My clock radio woke me the next morning, Thursday, with the usual news and weather, but I felt strange. For a moment I wondered what was different, and then became aware of the sheets against my bare body. I was naked! For a moment I indulged in a deliciously sensuous snuggle, before I pushed the covers down -away - completely off, baring myself to the morning breeze.
I was up and savoring a totally sensuous stretch when there was a soft knock on my door. "Beth, are you up?" My mother stuck her head in the room, and saw me standing naked in the middle of the room, stretching like a cat, and started to back out. "Oh! Sorry!"
"It's all right," I assured her quickly, relaxing but making no effort to hide myself from her. If Carl could be naked in front of his sister, and presumably his mom, I could do it in front of my mom!
"Oh, well, what do you want for breakfast this morning?"
I suddenly realized I was ravenous. "A big stack of French toast - maybe four slices - and bacon?" I asked.
Mom's eyebrows went up. Usually it was a bowl of cereal and I was out the door. "All right, but don't dawdle, or you'll be late!"
"Yes, mom," I agreed.
She was out the door, urging daddy to hurry, too, and I heard her hustling down the stairs.
Running down the hall naked, risking being seen by daddy, I popped into the bathroom, I showered really fast, dried and deodorized myself, brushed my hair and pony-tailed it, and then darted naked back to my bedroom, maybe a little disappointed that daddy hadn't come out and caught me, to contemplate my wardrobe.
Such as it was. I had a good supply of short sleeved white, button-down collar, permanent press broadcloth blouses, and an equally good supply of demure, pleated skirts - most of them plaid, all of them knee length or longer - and white socks and penny loafers for my feet.
The female equivalent of nerd-dress. Straight out of Dilbert.
Dull, dull, dull.
With a sigh, I grabbed a blouse and skirt, and reached for under things. Only, my hand paused on my bra.
Did I dare?
I slipped on my blouse without a bra, and buttoned it, and studied myself in the mirror. The friction of the cloth made my nipples tingle and stiffen, but you still couldn't really tell I had nothing on under the blouse.
I couldn't decide if I was happy or disappointed about that.
Then I heard mom calling, and hurriedly pulled on my dull cotton panties, knowing I wasn't about to give the boys on the stairs that much of a treat! I yanked on skirt and socks, stuck my feet in my loafers and I was on my way downstairs, my book bag banging my back, feeling my tits jiggle, hoping desperately that Carl had gotten my thought messages and would ask me to the dance.
I was thinking, too, as I ate a stack of French toast, about relieving Carl again today, because I had definitely vowed that if anyone did it, it was going to be me! No way was I going to let someone like Marilyn within a mile of him if I could help it. Maybe Stephanie again, but not Marilyn!
I was in a total swivet through chem class, of course, between worrying about Carl asking me to the dance, and what I'd do if he needed relief. Valences and reactions and all that stuff just went right over my head! Fortunately it was stuff I'd covered in the text book, so it didn't matter.
When Carl drew me aside by the door to Miss Duclos' classroom I could only hope it was for what I hoped it was for. He was naked, of course, and, for a change his dick was limp as a noodle, and much less intimidating.
My whole body and mind went into a total panic! What if he didn't ask me? Calm yourself, I told myself sternly. Something had him so scared already he'd lost his hardon!
"I know it's real short notice, but - would you go to the dance with me this Saturday?"
He was so nervous his voice was shaking and his hands trembled, but I just couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little, even as my heart leaped with joy.
I nibbled my lip and frowned thoughtfully. "You're right, it is kind of short notice."
How could I say that with a straight face? Well, it was short notice, I reminded myself, watching him crumble. For a moment I was afraid he was going to cry!
"I mean, if you've got another date, I understand," he admitted miserably. "I should have asked sooner, only I've never even been to a dance before."
I knew he'd never had a girl friend he could ask before.
"I didn't say that," I said softly. "I just said it is kind of short notice!" Inside I was doing handsprings, of course.
"I'm sorry," I apologized abjectly.
I squeezed his arm. "Of course I'll go with you!" I whispered eagerly.
"You...." For a moment he almost shouted, then brought his voice down to a strangled sort of squeak. "will?" he finished. His cock leaped to attention. "You really will?"
"Yes! I've never been to a dance either, though my Mom made me go to dance classes," I added, now glad she had.
"Wow! Me, too. Uh - should I get you a corsage or something?"
"If you'd like."
"What color should it be? What's your favorite color?"
I thought this over. "White is always nice, and it goes with anything. I don't know what I'll wear," I wailed, suddenly realizing how true that was. Homecoming was a Big Thing - almost as big as the senior prom! White blouse and plaid skirt would just not cut it!
"I'm sorry, I should have asked sooner," he apologized abjectly again.
"I'll think of something," I assured him quickly. "A white corsage would be nice. I like camellias."
"Camellias."
