Tuesday, three days after Carl and I had gone to the homecoming dance, insanity struck again. Mom and daddy and I were having dinner, (meatloaf, French cut string beans, steamed carrots, and chocolate pudding for dessert - yum!) when the words popped out of my mouth.
"I want you to sign me up for the program." I toyed with my carrots, not looking at either of them.
"Oh my," mom said softly.
Daddy choked on a bite of carrot, and I thought for a moment I'd have to Heimlich him.
"You what?!" he managed do wheeze out after a few minutes.
"You put me on the `will not participate list,' didn't you?" I asked.
"Well, yes, we did," daddy admitted reluctantly. He, I should mention, was still getting over the fact that I'd gone to the homecoming dance naked, with Carl, my boyfriend, who was also naked, because he, Carl that is, not daddy, had been required to (go naked that is) because he, Carl, was in the program that week.
Boy pronouns can get messy!
I should mention that mom had broken the news about my state of dress, or the lack thereof, to daddy after Carl and I had left for the dance, and then had used her feminine wiles to keep daddy from riding to my "rescue."
And I'll go no farther down that road, thank you very much! Though I will admit I noticed their sheets were in the laundry the next day, only about a week early!
Anyway, even by Tuesday, daddy was still not completely reconciled to his "baby" having shown all at the homecoming dance.
"I don't want to be any different than the rest of the kids in school," I explained quietly, looking at him.
"But not all of them are going to be taking part," he argued.
"By the time the program is completed, most of them will have taken part," I pointed out. Stephanie, in fact, was in the program this week, poor thing. It was an awful strain on her, I knew, even though Carl and I made a point to include her in our walks between classes when we could, and had lunch with her.
On the other hand, it was doing her good. For one thing, she'd said that morning that she was making a serious effort to lose some weight, even though Carl and I insisted she needn't do that. She was always going to be a big girl, but getting rid of the roll at her tummy was a Good Thing, we all agreed.
"I might point out," mom observed wryly, "that going to the dance naked has already - uhm - made you stand out?"
"That's the whole point!" I complained. "I set myself apart by doing that, while you set me apart by putting me on the short list of those who aren't permitted to take part in the program."
Mom thought this over. "She has a point, Arthur. A twisted point, but a point."
"I've always been different," I reminded them. "I'm in the top of the class. That alone is bad enough. I'm not pretty."
"You are pretty. You have always been pretty, and I think maybe Saturday night has changed some opinions around school about that!" daddy retorted, obviously less than pleased.
"I'm not popular," I plunged on.
"Popularity is not everything. Top of the class is good! Different is good! And you've got Carl," daddy pointed out.
"And I bet your appearance at the dance has gained you some popularity, too," mom added.
"Not always the kind I want," I grumbled, thinking of the teasing and snide comments I'd gotten from some people, especially the girls. Most of them were unhappy because now their boyfriends wanted them to go to the next dance naked. Even worse, their boyfriends were hitting on me to go with them to the next dance naked - I mean ME naked, going with them to the next dance. Oh, whatever, you get the idea.
A few have even volunteered to be naked, too.
Very few.
Anyway, by the time we got to the chocolate pudding, they'd given in and agreed to request that I be chosen.
They must have made the call the next day, because I discovered the next Monday I'd made the top of the list. I found this out, of course, by being called to the principal's office to undress.
I hadn't known it was coming so soon. I'd dressed that morning in my nicest school clothes - my best white, button down, oxford cloth, short sleeved shirt and pleated plaid skirt, penny loafers and white socks.
But I was not quite as nerdy as I was prior to the dance, I admit. Underneath my nerdy best I had worn my newest underwear -a lacy bra - not because I needed a bra, but because it was lacy and nice - and lace panties, courtesy of a return trip to Victoria's Secret, and no, I did NOT do the mall naked again! I went with Carl and he even helped me pick them out!
Of course I wore them for Carl, even though I didn't plan on him seeing my frillies until, maybe, just maybe, after school.
Just in case, that was.
Maybe.
I know, we did some hot and heavy things Saturday after the dance, but we were both under the influence of the evening. We'd talked about it since and vowed to try to cool things down before we went Too Far, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I felt good knowing I was wearing something sexy under my dull outer layers, that there was a butterfly within this caterpillar.
Anyway, by Monday I had sort of half forgotten the whole issue of being naked in school, being engrossed in a paper for Chem over the weekend, as well as Carl, of course. But here it was, less than a week after I'd set the dominoes tumbling, I found myself in the principal's office.
"Take your clothes off, Miss Finch," the principal ordered, indicating the box on the floor beside me. Two security guards watched, as required by the rules. As I fumbled with the buttons on my blouse, I could only ask myself how I had gotten myself into this.
I knew perfectly well, of course. I'm not senile yet. Though I was thinking I had to have been demented when I set this in motion.
I hadn't expected it to be the next week! Now, that is! I hadn't known it was coming this day, and I was not ready for it. I'd had no warning, I'd been taken straight to the principal's office the moment I'd entered school, just the way all the others were handled.
I hadn't even prepared Carl for this, figuring I had a week or two to figure out the best way to break the news. This morning I'd been spirited away from him without a word of explanation, though I suspect he knew what was happening. But what was he going to say when he saw me naked in school?
I was remembering, too, the demands the program made on the participants - how we had to obey any reasonable requests from teachers and fellow students. Karen had set the bar pretty high that first week when she'd been chosen, letting herself be felt up in the hallways, and even submitting to a gang bang, and before school, no less, on Friday, her last day.
Oh God! I didn't have to go that far, did I? While Carl and I had masturbated each other, and he'd eaten me to the best climax of my short life, we were both still virgins, and I wanted my first time to be with him, and no one else.
I wondered if maybe we should move the timetable for that next Big Step up a bit.
I dropped my shirt in the box without even bothering to fold it neatly, fighting the urge to cover my lace encased breasts with my hands. If only I'd worn my dull old bra. Or even gone bra-less! This one molded to my breasts, and you could even see the shadow of my nipples through the lace.
I hurriedly dispensed with it, feeling more comfortable with bare breasts than I did with that seductive covering.
"Who else is taking part this week?" I asked nervously, trying to keep my voice steady as I dealt with the zipper of my skirt, conscious of the way my nipples had stiffened.
"We're not at liberty to tell you that," the principal answered. "The identity of participants is not revealed until they leave the office where they are being orientated."
"Orientated," in this context, meant "stripped naked."
And how dumb did he think the students were, anyway? These days there was only one reason students were summoned to the offices first thing on a Monday morning. They went in clothed, and came out naked, and everyone knew it. Word quickly got around about who had been summoned, and there was always a feeding frenzy outside the offices, as a result.
As a summonee, however, I was suddenly out of the loop.
My skirt followed my shirt and bra, and I flushed as the principal and the guards saw my lacy panties.
At least I'd worn bikini cut ones, rather than the even more revealing thongs I'd also bought! Still, they hugged my bottom and my pussy. I'd looked at myself in the mirror that morning and knew perfectly well that the shadow of my pussy hair showed through the lace.
My face got hot.
So much for my image as miss goody two-shoes, the teachers' dream student, never disruptive, always well prepared for class, eager to volunteer.
Myself (my evil twin, that is) cackled wickedly, and promised that we were going to have some fun this week!
Oh dear.
Blushing furiously, I skinned my panties down and stepped out of them, trying not to reveal any more of myself than I had to as I did.
In the box they went, leaving me in my penny loafers, white ankle length socks, the gold cross on the fine gold chain around my neck, eyeglasses, and scrunchy pony tail tie, reading from bottom to top, as it were.
Notice the wide gap between ankles and neck.
In fact, I was wearing less than I'd worn to the dance.
No gold ribbon in my pussy hair, for one thing.
I felt very, very, very naked and made a reflexive and totally ludicrous effort to hide my breasts and pussy with arm and hand.
I also tried to listen to the little speech the principal was giving me, I really did, but all I could think of was that in about two minutes everyone would be seeing the real me, and Carl was going to know that I was going to be naked in school for the next week!
I suppose you're thinking it's only right. After all, hadn't he undergone the same ordeal just week before last?
Well yes, he had. But sometimes I think maybe this whole sexual equality thing should be rethought. Especially by yours truly, me.
I shivered, goose bumps breaking out all over.
The principal was saying something about if I got my period, and I desperately reviewed my calendar in my mind, and heaved a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be walking around with a tampon string dangling from me like some sort of a fuse or rip-cord! Ick!
