After school, Craig and I walked to his house and into the living room. He turned on some lights. No one else was home. We were there alone. Just us.
“It’s your turn today, Nikki,” Craig said.
I instantly started quivering inside. I knew exactly what he meant. It was my turn to “take my pants down,” just like he had last night. I wasn’t wearing “pants” but that wasn’t the point. Craig wanted to see what was inside the pants.
I stood there in his living room feeling my pounding heart. “I…can’t,” I responded finally, breathing harder. It’s not that I’m a prude — well, maybe I am. I’d been trained since I was big enough to understand language that I didn’t undress except when I was alone — and certainly not in front of a boy!
Still…
Craig had been so brave last night. We’d been kissing in the car for a while when he said, “I want to show you something.” He leaned way back in the car seat, unzipped his pants, raised his rear off the seat, and pushed his pants and underwear down to his thighs.
“You’re the first girl to see this.”
I was dazed. I couldn’t believe what he had just done, or how easily he had done it. Except for a couple of sneaked copies of Playgirl, I’d never seen a prick, but I was seeing one now. Wow! Even in the dim light from the street lights, I could see that it was big and straight. I couldn’t look away from it. It scared me a little, but it fascinated me too. I reached out slowly and touched it, then gripped it, and then rubbed it up and down a little. It was hard, but soft too. I liked it. The prick became my world. Nothing else existed. Time stood still.
“You’re a natural” Craig had said.
His words broke the spell. I realized what I was touching, and it embarrassed me. I’d pulled my hand back and looked away.
I was confused. I felt like that still-exposed prick was calling to me. It was hard to ignore. I felt like I needed to go in the house and let my heart and breathing calm down. What had I just seen? What had I just done??
“I’d…better go in.” My voice was shaky.
Craig hadn’t protested. He never did.
I went into my room and closed the door. My mind was awhirl. I had marveled at his guts. He just…showed me. No hesitation; no fear; no anxiety; no self-consciousness. He just pushed his pants down and showed me his prick. No big deal — to him. I was still light-headed. He’d said that I was the first to see him. I couldn’t believe it. It would have been easier to believe if I thought he’d walked around naked all his life. Surely he hadn’t. He said I was “the first.” But how did he do it so easily? That’s what I kept asking myself. How? How? How? How?
I wondered if I could have pushed my pants down as easily as he had. Ha! That was a no-brainer. I knew I couldn’t. “You only undress when you’re alone,” my training reminded.
It had finally dawned on me that Craig hadn’t asked me to “show him mine.” It would have been natural for him to ask. “Fair’s fair” and all that. But he hadn’t asked. “Thank you,” I whispered to him from afar.
What if he had asked? How would I have refused? How could I have refused? I was glad I hadn’t had to find out.
His prick was so neat. It was all I could think about. I wondered when he’d show it to me again. Taking a bold mental step, I wondered what it would feel like inside me. Oh my God. Would it even fit inside me!? Tampons were hard enough to deal with, and they weren’t anywhere near that big.
“Stop thinking like that,” the training scolded. But that prick was so neat.
I thought about the “physical dimension” of our relationship. Craig and I had gone “parking” a lot. Over time, he had touched my breasts, had put his hand under my shirt and touched my stomach and my bra, had lifted a bra cup off my tit and massaged my breast, had raised my shirt and sucked my nipples, had even put his hand down my pants several times, and managed to put a finger in my vagina even though I kept my legs together.
I had resisted those advances right down the line — more strongly at every step — just like I was “supposed to.”
Craig took his time and never pushed very hard. When I quit resisting on one step, he’d move gently on to the next, and the resistance would rise up again. Slowly, it would come down, and Craig would go a little further.
As each step got easier for me, I found myself looking forward to it — liking it, wanting it. I’d think, “Craig’s going to touch my breast again” or “Craig’s going to suck my nipple tonight. I can’t wait.”
Still, as good as every one of those steps felt, we’d always been in the car, and it had always been at night. There was never enough light to see very well, and the darkness was kind of a cloak of security. When Craig sucked my nipples, he always raised my shirt and my bra. I’d never taken either one off. And, when he put his hand in my pants, the pants never went down, so he never saw anything at all down there. In other words, all Craig had ever seen were my breasts when they were not completely uncovered and the light was very dim.
Now he wanted to see not just my breasts, but my pussy. And, he wanted me to show him, just like he’d shown my his prick.
Letting him lift my bra cup off my breast was one thing. I knew I could do that. I was willing to let him reach into my pants, too. In fact, it was pretty easy now to let him do those things. But these were all thing he was doing. I liked it, but I was more observer than participant.
I thought maybe, just maybe, I could have taken off my bra for him — in the car. But my pussy seemed different somehow — more private. But was it really? And me showing him my pussy seemed even more different. I’d be doing that. I wouldn’t be a mere observer. Did that make it different?
