk 
out of there pretty fast, avoiding eye contact.

We stayed in town until dinner, then went back to my place for some 
conventional yet enjoyable between-the-sheets sex. All too soon, it was 
time to take her home.

"You up for another day of this?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Hell, I wouldn't mind an exact rerun of today."

"No, no reruns," she said. "Let's do something at least a little bit 
different."

"How are we going to top this?" I asked.

"That's our challenge," she said. "Same time tomorrow?"

Heck yeah. I had a feeling I'd blow off my own wedding for another day 
outdoors with her. We decided to defer till tomorrow what the day's 
activities would be.

After Carmen left for the night, I called Gary. He wasn't in. Hopefully 
they had made up, or he was otherwise having fun. For my part, I hoped 
they'd stay together so I could see Lynn again. I know: selfish.

I left a message, asking him to call back, with no further details. I 
didn't want to jinx any possible detente with a badly worded phone message 
played on speaker.

Carmen was due to return in less than twelve hours. How could we top what 
happened today, I wondered. Would today, only our second date, be our best 
ever?

(story will continue!) 


 
Meeting Carmen Ch. 04
by gossog ©

On Monday morning, Memorial Day, I woke up with an erection of patriotic 
proportions. Not the coda to an erotic dream, but anticipation of the day 
to come. "Easy there, boy," I said as I hopped out of bed.

Yesterday had been intense. Two gorgeous women -- Carmen, and Gary's 
girlfriend Lynn -- dared each other to show off more skin in an outdoor 
garden. This accelerated delightfully out of control, leading to both 
girls naked, Gary getting to second base with Carmen, and Lynn screaming 
and punching him. To cap off the afternoon, Carmen sunbathed nude in the 
park, and then climbed on top and fucked me silly. (See previous chapter.)

Before she left for home last night, she wondered how we could possibly 
top that for today. I had no idea. It hardly seemed possible.

As I showered and dressed, a fiendish idea bloomed. I called Carmen's cell 
phone. Voice mail picked up, and I left the following message: I would be 
upstairs working with some music files, and might not hear the doorbell; 
so just call my cell (which I'll have in my pocket) when you arrive. 
Thanks, see you in a bit.

The truth was, she wouldn't need to call at all. My townhouse has a 
stairway leading up to the bedrooms. At a landing halfway up, a small 
window provides a view of the front step and anyone standing there. I 
would spot her as soon as she arrived. About ten minutes early, I settled 
on the landing and waited.

She didn't know about this vantage point, which I had also used the two 
previous days she visited. Yesterday, she had pushed down her own 
sweatpants while she waited at the front step, wearing nothing underneath, 
a daring herself to stand bottomless in public. Onlookers would have only 
seen her bare bottom, but that was a glorious sight indeed.

Today, I wanted to see as soon as possible what she was wearing. I watched 
the sidewalk like a sniper. The minutes crawled by.

When she arrived, my heart nearly stopped. She walked briskly, eyes 
straight ahead, willing herself to be brave. Her sweatpants were already 
off. The only thing she wore was the skimpiest top I had ever seen: 
robin's egg blue, scoop neck, and hand-cropped nearly to the point of 
disappearing. It extended a mere inch or two below her nipples. The lower 
swells of her breasts hung invitingly below. My fingertips twitched in 
anticipation.

She carried a small shopping bag; inside was a folded pair of light-blue 
sweats. Had she stripped them off in the car, or on the way to my door? 
Had she driven from home wearing only that top? I admired her creativity. 
She was absolutely finding ways to outdo what she had done yesterday.

I watched her reach in the bag and fish out her cell. I answered on the 
second ring.

"Hey, Carmen. I'll be right down."

"Hurry, It's a little chilly out." Just by chance, she turned my way, 
though she couldn't see me through the small window. The frontal view was 
spectacular: beautiful thighs, dark trimmed pubic hair, slightest 
roundness in her tummy, and bountiful breasts barely concealed by that 
crop top. Her nipples, poking defiantly against the blue fabric, so close 
to being in open air, made my mouth water. Clearly she was also excited by 
the situation.

"Why, what are you wearing?" I said innocently, trying to keep my voice 
steady.

She laughed. "Not much! My sweats were just falling down so often, I took 
them off. So all I have on is this dainty little top that hardly covers 
anything."

I smiled. She made it sound accidental, but it was clearly deliberate. "I 
can't wait to see it. You're actually bottomless?"

"Yep."

"Is anyone looking?"

She turned toward the street and shaded her eyes. The act of raising her 
arm to do this lifted her top just enough to expose the nipple on that 
side. A dizzying expanse of bare skin fell away from there to her sandals.

"Not that I can see." When she lowered her arm, the top wrinkled a bit and 
stayed in place instead of sliding back down. She noticed this, smirked, 
gently pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and tugged the top 
into place. 

I briefly thought about a notional fourth date, where she could wear this 
top, but with another two inches cropped, so no matter what she did, she 
would be exposed.

But there was plenty of fun to be had today. "While I'm coming down," I 
said causally, "how about you take off your top?"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "It's the only thing I have on! It's scary enough 
just like this!"

"It would be a bigger thrill. Completely naked, standing there, where 
anyone could see you."

"No. I need at least something."

"It's just for a few moments, until I let you in." I had to stop myself 
from pleading with her. At that moment, I was just obsessed with getting 
her to stand there nude.

"Well, if I stand with my back to the street..." Good, she was being sold 
on the dare.

"I'll be down really quick."

"Um... um... okay. I'll take it off now." She pulled the mini-top over her 
head, stooped down, and folded it on top of the sweatpants in her bag. 
"Okay, it's off."

