Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Beth Naked in School

   by peregrinf

   Copyright(c) 2010 by peregrinf

   ------ Description: Part 3 of the Carl NIS series.  It is best to read
Carl NIS first, then Carl NIS - Beth's Story second, then this one.  Beth
helped Carl being naked in school, and now it is her turn.  What will he
do? She's not as shy, now, and isn't about to be bullied.  But what a pep
rally, and after the football game.
Codes: mf ff cons rom reluc les het span gang 1st oral mastrb pett exhib
voy teach sch

   ------

   Chapter 5

   Tuesday Afternoon

   Okay, if I hear one more person, male or female, of any age, say to me,
naked or not, "let's go into the darkroom and see what develops," I am
going to punch him or her in the nose!

   No jury in the world would convict me.

   "Hi, Beth, let's go in the darkroom and see what develops," was the
greeting I got from every one of the eight boys in the photography club as
they joined me, one by one, by the soccer field.  The three girls who were
club members winced and groaned, having heard it themselves more than once,
they assured me.

   Yes, I was the first one there.  Didn't I tell you of my obsessive
compulsive habit of always being early?

   There I was standing self-consciously in front of the home team bench on
the main soccer field, feeling the afternoon breeze stroke my naked body
with insolent little fingers.  Maybe, if you stay naked long enough, you
finally become no more aware of that than you are of the touch of clothing.
If so, then I haven't been naked long enough yet.  I could even feel the
breeze toying with my pubic hair.

   While we waited for the club's adviser the kids fiddled with their
cameras - adjusting this and fixing that, polishing lenses and loading
film. They were as geeky a bunch as those in the computer club - some of
them did both, in fact.

   Finally the adviser, Mr.  Kelly, my art teacher, came trotting up,
festooned with several cameras himself.  "All ready then, are we?  Where
should we start?"

   Not in the darkroom, I thought to myself.  Anyplace but that!

   "How about the goal net?" Albert Ballantine suggested.  He was a
sophomore, a kind of big, pudgy guy who I'd thought of as a possible date
for Stephanie, until earlier today.  Now I wasn't as sure.

   "Why not the benches here?" Jimmy Dirk suggested.  He was in my math
class, a little squirt, not even as tall as me, with pimples.  For some
reason he had his shirt unbuttoned halfway to his waist.  Like anyone was
really interested in his sunken chest!

   Mr.  Kelly made a time out gesture with his hands.  "Wait.  What's the
first thing we need to decide?"

   "What sort of pictures we want to take," Julie Shay answered.

   "Right," Mr.  Kelly agreed.  "What's our theme?  Since our model is
nude, portraiture is obviously - well, not eliminated, but improbable, a
waste of resources, you could say.  Are we interested in cheesecake? 
Glamour shots?  Perhaps erotica?  Are we going for posed shots, or
candids?"

   "Planning our session in advance determines everything, remember?" he
went on.  "Everything from the equipment and film we use to the
backgrounds, props, the poses - everything!"

   "How about smut?" Jimmy Dirk suggested with a smirk, ostentatiously
scratching his belly.  His shirt was completely unbuttoned now.  It was not
an improvement.

   "Pornography is always an option with a willing nude model," Mr.  Kelly
agreed calmly.  "But it is better accomplished with more than one model."

   I nailed Jimmy Dirk with my best glare and an underhanded grabbing and
squeezing motion with my left hand before he could volunteer and he froze
before he had his hand half way up.  He'd seen what I'd done to Freschetti,
much to my relief.

   "When you have a model, how can pictures be candid?" Julie asked.

   "Oh, that's easy enough.  Just ask the model to perform some regular
tasks and snap away," Mr.  Kelly explained.  "For example, since we're here
on a soccer field, Miss Finch, why don't you, uh, kick that soccer ball
around?" he suggested, indicating one that had been left under a bench.

   I frowned.  "I'm not much a soccer player," I confessed.

   "Just play with it a little," he explained.  "You can pick it up, bounce
it, kick it - whatever you want.  Oh, and take off your shoes, please, to
give a more natural look.

   "Since we're taking action shots, what should our choice of film be?" he
went on to the photographer wannabes.

   Julie was first with the answer again.  "Fast film, so we can use the
fastest shutter speeds possible without sacrificing the depth of field we
gain with high f stops."

