When I woke up Monday morning, I was humming the tune to that song that goes "And I think to myself what a wonderful world." That's a lie, of course, if for no other reason than I donšt know that song beyond the one line. The thought that this world is a beautiful accident, turbulent, succulent, opulent and permanent, though, was rushing through my head at rates approaching light speed. I was back, we were back together, and as I looked at her curled up in my bed, I realized that for the first time in a long time, life might be pretty okay. I rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb her even though she would have to wake up pretty soon anyway, and made my way to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and, my pre-existing nudity making it unnecessary to strip, climbed in the shower and shut the curtain.
I'd been living by myself, and even if I weren't, I don't require much privacy, so my shower curtain was clear. It didn't serve any purpose other than to prevent my bathroom floor from getting soaked. However, I do like my showers scalding hot, so within seconds, that transparent protection can become translucently foggy. Having been to the beach the previous night, and having been distracted away from showering afterwards, it took a bit longer for me to shower than it normally did, carefully washing sand out of places that would be inappropriate to mention here. Once done, I pulled back the curtain and blinked water out of my eyes a few times before I realized that there was another naked body in my bathroom watching me. "Hey, sleepyhead."
"You know you could have waited for me."
I couldn't tell exactly how mad she was at me for having missed the opportunity to hop in the shower together with me, so I went with the safe answer. "You looked so sweet sleeping there, I didnšt want to wake you." After seeing the smile return safely to her face, I continued, "You don't really get it, which is cool. I'm back now. We can fuck around in the shower all we want. Right now, we've got to run to your house to get your books, and it's practically in the opposite direction of the school. So get your naked little butt in the shower alone before you make me late for my first day back." As that naked little butt passed by me with the look of a sad little puppy dog on her face, I did what any red-blooded American lesbian girl would do. I pinched it. "Besides, if you really wanted to take a shower together, I don't think anything was stopping you from jumping in with me." As she retreated into the shower as shocked as she could be, I laughed at what was, for all intents and purposes, a fight, but the most humorous and least violent one we'd ever had.
I backed out of the room without bothering to bring a bath towel with me and let her shower in peace. Meanwhile, I wrapped an apron around my bare torso and tried to cook Caitlyn the home-cooked breakfast I thought she deserved. I don't cook for myself that often, especially not breakfast, but I do know how. By the time she dragged herself out of the shower, I had two plates on the table, each with a cheddar cheese scramble and way too much bacon. The coffee was still dribbling into the pot, but there was more than enough already made for two cups, so I poured them, fully expecting her to take a seat at the table behind me while I did.
She didn't take that seat. She stood there, right outside the bathroom door, with a clearly slightly worried look on her face. I was a nudist. Caitlyn very much was not, and she clearly had had enough of the whole "being naked" thing, as she usually referred to it with me. I'd dragged Caitlyn over to my place with nothing but a bikini, a sweatshirt, and shorts to wear, and despite the breakfast waiting for her on the table, she was very adept at making me feel guilty. "Um, clothes...," I said, desperately reaching for a solution. "You can wear one of my T-shirts. I mean, we've gotta stop by your house anyway, it's really no big deal."
"Yeah, no, it's cool. I'm just kind of cold. I really just want to dry off and throw something on."
She had her towel carefully and tightly wrapped around her, and was already bent down at my dresser rummaging through my drawers. "What's mine is yours. Borrow whatever you need." She took out my favorite Dead Kennedys T-shirt and threw it on the bed. "Do you need my underwear, too?"
Her nerves suddenly melted away when I said that and she started maniacally laughing. "We've been through this before. You've got tiny tits and humongous hips. You're three inches taller than me, your clothes barely fit me. Trying to do anything with your underwear would be totally hopeless." She wasn't lying, but for some reason, what she said made me blush across my entire naked body, something I did very rarely. Caitlyn and I had virtually opposite body types. I was extremely athletic, very little body fat but a whole lot of muscle. My bustline measured a very healthy 38 inches, but it was all pectorals; my actual breasts barely filled a B-cup. My hips...well, she could claim they were large all she wanted, but it was actually a misnomer. Truthfully, they didn't exist at all. My measurements were approximately 38-30-38; I was built with two straight lines going down my sides, no curves at all. Caitlyn was a different story, a walking oxymoron between voluptuous and petite. She had curves all over the place: 34C breasts, hips clearly meant to bear a child some point in the distant future. She was normal height; her petiteness came from having no meat on her bones, fat or muscle. She was just all curves, and she was beautiful.
"So you're just going to wear my T-shirt and your shorts till we get you home to your own clothes?"
