MY COUSIN SHELLEY (CHAPTER 1)


My cousin Shelley has grown up like her mother, my
Aunt Sue, in many ways.  She is happy and excitable by
nature, with a rich enjoyment of life.  She is more
fortunate than I in that she grew up in a naturist
environment and is completely unselfconscious about
her own nakedness and unaware of the nakedness of
others.

As she started at the naturist club at the age of two,
and even before then often played naked in her garden,
she cannot remember a time when she was supposed to be
shy of her body, as I can.  She has always retained
her love of being naked, and it actually took quite a
bit of hard work by both Aunt Sue and myself to
persuade her to follow convention.

At the time of my writing this, she is ten years old
and her tiny nipples have hardly started to stand up
for themselves.  She is quite pretty and very lively,
with brown eyes and dark shoulder-length hair that she
hates to tie up, as she is required to do at school. 
She is slimmer than her mother, with a lovely smooth
body and a delightful all-over tan.  She has fewer
inhibitions than anybody I know, and I often think she
would not be the slightest embarrassed were we to walk
her down the main street of the city quite naked.

She still prefers to live without clothing, but she
has learned to be sensible and keep her nakedness to
the accepted places.  When she was small, though, and
after a few trips to the club, she began to resent
wearing any clothes at all.  It was quite a struggle
for Aunt Sue to force her into clothes whenever they
went out anywhere, and she soon discovered that, when
dressed, Shelley would remove her panties as soon as
she was out of sight.

This did become a problem, as Aunt Sue tends to be
rather scatterbrained and often forgot, after dressing
Shelley, to check that she was still wearing her
panties at the moment of departure.  Even then Shelley
would sneak them off in the car if she could.  Two or
three times Aunt Sue caught her throwing her panties
out of the car window, but Shelley soon learned that
she was liable to be caught if she did this, and
instead tucked them down the back of the seat.

If Aunt Sue had been anybody else, she might have been
very embarrassed by Shelley on a number of occasions,
because Shelley's habits soon revealed if she had
anything on underneath or not.  She would often sit
with her legs curled up under her chin, or roll on her
back and kick her legs in the air.  She still does at
times.  She would squat to look at things on the
ground, or pull up her skirt at the back to scratch
her bottom or at the front to wipe her nose.

Several times Aunt Sue suddenly discovered, at the
same time as a number of other people, in the middle
of town that her daughter had nothing underneath her
dress.  If it was an important occasion, she had to go
into a shop to buy another pair.  Fortunately the
locals at least in our country are quite unconcerned
about that sort of thing, but those of British descent
are less so.  For a time Aunt Sue made her wear jeans
or shorts, but Shelley hated these so much she had
fits of rage when forced to wear them, and in this
country they are generally regarded as male garments
that it is not really decent for girls to wear.

Whenever Aunt Sue left Shelley at our house to play,
the moment she drove out of the gate Shelley would
gaily rip off her panties and create a fuss if my
parents tried to make her put them on again.  Carmen,
our maid, made no objection when she was in charge and
neither did I, which no doubt added to Shelley's
stubbornness.

I didn't realize that my laxity would indirectly
encourage her to behave in the same way at other
people's houses, and Aunt Sue had to deal with a few
embarrassed mothers of playmates who informed her of
the difficulties they had in keeping Shelley's panties
on.  Shelley is not really a rebel by nature, so she
would reluctantly put them on if told, only to remove
them as soon as she had the chance.

The crisis point came when we all attended the wedding
of a good family friend.  Shelley was four years old
at that stage, and she was a bridesmaid, so she had a
good long skirt.  Aunt Sue, in a flurry with all that
had to be done, had no doubt forgotten to check on
Shelley, and I noticed before the wedding started, as
she crouched on the ground to examine a millipede,
that she was again wearing no panties.  I thought,
though, that with everybody so busy and with Shelley
wearing a long skirt, nobody would find out.

After the wedding we all lined up for photos and I was
in the front line, though not near Shelley.  We had a
couple of shots taken, and then the photographer, just
as he was about to take the third, called out, "Will
that little girl on the left please just put her skirt
down."  Craning my head, I could see Shelley standing
there with the hem of her skirt in her mouth, as she
tended to do when on the rare occasions when she was
nervous.  I feared the worst.

