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