"Yeah, I guess." As she closed my shirts drawer, though, something caught her eye in the drawer below it, and she immediately shucked her towel aside and put on my baggiest pair of cargo pants, pulling the drawstring as tight as it would go. After she put the T-shirt on with it, her curves were gone, and my pants were dragging on the floor. But at least she was content, and she finally sat down to eat the now cold breakfast I'd prepared for her. I sat down with her; she was fully dressed but barefoot (and no underwear), I was aproned but nude. She, now calm once again, was awed by my cooking prowess, and was appreciative of the energy the coffee gave her. We didn't talk about anything important, just her making small talk about the food and me suddenly shy.
Once we were done, I jumped up and put my apron back on the kitchen hook, grabbed a yellow T-shirt and dark green gym shorts, also without underwear, slipped on a pair of orange flip-flops, and stood by the door. "We gotta go."
"Huh, why? We got like an hour and a half before we have to be at school."
"Yeah, but we gotta stop at your house first, and I don't know, I sort of want to spend some time there. Even if I didn't want to spend time there, I'm sure your mom wouldn't let me leave right away."
"You think she's--"
"I don't know what I think. I just... we gotta talk; I probably owe them an apology or something."
"Look, Erin, they love you. Nothing you could do--"
"I know that. They love me almost as much as you love me. And I love them, and I love you. And that's why, even if they don't think I owe them anything, even if you don't think I do, I still think I do, and I have to apologize when I see them."
"I understand."
"Oh, and Caitlyn?"
"Yeah?"
I took a couple of steps towards her, and brushed her hair out of her face. "I'm sorry." I kissed her.
"You said that last night."
"But I still am." Remembering that she wasn't wearing underwear at the moment, I stuck half a hand down the back of her pants, er... my pants that she was presently wearing, and caressed the bare flesh on her derričre. She didn't get the shower she wanted, but I still loved her, and I was still going to show her affection every chance I had. I gently pulled myself back out of the waistband, swatted her playfully on the behind outside the pants, and ran out the door to my truck. A full two minutes later, Caitlyn finally remembered that her shoes were still in the back of my truck, and rather than borrowing a pair of my shoes--our feet were the only parts of our bodies that were almost the same size--she came out barefoot, climbed in, and swatted me playfully on the cheek. With that, we were off.
We drove twenty minutes to the opposite side of town where her house was, and the only thing we could think of to talk about was our destination--our final destination, not the intermediate one. "Any of our friends been through the Program yet?" I asked.
"Not really."
"Allison Grande?"
"Nope, still waiting her turn, just like the rest of us."
"You hang out with her at all while I was gone?"
"Not really. I saw her a couple of times, but not really hung out at all."
"That's cool... Anyone from the lunch group?"
"Nah, but a couple of the Program people spent the lunch period nude sunbathing on the hill behind the playground."
Allison was my best friend of all time. She was straight as a rail when she was sober, but when I came out as a lesbian, she accepted me 100%, and a couple of months later, I discovered she had a mean bi-curious streak in her if you got her to imbibe a little alcohol. Our lunch group included every gay and lesbian student in the school, every smoker, stoner, and hippie, and a couple of other people who just didn't fit in. The fact that all totaled there were fewer than 25 people in that group tells you virtually everything you need to know about our school. Behind our school there was a park. We hung out in the corner closest to the school building, right in front of the playground that fortunately for us was left completely unused--it seems every high school has an abandoned playground nearby. On the other side of the playground was a hill, which apparently now contained naked bodies for our viewing pleasure.
I started to get lost in my mind with my reminiscing, but after a few seconds, my mind reawakened with a shocking realization. At the beach, we'd sort of joked at how little nudist girl would handle it if I were put in the program. Suddenly though, my mind flipped it around the other way. "Caitlyn?" I paused after getting her attention, wondering how exactly I should word it. "Have you ever thought about what would happen if you were in the Program?"
"No."
"I mean, I know you're fragile. I don't want you to crack if guys decide they want to touch you."
I was impressed that she allowed me to finish my sentence, but she still snapped at me, "Look, I said no, I hadn't thought about it, and I don't want to think about it. If and when it happens, eh... maybe I'll survive it, maybe I won't."
Yup, leave it to Caitlyn to get entirely morbid over something so simple. Then again, maybe having to spend a week naked in school wasn't so simple, especially not for her. "Listen, Cait, you'll make it through it, even if I have to strip naked along with you, chain myself to you, and punch out any guy who threatens you. I'm sorry I left, but I'm back now, and I'll always be here for you from now on." She was undeniably mad at me for even suggesting the certain possibility that she would have to go through the Program, but she was smiling again. "Always. Whether it's today, next week, or some other time, I will support you through the Program, through anything. I love you. I fucking adore you."
"I know. And me too. I love you, and I'll support you best I can."