Sure enough, when the wedding photos came out, the
first two showed a pretty little girl in a white dress
with the hem in her mouth, bare thigh right up to the
hipbone one side, and the vagina just peeping out at
the side of the skirt.  Aunt Sue was frustrated at
having spoilt some of the photos for the married
couple, although she blamed the photographer for not
checking properly first.  With Shelley about to attend
preschool, she knew that something would have to be
done to persuade her daughter to keep her panties on. 
Nails, she said, would be a last resort.

Shelley, I say without undue modesty, has always
thought the world of me and I really think I have more
influence with her than her parents do.  Aunt Sue was
actually the first to say that, and so she turned to
me for help with this problem.

Shelley's birthday takes place about three weeks
before the start of the school year.  It was Aunt
Sue's suggestion, with a touch of desperation, that I
buy Shelley some panties myself, as an extra present
that she would pay for, in the hope that with that
gift coming from me and with my encouragement, she
might be a little more willing to wear them at
preschool.  Even if she arrived there fully clothed,
there was no guarantee that she would not remove them
at the earliest opportunity – in fact, we both knew
that she almost certainly would.  Aunt Sue had tried
herself with print panties with pictures and all sorts
of different colours and patterns, but Shelley hated
them all.

So I went to town with Aunt Sue one day and, not
without personal embarrassment, spent some time in the
girls' underwear department.  There were one or two
girls there that I knew from school, and they were
wondering why I should be there.

I knew what I wanted.  When I fell in love with Sharon
at the naturist club, I fell in love with her soft,
snowy-white woollen panties as well, and these were
what I wanted to get Shelley.  Aunt Sue thought I was
fussy, but in the third store I finally found exactly
what I wanted.

I really enjoyed the anticipation of giving those
panties to Shelley, and I really enjoyed having them
myself in advance.  Even though I no longer had that
crush on Sharon, the panties entranced me.  Many times
in the few days before Shelley's birthday I held them
against my cheek, feeling their softness and
whiteness, and finding a sensual excitement in that.

So, on Shelley's birthday morning, I cycled round
early to their house, to be greeted as usual with
unconfined excitement by Shelley, who found time to
cover me in kisses before ripping open her presents. 
I've forgotten what my personal present to her was,
but I let her open that first.

I held the special parcel out of her reach at first as
I gave my prepared speech.  "Shelley, you're growing
up and you'll be going to preschool soon," I reminded
her, to her delight.  "I want to give you a very
special present that only big girls wear.  Sharon at
the club wears these – outside the club, anyway - and
now you can wear them as well when you go to
preschool."  And I gave her the parcel.

With squeals of delight she grabbed it and tore off
the wrappings.  She stared at the four pairs of soft
white woollen panties inside.  Aunt Sue and I held our
breath.  Now was the vital moment.

Shelley had been begging me to come with her to
preschool, so I added, "I can't come with you, but
that's my special present to remind you about me when
you're there.  Look, they're just like mine" – so
saying I pulled down the front of my shorts to show my
white underpants – "only yours are for girls."

That did the trick.  She squealed in delight and flung
her arms round my neck, covering me in kisses.  Then
she threw herself into the nearest chair and lifted up
her legs to put on the top pair under her dress,
revealing that she had not been wearing any panties to
start with.  Aunt Sue stifled a groan.  She had tried
so hard to ensure Shelley was wearing panties for the
party, but somewhere along the line she had slipped
them off.  But at least now, for the first time,
Shelley actually wanted to wear a pair.

The problems were not quite over yet, though.  As the
first guests arrived, we all went out to meet them and
their parents, and Shelley announced in a loud clear
voice to the whole group, "Look at these!  Roy bought
them for my present."  So saying, she hauled her skirt
up high, showing not only those lovely white panties
but also her tummy above her belly button.

The little girl guests were interested and came to
have a closer look, while the parents chuckled partly
with amusement and partly with embarrassment.  Aunt
Sue tried to stop her, for the sake of her adult
friends, but Shelley was too excited.  The next batch
of guests got the same treatment.

One of the other girls then broke in, uncomfortable
even for a four-year-old.  "Shelley, stop lifting your
dress up," she scolded primly, trying to pull it down
again.

I took the opportunity as soon as I could to speak to
Shelley quietly and tell her that some grown-ups think
it's bad manners for a girl to lift her dress up. 
Shelley has always been concerned about her manners,
and so that stopped this activity for this particular
afternoon.