"I'll be down in a sec." I switched off and stayed on the landing for as 
long as I dared, gazing at the nude girl through the window. She 
occasionally peeked over her shoulder to see if she had an audience. This 
was obviously heating her up; her erect nipples were probably visible from 
low-flying aircraft. She had to be getting moist as well. I should be 
getting down soon.

She shivered: cold outside, in the shaded doorway; or fear (or hope) of 
getting caught? She checked for peeping toms again, then faced the 
doorway, expectantly. She folded her arms over her breasts, but left her 
lower body uncovered.

I waited, counting to ten. Maybe I could get her to play with herself, 
stick one finger in that gorgeous pussy while she waited? Or would that be 
pushing my luck? I didn't want to goad her into things she wasn't into. 

She checked her phone again; not irritated yet, but I figured it was past 
time to come down and welcome her in. I opened the door and hugged her in 
the doorway, my hands roaming her bare back as we kissed.

"What took you so long?" she said between smooches. "What if somebody saw 
me?"

"That's a risk you take. Wasn't it fun, though?"

"Yes... But do I have to keep standing here? Aren't you going to invite me 
in?"

"Of course. I've got big plans for you."

I took her inside, shut the door with my foot as I held her in one arm and 
started fondling a breast with the other hand.

"Hey, patience, Rocket Man," she said, giggling as she pushed my hand 
away. "Youuu have to wait."

"You're killing me here," I protested. "Just one little romp. I promise it 
won't take more than ten minutes."

She reached for her clothes. "Patience," she said, wriggling into her top. 
"When we get back. Anticipation is much more fun." She smirked. "I can't 
believe after only three days I'm showing up on your doorstep naked."

"So what do you want to do while I spend the day undressing you with my 
eyes?" Damn, she was putting on pants now.

"Let's go back to the craft show. I think I want to try on more things at 
Stu's booth." His was the clothing booth we had visited Saturday, where 
she modeled the miniskirt for Stu and I. A repeat of that show? Or 
something more?

As we walked to my car, I let her go ahead, in order to get a better view 
of those pastel blue sweats, hanging precariously off her hips. How could 
they be loose enough to slip off in a slight breeze, yet still show off 
the shape of her curvaceous caboose? Shut up, brain, I thought. Don't 
question such things.

Her top was driving me crazy. The light fabric showed her nipples and 
areolae easily, and even then it didn't completely cover what it was 
supposed to. I wished there were a way she could walk around topless. But 
that was probably too deliberate and would get her in trouble. For an 
"accidental" showing, she had to be wearing some kind of top and bottom.

These pleasant thoughts occupied me as I drove down the freeway, resting 
my right hand on her thigh.

At the fair, the weather was just as warm as Saturday, and the women were 
just as scantily dressed. If only it could be summer all year round: a 
wish that the state of Wisconsin was probably not inclined to fulfill. But 
who knows: maybe all those months of cold weather helped create this 
display of pent-up, provocative sun worship when summer finally arrived. 
Year-round summer might just lead to year-round plain shorts and T-shirts. 
Today, it was like a fireworks show: one amazing sight after another.

Today, in her skimpier top, Carmen was more conspicuous than on Saturday. 
No one overlooked her. There seemed to be a few more people that changed 
their itinerary to match ours, hanging on the periphery, almost stalking.

"How're you doing?" I asked, in a whisper.

She sighed. "Wound up. It's... hard to describe. Like I'm drunk, and had 
too much coffee, and finished a marathon, and about to bungee jump... 
naked, in front of my parents, everyone I've known in school, the 
church..."

I chuckled. "That's fairly eloquent, for being hard to describe."

She gritted her teeth. "I am trying to convince myself not to chicken out. 
All the time." She took a deep breath, as if about to dive underwater, and 
leaned forward to inspect a ceramic reindeer. Her top gaped forward, 
lifting off her breasts. I could have kneeled underneath, faced upward and 
kissed her nipples without touching any fabric. She picked up another 
animal, taking her time, and then looked at another on a lower shelf. Her 
sweats, which had been riding low, passed the point of no return and slid 
down. For a moment she stayed there, basically wearing nothing at all, 
before exclaiming "Ooh!", standing up, and putting her clothes back 
together.

I glanced around us for reactions. Some guys looked as astonished as if 
they had seen Elvis step out of a UFO.

She bit her lip, then smiled at me. "That was pretty good."

"You kidding? That was sublime," I said. "Can we go home now?"

She scowled. "No!" She took my arm. "You guys are all alike; you never 
want to go shopping."

I put a hand above her hip. Her warm, smooth skin felt awesome. She threw 
an arm around me and we walked like that for a while.

Scarlett's Scrunchies caught her eye. To a guy, the booth seemed overly 
specialized, offering only hairbows: little elasticized fabric rings to 
corral an impromptu ponytail. About every color and style you could think 
of was arranged on three rotating racks with small mirrors at eye level. 
Carmen ducked inside, pulling me along. Scarlett noticed her outfit and 
eyed her suspiciously from her perch in the corner. We stood in the back; 
the racks partially blocked the view from the outside.

Carmen tried on several bows, one at a time, checking over her shoulder in 
the mirror, and asking me what I liked. I found it impossible to give a 
meaningful answer. To put each bow on, she needed to reach over her 
shoulders, gather her hair, stretch the bow with her fingers, and pull the 
hair through. During this whole process, her top was pulled up well over 
her nipples, basically exposing her entire breasts, made even more 
prominent with her arched back. She knew all this, of course.

After trying on the first bow, her top wasn't able to drop down all the 
way, caught, as you can imagine, on her hard, dark nipples. She feigned 
annoyance at this, and pulled the top back down.

After the second bow, she didn't bother, so her nipples stayed out. 
Unconcerned, she scanned the rack, looking for another bow to try. I knew 
by now if I touched her she would brush me off, wanting to prolong the 
tease. So I hung back.

