Naked in Spring
By
Jacqueline Jillinghoff
The
atmosphere is not a perfume . . . . it has no taste of
the distillation . . . . it is odorless,
It
is in my mouth forever . . . . I am in love with it,
I
will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised
and
naked,
I am
mad for it to be in contact with me.
— Leaves of Grass
“How’s that feel, Baby?”
“It feels nice.”
“It feels nice, what?”
“It feels nice, Daddy.”
He loves it when I call him
Daddy, because he is my daddy. Plus,
it gets him hot. It’s the same reason he always calls me Baby. It’s sex talk.
After five months, he still can’t believe he’s screwing his own daughter. It
drives him crazy when I remind him.
We were on the couch in the
living room. Daddy was sort of scooched down with his ass on the edge of the
cushion, and his head back, looking up at me. I was riding him like a pony,
with my hands on his shoulders, my legs on either side of him and his cock way
up my pussy, beaming down at him with all the love I had in me. We weren’t
fucking hard, just moving around slowly, digging the way we felt on each other
— his hard dick stuffing my slick baby cunt. Daddy pushed into me gently. I
moved my ass in a circle, pressing down on him. We sighed, we said “Oo! Oo!”
quietly, we stared into each other’s blue eyes.
I love my Daddy so much.
But I was worried he wouldn’t
last. He knows I love my orgasms to build and build, but it takes a long time,
and it’s torture for the poor thing to wait. Sometimes he shoots off too soon,
so I distracted him by talking.
“It’s getting warm out, Daddy,”
I said.
“Baby, I know what you’re
thinking, and you can’t. You’re too old now.”
“But I want to! — Please,
Daddy? Just in the backyard?”
“You’ll get caught. People will
ask questions, and they’ll find out about us.”
“I’ll be careful. — Oh! Do that
again! Do that again!”
So he did it again, swirling
his dick over a spot that had suddenly got sensitive. When I finished grunting,
he said, “Look, I promise you, when school’s out, Mommy and Daddy will take you
to a beach where you can run around naked all the time.”
“But that’s so far away!”
“Promise me! Promise me you’ll
wait.”
“Can I at least go to school
without panties?”
“You’re already doing that,
I’ll bet.”
I giggled in my naughty way,
and he knew he was right. I wanted to beg him some more, but it was getting
hard to talk.
“Is that it, Baby? Are you
coming?”
“Y—y—yeah,” I sighed. “Daddy!
Da—! Da—! Da—!”
My body rattled like a truck. I
fell down on him, nuzzling his neck. He wrapped me tight in his arms while I
shivered and squeaked. It was so delicious, so deep and long and yummy. My cunt
squeezed his cock. I could feel it jerking (and I could picture it, too, from
the times I watched Daddy masturbate), and his hot, yummy come filled me up.
Then we were still for a while.
I was very sleepy.
“Baby,” he said, “promise me — please — you’ll keep your clothes on outside.”
“Mmm-kay, Daddy,” I mumbled. “I
prah …”
My voice drifted off. He patted
my bare ass.
“Now,” he said. “How about we
get dressed before Mommy gets home?”
“Uh uh,” I teased him. “Not in
the house!”
♀♀♀
If you’ve been reading my
stories, you know what my promise to Daddy was worth. I’d been cooped up all
winter, and I was dying to be free. It was May. The trees were bright spring
green, and I got that fluttery feeling — that urge — every time I left the house. Going to school with no panties
on helped for a while, but I wanted the sun and air on me all over, and I
couldn’t wait till summer. I was always distracted, and walking home in the
afternoons, I kept looking around the neighborhood for a good place to strip.
My name is Danielle, and I love
being naked.
I kept my promise to Daddy for
a whole week, which I think was pretty good, but finally I had to give in. It
was nighttime, though, so I told myself it didn’t count. Mom and Dad took me to
one of their gigs. They belong to a small orchestra that plays in a tiny
church. They did some Mozart things and Beethoven’s Fifth. It was really good,
but it ran late, because the conductor showed up drunk. Anyway, that’s what
Daddy said. We all went right to bed when we got home. Dad and Mom said they
were dead tired, but they weren’t too tired to screw. I stripped and got into
bed with the covers down and my door open. I could hear them across the
landing. I fingered myself, but I couldn’t come. I couldn’t sleep, either, even
after they got quiet. My mouth was dry, and my armpits felt damp. I kept
tossing and turning, and thinking about how nice the night air felt outside.