   "Right!" Mr.  Kelly agreed eagerly.

   Kicking off my loafers left me naked but for the usual gold chain around
my neck with the simple gold cross.  Totally self-conscious, I bent to dig
the ball out from under the bench.  Picking it up, I tried to bounce it and
it hit my foot, and of course it got away from me and I had to chase it
down.

   Handling it awkwardly, I tried to ignore the cameras being focused on
me. Dropping the ball on the grass I kicked it the way I'd seen soccer
players doing it, sort of nudging it around the field.  The grass was cold
under my bare feet.  The breeze was playing with my tits and my pussy.  My
tits were jiggling, and I was waving my arms to keep my balance.  Cameras
were all around me, snapping away.

   I was intensely aware of my exposure.

   I was doing pretty well until I accidentally stepped on the ball instead
of kicking it.  Twisting my ankle, I went flying, legs all akimbo and
landed hard on my butt while the ball scooted away from me.

   The cameras kept right on clicking as, wincing, I got up and rubbed my
bruised bottom, brushing grass clippings off it, then limped after the
ball, my ankle complaining.  Picking up the ball I walked back, tossing it
lamely in the air for some semblance of action for them.

   "How about if she plays goalie," Jimmy suggested snidely.  "She could
sit in the goal with her legs spread and we could try to score."

   I decided I could develop a real dislike for that horny little twerp.

   "I think that's enough of the athletic candids," Mr.  Kelly countered,
taking the ball from me and putting it back under the bench.  "We'll have
June Farrow for that tomorrow, remember."

   That announcement was greeted with whistles from the boys.

   "And Mr.  Freschetti will join us as well for some beefcake," Mr.  Kelly
added, with a wink to the girls, who did not look thrilled.  "Now, why
don't we try some poses on the benches here?  Now, do we want artistic or
cheesecake shots, and who can tell me the primary difference between them?"

   Julie raised her hand.  "Well, the goal of cheesecake photography is
displaying the sexuality of the subject," she suggested.

   "But isn't the sexuality of the subject an important element of artistic
figure studies as well?" Albert asked.

   Julie looked thoughtful.  "I guess so."

   "Any other ideas?" the teacher asked.

   I wished I knew just so I could raise my hand and end the silence, but I
didn't.  Besides, I wasn't part of the club, I was their model.

   "Okay, it's kind of subtle, but with cheesecake and glamour photography,
and beefcake and all erotic photography, the goal is to establish personal
contact between the model and the audience," Mr.  Kelly explained.  "For
example - uh - stretch out on the bench, Miss Finch, on your side, please."

   I did, the bench cold against my naked hip, and I rested on one elbow,
folding an arm self-consciously across my breasts, my leg bent to conceal
my pussy.  Even now, on the second day in The Program, I had this instinct
to cover myself.

   "Now, an artistic nude," Mr.  Kelly went on, "usually will not show the
model's face in detail, perhaps not at all.  You might take a picture from
the back, for example, concentrating on the curved line of her hip,
buttocks and legs.  Or the model might look at the ground, pensively, never
smiling."

   He directed the class around me to show them what he was talking about.
His hand stroked my hip and ass, my leg.  I stayed still, remembering the
lessons learned from my art class modeling, in spite of the shiver his
touch gave me.

   Then they moved around in front of me.  "A cheesecake shot, on the other
hand, virtually always shows the model's face, and usually she, or he, is
looking directly into the camera, making eye contact with the audience,
with an expression that invites some sort of response.  Look this way,
please, Miss Finch," he directed, focusing on me with his own camera.  "Now
smile in a friendly fashion."

   I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly fashion.  Staring into the
camera made me much more intensely aware of his scrutiny.

   "Lick your lips, please," he added.

   I licked my lips.

   "But doesn't erotic photography show more, too?" Albert pointed out.

   "That depends on the market," Mr.  Kelly answered.

   "Today's market shows much more," Albert pointed out, his hands fiddling
nervously with his camera.  "Magazines today show everything - pubic
hair..." He gulped, sweating.  "Everything!"

   "Indeed," Mr.  Kelly agreed.  "Why don't you raise your leg, Miss Finch,
and move your arm to reveal your breasts."