"Any questions, Miss Finch?" the principal asked, in a tone that indicated he was repeating the question in an effort to penetrate my dazed brain.
I'd read the manual when Carl had been on the spot - same manual for boys and girls - practically memorized it, in fact. No secrets between the sexes any longer. "Uh, nosir," I assured him. "No questions."
He was, I couldn't help noticing, enjoying the sight of me. "I'm sure," he went on, "you will comport yourself with dignity and good humor. So far, the ladies, and the gentlemen, have performed admirably. I'm sure you'll do fine."
"Yessir," I agreed, feeling a dazed numbness settle over me like a fog.
"Time to go, Miss Finch, or you'll be late for your first class," he announced cheerily. "Your clothes will be awaiting you outside the North Entrance. When you come to school the rest of this week you will disrobe there before entering the building, placing your clothes in the drop box," he reminded me.
"Yessir." Dazed, I turned toward the door.
I emerged to a wave of applause and whistles, and the sight of Carl in the front row. His expression? Well, that's hard to say. He was glad to see me, and he obviously was GLAD to SEE ME, as the bulge in his jeans made perfectly obvious.
What's that old joke? Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?
On the other hand, I could see, too, that he was less than ecstatic at the idea of having to share me with the rest of the student population for the rest of the week. And how would he react the first time I had to respond to a "reasonable request" from someone?
"Hi," I greeted him shyly, chewing my lower lip to ribbons.
"Hi." He took my hand, when what I really wanted was him to wrap his arm around me. "You okay?"
I shivered again. "I'll live, I think." The bell rang. "I've got to get to Chem class."
"See you in French," he assured me, handing me my book bag. He'd even insisted on carrying my books to school, the silly romantic!
"You sure will," I managed to joke as we parted and I joined the herd. I noticed that some went out of their way to void bumping into me, while others seemed to take every opportunity for contact with some portion of my naked anatomy.
I was scared and embarrassed, but there was one other feeling I can't deny, no matter how hard I tried.
I was horny.
Horny, horny, horny.
I admit, that was a word I'd not really known the meaning of until I'd first kissed, really kissed, Carl, that evening we'd taken a walk, him naked and me clothed.
Now, for the next week, it was me naked and him clothed.
Then, at the dance we'd danced naked, and afterwards, at home, we'd necked naked, and petted naked, and he'd - he'd eaten me out naked, and I'd - well, I'd had an orgasm that topped any I'd ever had before, which wasn't many anyway.
But now that I knew what an orgasm could be, well, okay, I confess, I wanted more. And here I was, a walking, naked invitation to every horny male in school, plus a few females who were - uh - differently inclined, and I wasn't sure I'd could turn them all down!
Oh God. Already I felt my pussy threatening to burst into tears.
After two weeks of the program, people were getting a bit more used to seeing students naked. I was greeted in my first period Chem class with snickers from some of the few girls in the class, with whistles and applause from the boys, but that was it.
Chemistry, at least, was not a class where the teacher would use me for a live demonstration. I heard that Karen's adventures in her bio class had been - uh - tres outre, as the French might say, complete with whips, chains and butt plugs!
Trying to ignore the ogling, I lowered myself into my seat, and winced at the chill. I will say that if this program continues they really must do something about the chairs. They are COLD!
What's worse, after you've sat in one for a while there's a tendency to stick to it. Maybe they could issue participants cushions to carry around with them. As it is, the academic world is simply not properly furnished for this program!
Mercifully, the teacher decided on a lab session, which meant I could don a lab jacket which, on me, came to mid-thigh. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, as long as I was careful. If I had to pick something up off the floor or get it down from a high shelf I'd give a show, no doubt.
The way the air toyed with my naked pussy and butt, though, was a constant reminder of my nakedness beneath the jacket. Also, it was rough, starchy cotton, rougher even than my usual shirts, and it scraped my nipples, bringing them to a constant stated of erection. After a while it felt like my titties were ablaze.
Believe me, even with that jacket on I was extra careful as I handled things like sulfuric acid! I had to concentrate extra hard, too, because one part of my mind wouldn't stay off my next class, which was French, with Mademoiselle Duclos.
What if she used me the way she had used Carl, for another of her slang vocab lessons? Would she stand me up in front of the whole class naked while she named the exposed parts of my anatomy?
I'd die!
When the bell ending chemistry rang, I shivered as I slipped off the lab coat, baring myself once again. I'd been so distracted by my worries and the simple mechanics I'd not paid any attention at all to the lessons, and Chem was my toughest subject!
If this kept up my grades would plunge.
Well, my evil twin noted, that would be one way to fit in better around here.
Not at the expense of my education, I retorted angrily.
As I made my way through the halls I was intensely aware of every passing glance, every look, every stare, every grin and wink. I was dreading the first time someone, boy or girl, came up to me and asked for a feel. I hunched, wanting to huddle into a ball that revealed nothing. I couldn't help thinking of how inadequate I was, physically - small breasted, with not much in the way of hips, a little, barely concealing patch of hair between my thighs.
I wasn't skinny! I was petite, with a little bit of an adipose layer to soften my curves, conceal my ribs. I just wasn't - uh -voluptuous.
Oh, I know Carl thought I was beautiful, or at least he had told me I was when I'd shed my coat at the dance. But that night he'd been naked, too, and mom had helped make the most of my limited assets. My hair had been done elegantly up, and she'd even made up my body. But now, well, it was just me. No adornments, no makeup, nothing between me and all those staring eyes.
No Carl.
"Hi!" Carl greeted me.
"Oh, hi," I mumbled, having almost crashed headlong into him outside Mademoiselle Duclos' classroom.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
I tried to say I was, but shook my head, my throat knotting up. "No, I'm not. I'm naked, and everyone else is dressed."
He touched my cheek, tipped my head up so he could look down into my eyes. "You're beautiful," he assured me, and he was so warm and so tender with me that I wanted to leap into his arms. "You'll be all right," he insisted. "I was all right, and you're braver than I am."
"No I'm not," I protested.
He wouldn't hear it. "You are. You went to the dance naked, when you didn't need to. That was brave!"
I wanted to say it was stupid, only I knew it hadn't been. That had been the most wonderful night of my life! I remembered how proudly he had walked me to the dance floor, and felt better. I remembered the envy in the eyes of some of the girls as they'd studied me, the desire the boys had shown.
I remembered the feeling of being in his arms, and my arousal skyrocketed.
Down boy! I told my libido irritably. You're not helping things.
"Let's go," Carl said, gently urging me through the door.
"But what if she...."
"If she does, she does," he answered. "Try to enjoy it. Go with the flow."
God bless the state! I was spared humiliation by a special study session for the standardized tests we had coming up in a week. Oh, I was still naked, but at least I was at my desk, not on display.
And I did NOT volunteer for ANYTHING! Not one answer! I wasn't about to do anything to draw attention to myself. Besides, all I had to do was breathe, or shift in my chair to do that. I was such a distraction I felt badly for the other kids, but what could I do?
From French it was on to math, with Carl escorting me. And it was then that I got the next big shock of the day, partly because my mind was more on the feel of Carl next to me, warm and comforting as I clutched his arm to my naked breast.
He was telling me something about the first day being the worst, and I was trying to believe him, when he broke off that thought. "Uh oh.. You are not going to believe this!"
"What?" I looked up, and caught sight of what I thought for a moment was a bear walking on its hind legs ahead of us. Then I realized it was the back of a very hairy, very naked male student. The only place he wasn't very hairy were the pale white cheeks of his ass. Something about that shape, and all that hair made me think of ....
"OhmyGod! Is that...?"
"Freschetti," Carl said softly in amazement.
"He's in the program?!" I whispered, afraid the subject of our comments might hear us.
"Either that, or someone has shaved a bear's butt and trained it to carry books," Carl suggested.
"Oh wow!" My own troubles were forgotten. Poor Freschetti! He'd already humiliated himself in math class when Carl had done his stint naked, the same class we were now walking to. Mr. F. had made a derogatory comment about Carl's genital endowments, which, incidentally, are more than adequate, visually and tactilely (the only experience I have with them - so far).
Unfortunately for Mr. F., the teacher, Miss Gallison, had overheard and had made Freschetti bare his equipment to the class. He was thus exposed as one of the lesser endowed males in school. Now Freschetti was showing everyone in school how the great jock had a penis no one could envy!