"Thanks. But you need it more than me." She sat in silence. She knew what I meant. She knew I wasn't talking about me being a nudist who doesn't need support in order to be naked in school. I was strong, and she was weak, and as much as she hated having it thrown in her face like that, and as much as I hated doing the throwing, it needed to be said. As much as she was the reason I should have stayed, she was the reason I left. She was a fragile porcelain doll who needed support and was incapable of giving it in return. Things happened, and as strong as I was, I needed a little support, and despite everything I'd given her, she couldn't give it to me. So we broke up, and I left. Then the storm in my life blew over, I no longer needed support, and I realized that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. I needed support in small doses that I could get from any of my friends. She needed support by the boatloads, support that could only come from the only person she'd let into her heart deeply enough to give it to her: me. So I came back, mostly to finish my schooling, but with my emancipation, I could have done that anywhere. Really, I came back for her.
By the time we got to her house, she was crying. Not in a bawling sense at all, in fact, I'm not even sure she was still crying, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks. I blinked, and suddenly realized that there were some on mine as well. We wiped those tears off our faces, wholly unsure of where the emotions came from. Sure, it made sense; we were thinking of how weak and fragile we were. But only minutes earlier, Caitlyn had been acting so confident about how things were going to be when we saw her parents, and I'd been just so nonchalant, and then here we both were, as nervous as could be. We walked up her front steps one step at a time, and I hid best I could behind her larger frame as she knocked on the door--she knocked even though she of course had a key to her own house. I was hoping to simply watch the proceedings go by once whoever was there opened the door. There were no proceedings, however; there was only one speaking line in the script before Caitlyn's mother noticed me poorly hiding. That line read: "What's going on? Whose house were you at last night? What did you mean when you--Who's that behind you?" There were mere seconds of silence before Caitlyn was being ushered inside the house behind me while I was being violently smothered with hugs and kisses.
"Mom," Caitlyn said, "meet Erin. Erin, meet my mother."
"I know who this is," the older woman shouted. I was still stuck in silence, shocked by the warm reception.
"I know," Caitlyn said, her still bare foot making patterns in the livingroom carpet, her head down in shy nervousness. "It was just all I could think of to break the silence."
"There wasn't a silence that needed to be broken, dear." With that, her attention turned back towards me, where, apparently, she thought it belonged. "So talk! What have you been up to? Where have you been? Or maybe you're hungry? Her father's in the kitchen now making sure the cereal's out, I think Jason's probably upstairs showering."
Caitlyn still did the talking for me. "We already ate, Mom. We're just here to get my stuff." That was a lie, of course; it was far from the only reason we were here, although I suppose it may have been the only reason she was here. Still, it gave her an out to run and hide upstairs, while her mother and me sat in the livingroom to talk, attention now focused off my non-empty stomach.
"I'm sorry if I was a little rough with you, we're all just so excited to have you back here," her mother started. "But, so talk!"
She said it in a much quieter voice this time, but I wasn't any more receptive. "Ms. Jensen, I'm sorry. When me and Caitlyn met last night, we were so focused on the present and a little bit on the future. We didn't have time to talk about the past. And she has to be the first one I tell everything."
"I understand completely. Do you mind if I ask you just one question though?"
"Of course not. Do I have to answer it though?"
"Yes, I think you do, but I doubt you'll mind answering it, since I know the answer already. Are you in it for the long haul this time?"
"There is no this time. It's all one time. I've been in it for the long haul since the beginning, I just didn't get it before."
"That was more than I needed to hear."
"I'm so sorry I left."
"I told you. What you said was more than I needed to hear. What's past is past. You had things you had to take care of, and I trust they're taken care of now?" I nodded. "You're a part of this family, Erin, and nothing you or Caitlyn does could ever change that." That was it. I didn't have any choice but to open up to her after she said that. I told her all the important things that had happened the five months I'd run off. I left out the certain things that Caitlyn really did have to hear first; in fact, Caitlyn might be the only one I ever told those things. Most of the things I told her actually were things I'd worked into conversation with Caitlyn the previous night. I told her exactly where I'd run off to three thousand miles away, how I'd emancipated myself from my adoptive parents, and how I was living by myself in the apartment me and Caitlyn had had sex in last night. No, I didn't actually tell her that last part, but she correctly assumed it, and she accepted it. I was living off money coming to me from my birthparents through the courts, as well as the nest egg I'd developed myself since I was old enough to start developing one. I wasn't working now; I wouldn't have very much free time trying to get my grades up to the point where they'd overlook that I'd missed three months of school, plus I had to get my spots back on all the sports teams I'd abandoned. I'd be busy, but I promised to do my homework there sometimes if I didn't decide to steal Caitlyn away to my place instead. That was fine, she was quick to say, and she went so far as to recommend that Caitlyn store some clothes there so she wouldn't have to wear mine that were two sizes too big for her. I laughed a little at that, and I was genuinely glad to be home.