There were others, though.  As soon as all the guests
had arrived and Aunt Sue was beginning to organize
little-girls' games for them, Shelley threw off her
dress and stood there wearing nothing but those
beautiful panties, much to the surprise of her little
guests.  When Aunt Sue remonstrated with her, she
simply replied, "I'm hot and I want to."

I then put in my bit, telling her that it was
considered good manners to wear beautiful dresses as
parties.  She protested that her guests didn't mind,
but in the end, with some prompting from the more
easily shocked of her guests, reluctantly put her
dress on again.  But at regular intervals she would
hitch it up for no particular reason, or else do
handstands or swing upside-down from tree branches or
the climbing frame to show off proudly what she had
underneath.

When it came to swimming, being four-year-olds, the
girls all changed outside quite happily, although it
was into swimming costumes, as most came from textile
families.  Actually, Shelley always enjoys two
parties, a small one at the club for naturist friends
and a larger one at home for textile friends and her
best naturist friends who are willing to wear clothes
and costumes for the privilege of coming.

I had by now long got over any excitement at seeing
four-year-olds naked.  They had not reached that stage
of self-consciousness yet at which they started to
become shy of my seeing them.  That usually begins at
the age of about six, and that's where my interest
starts – with girls who are shy of their bodies, or
old enough to be shy of them.  When I find girls
trying to hide themselves from me, it stimulates my
desire to see what they are trying to cover.  The lure
of the forbidden, I suppose.

Solving one problem with Shelley gave rise to another.
  She now became reluctant to wear a dress but, when
she was expected to wear clothes and could not run
around naked, wanted to wear only her panties.  At her
friends' houses she would whenever she could remove
her dress and play in her panties, which didn't bother
the various parents too much at her age, but would
clearly be a problem at preschool.

Aunt Sue tried the same solution.  She held a small
celebration the weekend before the preschool term
started, and took me to town again to choose some
dresses, at her expense, for my `gift' to Shelley.  I
chose some colourful ones near knee-length, so that
nothing would show when she bent over and not so much
when she did her other little-girl activities.  It was
better that way, I thought, than have other people
comment adversely on her vivid displays, although I
enjoyed her lack of inhibitions.

I took the same line again with Shelley, telling her
that as she was now a big girl, I had bought some
big-girl clothes for her, just as Sharon, and a few
other older girls I named, wore, so that she could
wear them at school.  And that did the trick.  She
went off to preschool clothed and happy, and stayed
happy.  She did forget herself on her first day,
though, proudly showing off her dress to the woman in
charge as something Roy bought her, and then lifting
it up to show what else I had bought her.

I anticipate there may be a similar problem with
Shelley in the next couple if years.  She refuses to
wear vests and frequently swears she will never wear a
bra.  She won't need one for a while, but when she
does she will be too old for me to try that kind of
solution again.  I don't know how we will handle that
one, but she will certainly be expected to wear one at
school.  Outside school she likes to wear loose
dresses at the top or loose blouses, saying she likes
plenty of air.  In the near future she may well be
giving interested spectators some unusual sights.

(To be continued)


MY COUSIN SHELLEY (CHAPTER 2)


Shelley came through to the infants' section of the
English school in my final year there.  The junior and
infants sections share the same school grounds, as do
the junior high and high schools.  She has always been
gregarious, so she shared her attentions between her
friends and me.

Unfortunately she had an elderly, single and very
formal class teacher who was not very understanding of
our liberated lifestyle.  Quite often she would call
me in to complain about Shelley, who she said needed
to learn more decorum.  I had also presented Shelley
with her first school uniform, a white blouse and blue
knee-length skirt, but she still managed to cause a
few flutters.

I think Miss Treger used to call me in rather than
Aunt Sue because I was more easily available, and also
because she could refuse to answer if I asked her to
be more specific about her complaints.  For example,
when she told me that Shelley needed to learn `how a
lady wears her skirts', I asked her if she meant that
Shelley was showing her panties too much, and received
an icy glare and a grim repetition of that vague
complaint.  I toned down my question by asking exactly
what Shelley was doing wrong, but got no further.

Only a couple of days later I was again summoned by an
outraged Miss Treger, who ordered me in no uncertain
terms to teach Shelley `the correct place and manner
in which to use the bathroom'.  I already knew what
that one was about, actually.

One of the girl prefects had found my naοve little
cousin, in a corner of the playground, with her skirt
up and panties in hand, demonstrating to several
fascinated boys her technique of urinating while
standing up.

