Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. >The Greatest Freedom A Danielle story by Jacqueline Jillinghoff Copyright(C) 2021 by Jacqueline Jillinghoff I was up in my room with my laptop on my lap, fixated on a boring assignment I didn -(TM)t even have to do. My history teacher, Mr. Salonen, found this essay contest online and told us that anyone who entered would earn an extra two points on their semester grade. All we had to do write a thousand words on the topic, -The Greatest American Freedom. - Before I went upstairs, Daddy looked over the assignment sheet and told me to bag it. -It -(TM)s some right-wing, Ayn Rand think tank, - he said. -You want to be a part of that? - -I don -(TM)t know, - I said. -Then let me ask you this: Do you need the extra credit? - -Not really. - He looked at me. -You -(TM)re going to do it, anyway, aren -(TM)t you? - he said. -Everybody else is. - -And you feel guilty, - he said, handing me the paper back. -All right, well, just tell them taxation is theft, and capitalism is the bomb, and you -(TM)re a shoo-in. - But I didn -(TM)t care about that stuff. Not enough to write a thousand words about it, anyway. I looked at my blank Word file, and I looked at it some more, and I decided it would be a better use of my time to go online look up some nude beaches. Maybe I could talk Dad into taking me to one next summer. It -(TM)s risky getting naked in the backyard, or at school, or around my neighborhood. I mean, I love the risk, but what I really want sometime is to take my clothes off someplace where people can see me and nobody freaks out. Now that would be real freedom, I thought, and ... and... Oh, yeah. Suddenly I knew what I was going to write. It was crazy, and there was no way I would ever hand it in, but Mrs. Laurie, my English teacher, says you -(TM)re never more eloquent than when you write about something you care about. And it might get my juices flowing. My creative juices, I mean. Naturally, to get in the mood, I had to strip. Any excuse, right? So I threw everything off (not that I had much on to begin with), and then, freshly nude, except for my fuzzy socks, I settled back on my husband (that -(TM)s what those big pillows with the armrests are called, look it up), balanced the computer on my thighs, just south of my sandy beach, and banged out this prize-winning masterpiece in less than fifteen minutes, practically giggling the whole time: THE GREATEST AMERICAN FREEDOM By -~Liberty Girl -(TM) Freedom can mean many things to many people. To some, it means a freedom from -" from something dangerous or demeaning, like hunger, poverty, or the crippling debt of school or medical care. To others, it means a freedom to -" to act, to exercise a right, like speaking out against injustice, worshipping God according to their conscience, making money, or owning guns. Religious people speak of moral freedom -" the freedom to choose good over evil, or even to choose evil, which, they say, makes choosing the good more meaningful. The United States Constitution -" written, we must admit, by men who believed they were free to enslave other people because of their race -" guarantees some of our most precious freedoms. Under the first ten amendments, known as the Bill of Rights, Americans have the freedom to speak, to worship, to bear arms, and to peaceably assemble, and the freedom from having their homes searched, testifying against themselves in court, or being tried twice for the same offense. All of these freedoms are essential, but for me, as a girl growing up in America, there is one that tops them all. Without this special freedom, all the others, in my opinion, are nothing but empty promises on paper. I mean the freedom to be naked. There is nothing more liberating than taking off my clothes. Almost every day, when I come home from school, I strip as soon as I step in the front door. Stop by any afternoon, and the odds are good you -(TM)ll catch me doing my homework in the nude, or doing the dishes in the nude, or practicing my flute in the nude. My Dad used to say it was -inappropriate - to walk around the house -like that, - but now he hardly notices, and if he does notice, he doesn -(TM)t complain. Besides, if we can -(TM)t be naked in our own homes, how free are we, really? I was born naked. I was born to be naked. My body is my freedom. But just hanging around the house with no clothes on does not give me the full experience of freedom I desire. As our Founding Father Benjamin Franklin might said in Poor Richard -(TM)s Almanac, nudity in the home is a private vice, not a public virtue. (Well, it -(TM)s something he would have said.) To be truly free, I need to get outside, to feel the air and see the sunlight on my body, to run, to swim, and sometimes, to be seen. Occasionally, mostly at night, I sneak out of the house, while my Dad is asleep, and wander around my neighborhood, leaving my nightie on the grass in my yard. (Taking it with me would be