I actually would have had no problem with her continuing like this until 
sunset. But Carmen was building up to something. While trying on bow five 
or six, she was facing away from me, arms upraised, what was left of her 
top basically covering only the shoulders. I remember this moment, hoping 
she would turn back around, when she gave her hips the slightest wiggle. 
Her sweatpants, to which I hadn't been paying much attention, slid down 
over her delectable ass and drifted to the ground. From the narrow 
light-blue fabric of her micro-top down to her ankles, there was nothing 
but bare skin. Turn around, turn around, I thought.

She finally did, arms still up, adjusting her scrunchie. "Having problems 
with this one," she said, with an impish grin. That ridiculous top 
exposing most of her breasts made the scene even more erotic than if she 
had simply been nude. "How do I look?"

I said nothing, walking toward her. My predatory intent must have been 
clear, as well as her vulnerable state. Her eyes widened and she put both 
palms forward, to fend me off. "No! No, Ken, you have to wait!"

I busted up laughing. It was like she was a circus trainer, and I was a 
tiger cub, still feral but mainly harmless. I guess I looked a little 
downcast afterward, and she gave me a quick hug, contrite about the mood 
being broken. Then she got dressed. As well as she could. 

We returned to Stu's booth. Fortunately, he was there; if his mom or 
someone else was running things, we wouldn't have bothered stopping in.

He was quite happy to see Carmen, practically wagging his tail. "Hi guys! 
Glad to see you back! We've got some new items in today."

"Cool!" Carmen said. "And I promise I'll buy something today."

"I have just the thing for you," he said, pulling something out of a small 
wicker box. It didn't look like anything at first: a thin brass ring, 
about four inches in diameter, atop a small pile of gauzy dark material.

"What is it?" Carmen said.

"It's a skirt," Stu said. "Material is silk. Put the ring at your hip, 
wrap the material around, and tuck each end through, underneath. It needs 
to be tight enough on the ring to stay up."

I understood now. It was diabolical. Only friction would keep the skirt 
where it was supposed to; if the smooth silk started to slip at all 
against the brass ring, everything would quickly come apart. In a way, it 
was similar to the sweatpants Carmen was wearing.

"Can I try it on?" she said.

"I was hoping you would," Stu said.

We went back to the back corner where she had tried on skirts two days 
earlier.

"It's less private here today," she said, looking around. She was right. 
There were fewer clothes hanging along the sides to block the view from 
outside. I tried to rearrange them to make an uninterrupted wall, but 
couldn't avoid leaving a few peepholes. Perhaps Stu, anticipating a return 
visit, had hung the clothes higher. From most angles outsiders would able 
to see Carmen from the waist down. Imagine a shower curtain that only hung 
down to a girl's navel. Not much privacy there.

Carmen was not deterred. She took off her top, evidently planning to model 
for Stu topless again, covering her breasts with her hands. With the 
miniskirt on Saturday, this was quite a show for him; I had a feeling the 
wraparound skirt he devised for her, even if it didn't fall apart, would 
reveal even more. There wasn't a lot of material there.

She stripped out of her sweats, well aware that even though she couldn't 
see anyone outside, they could see a lot of her. She stepped out of her 
shoes, and now wore nothing at all.

I couldn't wait any longer; I at least had to have her in my arms. She 
didn't protest this time, and we kissed for a little while, not long 
enough. My hands roamed along her back, from her shoulders down to her 
butt. She moved in closer, pressing against me.

"How about right here?" I said.

"Mmm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. "I have a skirt to try on."

By this time my balls were navy blue. There's only so much a man can 
endure! I reluctantly let her go.

It took a few tries to get the wraparound skirt set so it would stay up. 
Even then, its hold was tenuous. She set the ring low on her right hip, 
and wrapped the thin fabric around. There wasn't much coverage: barely 
enough for her pubic area, top to bottom, and a valiant but failed effort 
to completely cover her butt. Almost the lower third of her cheeks were 
exposed under the swath of fabric gently climbing from left to right. It 
was completely impractical, and not suited for wearing in public.

"Ready to show Stu?" I said.

She nodded and covered a breast with the fingertips of each hand. We 
walked around to the front.

Stu's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That looks fantastic! How do 
you like it?"

Carmen slowly turned around, showing him front and back. Stu looked her up 
and down, pleased with what the skirt revealed, and probably irked that 
she was once again covering her bare breasts. "It's very daring," she 
said, peeking down, making sure the skirt was still there. "But I love it. 
How much is it?"

Stu shrugged. "There's a tag somewhere on it. Probably on one of the ends, 
tucked inside."

We knew that was bullshit; if Carmen hadn't returned today, Stu's 
improvised skirt would probably have never left its box. There was no 
price tag. There was no price.

"I'll go in back and change out, then," Carmen said.

"Actually, if you stand right here, I can just reach under and find it."

Carmen eyed him warily. "I'm not so sure about that. Can I trust you?"

"Sure," he said, his expression blatantly contradicting this. "Just step 
closer." He sat on the edge of his chair while Carmen stood in front of 
him. She leaned back a bit and shook her head, to move her hair off her 
shoulders. She couldn't use her hands to do this. She wouldn't be able to 
use her hands to prevent anything Stu might do.

"Let's try here," he said, holding her right leg above the knee with both 
hands, as if to steady her. I saw Carmen tense up as he slid his hands 
upward, milking this opportunity for all it was worth. She deliberately 
made herself vulnerable to his advances. As his fingers reached under the 
skirt, they also pushed it up, exposing her pussy and some of her bush. 
Her feet were shoulder width apart; she was already sexually excited. No 
doubt it was a spectacular view. He paused for a second, staring, his 
brain locked up.