Shelley was quite upset and bewildered about all the
fuss this had caused, and here I think Aunt Sue was at
fault.  She was very proud of the way Shelley always
urinated standing up, just like a boy, and made a bit
of a joke about it, but only with the family and
friends.  So Shelley got the idea from her that it was
something to be proud of, and was quite uninhibited
about it.  For some reason this problem had never
surfaced at preschool, perhaps because they were more
thoroughly supervised.

All was well for a couple of weeks, and I began to
think Shelley had settled in and adapted.  Then came
another call to Miss Treger's classroom at home time,
and she seemed more outraged than ever.

"Please ensure that that cousin of yours," she began
icily, "learns to behave decently when sitting on the
grass, and refrains from using unsuitable language."

In vain did I try to elicit more information from the
old dame, so I had no idea how Shelley had
transgressed this time.  She too was very upset by her
teacher's reaction, so much so that she didn't want to
talk about it.

I had an idea.  She used to play a game with me after
school sometimes about school itself, and she used it
to work out her frustrations with Miss Treger.  I
would pretend to be the teacher, while she would be
herself.  Often I would scold her, as she instructed
me, for things like talking too much or running on the
veranda.  Then she would be rude back to me, and
sometimes play silly tricks on me.  I knew it was just
her way of letting off frustration and that she was
never rude to Miss Treger in real life, or I would
have heard about it.

So, after leaving the subject for a few minutes, I
asked if she wanted to play school.  She didn't, but
later on that evening changed her mind.  We played our
usual parts, and then I tentatively suggested we play
what had happened at school that morning.

"No," Shelley said vehemently.  Then she suddenly
changed her mind again and said, "Oh, all right,
then."

She set the scene and told me what to do.  Miss Treger
was reading to the class outside on the grass, while
they were sitting around her listening.  I acted out
Miss Treger.  Shelley sat as she always liked to do,
with her knees tucked under her chin and her panties
showing at the bottom.

"Now you say, `Shelley, sit properly and cross your
legs'," she instructed me, so I did so.  She pulled a
face, said nothing and pushed her knees down until she
was sitting cross-legged.  "Now you must read," she
told me.

I pretended to read, watching her at the same time to
see what she would do.  After a moment she pulled her
skirt up a little at the front, pulled back her
panties at the side with her left hand and put her
right hand inside.  Her little vagina, slightly open
in the middle to make it look like a corkscrew, was
clearly visible, still rounded with baby fat.  I
wondered what she was doing, as I had never seen her
masturbate.

"Now you say, `Shelley, what are you doing?'," she
told me, using her teacher's words in a tone of
utterly outraged shock and indignation.  I began to
understand the problem.

I did so, and she looked up at me to answer, "I think
there are ants running up my vagina."

So that was the story.  Given my next instructions, I
used the teacher's same highly outraged voice to tell
her to come here, and then ask, "How *dare* you behave
like that?!"

Shelley's face went red, she jumped to her feet and
yelled furiously right in my face, "I am *not*
behaving like that, you stupid woman!  I was itchy!" 
There were a few more choice phrases before she
finally cooled down a bit.

I was able to have quite a talk with Shelley after
that.  Using my imagination, I told her that Miss
Treger was a very unhappy old woman because when she
was young she had fallen in love with a rich man, but
he had hated her and married someone else, so that was
why she was so cross – but this was a secret and she
mustn't tell anybody or she would get into big trouble
at school.  Shelley did seem to understand a bit, but
was still very indignant at being accused of
wrongdoing when she was only doing what was natural
and using what to her was the correct word for a
normal bodily part.

So I tried to explain that some people, like Mrs
Treger, were very stuffy and very much afraid of some
body parts, so it was best not to talk about them
except to family and other naturists.  Some people
were even afraid of underwear.  Shelley of course
wanted to know why, and I couldn't explain that
properly.

Anyway, it did seem to get something out of her system
and after that there were no more major complaints. 
Her lack of inhibition has sometimes caused a bit of
embarrassment to others around her, but she doesn't
seem to mind at all.  She has never been an
exhibitionist but has always been completely careless
about things that cause so many others problems.

She has no boyfriends, as most people understand the
word, but she does have friends who are boys.  Last
year, when she was nine, I was looking after her at
her house when she had a boy round to play with.  To
the boy's awe and fascination, she changed for
swimming beside the pool, although she did wear a
costume in deference to his textile upbringing.  I
could see him dither about whether also to change in
the open, as I did, but he eventually settled for the
security of the bathroom in the house to change.