cheating.) I keep to the shadows, avoiding cars and streetlamps (mostly), and the farther I get from the shelter of my home, the freer I feel. Ever since I was in sixth grade, I have been sneaking around naked in parks, strip malls (how appropriate!), and even at school. My most memorable nude adventure, so far, took place last summer, when my best friend and I biked to the nature center, and she dared me to walk naked through the woods. I left my clothes with her and went out along the creek, and when I got back, I discovered she had run off with them. It was scary, but it was exciting, too, and it was even more exciting when, while I was climbing up the path after her, I passed two hikers on their way down. There was no point in trying to hide. When a girl dares to go naked in public, she can -(TM)t suddenly pretend to be shy. She has to own it. So I held my head up and kept walking. The hikers -" a plump old woman with wrinkly knees, and a skinny old man with a white beard -" looked me over thoroughly, even though they didn -(TM)t say much. On the outside, I remained calm, but inside, I never felt more alive. Now, most naturists will tell you nudity has nothing to do with sex, that it -(TM)s only about being natural and uninhibited. I am not one of them. I always get a sexy tingle when I strip, and it practically explodes when I -(TM)m in danger of getting caught. Later on that day at the nature center, for example, as my girlfriend and I were walking along on the trail, holding hands, both of us naked, we were almost swarmed by a group of little kids out on a nature walk. In a panic, we ducked into the bushes, and they never saw us, but it was so dangerous and so exciting we couldn -(TM)t stop playing with ourselves. I -(TM)m a teenage girl, and to be honest, I have a nice body. Most people, especially men, don -(TM)t mind me showing it off. In that sense, I am privileged. But I dream of the day when everyone is comfortable taking their clothes off in public, no matter what they look like. In my dream, that old, wrinkled couple on the trail, and the little kids on the nature trail, could join me in stripping without guilt, or shame, or anybody calling the police, and they all would be accepted and admired for the beautiful, natural beings they are. And that -(TM)s the greatest freedom. -Yeah, right, - I thought, and I closed out the file. But I meant every word of it, and I was dying to show it to somebody: sharing it would be as much fun as exposing myself. Daddy was a no. He -(TM)s seen me naked plenty of times, but he still doesn -(TM)t know about the nature center, or a lot of the other stuff, and I think we -(TM)d both be better off if it stayed that way. The only one I could send it to was Saanvi. Since she was the -best friend - I ran around with, she could hardly mention it to anybody. So I attached the file to an email, with this note: Hi! Here -(TM)s my entry for the essay contest in history class. I -(TM)m sure you -(TM)ll find it inspirational. I did -- it made me super horny. God bless America! -Liberty Girl - Aaaaaand -" send. I didn -(TM)t tell her it was a joke, because I wanted to get her reaction. I figured she -(TM)d read it, freak out, and send me something back like OMG! You -(TM)re crazy! Is this for real? Don -(TM)t tell them about me! Then I -(TM)d set her straight. It wouldn -(TM)t be long, since she checks her mail every night before she goes to bed, and I knew just what to do while I waited. I had that buttery, fluttery feeling down in the Oval Orifice before I was halfway through writing, and by the time I finished, it was all I could do to keep both hands on the keyboard. Now I wouldn -(TM)t have to. I laid the computer aside and spread my legs wide and straight. My girl needed some air. She was damp and fragrant, and she felt tight up front, like she could use a massage. I was happy to oblige. It wasn -(TM)t going to take long. I reached down, sliding my middle fingers along either side of my lonely little bump, and squeezed. Oh, that was good. The tickling flickered back and forth over the bulge, like sparks across a wire. Then the pleasure went all through me. My knees came up, and my free hand went to my boobs, twisting and pulling them. I saw myself in a room full of people. The men wore tuxedos. The women were in silk gowns and pearls. And I was naked, except for my black heels, a bowtie, starched cuffs, and a lace headband, serving drinks from a silver tray. May I have a refill, please, Miss? What a charming uniform, dear. Did you make it yourself? I squeezed tighter, waggling my fingers. My clitty poked through them like a sparrow -(TM)s tongue. The party people acted all cool, pretending to look past me, but I could feel them glancing sideways at my ass. Yes, she does all her work nude -" cleaning, taking care of the children, even grocery shopping. I don -(TM)t know what we -(TM)d do without her. -Aw, fuck! Fuck! - I said. It was that yummy instant where