Undress… while a boy watches… No way. Not even the bra. Uh-uh!
Wait. He’d undressed for me — and apparently without a second thought. How had he done that so easily? There was that “how” question again. Why couldn’t I do it just as easily? Was that an even better question? Why did it seem different for me? My training told me it was a wrong, but it hadn’t seemed wrong for Craig. My training also told me that it was wrong for me to look at “Craig,” but I did it anyway, and liked it. Maybe I could do it.
“I… I… ” I was stuttering.
I was afraid to undress, yet I wanted to. Part of me desperately wanted to show him everything, not just the pussy. I was proud of my body, and I wanted Craig to see it. When I compared myself to other girls, I liked the way I looked. Why was I ashamed to show it? I had firm round breasts, a thin waist, nice hips, and good proportions. I couldn’t think of anything I’d change. Well, maybe bigger breasts.
I had actually fantasized about dancing for him like Jamie Lee Curtis had danced for Arnold Schwarzenegger in True Lies — except, in my fantasy, I was always totally naked. I had even tried the dance part once or twice. I'd be alone in my room, and take my clothes off and try to dance. I wasn’t easy and I wasn’t very good at it. Oh well. It was a fantasy.
But, now, all of a sudden, my fantasy had the potential to become reality. We were alone, and this would be a perfect time to act it out.
Of course, the training kicked in — loud and strong. “What on earth are you thinking?! You can’t dance naked for a boy!!” That was surely true. I could barely dance naked in front of my own mirror. I couldn’t strip for Craig. Period.
But, he had stripped for me. Well, mostly. I’d seen the part that counted most. Besides, he wasn’t asking me to strip; only to show him the part that counted most. “He’s seen my breasts…” I thought to myself. “What’s different about the pussy?”
“Tell you what…” he said, interrupting my conflicted reverie. He gently took my hand and led me over to a straight-backed chair. He sat down and moved me in front of him. “I’ll reach under your skirt…”
“No,” my voice protested weakly. Another voice, inside, said, “Yes. Please!”
“…and pull your panties down.” he finished.
I gasped. The voices inside kept disagreeing with each other.
“Then you just raise your skirt,” he said.
“I…can’t,” I whispered again. The “training voices” were winning. They always had. But I was quivering, and didn’t try to move away from him.
I was in my pep club uniform — a white blouse with a shell vest, a slightly-less-than-knee-length pleated skirt with an elastic waistband, and bobby-socks. Nobody wore pantyhose under a pep club outfit. I certainly didn’t. I had only panties on under the skirt — and Craig knew it. And that pleated skirt meant they’d be very easy for him to reach.
All of a sudden, I thought the “pleated skirt and panties-only” sounded like a real bad ideas. The training was talking again.
“I… I… ” I was panting. Was it fear or was it anticipation? Was it both? Is there a difference?
“Hold real still,” he said.
Hold still? I was frozen. I couldn’t even breathe the word “Okay.” I wanted to, but my vocal chords were paralyzed.
He put his hands on the outsides of my knees and started up my legs. I flinched — but I didn’t step back. I was quivering harder.
As he began running his hands up the outsides of my thighs, I realized this was “it.” There was no backing out. He was going to see my pussy in full light. There was no car interior at night to hide in; no sitting down to disguise things.
“Don’t let him do this!” the training screamed. But I couldn’t stop now. I didn’t really even want to. But, God, this was going to be so embarrassing. He was going to see me! Could I show him, or would he have to raise my skirt? I really didn’t know. But I knew it would be one or the other.
His hands had reached my panties now. I knew my skirt was bunching up a little, but not enough to show anything. His hands went on up and I felt his fingers grip the little waistband of my panties, then start to pull them down.
The training was still screaming. “This is a boy! You’re not supposed to let anybody do this to you!” But I didn’t try to stop him.
Craig was pulling my panties down by gripping the waistband on the sides. He was looking at my face, but I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I squinted my eyes shut and clasped my hands under my chin. I felt him move his hands around toward my butt to get the panties over my hips. Then I felt my panties lose contact with my pussy. They were gone from that secret part of my body. Craig was able to pull them down easily to my knees now. My knees. That meant that he was seeing my panties. I was very aware of the air on my panty-less butt and pussy.
He sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. “OK. Your turn.”
I had that thick feeling at the back of my mouth. I was still breathing hard and quivering so much that it was wonder I was still standing.
I swallowed. I couldn’t raise my skirt. “Please, Craig. Can’t you just do it?” My eyes were still squinted shut. A tear or two were being squeezed out.
“No, Nikki. You have to do it. Show me the front first, then the hips. I want to see both.”
I swallowed again. “I… I… ” I was panting, my heart was pounding, and I was shaking. “Please?” I was hoping he’d do it. That seemed easier, but he didn’t respond.