Finally I looked at my digital
clock. It was one-thirty.
“Fuck this,” I said.
I got up and tiptoed across the
landing. I listened at my parents’ door. One of them was snoring, probably Mom.
For a second, I thought of going back to my room for a T-shirt or my pajama top
— something I could cover up with if somebody saw me. But then I thought, uh
uh. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it all the way.
My heart was racing as I padded
down the stairs. My chest felt tight and my legs got weak. I had to lean
against the wall and take a couple of deep breaths. It was crazy, I know, but I
couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. I was like an addict or something.
I went out through the kitchen.
The back door made a kind of sucking sound when I opened it. It was quiet, but
the way I felt, it seemed awfully loud. My hand shook while I made sure the
doorknob would turn from the outside. Then I carefully pushed open the screen
door and slipped out, pulling the main door shut.
Going outside with no clothes
on is like taking off my last scrap of clothing. I mean, I go naked inside all
the time, but that’s inside. It’s private. It’s like I’m still wearing my
house, if you know what I mean. Out on the back steps, I was really, truly,
completely, utterly, and totally naked.
For a minute I just stood
there, relishing my exposure. I locked my hands behind my head and let the
night air lick the sweat from my armpits. It was a little chilly, but that only
made my skin feel alive all over. A big half moon was rising over our garage.
It was bright in the starry sky, and I admired the way it made my pale skin
look silvery blue. My little pink nipples — the circles around them are no
bigger than dimes — turned pale purple, and the slit on my bald pussy was a
deep, thick shadow.
This was fascinating to me. I
look at myself naked in the mirror all the time, waiting for any signs of
development, but my body was strange to me now. I looked like a ghost. I
lowered my hands and passed them down my chest and over my tummy, then up my
thighs and between my legs — Mmmm! —
and back over my ass. The only thing I was sad about was that I couldn’t see my
bare butt in the moonlight. I twisted around and tried to look, but I couldn’t
see.
Well, that’s it, I told myself.
You’ve had your fun. Go back to bed. But that was just a little game I playing.
Part of me said, “Don’t do it,” and then the other part said, “We’re just
getting started.” I went down the steps and around to the front of the house.
We live on a small, curving
street not far from my school. It’s got one little Cape Cod house after
another, like ours, and it was empty at this time of night. There are no
sidewalks, so I stayed on the edges of the lawns. The grass was cool and soft
on my bare feet. I went from streetlight to streetlight, watching the way the
light played on my skin, almost daring somebody to look out their bedroom
window and see me. The air felt amazing, and so did my middle finger, which I
keep between my pussy lips sometimes when I walk around naked.
I was halfway down my block
when I saw some headlights floating up along the cross street. They stopped,
then they came around the corner, heading toward me. Where I was right then,
there weren’t any bushes or trees to hide behind — just a big empty lawn. So I
scampered back into the shadow of the house and laid down, flattening myself
chest-down on the grass. I was out of sight for like half a second, but the
stupid house had some kind of motion sensor, and suddenly my bare ass was
caught in a spotlight. I grabbed the grass and tried to flatten myself even
more.
The car was a little blue and
white police cruiser. The cop looked right at me, and he slowed down. I saw his
head in silhouette, and I recognized him. It was Officer Boone, the guy who
taught the DARE program when I was in fifth grade. He had just caught his star
pupil bare-ass on somebody’s lawn, though I doubt he recognized me without my
clothes on. He just looked for a second, like he was trying to figure out what
he was looking at. Maybe he thought my blonde head was some kind of little
bush, and my ass was a couple of white rocks. But then he unbuckled his
seatbelt, and I heard his door click open. For an instant I thought I could get
out of trouble be offering to suck his cock or something. I’d never seen a
black guy’s cock before, and I had a crush on Officer Boone when he taught our
classes.
Suddenly his head snapped
around. He looked down at his dashboard. He swung his door open, then slammed
it shut again, and he drove off fast with his red and blue lights
flashing.