Caitlyn came downstairs as if on cue, and the scene was straight out of She's All That, when Rachel Leigh Cook comes down the stairs in that slinky red dress, and Freddie Prinze, Jr. gets awestruck with how much he's changed that poor experiment of a girl. This situation was completely different, of course; there was no bet involved, I wasn't trying to change Caitlyn... well, I was, but not in the same way Janie had to go through. This was just your average scene where the suddenly beautiful girl walks down the stairs in slow motion, while the love interest (me) stares at her, eyes and mouth both wide open. The oddest thing about it, though, was she hadn't changed her clothes. As I was watching her get dressed that morning, it was after spending a night cuddling naked with her in my bed, and I was watching her curves disappear under baggy, oversized clothing. My emotion could have been described only as disappointment. When I saw her coming down those stairs still dressed in my clothes, I had no feeling other than pride. Pride that in the ten or fifteen minutes she spent upstairs, given the opportunity to change into her own clothes, she just put on some underwear underneath, socks and shoes, affixed some safety pins to the pants to tighten the waistband a little more and to pull the legs up an inch and give her ankles room to breathe. Pride that she was going to go to school in my clothes, as my girlfriend, and we... well, we'd be back to being us. I don't know, maybe I'd have to wear her clothes sometime. If I could squeeze myself into them, they'd definitely accentuate my tits, that's for sure at least.
"You ready for school, sweetheart?" With my use of the pet name, Caitlyn blushed like a madwoman. Her mother's face, though, showed the same pride that I'd had only seconds before.
"Yeah, sure... We still got loadsa time to kill though."
"You in the mood for second breakfast?"
"It's in there waiting for you if you want it," chimed her mother.
The sentence barely escaped her mouth before the two of us were running full speed to the kitchen. No, we weren't hungry, but hell, it was something to do, and a little more food never hurt anyone. Caitlyn won the race to the kitchen door, and upon opening it cooed, "Oh, look my baby brother's here, too." Caitlyn's brother Jason was, of course, not a baby. He was in eighth grade; next year, I'd be a senior and he'd be my freshman bitch. Caitlyn was a senior now, no one knew what she'd be doing next year, least of all herself. He was a constant source of humor for us, much as we were for him. He thought lesbians were gross, but in a humorous non-homophobic way; he was apparently a late bloomer and still thought all sexual contact was gross, despite the fact that he'd begrudgingly admit that there were some "hot" girls in his school.
When I walked in behind Caitlyn, his jaw just dropped. I played it cool, ruffling his hair as I walked past, saying, "What up, Jas?" The look on his face was priceless, an inch away from his breakfast milk coming out of his nose, amazed by my aforementioned coolness. "Anything new? You nail yourself a girlfriend yet? A boyfriend?" I asked him the question half out of jest, half out of curiosity. The information I just relayed to you was about half a year old, and it was entirely possible that he'd developed some sort of sexual competence, and if he did I genuinely wanted to know about it. Mainly though, I just wanted to make fun of him.
His jaw closed; he was more than capable of taking my sudden reappearance in stride, just as he took my original appearance into his sister's life in stride. "No," he answered. The way he answered it, though, more than satisfied my curiosity. His tone indicated a new maturity; his lack of significant other was caused merely by fate not turning his way yet, not due to any fear of cooties. Yet he was still at the point was he was simply resigned to the inevitability of it; he was neither disgusted nor enamored with the prospect of a relationship.
"Tha's cool," I said, the dropping of the consonant not being a typo. "Time'll turn for you." As I sat down to pour myself some cereal and milk, I was happy again. For the little time I knew him, I already thought of Jason as my own little brother. That may make Caitlyn and me seem incestuous, but no; just remember that we came first, anything that happened afterwards... well, it happened afterwards. Caitlyn and I were as close as could be, and as a result, I was extremely close to her family. The fact that I didn't have a family of my own helped a lot, I suppose. As I knew the conversation would inevitably turn back towards me, I began to determine how best to explain to Jason my temporary absence. How much should I tell him? Do I explain it to him like he's a little kid or my equal? Questions, as well as the story itself, were rushing through my brain as I tried to reach a decision, but I failed to do so before he prompted me. My default was the one-liner blunt response: "I just had some shit to get in line, needed some time away from everything." I'm not sure if it actually satisfied him, or whether he suffered from teenage apathy, but he asked me no more questions on the topic.
The three of us finished our breakfast, and Caitlyn and me were both extremely stuffed--even though the breakfast I cooked was so much better. This one was more of a snack. "Cait-lyyyyyyn!" came the scream from her father. There was synchronized clanging of our spoons against the floor, dropped out of shock.