“You can still back out,” the training said, but it was like it was from a distance. “I don’t want to back out!” I answered it angrily. I was talking back to my training, but I was having a hard time making myself move.
Finally — and very slowly — I lowered my hands from my chin until I could grasp my skirt a few inches below the waistband. I hesitated. I still wasn’t sure I could do this. I grabbed the front of my skirt and started to wad it up with both hands, raising the hem an inch of two. This tactic would wrinkle it up pretty bad, but I’d worry about that later.
“Not like that, Nikki. Lift it from the hem.”
I dropped those handfuls and shook some more. I hesitated. Why was this so hard? It hadn’t been for Craig. Is it different for boys? Maybe it was.
“Would it help if I did it with you?” he asked.
My eyes popped open and I stared at him. I could see that he meant it. And I was dying for a chance to see him — touch him — again. I’d thought about it all night. And I hadn’t gotten to see his butt last night.
I nodded, jerkily. I wasn’t really sure it would make it any easier for me, but I couldn’t pass up this chance.
He stood up. “Do you want to do it?”
I hesitated again. I was having a lot of trouble just raising my skirt. Could I undress a boy? I decided I could. I really wanted to see him again.
I reached for his belt and pulled the end out of the loop, and then unbuckled it. Then I unbuttoned the button on his jeans. I grasped the zipper and paused again — anticipating. Holding the button, I unzipped his pants and they promptly fell all the way to the floor. I gasped. There stood his prick pointing at the ceiling. He wasn’t wearing any underwear! He raised his shirttail up to his waist so I could see clearly.
And he stood there — calmly! I stood there staring — frozen again. He slowly turned around so I could see his butt. It was nice and tight just like I’d suspected. His jeans hadn’t lied. He turned again and faced me.
I reached for his prick shyly but he stopped me with a rather firm, “It’s your turn now.” And, with his pants still around his ankles, he sat down again.
Okay. It really was my turn now. I didn’t have any more excuses. He’d shown me his, and I was going to have to show him mine. But, as much as I liked Craig’s “private parts,” I was still hesitant. Why? He’d touched my pussy. Why not let him see it? All this reasoning with myself still wasn’t making me move.
“Okay. Gotta do it. I can do it. I’m going to do it.” I realized that the training had been silent for quite a while now. Good riddance. But I still didn’t move.
I was standing there looking down at “Craig” and enjoying the view. “Raise your skirt, Nikki,” I chided myself. “Quit wasting time.” I was talking myself into it. “You can do this. It won’t be bad. You know you want him to see you.” I realized that I’d wanted just that for months and hadn’t admitted it to myself. Where had that voice come from?
I closed my eyes again and I slowly bent over enough to grab the hem of my skirt about knees-wide. “Do it now!” I told myself. I stood up straight and, holding the hem, raised my hands up to my shoulders. I was showing Craig my pussy! I hadn’t been graceful or sexy about it, but I’d raised my skirt! I could hardly believe it. And I’d done it myself!
But when Craig went, “Ummm-hmmm,” I dropped the hem, and the skirt rustled back into place. I felt myself blush to my hair. Craig had been looking at my most secret place. It was embarrassing but, really, it wasn’t that bad. It was kind of fun.
I opened my eyes and looked at “Craig” again. So fascinating. I needed to touch it.
But Craig said, “That wasn’t a very good look, Nikki.”
That diverted me. It wasn’t? It had seemed to me like I’d had my skirt up for a very long time. I suppose, really, it probably had been only a very few seconds.
I tore my eyes from his prick and looked at his face. He was smiling a little and his eyes were bright. I blushed some more knowing that he was thinking about my pussy.
“How ’bout a longer look?” he asked.
I smiled back — a little. I know my face was still red.
This time as I bent over, I looked into his eyes. As I grasped the hem again and very slowly began to raise it, Craig looked down. “Tease him a little,” I thought. I swung my hands from side to side a little. Then, just at the “right time,” I paused. Craig looked up at me. I gave him an impish smile and raised my skirt to my shoulders again.
I was watching Craig this time. As soon as my pussy had “seen the light of day,” Craig’s eyes had snapped down to it. He sat there, motionless, staring at it. It was still a little embarrassing. But it was scary-fun, too. Then I looked down at this prick again, and kind of forgot about my bare pussy.
I don’t know how long we stared at each other. It must have been several minutes, but time didn’t matter. I was determined to stand there with my skirt up for as long as he wanted to look. And I was going to look at him as long as he’d let me. He seemed as fascinated with me as I was with him. I liked that. And, I liked that he enjoyed looking at me.
“Turn around,” he said in a husky whisper. My mind was so focused on his body, that I didn’t understand him. I looked at his face. I don’t think he’d moved. Had he said something?