I heaved a huge sigh. My heart
was beating against the ground. I could feel every blade of grass tickling and
prickling all down my body. And my pussy! My pussy was shuddering like a puppy
in the cold. I wasn’t coming, exactly, but I’d never felt anything like it.
It gave me an idea.
Now, my Mom and Dad and I have
had some discussions about whether I’m an exhibitionist or just a nudist. What
I did next pretty much settled that question, I think.
I got up and went down to the
corner where I’d first seen Officer Boone’s headlights. It’s a four-way stop,
but the cross street is bigger than mine, and even in the middle of the night,
there’s always a few cars. There was a row of blooming forsythias on a lawn on
the other side, bordering the road. I went over, crouched between a couple of
them, and waited.
It seemed like a long time,
because I was so wired, but at last, I saw the flicker of headlights far down
the road. My arms started tingling again as I watched them coming closer,
getting bigger in the dark. Just when the car began to brake for the stop sign,
I shot across the street. The headlights flashed over my body. For an instant I
wondered how they made my ass look, and how much the driver saw. I ran up on a
front lawn and kept going, charging as fast as I could, not looking back, down
the block from lawn to lawn. And it happened again. My pussy began to shudder.
It shuddered so hard I couldn’t run any more, and I went down on my ass and
skidded to a stop, like I was sliding into second base. I was really coming
now, and I didn’t even have to touch my pussy. I flopped on my back, my arms
over my head, and squirmed on the grass like a crazy thing.
“Oh … oh wow,” I said, laughing
quietly. “Whoo!”
My breathing and my heart
gradually came back down to normal. I stopped squirming, welcoming the breeze
on my damp pussy.
I shivered like I was cold.
Then I stopped. Then I shivered again. I hugged myself until I stopped
completely. I tried to get up, but my legs were weak, and I fell right back on
my ass.
So I looked up at the stars,
with my arms crossed over my chest, taking deep breaths, and I wriggled my toes
on the grass.
The car I flashed hadn’t
followed me. I wondered why. Maybe the driver wasn’t sure what they saw, or
maybe they didn’t believe it. Or maybe they were too tired to care. I suddenly
realized I was tired, too. Exhausted, in fact. The adventure was over.
I got up. I was still wobbly,
but I could walk. I wiped the grass off my butt and slunk home, humming
Beethoven’s Fifth, the march in the second movement, to keep myself going.
The back door was still
unlocked, the kitchen was still dark, and mom was still snoring behind her
bedroom door. It was like nothing had happened.
Believe it or not, I put my
pajamas on before I crawled into bed. It sounds weird, but after running around
naked and coming so hard, I was feeling modest, even virtuous. I wasn’t sexed
up anymore like I’d been just — I looked at my clock — seventeen minutes ago.
I pulled my covers over my
face. It felt good to be warm and all wrapped up. I fell asleep with a smirk,
telling myself I wasn’t going to take any more dumb chances.
But I knew that wouldn’t last.
Sex with Daddy is sweet. Sex
with Mom is weird, but I think it’s funner. It’s kinky. Daddy makes love to me.
He kisses me all over, and when he puts his penis in me, he’s so gentle.
Fucking him is like eating a butterscotch sundae with lots of whipped cream.
And he always asks me if I came. Mom acts like she doesn’t give a crap. She
just likes to dress me up and make me do shit.
Like this one day, when she
made me wear bright red stockings that came all the way up my thighs, and red,
old-fashioned dress gloves that came all the way up my arms. And a dog collar.
That was all. We were down the basement music room for what Mom calls
“obedience training.” She was so slutty-looking in her black bustier. The bra
part mashed her little titties down and puffed them out on top. She also had on
black thigh high boots and no panties. She trims her cunt hair into a neat
rectangle, which she only started doing when we started fooling around last
Christmas.
She told me to move the music
stands and chairs against the wall. Then she snapped a leash on my collar and
she made me crawl around behind her on the carpet.
“Speak!” she said.
I went, “Arf!”
“Beg!”
I got up on my knees and held
my hands up like paws, with my fingers curled down.
“Good dog! Here’s a treat.”