I didn't need to see his face to know what his expression probably was. Something out of a slasher movie comes to mind. There was a space at least two yards radius that no one would venture into as he moved down the center of the hallway, stiff legged, muscles bulging, fists balled. You could see the crowd parting ahead of him, pressing back against the walls. There was finger pointing, whispers and titters once he passed them, but not before.
"Oh wow," I repeated. Even though Freschetti was the worst male chauvinist pig in school, even though he was a bully and had been a thorn in Carl's side during Carl's week on display, I felt a wave of sympathy for the big ape.
"It's going to be an interesting week," Carl observed softly as we followed Freschetti to Miss Gallison's classroom. Carl politely ushered me through the door, into a deafening silence as Freschetti made his way to his desk in the back row. I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as I went to my seat (front row center, of course) and Carl peeled off to his third row venue.
There was the sound of desks and chairs being scraped over the floor behind me. I didn't need to look back to know that Freschetti's neighbors were trying to distance themselves from him.
I couldn't tell if Miss Gallison had a twinkle in her eye as she looked Freschetti over or not. For me she offered what I took to be a sympathetic smile, though. And, perhaps, even an appreciative look? I felt a little qualm, worrying that she might hit on me, then chided myself for even thinking it.
Oh, sure, she's gay. Everyone knows that. But she's in a committed relationship with a woman who works in the school office, and has never, to my knowledge, ever made a play for a student. I wish I could say the same for some of the male faculty. I was not looking forward to History class!
Then the bell rang and class began.
"Ah, Mr. Freschetti," Miss Gallison began, "are you in need of relief?"
"No," he grunted. I hadn't realized a monosyllable could be so short - sort of like a mathematical point, if you know what I mean.
"Very well, perhaps you'd like to come up and put the solution to the first problem in today's homework up on the board, please, Mr. Freschetti?" she asked.
Oh dear. She was not going to cut him an inch of slack, I could see that!
There was a breathless hush as I, along with everyone else, waited for some sort of explosion. I didn't see anyone on either side of me looking back to see how Freschetti was taking this. None of us dared!
Then I heard his chair go back, and the entire room seemed to heave a sigh of relief.
His sneakers squeaked on the floor as he made his way to the front of the classroom, brushing my arm as he passed me.
I flinched.
Holding his notebook in one hand, he picked up a marker and began setting the problem out on the white board in his usual primitive scrawl, keeping his back resolutely to the class as he did.
Even the crack of his ass was hairy! Ick!
Tearing my eyes off his hirsute body, I studied his work on the board, and groaned silently. He'd made an elementary mistake in the second line, and from there everything else simply went farther and farther awry.
Finishing, he turned to face the class, holding his notebook defensively in front of his crotch. Miss Gallison gave him a long, hard look. After she cleared her throat, he flinched, and dropped the notebook to his side, flushing as he did.
The rules did not allow him to cover himself with anything, and he knew it.
Not that there was much to hide.
If he'd been blushing any harder everyone in the first four rows would have gotten a lethal dose of radiation. As it was, I swore off any X-rays for the next year.
Miss Gallison gave a sigh. "Would anyone care to come up and critique Mr. Freschetti's work?"
Now, I must tell you, I tried. I really, really tried. I even sat on my hands! But it was to no avail. The silence went on and on, and that little demon inside me refused to be thwarted. It could not bear the silence.
My hand went up, sort of like a rusty puppet's, in fits and starts.
"Yes, Miss Finch?"
I tried to stay in my seat. "Uh, there's an error in the second line, I believe?" I ventured timidly.
Miss Gallison held out her marker. "Would you care to come up and show us, please?"
Oh God, no. Not me, up there, naked, in front of the whole class, pointing out - pointing out Freschetti's error to him while he stood there, right beside me, just as naked and vulnerable and embarrassed and exposed as I was. Please no! I was an instant Popsicle, icy fear-sweat breaking out all over my naked body.
Miss Gallison cocked an eyebrow expectantly at me, and I managed to pry myself out of my seat, my bottom flesh parting from the molded plastic seat with a tearing sound.
I moved up beside him, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. I'm not sure what sitting next to a working nuclear reactor would feel like, but this was as close as I ever want to get to that experience, believe me!
As gently as I could, I nudged him aside so I could get to the white board and fix his mistake. His skin was hot, and I realized he was the second naked boy I'd touched in less than a week. If I'd had a choice, it would have been someone else. I'm not sure who, but anyone but him.
I was terrified as I explained where he'd gone wrong and fixed the error.
He never moved. Never twitched. It was as if he were made of stone - lava - as I went down through the rest of the problem, carrying through the correction to the end.
I was so concerned about Freschetti, I almost forgot that I, too, was naked as a jaybird up there in front of the whole class.
Almost.
Once I was done, it took everything I had to turn to face all those people, showing them everything I had. I had no secrets from them any more. They could see the mole on my left breast, just below the nipple. There was another, low on my tummy, just above my little patch of hair.
That little patch of hair. It wasn't very big, and there wasn't very much of it. I knew my labia showed through it. Insanely, I wished I'd taken the time to comb it before I'd emerged from the principal's office.
"Very good, Miss Finch," Miss Gallison complimented me. I saw Carl give me a "thumbs up" gesture and an encouraging smile.
I couldn't help wondering - was he hard? How many of the other boys were hard? It gave me a strange sense of power to realize I might be having that effect on the whole male population of the room.
I handed the marker back to Miss Gallison and went to my place, heaving a silent sigh of relief as I sank down into my seat. I wanted to put my head down on my desk, but Miss Gallison kept a supply of small, hard rubber erasers at hand to deal with students given to sleeping in class. Playing third base on her college softball team she had picked off runners at first with ease, so nailing a dozing student, even in the back row, was a duck shoot for her, as Freschetti knew all too well.
Freschetti still hadn't moved. I wondered if he'd been turned into stone, or maybe just entered a catatonic state.
I felt sorry for him. I really did! Here was this great, hulking athlete, star running back, Big Man On Campus, standing naked in front of the whole class. More humiliating than having his work corrected by me, a girl, no less, was the blatant exposure of his less than impressive endowments.
Miss Gallison finally released him from his torment, and he headed back to his seat, brushing past me again. His groin was at about my eye level, and I couldn't help staring at his cock, peering almost shyly from a thick forest of black hair.
I still wasn't sure he was hard, and that sent my mind off on another mad tangent, wondering if anyone had ever done study of the ratio of the size of the erect cock to its - uh - flaccid state. Did small penises expand proportionately more, or was there any relationship?
It wasn't anything I was likely to be able to research in high school, but maybe I could get a college or med school paper out of it.
The thought of researching such a study gave me a little frisson of excitement.
And what government department would give a grant for such a study, do you suppose? Would it be the Department of Health and Human Services? Maybe the FDA would need a study to regulate condom sizes?
You can see, I was already thinking like a med student.
Well, sort of. I will not attempt to claim that my interest was purely academic.
Lunch was a welcome respite from the stares and whispers. Carl walked with me from class, and Karen and Stephanie met me at the cafeteria door and the three of them escorted me through the line. We found a table and sat together. With Carl on one side of me, Stephanie on the other and Karen directly across from me I felt protected. All three of them had endured a week of nudity, so they knew what I was going through.
The protective formation wasn't anything new. Carl and I had done it for Stephanie the week before, and I had done it for Carl during his week, so this was sort of a quid pro quo, I guess. No matter, I was grateful, and I told them so.
It also made me realize I was joining a very select sorority-fraternity of students in the Junior class who had spent a week going to school naked. Eventually it would expand to include a significant percentage of the class, but so far it was a very small, select group.
It was actually shy one member, probably the one who needed it the most.
Poor Freschetti. He had to eat at the training table. I could see his hairy bulk hunched over his lunch tray, obviously suffering the jibes of his teammates. He was learning what it was like to be the outsider the hard way. Those jocks, with all their testosterone - they were pack animals, like wolves, and could be pretty cruel. The alpha male was vulnerable and they took advantage of it.
I ached for him.
Karen, Carl, Stephanie and I talked about inconsequentials - if you could apply that term to Freschetti - along with teachers and classes. Meanwhile, I was still dealing with an incredible tangle of emotions and sensations. I felt so vulnerable! I was embarrassed, of course, too, but there was another issue that was even more scary.
I wanted to ask them if it had made them horny, but I was too ashamed.
Oh, obviously it had made Carl horny. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten all those cum showers, would I? And Karen, I suspect, had yielded to her horniness on the last day, letting herself be gang banged. I was too embarrassed to ask her, though. I didn't really know her well, but we shared a bond now.