"You're in trooooouuuuuble," was the classic comment from everyone's favorite little brother. I was closest, so I slapped him in the back of the head on behalf of Caitlyn, while she went to face the angry old man.
Jason and me were both able to hear every word that was being spoken/shouted out there. Her father had just gone out to get the paper, and was apparently shocked by the odd vehicle parked out front. "Where's your Jeep? And whose truck is that out there?"
I was in the kitchen doorway before anyone could blink. I should have been there from the beginning; as if anything he could be mad at her for right now wouldn't involve me. "It's my truck," I said. The room fell silent.
"We met on the beach last night," Caitlyn explained. Both her parents were listening intently, because even though her mother had given her permission to spend the night with me, I don't think she was expecting her to come home without her car. "And we were hanging out, and we were having lots of fun, so I asked Mom if I could spend the night at her place, and she said I could, so we got in her truck and left. I guess we figured we'd go back after school tonight and grab it. Is that okay?"
Silence ran throughout the room for what seemed like a full minute, then both parents simultaneously responded, "Yes."
"Can we go to school now?"
"Yes."
Caitlyn grabbed her backpack, and we climbed back into my truck. It was still a little bit early, but fifteen minutes would be a lot easier to kill than an hour and a half. "Looks like we're going back to that beach again. You don't mind me saying we would, do you?"
"Hell, no, I'll go anywhere with you," I said. "I can't guarantee you that I'll get out on the bell though. I've got a lot of shit to take care of with going back to school and all."
"Yeah, it's all good. What kinda shit?"
"Oh God, like I've got independent study to finish up all the classes I fucked up last year, need to make up work for the month I missed this year. I've gotta get back into the sports scene, all sorts of shit."
"What sports scene? You didn't have a fall sport, did you?"
"Nah, but still. I've got a lot of catching up to do."
"I'm never going to see you again, am I?"
"You're going to see me constantly. We can play footsie in the library while I'm studying. You can watch me kick everyone's ass at my practices, and then we'll make out in the bleachers afterwards. I'm never gonna leave your side if I can help it; if you can give me half that, I'll be more than happy."
"I'll meet you at the bell. I'll follow you wherever you wanna go from there. To the depths of hell if I have to."
"Oh, come on, it won't be that bad."
"Make out in the bleachers, eh?"
"If you want."
"Yeah, I guess it can't be totally awful then."
"I love you, baby."
"Ditto. B'sides, you're my ride home. I gotta stick with you today, at least till we get my Jeep back."
We both laughed. She was laughing hysterically at her own joke; mine was somewhat subdued. "Seriously, though," I said.
"Seriously? Once we pick up my car at the beach, either I'm gonna follow you to your place, or you'll follow me to mine. We're going to be joined at the hip, and I don't want to spend more than a couple hours away from you at the most."
"A couple hours? Does that mean we have to spend every night together?"
"Near future, yes, but if you need a little time to yourself occasionally once we're done catching up on lost time, I guess that'd be cool."
"Sounds like a plan." I looked away from the road for a second to smile at her. "So you're happy I'm back."
"More than you know."
"Me too." Emotions got the best of me, and I looked at the clock to remind myself of the time that still needed to be killed. Without a moment's further thought, I pulled into a parking lot. Caitlyn shot me a questioning glance, and I answered it best I could without the words I was unwilling to let escape my lips. I undid my seatbelt, and crawled into her lap. My motions were as much like a sultry jungle cat as I could muster given our surroundings, stuck inside my vehicle. I straddled her, and looked her in the eyes. Her eyes were bear brown and the size of saucers, expanded by my sudden aggressiveness. I normally try to avoid being so predatory, especially around Caitlyn; her, I'm usually walking on eggshells with, letting her come to me. Every once in a long while, though, I'll demand a little sex from her, and hopefully she forgives me afterwards. That morning, it was my turn, and she was looking back into my eyes with the same nervous trust she'd had the previous night when I found her topless on the beach. I kissed her in an effort to make the fear go away; I then ran my hands up her oversized shirt.
Let me take the time now, if I may, to explain to you something about lesbians, something that separates us from heterosexual couples. You may have to think about sex from a purely biological standpoint in order to comprehend where I'm going with this, but if you do, I'll reward you with the play-by-play description of every steamy detail of our encounter in the car that morning. Think for a minute, if you will about the mechanics involved with heterosexual intercourse. When the man is thrusting into the woman, it gives him a pleasant sensation in his nether regions. Eventually and virtually inevitably, he will reach orgasm and come. The female is not so fortunate, however. While the motions inherent to heterosexual intercourse are intrinsically pleasurable to the male, the female receives no such guarantee. Frequently, she will be able to reach orgasm through normal intercourse; however, it is also frequent that she will not. She may decide to use her own devices to reach that most pleasurable state, or she may decide instead to simply rest on her laurels, satisfied with being able to please her partner.