   I tried to figure out just what he meant, lifting my leg, exposing my
pussy.

   "Cup your breast, too," the teacher suggested.  "Play with your nipple.
Tilt your head down and look sultry."

   I blushed, and tried to comply, wondering what "sultry" was, feeling the
air on my pussy, pinching my nipple, my hand cupping my modest breast,
offering it to them.  I tried to look like what's her name, Humphrey
Bogart's girlfriend in "To Have and To Have Not" as I did, but only felt
foolish.

   The cameras clicked, flashes winking at me.

   "Very good, Miss Finch.  And class, remember, when working in bright
sunlight, either to set your flashes to fill in the shadows, to reduce the
contrast, or use a reflector to do the same thing," Mr.  Kelly went on.

   "Now, one of the tricks to posing a woman is to shoot from an angle that
shows one breast in profile.  And the nipple should be stimulated so that
it is erect.  One way to accomplish that is to rub it with an ice cube. 
Lacking that, tactile manipulation, combined, perhaps, with some
fantasizing by the model can accomplish the same effect.  Miss Finch, if
you please."

   I tilted my body.  Lacking an ice cube, I pinched my nipples and
fantasized about Carl toying with me.  My nipples were not the only parts
of my body that reacted.  I felt my pussy flush and blossom.

   The session went on, much faster than in art class, of course.  I
followed directions as they shot picture after picture of me.  It wasn't
possible, of course, to look directly at each camera, so I chose first one
of them and then another, deliberately avoiding Jimmy Dirk's smirking,
drooling attention as much as I could.

   "Show us some pink," he ordered at last.

   "Some pink?" I asked, puzzled.

   "Cunt," he explained.  "Spread your pussy."

   I blushed brighter, looking at Mr.  Kelly for some protection, but he
just indicated I should continue.

   I reached for my pussy, spreading the lips, feeling the air strike
deeper into my damp slit.  Jimmy got down to get a good angle on my
exposure, moving into what I can only describe as a gynecological close up.
I was mortified, but tried to comply as the requests became more and more
provocative.

   I could hear the band practicing on a distant field, and thought of
Carl, how he'd marched so naked during the homecoming game, standing out
from the group even more by marching alone to "Dot the 'i'" during the half
time show.  I remembered how proud I'd been of him, his bravery, and it
stirred me to try to comply with the photography club's requests.

   "Play with yourself," Jimmy suggested.  "Get a finger in there!"

   And I did.  I slid my finger into my hot cunt, while cameras recorded
every bit of my exposure, my wantonness.  Sitting on the end of one bench,
my legs spread wide, leaning back on one hand, I masturbated my gaping cunt
while they all clicked away, even the girls.

   Then I was ordered on to my knees, reaching under my body to spread my
pussy again, while they took pictures of my naked ass, my open slit.  I
even toyed with my asshole, at Jimmy's request again.

   They had me sprawl on the grass, legs spread, knees raised, pinching my
breasts as I humped my hips as if I was welcoming a lover.  I spread my
pussy with both hands, displaying all my glistening pink cunt to them,
remembering how Kate had found beauty in my so private folds.

   I even managed a back-bend, my body arched, my pussy prominent, until my
back gave way and I tumbled again to the grass.

   Mr.  Kelly checked his watch as I got to my feet and tried to brush off
the grass clippings and dirt.  "We have about fifteen minutes more.  Why
don't we let Miss Finch shower off in that time," he suggested.

   "Can we take pictures of her in the shower?" Jimmy asked eagerly.

   "I don't see any reason why not," he agreed.

   So that's how I found myself in the shower room of the boys' locker room
- it was more open than the girls' shower - while the photography club
snapped pictures.  Starting at the top, in the usually organized way I do
things, I soaped my hair, soaped my face and then my torso, my breasts and
back, turning as I did.

   I was soooo aware of the feel of my body under my hands!  Much more than
when I washed at home, or even after gym class.  My nipples were stiff
little buttons, slick with soap.  I washed my ass, between the cheeks, my
soapy finger again toying with my anus, until I even sneaked the tip of it
in a teensy bit, driven by that mad, evil twin of mine to explore this
unexpected erogenous zone.