I could see him making a desperate mental note. "Now come on, we'll be late for class," I urged. "How are you doing?" I looked down at his hardon, which had done a real Lazarus act, returning from the dead once I'd accepted his invitation. It was at full staff once again.
"Would you?" he asked as we went through the door.
I knew what he meant. "Ask me," I whispered before heading for my seat, and I knew HE knew what my answer would be.
When he did ask me he did it so formally that, for a moment, I wasn't sure he was asking for me. I did not think of myself as Mademoiselle Finch, even in French class. But then I was up, and for some reason I thought of one of daddy's favorite films, "The Blue Angel," with Marlene Dietrich, and something made me walk up there like she moved, slowly and confidently and, well, sultry, I guess you'd have to say.
And I saw in Carl's eyes, and the way his cock rose even further, that it worked.
Vowing to give him an orgasm unlike any he'd ever had before in his short sexual life, I touched his cock, curled my fingers under it, and felt the stinging touch of his pre-cum. After looking up at him - and gee, is he tall! and I like that - I went to my knees in front of him!
I knew what he was thinking, that I was going to give him a blow job. Well, there was no way I was going to do THAT! Aside from the fact that I was, I admit, a tad repulsed by the thought, that would have put me in head-to-head (pun intended) competition with Marilyn! No way I'd risk that!
Instead, I made love to his cock with my hands, and my eyes. Really! That's what I did! I made love to his cock with my fingers and palms, and my eyes. The bullet-head of his hardon was only inches from my face. I could see the slit of the tip, the texture of the glans (that sex ed class had taught me something, after all), the groove where that mated with the hard, hot shaft.
I fingered the tip gently, and felt his thighs quiver as I gently spread the slit open for a moment. Then I milked the shaft, and got a thick wave of pre-cum that I spread over the tip with my thumbs, and down the shaft. It was hot, sticky, and slippery all at the same time, so my hands slid over his hot, hard cock.
I didn't hold back, stroking the whole thing, getting my hands more gooey every time I passed "Go," the oozing tip, stroking his juices over the head and down the shaft.
I wanted to give him pleasure like he'd never felt before, and I guess I did pretty well, because it didn't take long before he was panting.
"I'm gonna cum," he moaned, and Mademoiselle Duclos was waving a wad of tissues but I ignored her, not wanting to miss an instant of this. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the whole class watching us, captivated by the way I was stroking Carl's marvelous hardon, the hardon he had for me!
I knew what was going to happen, and I wanted it to happen! I didn't even flinch when his cock gave its first powerful pulse. My thumbs were on the underside of his cock and I actually felt the wad of cum shoot the length of it, like an express train through a tunnel or something.
It burst from the tip and hit me right on my chin! It was hot and sticky and musky smelling, and I was afraid the next one might hit me in the mouth, and I wasn't quite ready for that, so I bent his cock down just in time and the next spurt caught me in the throat.
I felt that one slowly ooze down my chest, between my bra-less breasts as the next spurt and the next erupted, spattering my blouse, the slope of my breasts. His cock pulsed with every eruption. Wave after wave of his thick, creamy semen splattered my pristine white shirt, until the violence eased to droolings, and long strands drizzled down on to my skirt.
Carl was panting, but I didn't stop milking his cock until I'd squeezed it dry, the last thick drops landing in my lap. Both he and his cock were limp by the time I released his prick and held my hand out, all sticky with his cum, for him to help me to my feet.
Then he did something that made me want to melt. Seeing I had a drool of his cum oozing from my chin, he tenderly scooped it off with his finger.
"Thank you," he whispered.
I grabbed his hand and studied his finger with its thick, white coating, wondering what his semen tasted like. Before I could think, I stuck his finger in my mouth and sucked it, tasting the slightly salty musk of his juices as I bathed his finger with my tongue.
Not bad! I realized that someday I'd get it straight from the source.
"You're welcome," I assured him softly before I turned to saunter back to my desk, the class applauding and whistling. I didn't need to look down at myself to know that the evidence was spattered all over me, staining my blouse and skirt, even oozing down the valley between my naked tits.
I mentally vowed that I'd never wash that blouse or skirt again. It was going into my personal museum along with my hanky from the day before!
He caught up with me after French class and asked me how I could do what I'd done, and I told him the truth.
"Because," I said, "I'm your girl, and I want everyone in school to know it."
He was dumbstruck for a moment, I guess, and had to hurry to catch up with me, jostling through people in the hall. When he took my arm, I drew it close, pressing the back of his hand against my breast, so I could feel how close to me he was. I knew he could feel that I wasn't wearing a bra. He rubbed my already hard nipple, making it tingle and stiffen even more, and I shot him a sly smile, noticing that his cock was already rising again by the time we walked into math class together.
As we entered math class, everyone was watching as we parted, watching me as I made my way to my desk. The evidence was all over me, drying slowly. I could even feel a little of it crusty on my chin. There were whispers, and one of the kids that had been in French class with us must have passed on a report, as there was an excited rustle as it ran through the room.