Sexual intercourse between two loving lesbians, however, is somewhat, if not entirely, reversed. There is, because of the way the female body is designed, only one sexual organ involved at a time. This organ is located on the body of the person receiving the sexual action. Allow me here to explain myself further. Even if sex is entirely consensual, it still takes one person to actually initiate the sexual contact. In the case of a heterosexual couple, unless the female actually impales herself on the male's upright penis, it is the male who initiates the contact. Likewise, when a homosexual female inserts her finger into her lover's vagina, she is the one initiating the contact. Yet, in the case of the lesbian couple, it is the one on the receiving end of that contact who is most pleasured sexually.
Lesbians exist to please their partners. Heterosexual males exist to please themselves. Heterosexual females exist to allow their males to please themselves. If it weren't impossible for lesbians to reproduce themselves, I would say that they (we) are the most evolved. I'm not sure where gay males fit into this equation, but perhaps they are the missing link.
You may wonder why I went on that little tangent. Well, as my hands went up her body, under my shirt, and caressed her lace-covered breasts, those were the thoughts going through my mind. I am a very sensual person, which is likely why I enjoy nudity so much. So, while it doesn't get me off sexually, I truly enjoy the feeling having my girlfriend's body and skin in my hands. I simply enjoy having her in my arms. I'm also a very sensitive person, so if I see her happy, it makes me happy, particularly if I was the one who made her happy. And that was why even if it scared her at first, I was going to show her true happiness, right there on the side of the road on the way to school.
That was why I was sitting on her, straddling her, staring her in the eyes, with my hands up her/my shirt. As my hands and fingers wrapped themselves around her almost perfectly spherical breasts, I once again locked our mouths together. I kissed her with several different motions, trying to match a rhythm to the way I was massaging her breasts. My tongue fought to part her lips and find its own partner, and as I tasted the light tang of her mouth, a quick surge of elation passed throughout my body. Like I said, it's not quite orgasmic, it's a different kind of pleasure that I get when I'm intensely aware of the connection between us. I pulled back on the kissing just to see what kind of progress I was making; I of course refused to take my hands out from under her shirt. Caitlyn's faces were incredibly easy to read if you knew how, and right now she was smiling at me, but her stare was vacant. That was a bad thing, unless we were in the middle of having sex, in which case it meant she was already pretty close to orgasm. I immediately removed my hands, but quickly buried my head in her shoulder and started kissing her neck so I wouldn't divert her attention.
My right arm carefully worked its way between our two bodies, while my left took its place behind her shoulders keeping our bodies close. Seeing her face like that, she was ready, and she was waiting. It was time for me to switch, and that right hand slipped down the waistband much the same as it had that morning, except this time it went down the front. I became sure I read her face correctly as I felt the heat emanating from her vagina, and the fluids slowly beginning to coat it. I stuck two of my fingers inside it, and used one to keep pressure on her clitoris; the other was used to stroke the walls of her cavern. It as when I did this that Caitlyn finally had a reaction that I could sense without staring looking her in the eyes. It was a violent one, too; she immediately arched her back, forcing her body even closer to mine, and almost making me regret doing it in the confines of the cab of my truck. (Not even almost actually, I would never regret that moment, but it did get slightly uncomfortable for a brief moment.) Caitlyn is not as vocal during orgasm as I am, and spoke only two words--"Oh, fuck!"--the only two words since I'd pulled over; she proceeded to thrust her chest into me several more times over the course of a full minute.
When she finally subsided, I rolled off of her, back into my seat.
We sat in awestruck silence for a good while, and when Caitlyn finally opened her mouth to speak, I interrupted her by leaning over and kissing her. I released her relatively quickly, and she made sure to get her sentence out before I did something again. "That's the first time I've ever had sex on the way to school."
"That was way too much fun."
"I can't believe you did that."
"Neither can I. But that's how much I love you; that's how happy I am to be back."
"I just had a fucking orgasm, that's how happy I am."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Depends... are you going to change the subject?"
"Just a little," I said, and with that I started the truck back up again, as we killed as much time as I was willing to spare with our little escapade.
"Shoot, bitch."
"The boobs last night... what was up with that?"
"I don't know. I just wanted you to notice me, I guess."
"You're my girlfriend. It doesn't take breasts for me to notice you."
"You weren't my girlfriend then."
"Caitlyn... was, am, will be... always."
"Good to know. When we go to pick my Jeep up, I'll be sure to keep my clothes on."
After laughing, I reminded her, "You know, you don't have to if you don't want to."