But what about Stephanie? I'd never thought of her as a sexual person. She was just my plump friend. She'd never really had a boyfriend or a date, until Carl had gotten her together with Jerry Wilson at the dance. Apparently things hadn't really clicked between them, because I hadn't seen them together since, though she'd had a good time, she said.
Of course the conversation drifted around to The Program, as we were all now calling it, complete with capital letters.
"Has anyone asked to feel you up yet?" Karen asked.
I blushed. "No," I admitted. "Though there've been a few pats and pinches in the hallways."
"What will you do if they do?" Stephanie asked. I'd never asked her what she'd done, and I'd not seen anyone do it to her in the hallway.
I was blushing furiously now. "I don't know," I confessed.
"Let them," Carl suggested.
"You want me to?" I was a little hurt that he wasn't more possessive, I admit.
"It's part of the program," Karen reminded me. "It's a not unreasonable request."
"Oh." I knew she was right, but still.... "I'd rather not talk about it right now," I said, stifling that conversation and they went on to other matters.
Meanwhile, I was squirming inside with - well, with lust, simple lust. Thinking about letting some boy feel me up, right there in the hallway only stoked my horniness. If I didn't get some relief, I was really afraid I might do something desperate!
Then Carl rested his hand on my thigh, and I knew he understood. When he hesitated, I took matters into my own hands. Or, more accurately, I placed them in his by spreading my legs and moving his hand up my thigh to my crotch.
His hand cupped my cunny, and it was all I could do to keep from leaning against him. Instead, I dutifully forked another bite of school ravioli into my mouth as his fingers massaged my pussy, triggering a hot flush of pleasure.
Believe you me, considering the school ravioli, that was a welcome distraction for more than one reason!
His finger sneaked between my labia and he felt how wet I was. Bless him, he didn't say anything, nonchalantly answering some question from the guy across the table from him as he worked his finger into my sopping cunt.
I wriggled my hips a little bit, and his finger slid deeper into my hot depths. With my free hand, under the table, I directed his moves, pressing on his hand to squeeze my clit as he wiggled his finger in my hole.
Oh, it felt good!
Was I becoming a slut? Here I was in the school lunchroom, being masturbated by my boyfriend! Since the homecoming dance I was like a kid with a new toy! I hadn't known how good sex could feel until that Saturday night with Carl.
Now I wanted to feel those delicious waves of ecstasy again and again, as often as possible. I don't know how many times I had masturbated since then, by myself! Carl and I had gone to the movies again, twice, and necked and petted up a storm then and even after school once, but we'd still held back from Doing It, too scared to venture further down that path.
My lust rising, I pushed down on Carl's hand rhythmically, crushing my clit against my pubic bone. Carl obliged by sliding a second finger into me, and wriggling them deep inside me. It was all I could do to keep from thrashing and moaning aloud as my pussy went into spasms.
Remember that scene in the movie "When Harry Met Sally" with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal in the caf**e9** - you know, the one where she fakes an orgasm at the top of her lungs? It was all I could do not to scream like she did. But the effort not to was almost as dangerous as stifling a sneeze! I could have strained something important! For a few moments my eyes went out of focus. When they came back in I was looking at the boy sitting across from Carl and I realized I hadn't quite gotten away with it.
Stirring from his paralysis, the kid shoveled in the forkful of food that had made it half way to his mouth before my cumming, then chewed and swallowed, desperately reaching for his milk to wash it down. After avoiding suffocation by ravioli, he grinned, and winked at me, while I turned a flaming red.
Stephanie patted me on the thigh herself, and Karen had a knowing smile on her face! So much for my secret orgasm! I could only hope the whole lunchroom didn't know.
As my body descended from its high, Carl extracted his fingers from me, sniffed them like a fine cigar, and then sucked my juices off them, shooting me a sly grin as he did. I didn't know if I wanted to punch him or hug him, so I just gave him a nudge with my elbow as I tried to regain my composure before heading off to my drawing class.
Art class was my one easy course, my break from the academic day. I didn't have to think like I did in Chem or math, or memorize like I did in French. I could let my feelings take over, guiding my hands as I sketched with charcoals or pastels. It gave my brain a welcome respite.
Oh, I wasn't any Rembrandt, but at least I could produce something that resembled what I was looking at.
Only this time, when I walked into the studio, I was surprised to see that, instead of the usual table on the podium in the front of the art studio, usually with a still life like some flowers or a bowl of fruit on it, there was a wooden stool.
I got my art smock, welcoming the opportunity to cover myself, assuming it was a legitimate protective garment, while I studied the setup, moving to my easel.
Light spilled on to the podium from the skylight and the floor to ceiling windows that formed the outside wall of the semi-circular room. The easels with their stools for the students, their big tablets of drawing paper, faced the podium.
The only other things out of place were two full-length mirrors on stands, set so they wouldn't block any of the student's view of the stool, but so they would reflect whatever - or whoever -was on it.
Everything focused on that stool.
Uh oh, I suddenly thought. This does not look good.
That depends on how you define "good" my evil twin argued lasciviously.
I felt a little frisson of fear and anticipation as the other students took their places at their easels. They were chattering, of course, and shooting glances at me. It made me tug uselessly at the too short smock that was all that was between me and them.
It was as if they already knew what was coming
As if I didn't! I flinched when the teacher, Mr. Kelly, called my name.
"Miss Finch, if you please?" He didn't say anything more, simply gestured to the stool.
Biting my lip, I took the bit between my teeth, removing my smock and letting it drape over the stool by my easel. Without even really thinking about it, I toed off my loafers, and dragged my socks off, too. How many nudes have you seen painted wearing penny loafers and socks, after all?
Feeling like some kind of marionette, I made my way to the front of the room, stepping up on the podium. The stool came up to my belly button, so I had to sort of climb up on it. It was one of those swivel thingies, so it tried to turn with me as I managed to squirm my ass on the cold, hard seat. Bracing my feet on the rungs, I hunched there self-consciously.
"That's not a very attractive pose," Mr. Kelly observed dryly, stroking his little goatee.
I blushed. "I'm sorry. How do you want me?"
"Why don't you try standing on the floor, and just bracing yourself against the stool," he suggested.
Awkwardly I climbed off the stool and tried to follow his directions, but with the stool hitting me just below the small of my back, it didn't work very well.
"Hmmm," he mused. "Let's try this." He dragged over a low riser, as if he'd anticipated the problem. With that under my feet (and getting on it gave him a very good look at my charms) I was raised just enough so the seat of the stool was even with my butt.
"Now, lean back on your hands," he suggested, "and perhaps raise one foot to the bottom rung on the stool."
I tried to follow his directions, my eye caught by my reflection in one of the mirrors.
I was so naked! Not even shoes, only that simple gold cross, and my glasses, of course. My nipples were hard little points on my perky breasts - that's how Carl liked to describe them - perky -usually just before his lips closed around one of my aching titties.
The thought gave me a rush in spite of myself. Oh, God! Everyone was looking at me, all the girls, all the boys. I had no secrets from them. The boys were all staring at my cunt - the angle of my leg did nothing to hide it from half the class, of course, since they surrounded me.
"Arch your back a little," the Mr. Kelly suggested, his hand warm on my spine as he pushed gently there. "Move this foot a little this way."
He exposed me even more.
"Straighten this leg." His hand was hot on my thigh.
"Let's let your hair down," he suggested, extracting my pony tail from the scrunchy. His hands spread my hair over my shoulders, and I wished it were long enough to cover my breasts, but it wasn't.
"We can turn you a little this way, so the light will be better on your breasts," he went on, his hands on my shoulders as he adjusted my pose.
His hands stroked the upper slope of my left breast, then the underside of that shy mound. "Let's turn your head a bit more to the left," he went on, touching my chin. "And lower it, just a little. Look right into the mirror there. No, don't smile, just relax. Think of something serious, perhaps."
There I was, a different angle from my first view of myself in the other mirror. The sun spilled down over my soft, smooth skin, showing the curves and texture. The hair on my arms glinted in the bright light, while my bush was in shadow. My legs looked longer, more graceful than I'd ever thought of them. With my chin lowered, my direct stare, I realized I looked almost sultry.
"Oh, one other thing. You won't need these," the Mr. Kelly pointed out, gently removing my glasses.
Let me clue you in to something. If you want to make someone who wears glasses feel totally exposed and incredibly vulnerable, just take their glasses. Suddenly there's no glass between them and the world, no invisible shield.