Even Freschetti was looking at me in a different light, though I wasn't exactly overjoyed by his smirk.
I was disappointed when Carl didn't ask me for relief at the beginning of class, then chalked it up to the fine job I'd done just an hour before. I was a bit worried, though, that he'd find relief with someone else later in the day, when we didn't have any classes together.
But, all I could do was resign myself to the situation, reminding myself that this was HIS program. Possessiveness and jealousy weren't supposed to have any part in it, according to the handout they'd given us all. The point was, each person's body was his or her own. Sharing was encouraged, and program participants had to respond to reasonable requests, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I'd seen Karen getting felt up in the hallways, after all. It had made me feel all twitchy to see her standing there, hands behind her head as some boy fondled her breasts, or even slipped his finger up into her pussy. I doubted I could possibly be that brave.
I didn't see Carl for the rest of the day, which was surprising, even though we didn't have any classes together. Usually I at least saw him to wave at in the hallway. After French club I went looking for him, knowing he'd had band rehearsal in the music room, but someone told me he'd already headed out. His bike was gone from the rack, and I felt a wave of dismay that he hadn't waited for me.
I hurried, hoping to catch up, but without much hope, because he was probably on his bike anyway. So, when I saw him half a block ahead, walking it, I even broke into a very unladylike run, calling after him, only he didn't even turn around until I'd almost caught him.
I was scared! He seemed so - so uptight, almost hostile! What had I done? I hadn't done anything, had I? I'd masturbated him, but he'd wanted me to, and I was wearing his cum all over my clothes! What did he want from me?
"You've been avoiding me," I accused when he finally admitted I existed, after I practically tripped him.
"Yeah," he admitted, not looking at me.
My heart plunged into my shoes, or did it rise into my throat to choke me? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I was scared he suddenly hated me. "Why?" I asked, almost choking back tears.
"I can't go to the dance with you," he mumbled.
That stopped me dead in my tracks. Did he say "can't" or "won't" I asked myself, my ears ringing. "Why not? Did you ask somebody else?" I wanted to sit down right there on the sidewalk and cry as I watched him walk on ahead of me. "I bet you got a date with that slut Marilyn," I accused angrily, seeing my greatest fear come to life in front of me. I went after him and grabbed him so hard he dropped his bike with a clatter.
"No! I haven't even talked to her since she gave me that blow job. I can't go, that's all," he concluded miserably, coming to a stop.
"Why not?" I grabbed at him as he reached for his bike again. "Why not?" I pleaded, feeling my heart break.
"Because since it's an extracurricular activity," he explained, making a rare grammatical error.
"That doesn't make sense," I observed after pointing out his mistake.
So he explained how the rules wouldn't let him wear clothes to any extra-curricular activity until Monday, even marching band!
"Oh!" That stopped me, and he scooped up his bike and walked on.
"Oh," I said more softly, walking along beside him while I sorted this out. He was going to have to march in the band naked, and if he went to the dance he had to go naked? Oh wow! That was something else again, wasn't it?
Then I thought of missing the dance, and felt a horrible pang. It was so close - I was so close to actually going to my first big dance, and with the guy I cared about most in the whole world, and now this! It wasn't fair!
But, no one said he couldn't go, I mused. It was just that he had to go naked. So? Hadn't I walked down the street with him naked? And we'd kissed, right there in public, with him naked. And I'd masturbated him in class, and I was wearing his cum.
Would going to the dance be any worse? Would being with him at the dance with him that way be any worse than what we'd already done? Didn't being his girl mean being with him, no matter what?
"So, you'll be naked," I said. "So what?"
He protested, of course, so I argued, and I've gotten to be a good arguer, since joining the debating team in an effort to overcome my shyness.
"It's a formal dance," he reminded me unnecessarily.
"There's no rule you have to wear even a jacket and a tie," I pointed out.
"Everyone does."
I tried teasing him. "Girls don't."
He wasn't giving up easily. "Well, okay, girls don't. They wear nice dresses and stuff."
Which I didn't have yet, I reminded myself. But we'd reached the corner where I was going to have to turn off, and I wasn't about to let him get away.
Desperate times demand desperate measures, I reminded myself. "Take off your clothes," I ordered. I could tell he wasn't wearing much anyway.
"What?"
"Put your bike down and take off your clothes," I insisted.
He looked around blushing. "Here? Now?"
I insisted, reminding him that the rules required him to obey any reasonable request, or I could report him for a program violation.
He must have read the determination in my eye, because he leaned his bike against the post and pulled off his shirt. I took it from him, then tapped my foot impatiently as he fiddled around nervously, finally shoving his shorts down around his feet.
"Shoes and socks, too," I insisted.
Handing me his shorts, he danced first on one foot then the other as he took them off, his cock bouncing around as it stiffened. After I took his shoes and socks from him, I looked him up and down critically.