She popped an M&M in my
mouth. Peanut, my favorite.
The kids at school would laugh
like hell if they ever found out what we were doing. I could just hear them — “She makes you act like a dog!?” But I really got into it. I shook my heinie
like I was wagging my tail. I jumped up on her and stuck my nose in her crotch.
I could tell she was creaming. Her cunt had that thick, sweaty smell. I made
loud sniffing and panting noises.
“Down,
girl!” she said. She wrapped the leash tight around her fist and gave it a
yank. It jerked me away from her.
“Bad
dog! Any more shenanigans, and I’ll smack your ass with a rolled up newspaper.
Understand?”
I
made a sad-puppy whimper. The rule was, I couldn’t talk.
“Better,”
she said. “Now listen to me. Your father tells me you want to outside naked
again. We talked about that when you were little, and I told you no. The answer
is still no. And if I find out you’ve done anything naughty, you will be severely
punished, like the bad little dog you are. I am ordering you to be good.
Understand?”
I
looked up at her with my eyes wide. She yanked hard on the leash again.
“Understand!?”
I
gave another whimper.
“Better,”
she said. “Now come with me.”
She
led me back to the unfinished part of the basement, where the washer and dryer
and the stationary tubs are. It was dim back here, and the bare tile floor hurt
my knees. I smirked as I followed along. Mom and Dad had no clue about my nude
nighttime run.
And
an order from Mom was worth even less than a promise to Dad. It’s like if a
puppy pees on the rug, and you beat it, it doesn’t stop peeing. It just does it
in secret.
But
I let her think she was in charge.
When
we got to the washing machine, she made me take off the gloves and hand them to
her. They were old and delicate, she said, and she didn’t want them to get
soiled. Then she made me lay on my back on the cold tile floor while she stood
over me, one boot next to each hip. I looked up into her cunt, and I was just
thinking, “I came out of that,” when she said —
“This is for your own good.”
And
God, did she let go. Who knew such a slender woman could have so much pee in
her? It rained down on me, rolling off my chest, spattering my face, soaking my
hair. It smelled nutty, like roasting cashews, and it tasted salty like
cashews, too. I caught some of it in my mouth and spit it out. It sounds gross,
but I loved it. It was the wildest thing ever. Mom’s piss all over me — Ewww.
Yummy. I bathed in it, rubbing it into my skin all over like soapy
lotion. It ran under me on the floor, and I slid around on it, bouncing back
and forth between Mom’s boots.
“Filthy,”
she said over the splashing sounds. “Bad, filthy little dog. Filthy little
bitch dog.”
And
I was filthy. The hot piss loosened the grime on the floor, and it smeared me
black. The grit dug into my ass and my shoulders, and clung to the soles of my
feet. My stockings were thick with smelly wet. They stuck to my legs and toes.
“There,”
Mom said when the last few drops had smacked me in the chest. “I hope we’ve
learned our lesson. No going outside naked. You may
speak now. Say, ‘Yes, Mother.’”
“Yes, Mother”
“Better,” she said. “Now — ”
She raised one foot from the
floor and pressed the slimy toe on my lips.
“Lick it off,” she ordered.
I scraped my tongue along the
filthy underside of her boot.
“Now the other,” she said.
“Better. There’s a rag in the tub. You are to clean up this mess you made. When
you’re finished, you are to come upstairs and take a shower and rinse out your
mouth. Then you will eat your Mother’s pussy. You’re too disgusting to go near
it the way you are.”
She threw the leash in my face
and marched upstairs.
I laid there breathing hard.
Humiliation was a thrill, and I wanted it to last. I rolled around in the
puddle of pee, with my arms over my head, making myself totally dirty, front
and back. Face down, I touched my tongue to the floor and smacked my lips. But
I was already getting cold. A hot shower would feel good now, and a shampoo. So
I got myself up. I was a hideous mess — “bedraggled” was the word. Bedraggled
with dirt and piss. I found the rag. I rinsed it out with hot water and got
back down on my hands and knees and started to scrub. Mom’s cold pee drizzled
down my pussy while I worked.
And she
would be naked.