Worse, it means they can't see what may be coming at them.
I flinched, and gasped, but managed to contain myself. Suddenly the world was a blur. I couldn't really see my reflection in the mirror, only a vague shape within the rectangular frame. I knew everyone in the room was looking at me, only I couldn't see their expressions. Their faces were only amorphous blobs.
I felt totally, totally, totally exposed, and incredibly helpless. Inside I was wracked by that gut knotting feeling of excitement and fear you get on a thrill ride. For a moment I was afraid I was going to pee, and wouldn't that have been the ultimate last straw?
"There." The Mr. Kelly turned to the class. "This is a timed exercise to enhance your sketching skills. You'll have ten minutes with this pose, then we'll let Miss Finch rest for a few minutes and try another pose. What we want is to capture the essence of her in as few strokes as possible. Notice the light and shading, here, and here."
His fingers gently stroked the slope and curves of my breasts, coaxing a shiver from me.
But, except for that tiny tremor, I didn't move. I held my pose, even as inside I felt like I was in danger of melting down into a puddle.
I couldn't see the class, but I could hear them. Pencils and charcoals whispered on the sketch pads. I could sense the concentration of my classmates as they tried to capture "my essence," whatever that was.
Whatever it was, it was probably visible, exposed, exhibited, on display. It was all there, all of me. Nothing hidden. My back was arched, presenting my naked breasts to them, my nipples stiff, my chest heaving with every breath. My thighs were parted, displaying my still virgin cleft, and I could feel my pussy seeping with horniness. Air was touching me all over, and I could feel the sunlight on my shoulders and my breasts.
I remembered how Carl had described the experience as "sensuous." It was. It was as if every nerve had suddenly become hyper-sensitive. I was more conscious of temperature and touch, but even my hearing and my sense of smell seemed heightened. I could hear every pass of charcoal or pencil over the sketch pads, the rustle as arms moved, the soft squeak of a sneaker on the floor. There was a mingling of smells in the art room - paper, and paints, the musty scent of clay.
The musk of my own pussy.
Someone sighed, and there was the rubbing of an eraser. A stool or an easel creaked.
The air caressed my naked body, and for a moment I could almost feel the eyes of the class stroking my naked skin.
The clock ticked.
"All right, time's up," Mr. Kelly announced.
With a sigh, I relaxed and stood, shifting and stretching. I was still without my glasses half blind, of course, but I looked beyond the class, through the windows at the sun drenched lawn outside. There was a shifting pattern of people shaped blobs on the sidewalk, and I realized I was visible to anyone who passed by.
Who were these people, walking by, seeing me naked? Were they looking? I couldn't tell.
It made me think of Karen walking the streets naked. Would I do that?
I shivered, rubbing my arms, then let Mr. Kelly pose me again, feeling his hands on me as he adjusted my torso, my arms, my legs, my neck and head.
I was simply a mannequin, like one of those posable dolls of wood and wire sculptors use. He'd push and I'd move. He had me leaning back, left hand on the stool, both feet on the floor, spread for stability, my body arched, the other arm extended upward as if I were reaching for the sky, looking upwards, and he told me to hold that pose.
Again I froze, conscious of my total exposure. The way my feet were spread I had absolutely no secrets, of course. Even so, my mind wandered as the class sketched me.
It was going to be a memorable week. I realized now that, even with my experience of shopping the mall naked, walking the street naked one time, and going to the dance naked, this week was going to have a huge impact on me.
I was becoming more and more aware than ever of my body, and what it was feeling.
I was becoming more and more aware, too, of the effect my nudity had on others. I could sense the desire of the boys in the class as they sketched me. I thought of their hands wandering over my flesh, touching me intimately, and realized the inevitability of my emergence as a sensuous woman. Carl had awakened my sexuality, and I *knew* I was going to want to explore this exciting new facet of my life.
I thought of a sculptor, molding me in clay, and it seemed as if I could almost feel his hands on my own flesh, as if I was clay in his hands.
Scientific detachment was being overwhelmed. The dispassionate scientist was becoming passionate.
I replayed the lunchroom conversation. What should I do if someone asked to feel me up in the hallway?
"Let them," Carl had said. "It's part of the program."
I would, I knew now. I would, and I would do more, before the week was out. Much more.
But first I had to make it through this class. After the second pose, during my brief break, I walked around the room, naked, of course, stretching out the kinks, and sneaking glances at some of the sketches that had been done of me.
With such short poses, they were barely sketches, of course. Some had concentrated on catching me in just a few lines, while others had a bit more detail. One boy had concentrated on my breasts, rather than trying to sketch all of me.
One of the girls, Kathy, had focused on my pussy, sketching in the ruffles of my inner lips, distended by their arousal so they showed in the heart of my delicate bush. As I studied her work, she smiled secretly at me, and something in the look she gave me made me prickle. Her tongue traced her lips oh so very delicately.
I blushed, surprised by my own libidinous reaction to her obvious interest.
I was surprised, too, at the beauty she had brought out, turning my inner labia into the petals of a sensuous flower. It gave me something more to think about as I returned to the podium.
I had two more poses to endure. By the time I was done I was exhausted. Posing is hard work!
When the class ended and I was about to leave, Mr. Kelly pulled me aside. "Miss Finch, I do have another request for you."
I trembled, wondering what could be next.
"The photography club meets tomorrow afternoon, and they need a live model," he continued. "A reasonable request, wouldn't you say?"
I shivered at the feelings that raced through me, and I felt my nipples stiffening even more. I'd just finished posing for drawing class, and now I was being asked to pose for the photography club? The thought of cameras being focused on me terrified me. And aroused me. "Yessir," I agreed shyly.
"Meet us on the soccer field," he went on.
The soccer field? Outdoors, in the open? I shivered at the thought, remembering that clothes weren't allowed during extracurricular activities, either. "Yessir," I agreed, wondering what was happening to me, how I could be looking forward to something like almost as much as I dreaded it.
I fled to the library. I was excused from gym this term because I was prepping for the PSATs that might earn me a Merit Scholarship. Needless to say, I didn't get much prepping done as I wrestled with what was happening to me.
My last class, American History, could only be suffered through. Not because I was "exhibit A" but because Mr. Witherspoon was about ninety zillion years old, and the dullest teacher on the faculty. His lectures could put a speed freak to sleep.
For a moment I was reviewing my CPR training, the way he reacted when I walked in the room. I guess I was the first student in The Program that he'd had. He dropped a bunch of papers. Then he dropped his glasses and couldn't find them, until I helped. And then I helped him with his papers. And then when he went to erase the white board the eraser went flying, and - well, you get the idea.
He mumbled his way through the lecture, stumbling even more than usual. He kept looking at me, and licking his lips, and he was sweating. I wondered if he was even capable of getting a hardon. Finally the bell rang and we were free!
I dashed for my clothes. Carl, bless his sweet heart, was there to greet me. Handing him my book bag, I dug into the pile of clothes, and slowed down, thinking hard.
I'd come to some conclusions as I'd posed for drawing class, and afterwards, and had come to the conclusion that this week was going to be, like, a major turning point for me. No way could I go through a week of being naked in school without that!
It had led to the conclusion that there was a major issue that had to be Dealt With, and the time had come to Deal With It.
Fighting the urge to cover myself, I dressed slowly and carefully, balancing on first one foot, then the other as I, I hoped gracefully, I drew on my delicate, lacy panties and smoothed them on my hips, tugging them up snugly against my pussy, even smoothing them against it with my fingers before I reached for my similarly dainty bra and drew it on, turning to give Carl the most advantageous view as I hooked it.
Needless to say, there were other boys there avidly ogling me as I dressed, but Carl was my target, and I did my best to make sure he knew it.
Judging by the lump in his jeans, he did.
Once dressed, I tucked my arm through his, drawing it against my breast, wondering if he could feel me trembling. "Let's go someplace private," I suggested softly.
"How about my house?" he suggested, obviously getting the idea that something, other than his cock, was definitely Up.
I squeezed his arm more firmly against my tit. "Sounds perfect."
"Mom should be at work until six," Carl explained as he unlocked the door and let us into the quiet house.
"What about Dee?" I asked.
He shrugged. "She shouldn't be home until five. She almost always has something at school. Do you want a snack?"
I wanted something, but it wasn't milk and cookies. "Can we go up to your room?"
"Uh, sure, if you want." He put my book bag down there in the hall, and led the way up the stairs. Inside I felt like I was going to disintegrate, just crumble, but I knew I - I knew WE -had to Do This! And pardon the capitals, but that was the way I was thinking. You'll just have to put up with it.