Darn but he looked good! He was trim, and fit, and he had that beautiful red hair around the base of his cock. It was all I could do to keep from running my hands over him. "You look formal enough to me," I told him. Remembering some of the outlandish outfits that some of the guys thought were fashionable, I had to add that he'd look better than them in his skin than they would in their dorky duds.
"But I'm naked!" he pointed out.
Well doh! "So you are, but I am not going to let you cheat me out of going to the homecoming dance just because you're suddenly going all modest on me!"
Sometimes you just have to take command!
"You mean you'd go with me like this?" He spread his arms.
"I'd go with you if you were, well, any way you go, I'll go with you," I assured him desperately.
"Are you sure?"
He was weakening. "Positive," I told him. Unable to resist, I tickled the underside of his cock, and gave him a peck on the cheek, my heart singing again. I could see his spirits rising, along with his pecker.
Then his face fell again. "But what about your parents? How will they feel about it?"
I felt like I'd been sucker-punched again, but I was not about to go down! "Well, I don't know." I thought hard. In for a penny, in for a pound, I'd have to take this one head on. There was no time for subtlety.
"Can you come by my house tonight, after dinner? Just the way you are now?" I added.
"Uh, yeah, if you think I should."
"I do."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure, but I'll think of something. Do you have the program brochure with you? Can I borrow it?" Time for a propaganda attack. If I had the forces of law and order on my side, it couldn't hurt.
He dug in his book bag. "Sure, but what for?"
"I think they got a copy in the mail, but I'm not sure. When all else fails, there's always the truth."
I thought maybe I had a couple of things going for me already. For one thing, while I hadn't meant to, my display before my mom that morning had to have had some impact on her. At least I'd shown that I wasn't afraid to show my true colors, or skin, in this case.
Secondly, and more important, the one I really had to convince was daddy, and he doted on me. Maybe, if I played my cards right, I could put him between a rock and a hard place.
"What time?" Carl asked as he handed me the brochure.
"Make it eight o'clock," I answered, turning away toward home.
"My clothes!"
I turned back, hiding them behind my back. "You'll get them back tonight, at my house," I promised, grinning wickedly at him.
"Thanks a lot!" he protested, but I could tell he wasn't really upset. As I turned back toward home, I waved his shirt, short, shoes and socks over my head triumphantly, and heard a honking and the shrieking as a bunch of girls drove by, screaming at the sight of him.
The first thing I did when I got home was take off all my clothes.
I kid you not. I guess it was because of what Carl was going through. I couldn't get out of my mind, either, his suggestion that I might get called for the program sometime, too. Scary thought!
I also remembered how comfortable it was to be nude, with nothing touching my skin but air.
Picking up Carl's shorts and shirt, I pressed my face into them, smelling his delicious scent, before dropping them back on my bed and turning to the mirror.
I looked maybe like a buxom twelve year old. Well, fortunately, Carl was not attracted to the Earth Mother or the Hollywood look. Not even the phenomenal skills of plastic surgeons could do that much for me.
I cupped my tits in my hands, lifting them. Maybe a Wonder Bra would give me cleavage, I thought. I tried to imagine getting implants but could only laugh at the idea. I'd look top heavy and everyone would be waiting for me to fall over all the time.
Sliding my hands down my sides, I felt the ripples of my ribs, and was conscious of the smoothness of my skin. Sliding my fingertips inward from my hips, I followed the line where my thighs joined my torso, down to my bashful patch of pubic hair.
I knew girls who waxed themselves so nothing would show when they wore a bikini. I heard that Marilyn even shaved her pussy bald. Me, a few clips of the scissors was usually enough, though the bathing suits I wore were anything but daring. Besides, what was wrong with hair, I wondered? Carl had hair down there.
Not that I was about to stop shaving under my arms, and my legs, I decided.
Turning away from the mirror, I reached for my after-school clothes, and then dropped them again. I was alone, so why shouldn't I be nude? I thought about drawing the curtains, but liked the sun spilling in, and the fresh air, so I just sat down at my desk and pulled out the brochure Carl had given me, hoping to find something in there that would convince daddy to let me go to the dance with Carl even though Carl would be naked.
I was surprised at how comprehensive the program was! While nudity at school was the only mandatory provision, there were a number of suggestions that reached beyond those brick walls. Nudity on the streets was not only permitted but encouraged, and every effort was made to encourage family participation, as well. Nudity around the home was strongly encouraged, not only for those taking direct part in the program but for parents and siblings as well!
I wondered if Carl's sister or mom were taking part. And what if I was chosen for the program, would daddy walk around the house naked? I had a lot of trouble with that image! Which, I thought, might be an indication that I needed the program; that my family needed the program.
A flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye drew my attention to the window. I realized with a jolt that the boy next door was looking in my direction - looking at me, as I sat there nude at my desk! For a second, I was upset, trying to shield my breasts with the brochure in my hands.