   I slid soapy hands over my pussy, down my thighs and legs, bending and
turning, giving them a look at every angle of my bathing.  Finally, unable
to stand it any longer, I toyed with my clit, slipped a finger up into my
cunt.

   I tried to be subtle about it, but I masturbated there in the shower,
right in front of the photography club, until I came with a delicious rush,
my cunny spasming around my finger, a flush blossoming on my body as I
pinched my tit.

   And all the time they were taking pictures of me.  Each of them had
reloaded at least twice, and they captured every inch of me, as I came, as
I rinsed off the soap, the grass that had been clinging to me swirling down
the drain.

   Flash.  Flash.  Flash.  The lights sparked and sparked, catching me from
every angle as I dried myself.

   I had NO secrets.

   I was mortified.  Mortified!

   I was also still incredibly turned on from stimulating myself, from all
the attention.

   "Very good, and thank you, Miss Finch.  After we've developed and
printed contact sheets we'll be picking the best shots to put up on the
club's Web site," Mr.  Kelly announced cheerily.  "And I have some great
shots in my digital camera that will be up by tomorrow morning, so be sure
to log on, and tell your friends about it!"

   I shuddered inwardly, realizing that by tomorrow the whole world, the
whole, complete world would see me!  People not only in my own home town
but in England and France, Russia and China, San Francisco and New York and
Australia would be looking at me!  The concept was almost impossible to
grasp.  Talk about exposure!

   Finally I was outside the north entrance to reclaim my clothes.  I
dressed in front of a dwindling crowd, while Carl waited patiently, and
then took my books, and my hand, and we walked homeward.

   After what had happened, I felt a bit silly, even uncomfortable, walking
home with Carl with my clothes on, even my undies.  But try as I might, I
couldn't quite get my nerve up to stop and strip naked, right there on the
street.  And when Carl told me he had stuff to do for his mom, so we
couldn't go to his house, or mine, I was really bummed out, still burning
with the arousal from my posing.

   As I made my way up the driveway to my house I was worr - well,
terrified, actually - that maybe Carl was only making an excuse because he
didn't want me anymore, only to be shaken out of my thoughts when the kid
from next door appeared.

   "You said you'd meet me in your back yard today and show me more,
remember?" he pointed out irritably.

   I remembered how I'd stood in my window the night before.  "I'm sorry, I
had something after school.  I'd forgotten about inviting you over.  Uh,
would you like to do it now?"

   "Uh huh!" Eager didn't begin to describe his expression.

   Oh, well, what was one more young kid looking at me, considering my
photography session.  "What about your mom?"

   "She's not home," he answered quickly.  "We can go to my house."

   "Okay, come on," I agreed, wondering how I could show him more than I
already had.

   "I - uh - invited some friends over," he confessed.

   I felt even worse for having been late.  "I'm really sorry, I should
have told you yesterday I'd be late.  Are they angry?"

   "Naw," he assured me, opening the gate to his back yard.  "We played
computer games.  I told 'em you looked like Lara Croft in Tomb Raider."

   "Well, you're not going to get any credit for truth in advertising," I
scolded him.

   "It won't matter, once you take your clothes off," he assured me.

   I had to admit, this kid did have a talent for cutting straight to the
chase.  "Why don't we do it in the back yard," I suggested.

   "Okay, great!" he agreed.  "Hey, guys, come on out.  Beth's here!  Would
you like a soda or something?  This is Pete, and Max, and Phil and Steve
and Charlie."

   "That'd be nice," I agreed as five kids about Larry's age, maybe ten or
eleven, tumbled out of the house.

   "Make yourself at home.  I'll get drinks," Larry offered.

   "You're not naked," one of them protested - Pete, I think.

   "I just got home from school," I pointed out, putting my book bag on the
patio table.

   "You gonna get naked?" another asked.

   "That's why I'm here," I admitted.

   "Well, hurry up!" another urged.

   I decided to tease them a little, they were so eager.  I toyed with a
button on my shirt.  "I don't know, it doesn't seem fair that I have to get
naked and you don't."

   "I'm not gonna get naked!" Pete argued.

   "Why not?" I asked.

   "It's embarrassing!"

   "You're Phil?" I asked.  He was a handsome little kid with a shock of
black hair.

   "I'm Max," he countered.