He remembered he was supposed to pretend to be searching for a tag, and 
continued that charade. "Not here," he said. His fingers probed near the 
ring, then slowly navigated forward along her hip and pelvis, like 
climbers inching along sheer cliffs. They stayed beneath the curtain of 
dark silk, intimate in their touch. "Can you turn a little to your right?" 
He reached around to place a hand on her bare bottom, guiding her.

She slowly turned, cupping her breasts in her hands, covering not much 
more than the nipples, letting Stu explore below more and more freely. He 
meticulously searched for the tag which we all knew was not there. When 
she faced me, and he was openly caressing her hips and ass, she looked at 
me with a tight grin, wide eyes and arched brows: Can you believe this?

I smiled. It was all cool.

Stu fondled her buttocks with both hands. He seemed to be looking for the 
right time to be really impudent and finger her pussy, no more pretending. 
His hand did move forward, inching toward her pubic area, when the silk 
material lost its hold on the brass ring holding it together. It happened 
pretty fast. The ring bounced on the ground and rolled to Stu's feet. The 
skirt lost all shape and drifted inkily after it.

Carmen gasped and shot one hand down to cover herself, momentarily baring 
a breast before repositioning her top arm to cover both. In back, there 
was nothing she could do, and that was the side that faced Stu.

"Ken, can you cover me down below?" she said. I placed my left hand on her 
bottom, covering the cleft between her cheeks, and my other palm covered 
her pubic area. She resumed covering her chest with both hands. I loved 
the scratchy-soft feel of her pubic hair. With my middle fingertip, I 
touched between her legs, just testing; yes, she was excited. She could 
have reached a hand, if she could spare one, to confirm that I was 
enjoying this too.



 
Meeting Carmen Ch. 04
by gossog ©

As for Stu, it was a good thing he was already sitting down. He retrieved 
the skirt and ring, with a guilty grin. "I guess there wasn't a tag. I 
forgot." He named a price that sounded quite reasonable, and one that 
Carmen agreed to pay.

She and I did a little dance together as she turned to face him while I 
still kept her naughty bits covered. After that, I spread the fingers on 
the hand covering her bush so she basically wasn't covered at all, giving 
Stu a good view of her labia. If she noticed this, she didn't say 
anything.

I paid for the skirt; Carmen had left her purse at my house. With my left 
hand, that was covering her butt, I reached for my wallet and flipped it 
open, thumbing out a credit card. At the same time, I replaced my middle 
finger on her pussy lips and started gently probing and stroking.

Stu looked mesmerized for a second or two, and then swiped the card. "It's 
taking some time to go through," he said. "Kind of slow."

My left hand went to her hip, helping steady her. I saw no good reason to 
cover up that gorgeous ass of hers. My right middle fingertip was now 
inside, knuckle deep, and soaked; Carmen was starting to shiver. Stu would 
watch this for about 10 seconds, and then pretend to check the credit card 
machine, lather, rinse, repeat.

"Still going through," Stu said, even though I could see on the readout 
that authorization was complete. We kept our charade going.

"Are you okay?" I whispered in her ear.

"Nhhhgh," she said. After realizing no one would understand this, she 
nodded her head. That was good. I would have stopped, but was really 
hoping she wouldn't want to.

Stu had some considerable self-control, just sitting there watching a 
beautiful nude woman get fingered, inches away. I would have been tempted 
to bat the hand away and finish the job with my tongue. Or my dick.

I decided she needed to bare her breasts; covering up was a futile, 
unnecessary gesture by now. "Stu," I said, "can we give Carmen the skirt 
while we're waiting?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." He held up the ring. "This is yours..."

Carmen repositioned one arm to cover both breasts and reached down to pick 
up the ring. She left the hand at her side.

"And here's the rest." Stu held up the dark silk well to her right, on the 
side of the arm she was covering with. Everything stopped as she mulled 
over what both he and I absolutely wanted her to do. Almost everything, 
that is; I maneuvered another finger into her warm, moist pussy. It was a 
tight fit, and the sensation changed her heart rate immediately.

Breathing hard, she slowly dropped her right arm to take the skirt, 
unveiling her breasts. Her hands were now at her sides. Goosebumps dotted 
her smooth skin. Her nipples were engorged and inviting. Only my right 
hand blocked her full-frontal nudity, and even so hid very little.

I thought more about her full breasts, and those charged nipples. She was 
hyperventilating, and undoubtedly close to coming. With my free hand, I 
cupped one, and gingerly pressed a nipple between finger and thumb. That 
was all it took.

She climaxed as silently as she could, hissing, clenching her teeth, 
holding back an animal growl from deep inside. She spasmed a few times, 
and I held her torso to keep her up. Only when she had her balance and 
respiration back did I remove my finger from inside her.

"Authorization came through," Stu said, belatedly, and I had to stifle a 
laugh.

Carmen turned to me, grinned and rolled her eyes. "Ken, I'd like to get 
dressed now."

"Sure, sure," I said, solicitous. I helped her back to the makeshift 
dressing area.

"I have to sign the receipt," I said. "I promise I'll be back."

"You'd better!" She crossed her arms over her breasts, but didn't bother 
covering up below.

I returned to the front, where Stu was mopping his brow.

"Hey, thanks, man," he said in a soft voice. "She's amazing."

"She thinks you're all right," I said. "Wouldn't have come back 
otherwise."

In back, Carmen had already changed into her sweats and top. Appealing as 
that outfit was, I had other ideas.

"We're about three blocks from our car. How about... you wear only the 
skirt all the way there?"

She gave me the weary look of a skier whose rubbery legs were about to 
give out, but was game for one more run.

"I don't get to wear my top?"

"No. But you do get to cover up with your hands. Like with Stu."

She mulled this over, and briefly pushed up her top to cover her breasts 
with her hands, testing how well that worked, as if she had not been doing 
this just ten minutes ago. "You have to promise you won't move my hands, 
or make me move them."