I kind of hang in the air, trying to hold off the big whoosh. Squeeze and release, squeeze and release. Keeping myself on edge as long as I can. She -(TM)s a treasure all right. Come over tomorrow when she washes the car. But my girl had other ideas. I threw my head back, and it bounced on my husband while the little bitch made me come. I can never get over how amazing orgasms are, every single time. Saanvi still hadn -(TM)t answered my email. I checked my computer (one hand still holding the beaver), and the only thing in my inbox was a two-for-one bra sale. Well, I thought, I did come pretty fast, and she does have a life, probably. So I settled back again, feeling myself and fantasizing about other jobs I could do naked. I could be a stripper, but that -(TM)s too predictable. I -(TM)d rather be a schoolteacher, doing math problems on the board and watching the little boys wank themselves under their desks. Feel free to join me, class... That one put me over the top again, helped along, naturally, by two fingers rapidly stirring the pot. Amazing. Every single time. And she still didn -(TM)t answer. I thought, OK, I can play this game all night. But after my third come (washing Dad -(TM)s car, covered in soapy water) I was too worn out to care. I could bug her tomorrow. Right now, I was warm and relaxed and my whole room smelled like pussy, which is such a nice smell to fall asleep to. The computer would shut itself off. Saanvi has a bright smile that I love seeing every day, but the next morning, when I met her at her locker, I didn -(TM)t appreciate it the way I do. Instead, I studied her face, looking for a glimmer in her eye or any little sign she was in on the big secret. She noticed it right away. -What -(TM)s the matter? - she asked. -Nothing. - -You sure? - -Yeah. - What I was sure of was that she was doing it on purpose, waiting for me to bring it up. The little bitch was paying some game of her own, and it was driving me crazy. Which I was sure is what she wanted. We walked down the corridor, with the windows to one side, and outside Mrs. Laurie -(TM)s room, I asked her flat out, -You doing that essay for Salonen? - -I don -(TM)t know, - she said. -It -(TM)s kind of lame. Like we all have to be in love with America. - -My dad said the same thing. - -What about you? - -What do you mean, what about me? - -I mean, what about you. What -(TM)s your problem? - -Didn -(TM)t you get my email? - -What email? - -The one I sent last night. - -I didn -(TM)t get anything. - -You lie. - -Why would I lie about that? - -That -(TM)s weird, - I said. -What? - -I wrote a whole thing and sent it to you. - -Maybe it went into my junk folder. I -(TM)ll check later. - -Forget it, - I said. -What did it say? - -Forget it. - -Fine. - And we went to class. I was expecting a laugh, and when I didn -(TM)t get it, it left a sour taste in my mouth. I was distracted and kind of bitchy most of the morning, ticked off at the marvels of modern technology and worried where the email had ended up. Then I found out. It was just after third period. We were finished with Mr. Salonen -(TM)s class and on our way to lunch. Saanvi had been leaving me alone since I -(TM)d stopped talking. She probably thought I was having my period, but she tried to make nice one more time. -See you in the cafeteria? - she asked. We were passing Salonen near the front of the room, and before I could answer, he called my name. He -(TM)s shorter than I am, and bald, with a pot belly and a clipped gray mustache, and he was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and a tie that had pictures of Abraham Lincoln on it. Ties are kind of his thing. He must have a hundred of them, and they always match whatever he talks about in class. He -(TM)s so nerdy-looking you -(TM)d never suspect that underneath there lurks a total dick. -Would you care to join me in the teacher -(TM)s lounge? - he said. -I really need to eat, - I said. -It won -(TM)t take long, Danielle, - he said, with a sleazy smile. -Or should I say Liberty Girl? - Did you ever have one of those moments when your blood turns to glue? That -(TM)s what happened to me. I swear I could feel it stopping in my veins. The books in my arms suddenly weighed a hundred pounds, like I was standing on Jupiter. Saanvi told me later I looked like a ghost. All she said now was, -Hey, what -(TM)s the matter? - -Nothing, - I said. -No, nothing. Really. Go ahead. I -(TM)ll catch up. - -You sure? - I don -(TM)t remember what I answered. Probably something like, -uh huh. - Because the next thing I was aware of, I was following that glossy bald head down a dead-end corridor I never knew was there. The shiny patch on top was the only thing I could see, because the overhead lights were off. Or maybe I had tunnel-vision. Anyway, Salonen opened a door, and I stepped into a brightly lit room with big windows and a high ceiling. There was a table in the middle, cushioned sofas and chairs against the walls, and