♀♀♀
The enchanted forest turned out to be a mental
hospital. For real. Mom and Dad had a gig playing outside at Friends Hospital
in the city. The main building went up in like 1810. It’s painted yellow, and
it looks like a mansion, with high windows and a slate roof. It was out in the
country when they built it, and the crowded neighborhoods and the strip mall
hemmed it in over the years, but it still has acres of wooded hills surrounded
by iron fences, and every spring, they open up the grounds for the big Azalea
Festival. People come in and wander around and look at the garden. It was
awesome the Sunday we went. The blossoms were at their peak, and the bushes
were trimmed into perfect balls piled one on top of another, white and crimson,
like giant scoops of vanilla ice cream and red raspberry sherbet, and pink,
like monster wads of cotton candy. Some were purple, and I can’t think of what
they were like. There were only a few puffy white clouds in the sky, and the
sunshine poured down like honey. The colors were so intense it was sexual.
Mom and Dad set up their chairs
and stands in a circle on the gravel path, in front of a great pink wall of
flowers. The bushes blocked the sun, and it was shady and cool there. Mom
played her oboe and her English horn while Dad coasted through some bass notes
on his cello. It was the easiest gig in the world, Mom said, since nobody there
knew anything about music, and they weren’t expecting much. They did some
arrangements of Schubert and Handel, and that tune from the Civil War series,
and a couple other dumbed-down things — though Dad always has to throw in a
movement or two from the Bach suites. That always gets attention.
I got into the act, too. Dad
promised me ten bucks, part of his take-home pay, if I played my flute. So I
did my Nielsen, that piece I fucked up at the school holiday concert. I was
good at it now. I didn’t even need the music anymore. I stood between my
parents in my sky-blue tank top, my denim pedal pushers and my blue canvas
slip-ons, and I pulled in a small crowd. They gave me a nice round of applause,
and while I was taking my flute apart and putting it back in the case, I
overheard one lady tell Mom I was “lovely.”
“Sometimes she’s a handful,”
Mom said.
“It’ll only get worse as she
gets older,” the lady said. “You should enjoy her while she’s young.”
“Oh, we enjoy her thoroughly,”
Mom said.
“That was lovely, Sweetie,” Dad
told me. “See what happens when you practice?”
“Can I get some lemonade?” I
said.
He stretched his legs out and
dug into his pocket for his wallet.
“Here’s your pay,” he said. He
handed me a ten.
“Can’t you buy it for me?”
“Spend what you earn, and learn
to budget,” he said.
Everything’s a fucking lesson
with those two. I stood my flute case next to Dad’s chair, and as I went off
down the path, Mom called after me —
“Don’t wander off too far. You
play again in twenty minutes.”
“I thought I already earned my
money,” I called back, and I trotted away.
The refreshment stand was at a
long, low building that used to be the stable. I paid two-fifty for a big
Styrofoam cup of lemonade and ice. The lady put a top on it and handed me a
straw. I stuffed my change in my pocket and went off sipping. It was good —
cool and not too sweet, and not from a mix — and I needed it after my
performance. My mouth was dry, but more from performance nerves than from
having to blow. It’s weird — I like exposing myself to cops, but playing a
simple melody for a few undemanding old people scares me shitless.
Pretty sick, huh?
I swear, I wasn’t thinking
about getting nude when I started back up to the garden, but I missed the
little sign with the arrow on it, and I went straight instead of turning, onto
a dirt path that went up a hill. There weren’t any azaleas up here. It was all
trees. When I realized I’d gone the wrong way, I turned around and saw an older
couple going around the back of the stable. That was the way I should have
gone. It would have been nothing to go back down and follow them. But it was
nice up here. It was out of the sun, and the shade was easy on the eyes. It was
cool, too … and private.
Suddenly a cold flush swept
over me. I knew what I wanted to do.
I turned my back on the old
couple and climbed the rest of the way up the hill, sipping my lemonade. At the
top I went a couple of steps over the crest. Nobody could see me here, but it
wasn’t as nice. There were thorny vines tangled in the dead grass. A few feet
down the slope the iron fence was bent and chipped, with brown leaves and
litter stuffed along the bottom and razor wire curled along the top. Beyond
that was a block of seedy brick row houses.