Good; if she was bargaining, that meant she accepted the idea of doing 
another dare. "It's a deal."

She stepped out of her sweats and we put the skirt back together. Too bad 
her top was still on while we were doing this. But maybe I was getting 
spoiled. "Make sure it's snug," she said, and I pulled it in tighter.

Once she was satisfied, she took off her top. I folded her clothes and put 
them in the bag, which I would carry; she needed her hands free. She 
walked out. "Bye, Stu," she said, knowing he was scanning her up and down.

"My pleasure, Carmen," he said. "Don't forget the Dairy Show in August. 
We'll have a booth there as well."

Stu neglected to say goodbye to me, but that was understandable.

Wherever we walked, Carmen's appearance caused a ripple in traffic, a 
disturbance in everyone's concentration. I had cinched her skirt tighter 
than before -- I didn't think it was going to come loose on its own -- but 
the tradeoff was even skimpier coverage, as the band of silk concealed a 
narrower swash around her hips and butt. Its widest point was probably as 
wide as a compact disk, maybe an extra inch. The narrowest spot, on either 
side of the ring, was about two inches. The free ends dangled like little 
drapes. The asymmetric skirt exposed about one-third her left butt cheek 
and almost half the right. Below, lovely bare legs. Above, a generous 
expanse of bare shoulders, waist and back. In front, she was decent in a 
PG-13 sort of way, staying non-nude by a technicality: her skirt just long 
enough, and her fingertips kept together just so.

At a potpourri booth Carmen whispered "Is the skirt riding up in back? It 
seems like more of my butt is showing!"

She was right: in back, the silk was both creeping up and narrowing, bit 
by bit, as she walked. She was narrower at the waist than the hips, and 
the tension in the skirt was edging it upwards to relieve it. I checked in 
front: it still covered what it needed to, barely. However, most of her 
bottom was now showing.

"Boy, that looks inviting," I said, caressing her there.

"Stop it!" she whispered. "You're making trouble."

I conceded that point and withdrew my hand. As we continued walking, I 
kept monitoring the progress of her levitating skirt. It was fascinating 
enough that I had to force myself to periodically check where I was going.

Carmen was doing interesting things above the waist as well. She couldn't 
decide how she wanted to keep her breasts covered, and would switch her 
hands from time to time, between covering both with one arm, and covering 
each with a hand. During these switches, for a fraction of a second, a 
sharp-eyed viewer could see them quiver in the open air as they were 
temporarily released. Her way of pushing the dare a little further.

Soon her skirt hung at a steep slant from back to front. A swooping drape 
of silk covered her pussy and all but a few dozen curls of pubic hair. 
Behind, the skirt had folded and rolled to the width of my thumb, anchored 
well above her buttocks which were completely revealed.

She turned to me, backing against a canvas canopy wall at the end of an 
aisle. "I need another hand, to cover up in back!"

"Are you doing OK, for real?"

She opened her arms and hugged me, again momentarily revealing her 
breasts. There was probably still a great side view as we embraced. "This 
is the hottest thing ever. I can't believe I'm really doing this. Not just 
in somebody's booth, but out here in the crowd!"

"Are you ready for more?"

"No, I am NOT going to take off the skirt. No way. There's way too many 
people."

"I wasn't thinking about the skirt," I said, and left the rest implied, to 
let it sink in.

Her eyes widened. "No way!"

"We're a block from the car. It's really close."

"You have to protect me. Anything goes wrong, I put everything back on."

"I'll be right by your side."

She took a deep breath. "OK..."

She turned away from me, dressed only in the silk skirt that covered her 
in front but not in back, and left her hands at her sides. "Let's do 
this," she said, and took my hand. We started walking.

She was extremely tense for the first few steps, and gripped my hand 
firmly. After a while, she got used to having her breasts completely 
exposed. I imagined a celebrity must feel like this: everyone's eyes on 
you, people crowding around, even as you simply wanted to take a walk down 
the block.

"I really hope this skirt doesn't go," she whispered.

I didn't think it would. It seemed to be holding up well, and no longer 
creeping up.

There was a handsome guy her age selling pendants, made of wood carved 
into Polynesian symbols. We stepped in, and once he figured out it was OK 
to openly stare at her breasts, we didn't make eye contact again.

Carmen tried on a few pendants, and was brave enough to let him take them 
on and off. He draped the string over her head and took great care to 
position each carving where it lay on her chest. Seashells, lizards, and 
abstract symbols rested atop various points along her cleavage, and the 
seller took every opportunity to let his fingertips graze her breasts as 
he worked.

He got brave enough to tweak her nipples between ring and middle fingers 
when she decided she had had enough. "I've... really got to get going. 
Thank you so much!"

"Any time," said the seller, who gazed at her until we had walked out of 
sight.

A few booths later, an arresting display of colored prints caught our eye, 
and we stepped in. A woman named Silvia greeted us, and introduced her 
assistant Ally.

Silvia was about mid-40s, about twice Ally's age. Coarse brown hair with a 
few streaks of white was pulled back in a braid. Her face was dominated by 
glasses in small circular wire frames, brown eyes, and a prominent nose. 
She was tall and slender, dressed in a frilly bohemian top that bunched 
just beneath the chest, faded black jeans, and worn sandals. I guessed she 
painted full time and probably grew her own vegetables.

She was not fazed at all by Carmen's near-nudity; as if she saw such 
things all the time. Maybe she was part of a naturist group, where a 
throng of liberated but (sadly) average-looking people walked around in 
the buff. I had seen enough HBO documentaries. Swingers and the like were 
people just like you and me. Unfortunately.