"Uh - here," he announced, as if I couldn't tell. Who but a boy would have a poster of Princess Leia in her Jabba the Hutt slave outfit pasted to the ceiling over his bed?
Why did the sight of her in chains do such strange things to me?
I was pretty sure what the sight of Carrie Fisher in a skimpy outfit and chains did to Carl!
When he casually dropped his books on the bed, I carefully picked them up and moved them to the desk, clearing the decks for action, you might say, before turning back to him. He was watching me curiously, a little shyly.
"What do you think?" he asked nervously, when I didn't say anything, meaning, I suppose, what did I think of his room. Needless to say, that was not what I was thinking of at all.
I closed the door before moving close to him and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "I think you should undress me," I suggested, my voice husky, my attention fixed straight ahead at the top button of his shirt, avoiding meeting his eyes. I loved how much taller he was than me. It made me feel small, and vulnerable, and protected, too, all at the same time.
"Are you...."
"Sshhh." I put my finger to his lips, then went back to his shirt. "I'm getting ahead of you," I pointed out. I was too scared to tell him exactly what I wanted, but he was a high honors student. He would be getting the idea soon, if he hadn't already gotten it.
He'd gotten it, all right. His fingers were trembling as much as mine as he went for the buttons on my blouse, my plain, short sleeved, cotton, button down oxford cloth nerd shirt. I felt the air touch my chest more intimately as he opened the first button.
By then I was half way down his shirt, and paused a moment to stroke my fingers over his chest before continuing on. Reaching his belt, I tugged the shirt out of his jeans and finished unbuttoning it. He had to stop working on mine as I shoved his back off his shoulders and off, leaving him topless. I put my hands on his chest, feeling the heat of his body, the rise and fall of his breathing, the drumming of his heart, as quick and fast as my own pulse.
For a moment I rested my cheek against him, his skin hot and smooth against my face.
As he finished my shirt I tackled his belt, and then I had to pause while he pushed my shirt down my arms and off. The air raised goose bumps on my torso.
I knew the contrast between my oh-so demure blouse and my sexy new underwear couldn't have been greater. His fingers brushed the delicate black cups of my sexy new bra, making my nipples stand at attention, trying to drill right through the lace. Then, apparently he'd been watching closely as I'd dressed, because he reached around me and deftly unfastened it.
He bared my breasts and I shed the bra quickly, then undid the button on his jeans, and ran the zipper down while his hands toyed with my tits, making the breath catch in my throat. Slipping out of his grasp, awkwardly, I knelt, drawing his jeans down, conscious of his cock tenting out his jockey shorts practically in my face. My gentle push sent him falling back on to his bed so I could work him out of his shoes and socks. I dragged his jeans off completely, leaving him in just his underpants.
As he sat there, leaning back on his elbows, looking a little dazed, I stood, kicked off my own shoes and hastily got rid of my skirt. Dancing on one foot, then the other, I dragged off my socks, and then tackled him, tumbling to the bed with him, both of us wearing only our underpants now.
It certainly wasn't the first time we'd had such wonderful skin-to-skin contact, but something about this time made it even more wonderful, more exciting than the first time, when we'd danced naked at the homecoming dance.
We tried to devour each other with our kisses, and I ground myself against his rock hard cock. The sun spilled over the bed, warming us as we rolled together atop the soft covers. Impatiently, I yanked at his underwear, dragging it down, liberating his jutting hardon, and he shoved my panties down.
With our feet we kicked them down each other's legs, kicked them off and rolled together with nothing separating us now. I gripped his cock, milking it while his hand toyed with my aching tits, then he slid one hand down my belly and found the little fuzzy nest of my pussy.
He pushed me on to my back, and his lips found my breast. He sucked on my tit, and it felt like my body was filling with warm coals. Then his teeth nipped at my tender nipple and the coals burst into flame. His hand toyed with my cunt.
When I couldn't take any more, when his finger had stirred my already simmering cunt to a full, rolling boil, I writhed on my back, opening my legs wide to him, drawing him toward my ravenous pussy.
"Are you sure?" he asked fearfully, hovering over me.
I put my finger to his lips again. "Shh. Yes. Yes. Yes. Now! Don't talk. Do it now, NOW!"
Before I lose my nerve, I added silently to myself.
He moved over me, almost fearfully, as I made a cradle for him with my thighs. Lowering his hips, he poked his cock blindly at me and I reached down and guided his hot shaft to my welcoming hole.
"Unh!" I grunted as his prick eased its way into my tight, virginal opening. Working my hips, I drew him closer with one hand on his hot, smooth butt, still guiding his dick with the other.
"Ahhh." I felt my pussy stretch to accommodate his bulk.
He was trembling as, gently, he worked his cock into me with slowly deepening strokes. I felt a stinging, and then he was driving deeper into me and I extracted my hand from between us to grab his ass. I pulled him deep into me and finally his full weight came down on me, pressing me into the mattress as his pubic bone and mine ground together, turning my clit into a hot paste of pure pleasure, his cock filling me.
For a few moments we just lay there, tasting each other with lips and tongue, his fingers stroking the sides of my neck and throat, combing through my hair, my pony tail holder dislodged in the tussle. I ran my hands down the smooth swimmer-muscles of his shoulders and back.
He was in me, deep inside me, plumbing the last of my secrets. I had given myself to him, completely, and he had given himself completely to me. I felt completed, not as if I'd lost something but as if I'd found the last piece to the puzzle that was me.
Then he began to move, stroking his cock in and out of me, and I thought I was going to die with the feelings it gave me. My hips rose to meet him as he filled me with his cock, stroke after stroke setting me ablaze, hotter and hotter and hotter.
He was too horny to last long, and I didn't try to slow him down. Urging him on with wordless cries, I was clawing at his back, trying to wrap him totally in my flesh as I felt his cumming, his cock spasming and pumping in me. For a moment I thought I'd missed my chance, but another thrust of my hips and I caught the wave, my own body was wracked with orgasmic convulsions -pulsing, pulsing, pulsing surges of pleasure washing through me, finally fading to gentle ripples and then stillness.
Oh God! It was so good! I wept with joy as he crushed me into the bed with his panting weight, our bodies slick with sweat, his cock still sunk deep in my cunt.
Cunt ... cunt ... cunt. My cunt. MY cunt. MY CUNT! MY! CUNT!
And he was still hard! After resting a few minutes he began to move within me again, and a new wave of happy tears blurred my eyes. I showered his face with kisses.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," I urged him with soft whispers. "Oh God, yes."
This time we climbed the mountain slowly, together, hand in hand, cock in cunt, body to body, my pussy hot and soft and joyously sodden with the mingling of our juices from the first time. There was no pain, only the satin pleasure of his cock pistoned in the welcoming socket of my ecstatically weeping pussy. My hips lifted and squirmed and writhed, drawing every exquisite drop of pleasure from our carnal dance. I crooned and stroked his back as my pleasure went on and on.
It could have lasted forever and it still would have ended too soon. I felt him shudder, pushing hard, as if he wanted to run me through or perhaps cram his whole body into me, and I felt him shooting a second load of cum into me to join the first.
My own body convulsed in time with his, a series of delicious spasms until we were both left panting and exhausted. We lay in a boneless heap on the top of the bed, his weight pressing me flat, my legs tangled around his, my arms around his naked torso. For a long time all we could do was lie there and try to catch our breath.
We must have dozed off, because the next thing I remember was someone bursting in through the door.
"Carl, I need - OOOOOOooohhhhmyGOSH! OH MY GOSH! Ohmygosh. OH my GOSH? Oh MY gosh. OH my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh. Oh my...."
"Aren't you supposed to knock?" Carl interrupted his sister irritably while I tried to hide under him, wishing I was even smaller than I was, conscious of his limp dick still in my flooded pussy.
Dee erupted one more time. "OH! MY! GOSH!"
"Would you stop saying that, please, Dee?" Carl begged, not lifting his head, his voice muffled since his face was buried in the pillow.
"Oh my...." His sister's voice cut off with a sort of strangled squeak, and I heard her feet drum down the hall and the door to her room slam loudly behind her.
"Gosh," I finished for Dee, staring up past Carl's shoulder at Princess Leia in her skimpy outfit and chains. "Oh my gosh."
"Not you, too," Carl moaned, rolling off me, his cock sucking out of my pussy with a soft slurping sound.