Then I realized how silly that was. Here I was, trying to cover myself with a brochure about a program designed to foster openness and comfort with the naked body!
I went back to my reading, while, at the same time, keeping an eye on what was going on next door. I saw him raise a pair of binoculars to his eyes, and realized that was the motion that had caught my attention. He was just trying to get a better look! If he saw me in front of the mirror a minute ago he must have gotten a real eyeful!
Actually, he probably couldn't have seen too much. I'd had my back to the window, and it was shadowy there, too. He could see more here, but I was sideways to the window. I wondered if I had the nerve to give him a better look.
It went against so much of my upbringing! Then I thought of Carl, and Karen, and the other kids in the program, and what they were going through.
They weren't just being spied on from next door. Everyday they went to school knowing they were literally going to strip naked and walk through crowded hallways, sit naked in class rooms, even be the subject of classroom instruction the way Carl had in French and even math class.
Karen was letting guys touch her breasts and her pussy, even slip their fingers up in her vagina, right there in the hallway. Carl was getting masturbated in front of a whole class! And here I was, afraid, or ashamed, of being seen by a twelve year old in a house thirty or forty feet away.
Putting the brochure down on my desk, I got up and went across the room like I was going to get something. My path took me toward the window, but not straight at it, and I didn't look in its direction.
But I have good peripheral vision. I could see the kid tracking me with his binoculars, and he had to be getting an eyeful. He could see me probably from mid thigh on up. Everything! My nipples stiffened at the thought.
Once I was out of his sight I stopped, and waited a few moments, before turning and crossing back to my desk. This time he was getting a perfect view of my backside.
Back at my desk, I sat down and picked up the brochure again, swiveling my chair toward the window. Rocking back, I put my feet up on the desk, in the direction of my watcher, crossing my ankles. I knew he was looking right up along the line of my legs, up my torso, looking at my bare breasts. A quick glance down confirmed that my nipples were definitely enjoying the attention!
Truthfully, my whole body was! Oh, I was scared, and blushing, but I liked the idea of being looked at, too. Maybe there's just a little bit of exhibitionist in all of us, I though.
The next step was a little harder, though. All my life I'd been taught to be ashamed of what I had "down there." I couldn't help wondering where that had come from, because I didn't remember any specific lessons. Maybe it was the subtle message that girls sat primly, with their legs together, their skirts down.
Taking a deep breath, I uncrossed my ankles, and let one leg trail down on the floor, while the other was still up on my desk. By spreading my leg further I opened my crotch wide to the kid across the way.
Daring myself to be even bolder, I reached down and scratched myself, right at the top edge of my pussy hair. I was even toying with the idea of diddling myself.
Then I realized, something felt wrong about this whole scene. The program wasn't about spying on or being spied on through windows, like some cheap peep show. It was about openness, about accepting the human body, and I felt ashamed.
But what could I do? How could I change the situation?
When I thought of that, my mouth went dry, because I knew the answer. It would take more courage than I ever thought I had, but I had to break out of this straightjacket of conventionality I was trapped in!
Getting up from my chair I walked straight to my window. Naturally, the kid dropped the binoculars and ducked down out of sight. So, I just stood there in the window, waiting, my feet spread shoulder width apart, my hands on my hips like the Colossus of Rhodes or something.
Sure enough, the top of his head, then his eyes appeared above the sill of his window. I gestured him up, and he got up, reluctantly, obviously embarrassed at being caught.
Pointing at myself, I indicated I was going downstairs, and into the back yard.
No, I was NOT quite ready for the street yet!
Then I pointed to him, and indicated he should do the same thing. He looked shocked, but I looked insistent, and tried to look unthreatening. Finally, I turned away from the window, but he still hesitated. I waved a strong "come on!" to him, and then he moved.
Downstairs, at the back door, I hesitated a long moment, then drew in a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out on to the small back porch. From there I could just see over the fence, and I saw my audience come out his back door. He glanced over and saw me.
"Come around to the gate," I invited, indicating the way. "I'll let you in."
Looking puzzled, and wary, he followed my directions, and a few moments later I opened the gate, stepping back out of sight of the street to let him in. He hesitated, then came in.
I faced him boldly, and stuck out my hand. "Hi, I'm Beth. What's your name?"
"Uh, Larry," he answered, taking my hand limply. I gave him a firm handshake, the way daddy had taught me.
He didn't know where to look. He wanted to look at me, but he was afraid to.
Stepping back, I posed for him, intensely conscious of the feeling of being outside, with the cool, fresh air touching me, the sun warming my shoulders and flank. "It's all right to look," I assured him, turning slowly.
He just stood there, gaping until I had finished my turn and was facing him again. "Wow!" he breathed. "You're naked!"
"Uh huh," I agreed. "And you're not."
"Uh, no," he admitted.