Ally looked jaded, perched on her stool, and even a nearly nude woman 
walking in wasn't going to pique her interest. Pale, tightly crossed legs 
sprouted from a barely-there white miniskirt, while a clingy aqua shirt 
clung to a tiny waist and small breasts. A rebellious daughter, maybe. I 
imagined that, unlike Silvia, she would look pretty good with her clothes 
off.

"Do you see anything interesting?" Silvia said.

"Everything," Carmen said.

Each print was a study of a young woman, painted in hundreds of shades of 
a single color: blues, greens, browns, oranges. The one I liked most was a 
girl in a cheongsam dress, framed in cherry blossom trees, the scene 
overlooking a lake. The hues ranged from fire-engine red to black. 
Silvia's work was somehow both impressionistic and photographic, rewarding 
the discerning eye with the subtlest of details among a wash of color.

"She looks sort of like Lynn," Carmen said.

I agreed. "Remind me to call Gary later, find out how they're doing." 
Chances seemed small that Lynn would ever go near him again, but he had 
overcome long odds before.

The girl in the painting was about Lynn's age, with a slightly fuller 
figure. Her dress seemed tailored to fit her perfectly without being 
skintight. Her eyes were dead-on, showing just the minute changes that 
differentiate one ethnic group's features from another's. Another look 
revealed that the girl was not wearing a bra; her nipples formed almost 
imperceptible bumps in a fabric that, despite being painted in only shades 
of red, had a glossy sheen. As I leaned forward for a closer look (and 
Silvia seemed to know exactly where I was looking), the bumps disappeared 
in the close scale of detail and tone. Only when I backed up could I see 
them again.

"These are almost like photos," I said. "True to life... how do you 
capture that in your work?"

Silvia smiled. "Do you draw? The female figure?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Just a hunch." She put a hand on my shoulder and another at Carmen's 
waist. "Why don't I take you in back, show you some other work. And we can 
talk about what I do."

Carmen and I looked at each other. Gut check time: was Silvia the type to 
chop our heads off with an axe? Probably not. Almost certainly not.

"Ally, I'll be in back," Silvia announced. She pushed aside an improvised 
curtain leading to another canopy in back of the main one, closed on all 
four sides, lit by two spotlights clamped to the upper frame.

This was evidently the adult alcove. The prints were in the same style as 
those in front, the girls rendered in slightly more crisp detail; but the 
poses and settings were not for kids.

In a sunlit meadow, under an apple tree, a nude woman, perhaps 25, slept 
alone on a checkered blanket spread out on the grass. Beside her was a 
half-open picnic basket. She lay on her back, legs sprawled, unconcerned 
about who might happen along while she slept. Her shapely breasts 
(flattened and spread a bit given her posture), pubic hair and pussy lips 
were painted in loving detail. Her long hair spilled over the edge of the 
blanket. Her closed eyes were delicate arcs of fine lashes.

Another girl was rinsing something in a knee-deep stream, perhaps the 
light summer clothes she might have been wearing. She wore nothing now. 
Silvia had given her sex a glistening moistness that did not result from 
being splashed by the placid water. The situation of being outside like 
this was evidently exciting her. I looked at her face -- she seemed lost 
in thought -- and then realized why she looked familiar.

"That's Ally!" I said. "Your helper in front!"

"That's right," Silvia said. "She is one of my models."

I felt a little like a peeping tom at that point; as if I had seen Ally 
naked without her consent.

I shook my head. "These are so incredible... I don't want to ask for trade 
secrets or anything, but how did you get this good?"

"Thank you," she said. "That's a very nice thing to say.

"First is practice; I've painted full time for almost twenty years. You 
have to have talent, you have to have a creative spark, and you have to 
practice."

"But you capture the look so well... do you paint from poses?"

"They are not posed. I paint from a scene I build in my head. The main 
thing I do, which differs from many other artists, is to really get to 
know my model. When I paint, I'm communicating to you in one sense: sight. 
To internalize my model, I experience her in all five senses. That's how 
my better work seems to have more than meets the eye."

"All five senses?" Carmen said. "Do you sniff her or something?"

Fortunately, Silvia didn't take this the wrong way. "Actually, yes. She'll 
spend at least three days at my house, and sleep in my bed. We spend a lot 
of time together. So there is the scent of soap on her skin after she has 
just stepped out of the shower; or her more natural scent after a day in 
the garden. There's the sound of her voice as she whispers in my ear."

Carmen's eyebrows raised.

Silvia continued: "The feel of her warm body against mine under the 
sheets, when the rest of the room is winter cold. The sound of her 
heartbeat as she falls asleep. The taste of her lips against mine; her 
nipple between my lips; of her sex when I make her come."

Wow. I was already impressed by Silvia as an artist, having a superb eye 
for beauty in the female body. But I was finding out she had a really sexy 
mind. And many say the brain is the most important sexual organ...

Carmen seemed not sure of what to make of Silvia's revelation, though she 
was intrigued as well. Perhaps she already guessed what Silvia would say 
next:

"Carmen, I would like very much to paint you, and have you stay with me."

"Right now?"

She smiled. "No, not today. I'll give you my card; you can call me. 
Actually, I'll give it to Ken, since you don't have any pockets."

"I'd... have to tell my parents I'm going camping or something."

"Maybe we need to wait, then. I'd rather not, but I don't want to make you 
tell lies. Or, you could visit during the afternoon." She walked around 
inspecting Carmen, who stood rigidly, hands at her sides.

"May I?" said Silvia as she held the brass ring of Carmen's skirt. Carmen 
looked down, and for a moment I thought she was going to freak out. 
Instead, she nodded. A quick pull, and she was nude.

"Oh my," Silvia said, as if she had just appeared in a cloud of smoke. 
"You are absolutely beautiful."

"I don't get it. I was almost naked anyway..."

"It's different. Seeing all of you at once... it's always different." She 
continued looking Carmen up and down. Carmen seemed to be at once bemused, 
insecure, and excited.