She just stuck her tongue out at me, and we giggled the rest of the way to school. We walked in the door about five minutes before the bell, and about two minutes before most of the students arrived. Once inside, Caitlyn asked, "Hey, wait, babe, what's your schedule like?"
"I don't have one yet, I've got to run to the office to grab it."
"Oh, well, see you around then." And just like that, Caitlyn was gone. I was slightly dumbstruck at her quick disappearance, and just stood there right inside the doors for a moment, watching all the people go by. I then shook off my surprise, and went off in the opposite direction Caitlyn had, toward the office. I walked in, and saw a woman in her early 50s whom I didn't recognize from my earlier tenure at the school sitting at the secretary's desk. I wasn't even sure whether I was supposed to be in this office or the counseling office, but I figured I'd have to be in both several times throughout the next couple of days, so either one would be a safe bet.
"Hi, I'm a new student. I need my schedule."
"Erin Whalen?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"We are actually going to keep you right here until the bell. The principal would like to speak to you before you head to your classes. After he's through, you can head to the counseling office to get your schedule."
"Will do."
"Here, you probably haven't gotten one of these." She handed me a booklet, and I headed over to a row of chairs before looking at it.
I had a strange feeling something was up when I talked to that woman. There's no reason I shouldn't have been able to go to see my guidance counselor right away, work out my schedule, and make it to my first class only about ten minutes late. But no, apparently, we weren't even going to bother to try to get anything done until after the bell. Yay! Three cheers for incompetent high school administrators! This high school was notorious for those.
When I looked at the booklet in my hands, I knew exactly what was going on. I was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops when I walked into that office; undergarments were not a necessity. When I left that office, I would be wearing only the flip-flops. The booklet the secretary handed me was the Program Pamphlet, required reading for every student that outlined all the rules of the glorious Program. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be selected in seconds, and started reading my information so that I wouldn't be unprepared for my upcoming meeting with the principal. Every school implements the Program slightly differently, and our school was no exception. Skimming the Pamphlet, several randomly placed paragraphs caught my eye:
Due to district regulations, for interscholastic athletic games, all students--including those in the Program--shall dress in full uniform. For athletic practices, as well as intramural scrimmages, Program participants shall be nude (excepting necessary protective equipment as determined by the coaching staff). Dress code for non-Program students shall be determined by the coaching staff; however, the staff may not require non-Program students to be nude. (Practices can be clothing-optional, but they may not be nudity-required.) The above rules for athletic practices also apply to all meetings of non-athletic extracurricular activities.
All rules regarding dress code for normal school activities are hereby abolished. However, non-Program students are strongly discouraged from attending school in the nude. (Female non-Program students are also discouraged from attending school topless.) This is so as to not distract from the students selected for the Program. Non-Program students electing to attend school in the nude are not required to abide by Program rules; they are to use the gym locker rooms for their own gender, and are allowed to redress whenever they so choose. However, any student attending school in the nude--whether or not they are in fact in the Program--must submit to Reasonable Requests by other students.
"Reasonable Requests" shall never be deemed to include penetration of any orifice by any object or body part. Forcing such contact on a Program student (or any student) constitutes rape, and shall be persecuted. However, such penetration is permitted between two consenting students. All rules regarding Public Displays of Affection, for Program and non-Program students alike, are hereby abolished.
Relief shall be made available for Program students (and Program students only) of both genders at the beginning of each class. Students may ask for help in achieving such Relief. Penetration can be used as a form of Relief; however both students must consent to such behavior.
That first one was cute. I suppose some big cheese at our conference office didn't want us to gain some unfair advantage by flaunting our stuff. Didn't make to much difference though, I'd still have practices to get through. And, considering how I wasn't on a team yet, I'd have tryouts to get through as well. Just cuz it wasn't going to be in front of a bunch of spectators at a game, didn't mean I wasn't going to have a bunch of people staring at my naked body. I suppose that second one was what Caitlyn meant when she said Tracy Mallors came to school in a bikini top. It seemed the rules allowed for so much more, though. I like how they said going naked when you weren't in the program was discouraged, but they also made it entirely clear that it was still permitted. They were really going to pull out all the stops on trying to get us to open up about our sexuality. Especially those last two. If you were a virgin, they wanted to make sure your virginity wasn't stolen, but they sure as hell wanted you to give it away willingly. I mean, technically, that last rule allowed for full-on sexual intercourse in the middle of the hallway, although I suppose you had to be quick about it so you wouldn't be late for class.