   "Sorry.  Well, how do you think I feel?" I asked, having loosened one
button and playing with the next one.

   "Here you are," Larry said, offering me a bottle of soda.

   "Thanks." Still under the influence of all my posing, I kicked off my
loafers and strolled languidly around on the grass, savoring the fizzy
sweetness of the drink.  "I think it's only fair if I get naked you
should." I looked coyly at them.

   "Aww, I don't know," Charlie, a red head answered nervously.

   "Are you guys chicken?" I asked, my shirt open enough to show my bra
now.

   "I'm not chicken!" Steve argued.

   Ah, testosterone.  I love it, I thought.  "I dare you to get naked." I
stripped off my shirt and draped it over a lawn chair.

   "Y-y-y-you dare us?" Larry asked.

   "I double dare you," I challenged, unzipping my skirt.

   For a long moment there was a tense silence.  "Last one naked is a
rotten egg," Charlie shot out, pinking up as he tore at his clothes.

   Well, I wasn't a rotten egg, since I did have a head start, but in less
than a minute they were all shining naked in the bright sun, all pink and
white.

   "Nyah, you're the rotten egg," Charlie teased a blushing Steve.

   "Now what're we gonna do?" Larry asked.

   "What do you want to do?" I asked, feeling free again, now that I was
naked.  I noticed their little peckers were sticking out eagerly.  They
didn't have any pubic hair yet, but the hormones were obviously working
anyway.

   "Let's see you!" Steve challenged.

   I put my hands on my hips, facing them, my feet apart.  "Look away," I
said, feeling a sense of power over them.

   Charlie bent over to look at my crotch.  "You've got hair down there."

   "Yes, I do," I admitted.  "You'll grow hair down there, too, in a year
or two or three, and under your arms."

   "You don't have hair under your arms," Charlie pointed out.

   I raised my arms and turned sideways to them.  "I shave under my arms,
though I don't have very much there anyway."

   "Can we touch?" Steve asked.

   There was one of the requests I'd been dreading, but who better to begin
with than these kids?  "Okay," I agreed.  "Yeah, you can touch."

   I turned back toward them and put my hands behind my head, the way Karen
had.  They touched my breasts, and Steve even explored my crotch, while I
fought down shivers.  "But no tickling," I cautioned.

   The moment I said it I realized it was a mistake.

   "No tickling?  You mean like this?" And Charlie gave my ribs a quick
tickle.

   "Yow!" I giggled, dropping my arm defensively.  "I said no tickling."

   "You mean like this?" Larry countered, going for my flank.

   I was swarmed under, giggling and squirming as the little rascals
tickled me.  We went down in a heap, and it reminded me of a litter of
puppies grammy's dog had had when I'd been about four, clambering all over
me as they tried to lick my face.

   We rolled and tumbled on the grass.  I tickled them, they tickled me,
and each other, reducing us all to helpless giggles.  It didn't end until
we were left gasping, aching from laughter in a tangle of naked arms and
legs and bodies.

   The funny thing was, it wasn't sexual, really.  Oh, I was aroused, and
they were as well, but for them it was all innocent fun, I think.  It was
bare skin against bare skin, even though their little peckers were stiff.
They didn't try to ravish me or anything.  It was sensual, and joyous, a
celebration of youth and innocence and life, not wicked or lascivious.

   By the time we got untangled it was late and I had to go home.  I didn't
even bother to dress, just popped out the gate from Larry's back yard and
in the gate to ours, giving anyone who might be on the street a flashing
glimpse of me naked.

   Mom's eyebrows went up when I walked in the kitchen door with my clothes
over my arm and my book bag in my hand.  "Have a good day?" she asked.

   "It had its moments.  I'm going to take a shower."

   "Your father will be home in about half an hour.  Are you going to dress
for dinner?"

   I got a tingle at the idea of a naked dinner.  "Only if you insist on
it."

   "Makes no difference to me," she answered with a smile.

   I paused in the doorway and looked back over my shoulder at her.  "What
about daddy?"

   Her eyes twinkled as she eyed my naked back.  "Oh, I don't think he'll
mind."

   "That's good." I bounded up the stairs, feeling good about myself. 
Maybe I'd go over to Carl's tonight, after supper, too.

   I had a couple of ideas that I could use his help on.