snack and soda machines in one corner. Three other grownups were in the room. I recognized Mrs. Laurie, my English teacher. The other two I didn -(TM)t. I guessed they taught the upper grades. It was a man and a woman. The man was older, wearing a suit. The woman was young, and she would have been pretty, if she -(TM)d let herself be. But she was dressed like a frump, in a tweed suit and clunky shoes, with black-frame glasses and her hair pulled back. Salonen stood to the side and let me pass, like he was standing at attention. -Here she is, - he announced. The other three all stood up and applauded. -Brava! - Mrs. Laurie said. -Speech! - -Hold on, - Salonen said. -She -(TM)ll get to it. - -Congratulations, - she young woman said. -That took guts. - -What did? - I said. And suddenly I knew what happened. Saanvi ... Salonen. They both start with Sa. When I started typing Saanvi -(TM)s name in the email, the addresses for both of them came up, and I clicked the wrong one because I was so distracted and horny. He got the essay, not her. Goddamned autocomplete. -Hey, hey, - Mrs. Laurie said, putting her arm around me. -Don -(TM)t. Don -(TM)t cry, sweetheart. - -Aw, the poor thing -(TM)s embarrassed, - the other woman said. -Well, then, why did she send me the essay? - -I didn -(TM)t. - It barely squeaked out. -What? - -I didn -(TM)t mean to! - -Oh, you didn -(TM)t mean to! Well, it -(TM)s too late now. You -(TM)ve already won first prize. - -Huh? - They all laughed at some joke I didn -(TM)t get. The guy in the suit handed me a tissue. I wiped my eyes and sniffled. -You don -(TM)t know why you -(TM)re here, do you, sweetheart? - Mrs. Laurie. -Uh uh. - -Mortimer, why don -(TM)t you introduce us? - said the lady in the glasses. She was talking to Mr. Salonen. His name isn -(TM)t really Mortimer. He just looks like one. -You know Mrs. Laurie, - he said to me. -This gentleman is Mr. Fusco. He -(TM)s the assistant superintendent. This is Miss Chen. She teaches AP psychology. You -(TM)ll have her in a couple of years. - -She can have me now if she wants, - Miss Chen said. -Behave, - Mortimer told her. -We all read your essay, - he said to me, -and we all loved it. And we -(TM)d like you to read it to us. - -Huh? - -That -(TM)s right. We -(TM)d like you to read it to us, please. That -(TM)s all. - -Well, that -(TM)s not quite all, - said Mrs. Laurie. I looked at them, one after another. -Yes, well... - Mortimer said. -Oh, for God -(TM)s sake, - Miss Chen interrupted. -You wrote there -(TM)s nothing more liberating than taking off your clothes. So liberate yourself. - -No! - -I thought you -(TM)d say that, - Salonen said. -Well, then, I -(TM)ll just have forward your essay to everyone in class with note telling them who wrote it. Would you like that? - I was like, no, but too quiet for them to hear. -Don -(TM)t threaten her, - Mrs. Laurie said. -She -(TM)s coming around. Danielle, I thought your essay was very well-written. I especially liked the part where you say everybody should be accepted. Do you think, for instance, I should be accepted? - Mrs. Laurie is over 60. She -(TM)s my height, but wide in the shoulders, with big boobs and a heavy butt. She was wearing an awful purple pants suit with a green knit vest, and I remember thinking she probably would have looked better naked. But all I said was, -Yes. I think everybody should. - -Well, we -(TM)ll certainly accept you, - Miss Chen said. I was still looking at Mrs. Laurie. Her face lit up, and we both knew what the other was thinking. -You first, - she said. -Together, - I said. It was like there was no one else in the room. She took off that hideous vest. I put my books on the table and took off my black macrame sweater. She took off her purple turtleneck. I took off my white long-sleeve. She sat down on a sofa and removed her shoes and socks. I sat on a plastic chair next to the table and did the same. We both stood up again, and she took off her purple pants. I took off my jeans. And we had to smile, because we were wearing the same kind of underwear -" sky-blue bras and panties. It was like we were looking through a time warp. I saw myself in 45 years. She saw herself 45 years ago. We stood still a minute while everybody else held their breath. And then, at the same time, without saying anything, we reached behind and unhooked our bras. I don -(TM)t know why she was worried about being accepted. For an old lady, she looked great. For anybody at all, she looked good. She had a few small, fatty puckers on her stomach, and without her bra to support them, her boobs drooped, but she seemed so proud to be showing them off, I had to tell her how nice they were. -Thank you, - she said quietly. -Nothing like yours. On three? - -Huh? - -Count to three, - she said, pointing at my crotch. -Oh! One -" - -Two -" - We said -Three! - together, and we had our panties off in a flash. I hooked my thumb into the elastic on mine and shot them at her like a rubber band. She