I put my cup down between two
exposed roots, and I looked around. Then I looked around some more. I tweaked
my nips through my soft cotton top, and they stood up fast — The Poky Little
Puppies. (I still don’t wear a bra if I can help it.) Maybe if I put my hand
down my pants and wanked a little, I told myself, I’d get over this crazy mood.
So that’s what I did. I was trying to
talk myself out of this, because I knew it was fucking nuts. There were people
down the hill, not fifty yards away.
Yeah, but that’s what makes it
so sweet, said the Devil on my shoulder
I slipped out of my shoes and
took my jeans off and folded them neatly next to my lemonade cup. Then came the
top, which I also folded neatly. I stood in my blue cotton panties and flicked
my nipples some more. A minute of that, and my panties felt too tight in the
crotch. I played with the waistband, pulling it out in every direction and down
like I was teasing somebody, letting the air get in. Finally I stuck out my ass
and rolled them off completely, doing a striptease for the little forest
creatures.
The air was even nicer than it
was at night in my neighborhood. It was richer, with a smell like fresh, warm
dirt. The shadows of the leaves danced on my bare skin.
I went back up to the crest of
the hill and hung my panties from the branch of a sapling. I meant it as a
private joke, but it was actually pretty smart, as I found our later.
The hill was steep, but it
didn’t seem as high now that I was looking down. The people going to the
lemonade stand weren’t very far away at all. If they bothered to turn their
heads, they’d see me plain as day, though they might have to squint a little to
tell I was nude. I snuck down a little at a time, going from tree to tree,
hiding behind each one and holding on to keep from losing my footing and
running all the way down.
I tried a few poses, like
leaning back against a trunk with my arms up, or leaning forward, supporting
myself on my hands and looking back over my butt with eyes that said, “Yeah,
you want this?”
The big surprise came when I
hugged a beech tree. The light bark was just a little rough, and it rubbed
against the top of my slit, where my clitty is. That felt … interesting. So I
pushed back a little from my shoulders and pressed crotch harder into the
trunk. That felt more interesting. I jiggled my legs, and in another minute I
was getting off by humping a fucking tree. I
named him Woody, and just when I came I threw my arms around him and frenched
his blank gray face.
Hey,
don’t judge me till you’ve walked a mile in my naked butt.
The
fresh air was made me dizzy. Well, coming did, too. I slid down Woody’s and
stretched out on the cool ground, gazing up through the swaying branches. That
should have been it. I’d gotten away with it. Nobody had seen me, and it was
getting to be time to go back to my Mom and Dad. But fuck ’em. They could wait.
I wanted more of the air and the sun and the moving shadows on my body, and
that’s what got me into trouble.
I
got up. Down below, a mom was pushing stroller down toward the lemonade stand.
There was a little girl in the stroller, with a balloon ties around her wrist,
and a boy walking with them who might have been about eight. The boy looked
right up at me. He turned to his mom said something, but I jumped behind Woody,
and if the mom looked up she didn’t see me. I counted to ten and peeked out
again. They were gone. I ran back up the hill. I was the wood nymph, the naked
forest sprite that appears to the boy in the story and then vanishes.
I
could imagine what they said:
“Mom,
there’s a girl up there with no clothes on!”
“Where?
Oh, you’re crazy — and pretty horny for an eight-year-old.”
The
hilltop curved around like the rim of a bowl. I went along until it dropped
off, and there was the garden spread out like an afghan, and the people weaving
their way through the bushes. I didn’t see Mom and Dad, but I could hear Mom’s
English horn, and I recognized the pink wall of azalea blossoms.
I
snuck down. The dirt hill rolled right down to the pink wall. No one was back
there. The garden and all the people were on the other side, and they had no
idea a naked girl was just a few feet away. I crept along, homing in on Mom’s
reedy whine. She was playing “Goin’ Home” from Dvorak. Dad was playing a low
drone. Through a small gap in the bush, I cold just see Mom’s hair pulled back
over her left ear. I figured my pussy absent-mindedly. It was starting to feel
good again when I heard two or three people applauding, which was confusing,
because Mom hadn’t stopped playing. Then I heard a low whistle, and I knew that
wasn’t for Mom. That was for me.