"May I touch you?" Silvia said. "I won't do anything without your 
consent."

"Uh-huh..."

I watched with a growing hard-on as she lovingly caressed and explored 
every bit of Carmen's skin. "I always hope my next work will be my best," 
she said. "You might be the one."

Carmen stood still, noticing her breathing getting out of control, and 
took deep, controlled breaths. Still, when Silvia touched her in sensitive 
areas, she shivered and sighed.

Silvia figured she had Carmen's standing consent and stopped asking for 
permission. She peeled off her fluffy top and unhooked a plain white bra, 
revealing a really nice pair of breasts for her age. Come to think of it, 
I really don't even need to include that qualification. You could tell she 
wasn't 18 any more, but they were shapely and real. She had obviously 
lived a healthy life.

I wondered about all the other people, places, and ideas I had overlooked 
by making rush judgements, quick conclusions. How much more beauty was 
flying under a typical guy's radar?

Silvia slipped off her jeans, revealing slim though weathered legs, and a 
matronly pair of white knickers. Seconds later, those were off too, and I 
took back any reservation, any qualifier I had about her. She was hot. 
More alluring than the bored young girl in front. A sort of sexy beauty 
that (ironically) you wouldn't pick up from a mere photograph, or even a 
painting.

She crouched down, kissing Carmen below the navel, hands at her waist; and 
instead of moving down, her lips and tongue inched slowly, agonizingly 
upward. By the time she reached her breasts and her engorged, 
hypersensitive nipples, Carmen could no longer keep still and started 
returning her attention.

They stood clinched together, lips locked, as their hands roamed each 
other's bodies. When Carmen bent to taste her nipples, Silvia gazed over 
her shoulder at me. "Don't just stand there, Ken," she said with a wicked 
smile.

I lost no time tearing off my clothes and joined them. They mainly had 
eyes for each other, so I ended up licking and stroking whatever body 
parts were currently (and temporarily) unattended. I mainly didn't mind 
being on the fringes; I always like being able to do things with my hands. 
But my dick was aching for relief after a while.

When Carmen moved behind Silvia, I dropped to my knees in front and 
started licking the older woman's pussy. This immediately kicked her into 
a higher gear. WIth my tongue between her legs, Carmen's lips at the nape 
of her neck, and her hands at her breasts, Silvia was pretty defenseless. 
When she came, I figured people outside (Ally at the least) had to wonder 
what exactly was going on inside that tent. (Ally probably had a good 
idea.)



Carmen stepped back. Silvia regained her composure and imperiously took my 
chin in one hand. "Up."

I obeyed.

She took my dick in her hand. I stooped a bit to get the angle right and 
she guided me in. I had swollen so much that I thrusted gently at first, 
until she stretched out enough for a deliciously perfect fit.

If I hadn't met Carmen earlier, I probably would have fallen in love with 
Silvia, hard. Instead, it was a hopefully manageable infatuation. I was 
just enthralled with everything about her, all her qualities that seemed 
even more attractive because I had only noticed them on second impression. 
She still wore her glasses, the John Lennon wireframes but without the 
iridescent shades. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, with just a hint 
of crows' feet. She loved what she did, and she was excellent at it: the 
same sort of appeal that made female athletes more attractive than they 
might be otherwise.

"You come stay too," she said, her voice wavering as I pushed in and out. 
"You can draw me. I'll teach you."

"Abso" I said, and climaxed before I could finish the word. We kissed as I 
grew softer and eventually slipped out.

"Maybe that's enough fun for one day," she said.

"I think so," Carmen said.

Silvia and I got dressed. Carmen would need help with her skirt and had to 
wait. Instead of putting it on, I folded it into the size of a 
handkerchief, laid it on top of her other clothes in the paper bag, and 
laid the brass ring like a paperweight on top of it all.

She knew what I meant. "You can't be serious."

I smiled. "The ultimate dare. Just here to the car." It was a block and a 
half.

She stood there, absentmindedly rubbing her own nipples with her thumbs. I 
was her anti-conscience, an X-rated Jiminy Cricket, goading her into 
things she might not have the brazenness to start on her own.

"You can't let anybody touch me," she said.

"I'll stay right with you," I said, technically not the promise she was 
seeking.

"Let's go," she said, taking my arm.

Silvia opened the flap and sunlight streamed in as we walked outside.

For a while, everything seemed a blur as we walked. Carmen's nudity 
attracted a huge crowd, pressing around us, dozens of men trying to see 
everything while remaining invisible. They were touching her, a swarm of 
hands alighting on her breasts, belly, butt and more.

"I-" she said, unable to finish, but I thought I understood the main 
point: this was way out of control. I would need to clear some area or 
find a private place where she could get dressed.

Rock music was loud now; we had approached, without being much aware of 
it, a grandstand with live band, where people were dancing in groups. A 
few girls in bikinis gyrated sensually; one brunette woman even had her 
top off. "I can go there," she said. "Keep an eye on me." She let go of my 
hand and zigzagged her way to the middle of the dancers.

All the creepy stuff as we walked in the crowd seemed to melt away as she 
writhed and shook to the beat. She had every man's attention at once, but 
they had the presence of mind to keep dancing, instead of jumping on her 
like a pack of hyenas. This bolstered her confidence, and she was able to 
inject much more overt sexuality into her moves. Her breasts swayed, her 
legs flexed, her ass and pussy moved in hypnotic oval patterns. She chose 
one man and danced close to him without touching, her thrusting body 
suggesting one thing.

I had a stiff one in my pants, as did many of the men. Our car was just 
half a block away, and my bedroom thirty miles beyond. Soon it would be 
time to take her home.