caught them against her chest and laughed. Then she tossed hers at me, and I snatched them out of the air. Now, the only thing weirder than seeing my own English teacher naked was the fact that she shaved her pussy. An old person like that! Was she showing off for somebody, or did she just like the way it felt? I felt bad for her, though, because naturally everybody was looking at the naked teenager. The most intense stares came from Miss Chen, whose eyes were smoldering black coals behind her glasses. I could feel them boring into my boobs, like she was trying to get my nipples to stand up by mental telepathy. And the scary thing was, it worked. The guys just seemed uncomfortable and sweaty, but they each had a hand on the front of their pants. -Shall we get started? - Miss Chen said. -Yes, let -(TM)s, - Salonen said. -I printed out a copy. - The paper was lying on the table. Mr. Fusco, who never said a word the whole time I was there, picked it up and handed it to me. The four of them sat on the sofa under the clock, with the women in the middle. Mrs. Laurie seemed happiest, legs crossed, twirling one foot. It was obvious she liked being naked, and I had to wonder if she ever ran around outside like I do. Or maybe my essay was giving her ideas. -Anytime you -(TM)re ready, - Salonen said, adjusting his penis. -Slowly and clearly, - Miss Chen said. -With feeling. - Now, let -(TM)s take a minute and review my situation. I was standing bare-ass in front of four officials from the school district. One of them was naked herself, two were rubbing their wieners through their pants, and the fourth was staring at me like she was about to throw me on the floor and gobble me up. To my right, not twenty feet away, was a row of picture windows that looked out on a grassy spot behind the school where the picnic tables are set up. It was too cold for the anybody to be eating lunch outside, thank heaven, but anybody walking I from the parking lot could have peeked in and seen me standing bare-ass in front of four officials from the school district. And this is what I called -the greatest freedom. - I felt incredibly stupid, which is weird, because I was creaming, too. -Freedom, - I began, -can mean many things... I held the paper in one hand, while the other wandered south. I twirled my hair between my fingers, absent-mindedly, and finally found my clitty, which was trying hard to push out through my cunt-lips. It felt enormous. I raised my voice. For some reason, I thought if I read louder, nobody would notice me touching myself. My timing was impeccable, though, because when I got to the part about the sexy tingle, I actually had one. It was like a mini-gasm. I -(TM)m sure everybody saw it, especially Mr. Fusco, who breathed out hard through his nose at the same time. He was most definitely making a mess in his pants. I got another round of applause when I finished, and everybody got up and congratulated me. To tis minute I don -(TM)t know if they were teasing me or not. Mr. Salonen shook my hand. So did Mr. Fusco, though he couldn -(TM)t look me in the eye. Mrs. Laurie gave me a nude hug that didn -(TM)t last nearly as long as I would have liked. And Miss Chen ran her hand over my bottom and whispered in my ear, -Come to my office any time. - -Well, what do you think? - Mr. Salonen said. -Do we have our contest winner? - -Definitely, - Miss Chen said. -She has captured the true promise of America. - -Don -(TM)t worry, - Mrs. Laurie said. -He -(TM)s not going to do a thing with it. And he won -(TM)t send it to your classmates. That would be harassment. - -She has earned her two points, though, - Salonen said. -Maybe three. - -On her English grade, too, - Mrs. Laurie said. -Feel free to hang out here with us anytime, - Salonen said. -Bring that friend you wrote about. I have a feeling I know who it is. - -You -(TM)ve got time left in your lunch period, - Mrs. Laurie added. Go eat. - -And I trust you won -(TM)t mention this to anyone, - Salonen added. -I won -(TM)t, - I said. -See you all. - The corridor was dark and empty, but the lights were bright up ahead where it fed into the lobby of the school theater. I was almost all the way out, feeling good, thinking about what I was going to tell Saanvi, when I heard Mrs. Laurie call my name. I stopped short of the lobby and turned around. She was leaning out of the doorway, still nude, obviously, though all I could see was her bare shoulder. -I think you forgot something, - she called. -What? - -Uh, maybe your books? - -Oh! - I said, and started back. She held the door for me, and when I came up, everybody inside was looking past her at me like I had just shot somebody, and she said, -I guess you feel pretty comfortable being naked. - -I really do. - -That -(TM)s wonderful, - she said. -But don -(TM)t you think, before you wander off too far, you ought to put your clothes back on? - I looked down, and I was like, -Oh, right. - The Greatest Freedom would have to wait.