I
looked over. There was a small group of people, men and women, at the far end
of the bush, and they were all grinning. I guess one of them had stuck his nose
around to see if there was anything behind the bush, and when he saw that there
was, and what it was, he waved more people over. Or something. How
didn’t matter. What mattered was standing there naked in front of a gathering
crowd.
I
threw my hands over my tits and pussy, but then I figured why bother and I let
my arms drop. The whole encounter couldn’t have last more than a couple
seconds. There was a guy who a camera with a big telephoto lens pointed at me
like a cannon. He was snapping away, just pressing down on the button — click-click-click-click-click. I kind of liked that, but then the kid
popped out around the bush and pointed at me.
“Hey
Mom!” he yelled. “There she is! I told ya!”
That’s
when I took off. It was a straight line back up the hill, and everybody could
see my bare ass every step of the way. I could still hear the camera clicking,
and with that lens, he must have gotten a got close-up shot. The trees all looked
the same, and I started to panic. I didn’t remember where I’d left my clothes,
but then — I told you this was smart — I saw my panties hanging from the tree.
I ran for them.
It
took forever to get there, but I did, finally, and jumped over the top of the
hill and collapsed in the dead grass. I was winded, and yes, I was coming
again, thanks for asking. I pumped my pussy hard. It was like all the fear and
excitement shot through it and blew out into the air.
Everything
got still again. The sun was still shining, and the trees were still swaying. I
crawled back to where my panties were peeped over the hill. I couldn’t see the
garden from here. Nobody had followed me. I felt clean, like I had been cured
of my habit for at least for a little while. I put my pants and top back on,
but I left my panties hanging on the little tree for somebody to find.
Then
I picked up my lemonade and went back to Mom and Dad like nothing had happened.
“You’re
late,” Mom said.
“Sorry.
It’s just so pretty.”
“It
is, isn’t it?” Dad said. “I’m glad we came.”
“You
still have to play one more time,” Mom said. “And then we’re done.”
I
put my flute back together, and the three of us — Dad, and Mom and me — and
played the minuet and trio from Mozart’s 39th Symphony. It was Dad’s
reduction, and it sounded nice. It was easy, too, and I was more relaxed than I
was the first time I played. I recognized most the people listening. They’d
seen me behind the bush. There was the kid, and the guy with the camera, taking
more pictures of me. If I could have smiled while I was blowing into my flute,
I would have. So they’d seen me naked. Big fat hairy deal.
Nobody said anything, but when we were done, they
cheered. I mean, really cheered. We were good, but we weren’t that good. So I
knew why they were cheering. I was just glad my parents didn’t. It was like
we’d all played a trick on them.
It was the woman who told Mom I was “lovely” who handed
Dad the check. He introduced her me as Mrs. Lowery of the Festival Committee.
She was short and chubby, with short white hair, and she wore sandals with
stockings. When we she shook hands, she looked at me longer than I was
comfortable with. Then she said, “You have something in your hair,” and she
pulled it out. It was dead grass.
We went off to the lot and put our instruments in the
back of the car. We have a hatchback, because of Dad’s cello case. Mom rode
shotgun. I sat in the back. We pulled out of the driveway onto the boulevard.
Dad turned the radio on to check the traffic, and I was feeling pretty good
because I had gotten away with something — a big something.
“There was a bit of a buzz while you were getting your
lemonade,” Mom said. “Apparently there was a young girl running around the
woods in the altogether.”
The bottom fell out of my stomach. I really felt like I
was going to crap my pants, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I didn’t see it,” Dad said, “but everybody was talking
about it. Somebody called her Miss Nude Azaleas.”
“What do you
think her parents should do if they found out she was being so disobedient?”
Mom said. “Because I’m sure they’ve talked to her about it.”
“That’s a tough one,” Dad said. “She didn’t hurt anybody,
but you can’t just let something like that pass. What do you think, Sweetie?”
“I dunno,” I said.
“If she were my daughter,” Mom said, “I’d spank her
bottom good and hard when we got home.”
They let me chew on that a long time. Then Dad said, kind
of slyly, “I don’t know. It’s such a pretty bottom.”
We laughed all the way home.
© 2013 by Jacqueline Jillinghoff
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