She arched her back, wiggling her breasts at the guy, and he took this as 
an invitation. She didn't object when his hands pawed at her chest, or 
even when they started roaming downward.

"That's your girlfriend?" said a voice beside me. I whirled around, 
surprised. It was the blonde woman I remembered vividly from Saturday, 
dressed in the same sheer bikini top and Daisy Duke cutoffs.

"It's you!" I blurted.

"Of course it's me." So she had a little attitude. I usually didn't mind 
that, if the woman was pretty enough. Yes, I know that's unfair.

"You were here two days ago!"

"You never forget a face, do you?" she said. "Or a nice pair of tits."

"No, I don't. I'm just wondering, where's the bottom to that bikini?"

"Oh, there's no way I could wear that here. It's as sheer as the top. I'd 
be showing everything."

I wish she had gone ahead and done that. Still, her Daisy Dukes were 
skimpy enough, not even completely covering her butt, to make her 
reasoning a little specious. I peeked at Carmen: two guys were feeling her 
up. There seemed to be no force involved. Certainly she'd push them off if 
she didn't want this.

"Those cutoffs show a lot, too," I said.

She twisted around to peek down at her butt. "Yeah, they're short..."

"At the right angle, they reveal more than the bikini would."

"How?"

"Try bending over, like picking up your car keys." She did, keeping her 
legs almost straight, bending at the waist. Her denim shorts were cut so 
short that the only material between her thighs was a single seam of 
material one-half inch wide, faded and frayed. Her pussy lips were easily 
visible. The seam was too narrow to hide behind. "Okay, come on up."

She readjusted her shorts, which had ridden up a bit. "How much is 
showing?"

"Everything that counts."

"So I've been showing off more than I thought, to all these people?"

"You bet."

"Not as much as your girl. And they're touching her, too."

"Has anyone tried to cop a feel from you?"

"Two. One guy patted my butt and I gave him the evil eye. Another one 
grabbed my boob from behind, middle of a crowd, trying to be sneaky. I 
didn't even say anything to him. Just turned around and slapped him."

"Would you slap me?"

"Maybe," she said, a smile marring the inscrutable look she was aiming 
for. "I'll watch your girlfriend while you try to get slapped."

I stood behind her, detecting a faint scent of shampoo from her wavy 
blonde hair. I untied the lower knot holding up her top, letting the cups 
loosely drape over her breasts. "You know, I'd love to see you in the full 
yellow bikini."

"Wouldn't you now. You're such a perv."

I moved my hands up her ribcage to cup her breasts, pushing the cups 
aside.

"Weren't you with a guy last time?" I said.

"He's not here," she said, pressing her bottom against my crotch. "I 
thought it would be a little more of a thrill coming here single."

I took off the blonde girl's top as we watched Carmen gyrate more and more 
frenetically, the guys at her front and back trying to keep pace. Damn, 
their hands were all over her. Her sinuous rhythm grew more syncopated, 
more jerky. "I'd better go over there," I said, and the blonde girl 
followed.

By the time we reached Carmen, she had lost so much tension in her body 
that she looked like a marionette with the strings cut. Her bent knees 
wobbled, and at arm's length she supported herself on the shoulders of one 
of the men who had been fondling her. She took deep breaths, as if 
recovering from a ten-mile run. There were scattered cheers, and the other 
men were keeping a respectable distance as she rested.

"Hey, you," she said. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Sure," I said, pulling out her top. "You OK?"

"Very OK. I've just had enough for one afternoon, I think." She stood up 
unsteadily,put on the blue top, and seemed stunned at how little it 
covered. I guess it had been quite a while since she had worn it.

"Who's your friend?" she said as I handed over her sweats.

"Uh..." I realized it must look pretty bad if I didn't even bother to 
learn the girl's name.

"Terri," she said, rescuing me. "I've been watching from the sidelines. 
I'm kind of amazed. And impressed."

Carmen stepped into her sweats. Compared to the silk skirt, she now looked 
ready for church. I fished Terri's yellow top out of the bag and returned 
it to her. When she put it on, Carmen noticed how sheer it was and smiled.

"I kind of..." Terri said. "Anyway. Hey, you guys should come hang out at 
my house sometime. Nice little pool, high fence, some privacy. Maybe I'll 
invite my guy. Maybe not."

"Sure," said Carmen. I took down Terri's number in my cell and we said 
goodbye.

When we got to the car, it wasn't even one o'clock yet: everything that 
happened today had taken less than two hours. Carmen fell asleep on the 
ride home, and once inside, just wanted to curl up under the sheets and 
nap. I suggested some other bedroom activities, but she was adamant about 
getting some rest. So I climbed in next to her and shut off the light.

Just sleeping next to a naked woman has its unique pleasures. After she 
woke up, we spent a few hours in bed; our lovemaking was tender, unhurried 
and private. We never got around to having lunch; it's funny how when 
you're horizontal you never realize how hungry you might be. At seven p.m. 
we were famished.

I called up Gary and found out that he and Lynn had gotten back together 
-- already. Even more astounding was the story of how she found her way 
home, wearing only a pair of bikini briefs (which were lost during the 
journey!) But that's a tale for another chapter.

They wanted us to come by next weekend for dinner. I penciled us in.

I shook my head after we hung up. Any other guy, doing what he had done, 
would have never seen Lynn again. Gary had to have at least 81 lives.

When Carmen went home it was a sad goodbye; back to the workweek. That 
sucked. And who knew if there would ever be a weekend like this again? 
Still, the summer looked full of promise. Terri's phone number beckoned. 
Silvia's card was in my wallet. Lynn was back; and I had a wonderful woman 
to share all this with.

In the kitchen, steps away from the front door, I noticed a stack of books 
that were due back at the library. I could have saved a trip by asking 
Carmen to take them back in, but I was glad I did not. Just another reason 
to drop by in person.