"But that's okay," I assured him. "You don't need to get naked, I don't mind."
"Oh. Okay." He kept staring, and I could see a bulge in his pants, so I was having some effect on him. "You're beautiful!"
"Thank you! Would you like to sit down? Can I get you a soda or something?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so. Uh, why are you naked?"
I led him to the patio furniture. "Because I like it. It's comfortable. Here, sit down and I'll get your soda."
I left him there and ducked into the house. I was back with a frosty glass for him.
"I've never seen a real, live naked girl before," he admitted.
"Like what you see?" I asked.
"Yeah! Uh - how old are you?"
"Fifteen," I admitted. "But I don't really think I look it. How old are you?"
"Ten, but people say I look older."
"You do, a bit."
"Would you - walk around a bit?"
"Sure." I was tingling all over. I stepped off the patio and walked around the yard, feeling sun and wind on my body. Then, on an impulse, I took a few hops and did a cart wheel.
I'd had a few gymnastics lessons, though I was too afraid to compete or do anything fancy. At one time I'd been able to walk on my hands, and I wondered if I still could.
I wasn't very good at it, but I managed to get upside down for a few moments anyway, then I started to fall over backwards. Remembering my training, I ducked my head and rolled, popping to my feet with a little hop that made my tits jiggle.
Then I realized I had gotten grass clippings all over my back. "Would you brush me off, please?" I asked, returning to him and turning my back. I felt his hands flicking them off my shoulders and back.
"My bottom, too, please?"
When he finished, I was tingling even more as I turned to face him. "Thanks."
"You've, uh, got some on your - uh - chest," he pointed out.
"Do I? Could you brush those off, too?"
His fingers brushed my titties and my nipples stiffened. "Thanks."
Then we heard his mom calling. "I'd better get home," he announced. "Thanks for the soda. Uh - can I look again?"
"As much as you want," I told him. "And if you want me to come over some time, just - oh, I don't know - put a sign in your window or something. And maybe if I'm not busy you can come over for a soda again some time."
"Will you be naked?"
"As much as I can be," I assured him, sticking my hand out. "Nice to meet you, Larry."
"Nice to meet you - uh - Beth, is it?"
"Beth, I assured him. "Bye!"
"Bye."
Back in the house I heaved a sigh of relief, proud of myself for what I'd done, then hurried up to my room to get at my homework, not bothering to dress as I sat down at my desk.
"Come in," I called when my mom knocked on my door.
"Hi, honey. Oh! You don't have anything on!"
I swung around. "Uh, no. I got home, and then I got distracted." Then I scolded myself for lying. "No, that's not true," I admitted. "I was just so comfortable without any clothes on, I decided to stay that way a while."
"Oh! Well. I see." She seemed only a little unsettled.
"Did you get one of these?" I waved the brochure with its picture of a naked teen-age boy and girl on the cover. "It's from school."
"Yes, we did," mom admitted, looking embarrassed.
I wondered if it was the cover that bothered her, and asked.
"Well, a little," she answered. "When I was growing up it was a confusing time, I guess. My mom would have walloped me if I'd brought something like that into the house. At the same time there was all this talk of `free love' and everything."
"What do you think of the program itself?"
"Oh, I think it's a good program," mom admitted, to my surprise.
"What about dad?" I asked.
"Well, that's a different story," mom admitted. "He doesn't even like to talk about it. He took one look at the brochure and threw it away."
"He thinks it's that bad?" I asked.
"No," she countered. "I think - well, I think, maybe he's envious. That embarrasses him, I think. I think he feels he missed the sexual revolution, and still regrets it."
"Oh." I mulled this over.
"Is that why you're sitting here in your room naked?" mom asked.
"Partly," I admitted. "I'm wondering how I'd handle it if I'm selected to take part. I thought I'd better sort of try it out around the house, just in case." I decided not to mention my little display for Larry in the back yard.
"Oh, I don't think that's likely," mom assured me. "According to what I've read, parents can either sign their children up for it, do nothing, or say they don't want their children to take part. The first ones being chosen are ones whose parents actually volunteer them for it. Surprisingly, I hear there were a large number in that pool, at least in the upper grades. After that they're going to draw from ones whose parents haven't chosen one way or the other."
"What about ones whose parents refuse to let their children take part?" I asked.
"Then they're not chosen. But, of course, they will be seeing those who do take part, which puts them on the fringe of the program, at least."
"Odd man out," I murmured.
"What's that, dear?"
"Oh, nothing. Thanks." I was wondering which group I was in. From what mom had said, they hadn't volunteered me, but was I in that "no opinion" bunch, or was I "de-selected," so to speak?
I was afraid to ask. I'd been odd-man-out around school so much -I wasn't popular or pretty. I wasn't an athlete, though I did play field hockey. And then, I was smart and got good grades -that automatically put me in an ostracized group.
"I do think it would be best if you put some clothes on before your father got home, though," mom went on.