For a moment, all I could think was that, had it been earlier, Dee's appearance would have given new meaning to the term "coitus interruptus." I giggled, grateful for that small mercy. "Oh my gosh."
Carl looked over at me, his hand reaching for mine as we lay atop the bed on our backs, naked, cum and sweat smeared, bedraggled. "I'm sorry," he apologized.
I looked at him, my heart bursting with love. "I'm not."
"Not about THAT," he argued, misunderstanding. "About Dee!"
"I'm not!" I assured him, surprised at myself. I wasn't sorry. Embarrassed? You bet! But not sorry. I suddenly realized I was glad to have flaunted our consummation the way we had, inadvertent as it had been.
"I love you." It was the first time I'd said that to Carl, in spite of all we'd done up until now. The first time I'd said it to any boy, in fact, except maybe Jimmy Perkins when we were in First Grade and I caught him under the mistle toe at the Christmas party and I kissed him before he could get away.
But that didn't count.
Carl started to answer and I put a finger to his lips - that seemed to be getting to be a habit for me. "No. Don't say it now. It's easy to say now. Wait for another time, when it may be really hard to say, because then you'll say it only when you're really, really sure."
"What do you mean?"
I slid my hand down his chest and stomach, through sticky, matted pubic hair to curl my fingers around his limp, crusty prick. I was about to answer when we were interrupted again.
"Carl, have you seen - OH!"
"Hi mom," Carl greeted her wearily, making no effort to cover himself, to conceal my grip on his penis.
She blushed, at least. "I'm sorry, I should have knocked, but your door was open. Uh - hello, Beth. Nice to see you. Carl, have you seen your sister?"
I giggled, thinking of Dee's shocked departure. And yes, Carl's mom was SEEING me in all my naked, wanton glory, that's forsure!
"Yes, mom," Carl answered wryly. "And she's seen us. She's in her room."
"Oh! Oh dear. I'd better go talk to her. Uh, Beth, as long as you're here, would you like to have dinner with us?"
What could I say? There I was, sluttishly naked, bedraggled and sweaty, filled with her son's cum. "Uh - I'll have to call my mom, but yes, thank you!"
"Good!" She seemed positively chirpy, and politely closed the door behind herself.
I exploded with laughter, burying my face against Carl, hugging him. It was all just too ludicrous. I guess I was a little hysterical, but wouldn't you have been? I'd just lost my virginity and my sweetheart's sister and mother had both seen the blatant evidence of my defloration - there was even a tinge of pink in the juices drying on Carl's penis - or maybe that was just my imagination.
And I'd been invited to stay for supper.
When my laughter finally faded, Carl brought us back to the moment before his mom had burst in on us. "Why can't I say `I love you'?" he asked.
Feeling suddenly serious, remembering what had started this whole afternoon romp, I snuggled against him, his cock still in my hand. I couldn't look up at him. "Because you may regret it later. There are going to be some things that happen this week that - well, that you may have a hard time with."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, for sure, yet," I admitted. "But you remember what your week was like, and what happened with Karen during her week?"
"Yeah."
"Well, being naked in school - well, it's already had a - an effect on me," I confessed. "I posed for my drawing class, and I'm going to pose for the photography club."
"So?"
"I'm going to do other things, too," I admitted to myself as much to him. "That's why I so wanted this," I squeezed his dick, "today, with you. I wanted to make sure you were my first."
"Oh." He thought this over, obviously drawing the conclusion that while had been my first, he was not going to be the last or the only one. "Oh."
"The time I'll want to hear you say those words, when I'll know you really mean them, will be - after I've done - something really - really wanton. Really slutty. If you can say it then, I'll know you love me. See what I mean?"
He gulped. "Like, what are you thinking of doing?"
"I don't know," I confessed. "Maybe, like Karen, I'll get gang banged. Maybe I'll get fucked up the ass, or suck off the football team. I don't know."
He was silent for a long time.
"Do you think you can handle it?" I asked fearfully. Oh, I did LOVE him so MUCH! I didn't want to hurt him, but I knew, too, that The Program was going to go on. "It's part of The Program."
He stroked me tenderly, kissing my hair. "I guess I'll have to handle it," he mused. "But I do...."
I stopped him again, finger to his lips. "No, not now. Wait, so when you do say it I know how much you really, really mean it. Please."
Grumbling, he subsided.
"Now, how about a shower?" I asked. "Before I call my mom."
"Together?" he asked hopefully.
I gave his pecker an affectionate squeeze. "Of course together!"
"Don't bother with those," Carl said when I reached for my clothes.
"But your mom, and Dee," I pointed out worriedly. The shared bathroom was down the hall.
He quirked a lip at me. "I was in The Program week before last, remember?"
"Of course I remember," I answered.
"Well, we - uh - Dee and Mom and me, took full advantage of it. We did our homework, you might say."
"Oh." I'd read that part of the pamphlet, but since it was strictly voluntary hadn't paid much attention, of course. I mean, my mom and dad getting naked in front of me at home? Never happen!
"All three of us are nude almost as much as we're dressed these days."
"Oh."
Despite Carl's assurances, I was still a little nervous as we left his room and ventured down the hall to the bathroom he shared with his sister. But her door was closed, and Carl's mom was nowhere in sight.
The steaming water sluiced away the evidence of our debauchery (I've always wanted to use that word, and it seems particularly apt in this context). Carl soaped me down, and I soaped him down, both of us enjoying the simple, sensuous pleasure of exploring each other's body.
Oh, sure, we both got hot again, and Carl got hard, of course. But this time there wasn't any desperate hunger to complete the act. There was joy enough in the arousal. We patted each other dry with big, fluffy towels. I was going to wrap myself in mine, but he wouldn't let me and we walked back to his room naked, hand in hand, reassured by the sound of the TV downstairs.
"I need to call my mom," I pointed out as we entered his room. "I should have called earlier."
"Help yourself. The phone's right by my computer," he offered, gathering up our scattered clothes.
"Hi, Mom, it's me, Beth," I ventured a little timidly when she answered, the fabric of Carl's computer chair rough against my bottom, since I was still naked.
"Beth! Where are you? I was getting worried," she announced, not unexpectedly, it being after six.
How time flies when you're having fun!
"I'm sorry, I should have called sooner, but I got distracted." I was distracted again by Carl standing behind me, slipping his hands down to cup my breasts, a handful each with nothing going to waste. "I'm at Carl's house." I tried to stop Carl from pinching my nipples, but only had one hand free, so it was a losing cause. "His mom invited me to stay for dinner. Is that okay?"
"Of course, dear, as long as we know where you are, you know that's fine," Mom assured me. I wondered if she'd feel the same way if she'd known what we'd done. "Just don't be too late. It is a school night, you know."
"I know, mom. I'll be home by nine."
"Anything interesting happen at school today?" she asked cheerily.
At school, and after! I thought. "I'll tell you about it when I get home," I answered. "Gotta go!" Carl's fingers were driving me crazy, and it was hard to keep my voice steady.
Just as I hung up and reached for Carl's hands to remove them from my boobs I heard the doorbell, and his Mom call out something about pizza.
"Let's go eat," Carl suggested, releasing my breasts to grab my hand.
"Wait! Aren't we going to dress?" I asked, a little frantic as he dragged me toward the door.
"Not if we want our pizza hot," he answered.
"But - naked dinner?"
"Sure, why not?"
I was trying to muster arguments as he dragged me down the stairs. I was hauled into the living room, naked! I mean, I was NAKED. En-Ay-Kay-Eee-Dee, naked.
Now, I know, you'd think by now I'd be getting used to being naked, but I WASN'T. I was naked, in the living room of my boy friend's house!
Carl was naked, too!
And we'd just made love in the afternoon!
And then his sister showed up, and SHE was naked!
"Hi," she greeted us cheerily, sliding the pizza box onto the coffee table.
"Did - did you go to the door like that?" I asked.
She grinned impishly. "Uh huh! Gets me out of tipping the delivery boy!"
"Dee, you know what I've told you about that," Carl's mom chided her, coming in from the kitchen with plates and stuff. "That poor kid is working for minimum wage - he needs the money more than the thrill."
Dee made face. "Oh, I tipped him, too," she admitted, pulling her chair out.
Oh, Carl's mom was naked, too, in case you were wondering.
Oh wow.
"It's Beth's turn in the program this week," Carl announced as he pulled out a chair for me. He's such a sweetie!
"I'm sorry this is so casual, but we usually have pizza in here." Carl's mom nodded as she handed out drinks and napkins. "I sort of suspected as much," she noted placidly. "How is it going?"