Then a few months ago we were in town together when
the wind got up, as it does occasionally at certain
times of the year when it sweeps down from the
mountains.  I love being in town when that happens, as
the gusts blow female skirts all over the place and
there is much to see.

As I mentioned before, garments other than dresses and
skirts are not really considered suitable for women in
this country, and even in the British community
females tend to accept that, I'm glad to say.  In
windy weather many women wear tighter and heavier
skirts that are easier to hold down when the wind
blows, but I'm told they are hotter than the light,
loose skirts most females wear most of the time.

The locals, as I have mentioned, are less prudish than
those of British stock, and they do not look to wear
heavier skirts on windy days or worry unduly when
caught by the wind.  They treat it like fun, laughing
as they walk along, holding their skirts down at the
front with one hand and their hats on their heads with
the other, while the back billows up, generally
revealing those frilly ultra-feminine briefs of the
type that Carmen wore.

I was in town with Shelley and two of her friends when
the wind struck.  The girls squealed and Shelley's
friends held down their skirts at either side, using
both hands.  Shelley gave a whoop of delight as a
perverted gust ripped up her flimsy skirt, ballooning
it up and lifting it high above her waist.  She spread
out her arms wide like an aeroplane, still shouting
aloud with joy, and it was as well as she did so, as
otherwise it would probably have been torn off over
her head and disappeared into the sky, leaving her in
the middle of town wearing nothing but her panties. 
No doubt she would have taken it as a hilarious
adventure.

For several seconds the wind roared, with Shelley's
bare chest fully visible and only a little pair of
lovely white panties below.  Her dress tore upwards
against her outstretched arms, covering her head but
not quenching her joyful voice.

"Shelley, your dress!" exclaimed one of her friends in
horror, lifting a hand from her own skirt to try to
pull down Shelley's.  But she gave a squeal as that
side of her skirt tugged upwards, revealing her own
lacy white panties and up to her little white tummy,
so she grabbed hold of her own supposed dignity again
with great haste.

The wind dropped as suddenly as it had arisen, to the
great relief of the females around us, as it rarely
blew as hard as that.  Shelley's dress flopped around
her body again and her face reappeared, flushed with
excitement.  "Roy, that was such fun!" she exclaimed. 
"I thought I was about to fly!  I hope it does it
again."

"Shelley, your dress was right up over your head,"
protested one of her friends, as if she didn't know. 
She reached out and tugged down the back of Shelley's
skirt, which had got stuck up by her waist.  "Everyone
could see your panties.  You should have pulled it
down."

"I don't care – that was such fun," beamed Shelley. 
"I nearly flew!  I nearly flew!"  She looked at a
couple of boys nearby who were laughing rather rudely,
and laughed along with them, which stopped their
ridicule very nicely.

Shelley is not always completely careless – she is
usually conscious of what constitutes good manners and
tries not to offend, when she remembers.  In company,
she will at times remember to push her skirt down
between her knees when she is sitting and to tuck her
dress into her panties if she wants to do anything
exotic like handstands or playing on the climbing
frame.

She complains about these socially imposed
restrictions at times, but she is basically
good-natured and tries to please others – especially
me.  She knows I like her to be free and without
inhibitions, and she gaily does whatever she likes in
my presence, without ever becoming an exhibitionist.

She prefers to be naked, but she doesn't mind wearing
panties at all now, as long as they are the beautiful
soft snowy-white ones of the type that I first bought
her.  They must feel warm in summer, woollen as they
are, but she doesn't complain.  And she is quite happy
wearing the sort of dresses that I first bought her,
and I always tell her how beautiful she looks.

We know every part of each other's bodies by heart,
but never abuse them.  I have never touched her
between her legs except on one occasion, when I was
invited to do so.  We were together at her house a
couple of years ago when she somehow managed to get
stung by a bee right next to her vagina – we were
naked, of course.  As she cried, she begged me to take
out the sting for her.  So I had the pleasurable job
of burrowing into the soft flesh just next to those
rounded lips to remove the sting.

So that is my laughing, carefree cousin Shelley, my
greatest admirer, and how much I adore her in return! 
She is often a vital ingredient in the stories I will
be including on this site in the near future.

(The End)


________________________________________________________________________
Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping" 
your friends today! Download Messenger Now 
http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html