He pointed a finger at the floor and drew some small circles in the air. Oh. He’d told me to turn around. Still holding my skirt up — still in kind of a daze — I turned around. It hadn’t even occurred to me to lower my skirt. Having it up seemed almost natural now. How long had we stood there? And I stood there, with my skirt up and my back to Craig. I guess I was daydreaming — daydreaming about “Craig.”
“The hips, Nikki.” His voice was still soft and far-away. But it did get through my fog that time. Gradually, my mind came back to his living room and, as it did so, I lowered my skirt hem. I realized that I wasn’t shaking anymore. In fact, I was surprised at how calm I felt.
The hips. That was going to be a little harder. I could grab the hem of the skirt again, but I couldn’t raise it to my shoulders from the back. My arms didn’t work like that. I thought about it. The best I could come up with was to grab my skirt at the hem and bunch it up until it was a little above my waist. That was as high as I could reach.
I looked at the picture on the wall and tried not to think about my butt. It didn’t work. I thought my butt was cute, I could almost feel Craig was staring at it. I blushed a little again. I didn’t have his prick to look at to take my mind off of my own bare skin.
“Mmmmmmmmm,” Craig “said.”
I was getting braver. “Cute?” I asked. Definitely braver.
“Very.”
Like before, I wasn’t going to “cover up.” I swayed my hips from side to side just a little. I started to daydream again. I thought about how calm I was feeling. I thought about how much harder it is to think about doing some things than it is to do them.
Time passed. Craig looked at my butt.
“I think it’s time to get you home,” he said.
Home? I let my skirt fall back into place, took a deep breath, and turned around again. Home?! But I hadn’t gotten to touch “Craig” and he hadn’t touched me! In a shocking realization, I understood how badly I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his hand on my pussy; I wanted him to rub my hips.
“Craig… ” I started with a little whine.
“It’s getting late, Nikki. My parents are due home in a little while. Let me take you home — while I’m still willing to.”
I smiled wide-eyed at that. “Okay.” But I was really disappointed.
I looked at “Craig” again as he stood up. I liked that prick a lot. As he bent over to pull his pants up, I stood there and watched. He was moving very carefully. He acted like he was hurting. Did hard-ons hurt? I didn’t know. I didn’t ask.
My panties were still down. What to do about that? I had two options — both a little thrilling. First, I could pull my panties up and let Craig see me again. Second, I could take them off completely and ride home panty-less. “Hmmm. Either one sounds like fun.” I really was getting brave.
I decided. I reached down and pushed my panties down to my ankles and took one foot out. With the other foot, I lifted them to my hand and offered them to Craig. He looked down at them, and then up at me.
“Take these home for me.”
He grinned and stuffed them in his pocket.
On the way home, I sat in the car thinking about a lot of things. Since I wasn’t wearing panties, I was thinking about that — a lot. How could I not? I was thinking about that life-long “training.” I was really thinking about that one. Not only had it not felt wrong to show Craig my pussy, it had felt very right. Why had I been taught otherwise? Once I got my skirt up and held it there, it had quit seeming like a big deal. And I enjoyed it.
I began to think about what we might have done, but didn’t do. We might have touched each other. We might have made out with our pants down. We might have “made love.”
Make love. I quivered at that. What would that be like? Did it hurt? Did it feel good? Would I get pregnant?! That’s what the training is all about! I did some quick thinking about where I was in my cycle. When was a “safe” time? I thought I was probably okay. But nothing had happened anyway.
I thought about “next time,” knowing there would be one; wanting there to be one. But, how soon? Where? What would we do? Whatever it turned out to be, would it be any easier than it had been today? Could I ever be as nonchalant about undressing in front of Craig as he was in front of me?
A lot of questions I couldn’t answer right now. But probably later, I’d know.
By this time, we’d pulled in to my driveway. I kissed Craig, and touched “Craig.” He lightly brushed my breast.
“You’re very nice to look at, Nikki. I liked that. Thanks.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about my face or hair this time. He mind was further “south.” I blushed — again — and looked down. I wished I could quit blushing!
“I liked you too,” I said softly. My mind was down south too. “Thanks for being so brave. It helped.”
“Oh. Here.” He took my panties out of his pocket and gave them back to me.
I thought briefly about putting them on and giving him another quick look right there in the driveway, but decided to put them in my purse instead. Then I stopped, and handed them back to Craig.
“Keep them. Souvenir,” I said. I had lots of panties. I wanted to give him something to mark my success.
My “success”? My God. What had gotten in to me??? Where was the girl who got out my bed this morning? She wouldn’t have given her panties to a boy. I looked out the window at a world full of brighter colors and sharper edges. I was different because of what I had done today. It was a success — a victory.
As I got out of the car, I was still thinking about next time. I decided to go in and practice that dance — nude. Maybe... Just maybe...