"Oh, it's going," I managed to answer. "It's kind of embarrassing."
"And stimulating, I bet," Dee put in cheekily.
"Now Dee," Mrs. Walker cautioned her daughter.
Reminding myself that the whole idea of The Program was to promote openness, I made myself answer. "Yes it is," I admitted.
"You guys Did It this afternoon, didn't you?" the girl persisted, her little nipples stiff and eager, capping the developing mounds of her childish breasts.
"Dee!" Mrs. Walker said warningly.
Carl and I shared a look, and I gave him a wink. "Yes, we did! I lost my virginity today!"
"I'll drink to that!" Dee chirped, raising her glass of milk.
"Dee! That is enough of that!" Mrs. Walker scolded.
"Oh, that's all right," I assured her. "I don't mind." That last was just a little white lie. Besides, it was kind of exciting to talk about it, I had to admit. "But you should wait, young lady."
"That's what they say," Dee grumbled indicating her mother and brother. "Was it good?"
"Very," I assured her. "But I'm older. I was ready, and I was lucky to have a lover as kind and gentle as your brother." I reached for Carl's hand and gave it a squeeze.
"When it's time, maybe he could take my virginity, too," Dee suggested slyly.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," her mother quickly put in.
"But you and Carl...." Dee's mouth slammed shut at the glare she got from both her mother and brother, leaving me puzzled, and more than a little curious. But, since it obviously was not a topic they wanted brought up in front of me, I held my tongue.
"So, what happened at school today for you, Carl?" Mrs. Walker asked quickly, trying to change to subject.
Carl shrugged. "Oh, Freschetti's in the program, too, this week."
"The halfback?" Dee asked. "That must be awesome!"
If you're into hair, I thought, but I didn't say it.
"I had to pose for my art class," I put in. "That was interesting."
"We've got PSATs next week," Carl put in, and from there the conversation turned to more academic topics, even as we sat naked around the table eating our pizza.
Sooner or later, though, it unavoidably returned to The Program, and Carl and me. Dee was full of questions, some of which we dodged, some of which we answered. As we talked, an idea began to percolate in my mind, an idea of how the program might be expanded into middle school in a way that could ease the way.
It was - well, never mind. I'll tell you about it later, if it ever happens.
"Going to walk home like that?" Carl asked teasingly after dinner, when it was time for me to head for home.
"I don't think I'm quite ready for that," I confessed, half wishing he'd dare me to do it. I remembered how his deal with Dee had resulted in his going for a walk with me wearing nothing more than a smile. What would mom and dad say if I waltzed into the house naked, my clothes draped over my arm, or stuffed in my book bag?
But Carl left it at that, since we were much more interested in sharing a naked hug and kiss before I dressed. But when he handed me my bra and panties, I shook my head, going for just blouse, skirt and shoes. "I'm working up to it gradually," I explained, sticking my socks and my new frillies in my book bag.
"You need to do more," he argued, carefully unbuttoning the top three buttons of my shirt, so it was open down between my bare breasts. "That's better."
I looked at my reflection in the hall mirror as we made our way to the front door, noticing how my shy breasts would be exposed if I moved wrong. And if there was a breeze that lifted my skirt....I shivered inside.
"See you tomorrow?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye as he held the door.
I knew he didn't want me to leave, any more than I wanted to go, but I had to go home and break the news to my parents somehow. "You sure will," I assured him impishly. I gave him a quick kiss. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he agreed, holding my hand until our arms were stretched, and finally my fingers had to slip from his.
I walked home humming that song from "West Side Story." You know the one - "Tomorrow."
I was bra-less as I walked home, my shirt half unbuttoned. I could have clutched my book bag to my chest, the way I usually did. Instead, I slung it over my shoulder. My nipples scraped against my shirt. The air toyed with my bare pussy, teased my chest. It was dusk, and I was the only person walking, though a few cars drove by, and I really had to fight some insane urge to open my shirt, to bare my breasts to their headlights.
"Hi mom, hi daddy," I greeted my parents, dropping my books on the hall table and joining them in the living room. I was a whirlwind of emotions. I wanted to dance like a dervish for joy, but I also felt old, mature, serious, and a little scared. How much should I tell them?
"How was school?" daddy asked, looking over the top of his newspaper. Mom was knitting. His eyebrows went up at the sight of my unbuttoned shirt, but he didn't say anything.
I sat down opposite them, on the sofa. "I was placed in The Program today."
"Oh!"
"So soon?" mom asked.
I nodded. "I was naked in school today."
Daddy was slowly digesting this. Mom took it more easily. "And how did it go?"
I gnawed on my lower lip. "It was embarrassing. It was -stimulating." I went on to tell them of my day, how I'd been naked as I'd corrected Freschetti's work in math class, posed for drawing class, been asked to pose for the photography club.
"And how did Carl take it?" mom asked. Daddy looked serious, older somehow.
"That's why I was over at his house. I wanted to - talk to him about it." I took a deep breath. "We made love."
Daddy's brow furrowed and he was studying his hands as they rested on the newspaper in his lap.
"And how was it?" mom asked placidly. I was getting the feeling she'd anticipated this. Or that you could drop a boulder on her and it wouldn't faze her. One or the other.
"It was wonderful," I admitted with a breathless rush.
"Well, then, I'd say the program was working," mom put in before I could say anything more.
Daddy favored me with a smile so tender, so poignant that I had to cross the room to him and ease myself down on his lap. "I guess I'm not your little girl anymore, am I, daddy?" I rested my head on his shoulder.
He stroked my back tenderly. "You'll always be my little girl," he said huskily. "You know that, pumpkin."
I nodded without lifting my head. "Carl's mom and sister did the outreach part of The Program when he was in it," I went on. "We -all had dinner together naked."
"Dinner? Naked? Even his sister? She's only - what - twelve or so?" Mom finally sounded surprised.
"Eleven."
Daddy cleared his throat nervously and I could feel a lump under my bottom. "Would you like us to take part in the outreach program?" he asked nervously.
I got up, suddenly uncomfortable in his lap. "I don't know," I admitted. Then I took a deep breath. "But how do you feel about me being naked around the house?"
Mom frowned. "Why, I don't have any problem with it, I guess. I'm not sure I'm ready to traipse around naked myself, though."
Daddy seemed to have something in his throat. "Well, I guess, since everyone else is - going to see you, there's no reason we should have a problem with it."
I couldn't help it, I had to go over and give him a quick hug and a kiss, realizing as I did that he could see right into my open shirt. "Thanks, daddy. Thanks mom."
Taking a deep breath, I finished unbuttoning my shirt and took it off. Then I unfastened my skirt and let it drop, revealing what I didn't have on under it. Carefully stepping out of it, I folded in and put it with my books, once again marveling at how sensitive my skin was, all over, to the touch of air.
Daddy's eyes were shining as he watched me. "You're beautiful!"
I curtseyed to him. "Thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have some homework to deal with."
I could feel them watching me as I gathered my things and headed up the stairs to my bedroom. As I closed the door I could hear some mumbled conversation, but not what they were saying.
A little later there was a soft tap on my door. "We're off to bed, sweetie," mom announced, and I glanced at the clock - an hour and a half earlier than usual?
"Okay, mom. See you tomorrow."
"Don't stay up too late, and sleep well."
"You, too," I bade her, suspecting it would be a while before they were asleep.
I waited about fifteen minutes before I tiptoed, bare naked and bare foot, down the hall. As I paused outside their door I heard the springs of their bed squeaking, and suppressed a giggle, turning back toward my own room. But when I tried to imagine what they were doing in there, my mind skittered away once again.
Like I have said, children should not look too closely at their parents' sex lives.
Back in my room, I realized the boy next door was looking at me from his window, binoculars to his eyes. I walked to the window to give him a full-frontal look, and gave him a cheery wave.
You'll remember, if you've read my story of the week Carl spent naked that Larry - that's the ten year old boy next door - and I had met during that week. I'd been naked in my room one afternoon and caught him on me. So I'd taken the bull by the horns, so to speak, and done a "show and tell" for him in our back yard. I'd promised, too, to let him see me naked other times - sort of my way of doing some community outreach for The Program.
Anyway, Larry gestured toward our back yard, but I shook my head. I quick made up a sign with a magic marker, "Tomorrow after school" and held it up to the window, and he nodded eagerly.
It was going to be a very interesting week both at home as well as at school, that was certain!