"Oh, I will," I assured her as she left my room, closing the door behind her, leaving me to plot my campaign.
They didn't know about Carl yet, not really. Our only "date" had been an afternoon at the movies. They'd never pushed me to be popular, and dating they felt could wait until I was ready. I'd not talked about Carl, holding him close to myself, like a treasure I didn't want to share, unsure of how they'd have accepted him even before he was pulled into the program.
To tell the truth, I had been embarrassed by my crush on him.
Obviously, I couldn't hide him any longer. They'd want to meet him before they let him take me to the dance. Daddy would grill him, probably.
Poor Carl. Shy as he was it would be torture. But, I didn't see any way around it.
By the time daddy got home at six o'clock I'd developed a plan. By then I'd been naked a couple of hours, and it felt kind of icky to put clothes on, to my surprise.
Not that I wasn't glad to have them on when I went downstairs for supper! Naked at dinner? ICK!
I started with a flank attack after we'd said grace. "I've been invited to the homecoming dance," I announced as casually as I could. "It's this Saturday."
"Have you! Oh, that's wonderful," mom exulted for me, obviously happy.
"Who is he? Do we know him?" Daddy asked.
"Of course we don't, dear," mom chimed in quickly. "She's never brought a boy home before. The only date she's ever had was that thing to the movies a week or two ago, and that wasn't really a date."
Well, I thought it was, but I didn't argue with her. "He's the one I went to the movies with, in fact. His name is Carl Walker, and he's really sweet," I plunged on desperately. "And I'm really, really excited about going to the dance!"
"I'm sure you are dear," Mom agreed. "Oh, but what will you wear? This Saturday? We'll have to buy you a dress tomorrow, if we can find one!"
Somehow I had to get across to daddy how much this dance meant to me. That was the strongest weapon in my arsenal. Believe me, it was no act. My whole life depended on going with Carl to this dance!
"You really want to go don't you, punkin?" he asked me lovingly.
"Oh, I really do, daddy, I really, really do. Carl is so nice, and so sweet. He's really smart, too, smarter than I am. He's on the science track, in my math class. He's high honor roll every term! And he's one the swim team, and in the marching band, too."
"He sound wonderful, dear," mom said, patting my hand.
"Almost too good to be true," daddy put in, and I realized I was in danger of over-selling Carl, so I quick switched to the dance.
"The dance is the big social event of the fall," I explained. "There's a live band, and the committee has been planning the whole thing since last year's dance. They'll decorate the gym -this year's theme is Autumn Leaves, so it'll be in all the fall colors."
"Is it chaperoned?" daddy asked suspiciously.
"Of course it is, daddy. Teachers and parents both are there," I assured him.
"It's a school function, Arthur," mom put in. "I'm sure they're very careful."
"It means a lot to you, doesn't it," he observed kindly.
Got him! I hope. "Oh, more than anything, daddy!"
Now really, I do not manipulate daddy very often, but sometimes, well, sometimes you just have to steer him in the right direction. And I was pretty sure that I had him headed on the right course. But sooner or later, I was going to have to put the iceberg in his path, but timing was key.
Fortunately, mom got off on another track by worrying about a dress for me, which lulled daddy into occasional mumbles about "how much is this going to cost me?" and things like that.
I then sneaked the brochure about the program up on to the table.
"Where'd that come from?" daddy asked suspiciously a moment later.
"Oh, Carl gave it to me," I answered innocently.
"He did?"
I could almost see the ramparts going up, and felt a tremor of fear, but it had to be faced. "It's been going on in school, oh, for almost a week now," I admitted. "I can tell you, it has created a bit of a stir."
"Well, I would certainly expect it would," daddy observed.
I was having trouble reading his mood. Was he really violently against it? Was he, maybe, wishing they'd had something like it when he was in school, the way mom had suggested?
"I'm sure, once it's been around for a few weeks it will just be accepted that some students are nude," mom observed calmly.
"What do you think about it?" daddy asked me.
"Uh, well, it's interesting. I'm learning a lot about boys that they don't teach in things like bio and even sex ed," I admitted. "I think it's good. I'm getting more comfortable around boys."
"Speaking of boys, when are we going to meet this paragon of yours?" daddy asked. "I don't want to meet him just before he takes you out to this big dance, before it's too late to do anything to stop it."
"Arthur!" mom protested.
"Well, I don't. You know how I worry about things like drinking, and drugs and cigarettes," daddy insisted. "Does this Carl person smoke, or drink?"
"No, daddy, he doesn't," I assured him. "They don't allow alcohol at the dance, and anyone who leaves can't come back in, just in case they try to step out for a nip. And the school is smoke free, of course." I didn't mention the poor addicted dorks who sneaked the occasional puffs in the johns, of course. "And as far as meeting him, I asked him to come by tonight."
"Oh! Well, that's very thoughtful of you!" At least daddy seemed to approve of that.
"Oh dear! The house is a mess!" mom protested predictably. "Hurry and finish dinner so I can get things tidied."
"There's just one thing," I went on fearfully, my heart going like a trip hammer, whatever that is.
"And what's that, dear?" mom asked innocently.
"Carl's - in the program," I admitted, putting my hand on the brochure.
"Well, my goodness!" mom exclaimed.
"He is?" daddy erupted. "Then you've seen him...."
"I've seen him naked, daddy. We have French and math class together," I admitted.
"Oh my God!"
"Now Arthur, calm down," mom urged as daddy went through a series of color changes that would have done a chameleon proud.
I decided to get it all over with at once. "And," I went on, quaking in my proverbial boots, "as he is in the program, that means he has to attend all school functions in the nude."
This announcement was greeted by, as the cliché goes, a ringing silence.
"Oh my goodness!" mom finally breathed, fanning herself with her napkin.
"Over my dead body!" daddy exploded.
"Daddy, please, listen to me." I didn't need to pretend to be near tears. I was near tears. "He didn't know it when he asked me to the dance! But he'd rather take me to the dance naked than make me miss going to the dance entirely. I think that's incredibly brave!"
Daddy wasn't capable of anything more than some sputtering for a moment.
Mom was looking at me shrewdly. I think she'd figured out why I'd been naked so much. "And how do you feel about it?"
"I think it's very brave of him, and I'd follow him anywhere, no matter if he was wearing nothing or a - or a - bed sheet - or just a jock strap!" I insisted. "He's the one who will be naked, not me!"
Little did I know!
"Well - well," daddy stammered. "I - well - well - I."
"He's really not bad looking without any clothes on," I admitted thoughtfully. "He's got a nice body, in fact."
"Oh, my," mom breathed heavily.
"You'll see," I concluded desperately, "because I asked him to come by tonight dressed - or - uh - rather NOT dressed like he -uh - won't be dressed for the dance."
"Oh my God!" It was mother's turn this time.
"JESUS H. CHRIST!" daddy erupted.
All I could do was sit there while the storm raged. Eventually, the winds eased and calm returned to the waters.
"He's coming here, naked," daddy said.
"Yes daddy," I answered as bravely as I could, thinking maybe this whole idea had been a huge, horrible, catastrophic mistake.
"Tonight," mom said.
"At eight o'clock."
Their eyes practically clicked as they looked at the clock on the wall.
I had about forty five minutes to live, I decided.
"Call him and tell him not to come," daddy suggested.
"I won't do that, daddy. You won't let me go to the dance until you meet him, and this is your chance to meet him."
"He'll be walking the streets naked!" mom pointed out.
"He's done that already. He mowed his lawn naked yesterday, and then, last night I went over and we went for a walk, and he was naked," I admitted. I omitted the kisses, of course!
"Oh my!" Mom was fanning herself again.
There was more talk, and I kept pointing out how brave Carl was to do this at all, until mom decided she had to get things tidied up, in case Carl did come by, and daddy relented and promised to at least let him in the door.
I'm not sure he was overjoyed at having mom meet my naked boyfriend, though, but she wasn't about to be left out, of course. She may be "only a housewife," as they say, but beneath her shyness and diffidence she's smart and strong.
"You go upstairs, young lady," daddy ordered. "Your mother and I will deal with this situation. You have homework to do. You can come down at 8:30."
I didn't have any more homework to do, really, but I decided a strategic withdrawal was in order at this point.
All I could do was sit in my room, praying, while my whole life hung in the balance.
As you know if you read Carl's report on his week naked in school, when he met my parents he carried the day, or evening, as the case may be, winning over daddy, and charming mom. The only surprise was the way mom punctured daddy's hypocrisy by reminding of his own libidinous (don't you just love that word?) response to their teen-age skinny dipping.
I'd known, of course, that they'd been childhood sweethearts. They'd grown up in a rural area, on neighboring farms, and we still visit my grammy and grampy Finch there. But when she reminded him of how they'd gone skinny dipping in a neighbor's pond when she'd been my age, and that he'd gotten an erection at the sight of her! Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather!
I tried to imagine it, and then kind of wished I hadn't. Children really shouldn't be exposed to their parents' sex lives! But if I just thought of it the right way, it was really sweet, actually -kind of romantic, even. I couldn't help wondering if they'd done more than just look, of course, but quickly shut that train of thought off. Like I say, that's not for kids to know about their parents!
Or for parents to know about their kids, come to think of it; at least not the carnal details.
After I said goodnight to Carl on the porch there was the usual family post mortem, with both of them assuring me they found Carl very nice. Daddy wasn't totally happy, but he wanted ME to be happy, which was what I'd been counting on as the decisive factor. Like I said, he dotes on me - and I dote on him, too, I admit it! So there. It's mutual!
And that all led to the Great Dress Hunt!