With no bag, pockets, or anything to put the Pamphlet in--in fact, my car keys were still clutched in my left hand--I stuck it in the waistband of my shorts. No sooner had I done that than a disembodied male voice with impeccable timing came on the loudspeaker. "Attention students. The time is now 8:35, and all students should be in first period. At this time would Laci Davis, Michael Thompson, Nancy McCollough, Aaron Samuelson, Tim Michaels, Melissa St. James, and Michael McCrary please report to the principal's office." I snickered to myself as I imagined all the whispering that must be going on in the halls right now. Any idiot with half a brain would know that when the principal calls a whole bunch of people down to his office on a Monday morning, it meant those people were going to be selected for the Program. That same half-brained idiot should also be able to count that the principal only read off seven names, three female and four male, and realized that there was a female name suspiciously missing. I wondered if anyone besides Caitlyn knew I'd returned and figured that I was the missing name. I wondered if Caitlyn even was able to realize that I would be walking out the office naked, offering easy access for our second make-out session of the day. I felt almost sorry for Tim Michaels, a name I didn't recognize, but whom I assumed was the junior male contingent of the Program, and who was probably presently assuming that for whatever reason he was the only junior contingent. Oh well, sucks for him.
Once he made his announcement, the principal popped his head out his door and called me in. I was immediately relieved to see that it was not the same principal we had had last year when I left. That gentleman was a 60-year-old man who truthfully had no idea exactly how to govern a high school, and was only waiting for a sign from above telling him when to retire. Apparently he'd finally seen that sign, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. The new principal was in his forties and, judging just by the looks of him, was a lot more comfortable in his authority. I took a seat in his office, and immediately tested him. "Can I just strip now?"
There was no awkward silence, no pervy scene where he stands shockingly gaping at me. He just took it in stride and said, "No, we will wait for all of this week's Program participants to arrive." I had asked him as a joke, and I think he realized that, but I certainly wouldn't have minded if he'd said yes. Having to spend all of first period in various offices was not something I was looking forward to. It was ironic I'll admit that my first week back was the week I was chosen for the Program, but I really just wanted to get to class. Whether I was wearing clothes to that class or not truly didn't make any difference. I just wanted to go. The longer I had to wait, the more annoyed I was going to be.
Slowly but surely though, the remaining seven participants did arrive, and they all immediately started yelling at the principal, wondering why only seven were called, not even realizing that the eighth was sitting right there. Once they'd all had their say, the principal sternly said, not shouted but spoke, "Silence!" Once they all stopped talking, he pointed to me. "Erin Whalen is also going to join you in the Program this week. She is a new student here, and she was already in the office, so there was no need to page her."
Melissa St. James, a tall senior with long blond hair and an ugly snobbish personality to match her pretentious name, shrieked. "She's not new! She went here last year, and she dropped out in January."
"That may be true"--no, it wasn't--"but it's not relevant to our proceedings here. So let's continue with our proceedings, if I may. As you have all astutely deciphered, you have been selected for the Program this week. You shall divest yourself of all clothing, and you shall be naked for all school activities until the time you leave school on Friday. Please remove your clothes now and set them in this box,"--he placed a box on his desk--"they will then be placed in the depository for you at the main entrance, where you can retrieve them after school today."
I looked at Melissa St. James, a girl whom I suddenly hated. I hadn't dropped out in January; she had to transfer in January. Then I had to transfer to two other schools before I dropped out of the last school in May. I came pretty damn close to finishing that year, and I'd tried as hard as she fucking could to finish it. I looked at her and could have sworn I heard her mutter a syllable under her breath; "Fuck," she may have said, and she pulled off her white blouse and tossed it into the empty box. Once she'd broken the ice, the other students slowly followed, putting their clothes on top on Melissa's blouse in that box. I just sat back and watched for a while, watching as Nancy, followed by Melissa, bared her breasts; all four of the guys were wearing boxers. Laci, the freshman girl, was ahead of everyone though, and was wearing only her panties, and turned demurely away from the principal to send them down her hips. As she made that turn though, she saw me still sitting down "fully dressed." She froze and glared at me, and when she did, a couple of other students turned their attention toward me. With at least three, probably more, sets of eyes focused on me, I pulled off my shirt, letting my breasts flow free, then stood up and took my shorts off in one smooth motion, without even having to slip off my flip-flops. I walked past the rest of the students--my butt brushing against Michael McCrary's boxers, my breasts making contact with Nancy's arm--and dropped my limited clothing in the box. I walked back to my seat, more careful this time not to brush up against anyone. I was the last one to start taking off my clothes, yet the first to finish. When Laci finished pulling off her panties and sat down next to me, she became the second, closely followed by everyone else.
"Any questions?" the principal asked. None of the naked bodies in front of him flinched with a hand raise. "Then you are all free to return to your classes. Enjoy your week."
We all slowly filed out of his office, then out of the main office. Once in the hall, half of us turned left, half of us right. I followed the group to the right, but I only had a few steps to go. I was pleased to see a friendly name still on the door of my old guidance counselor's office. I walked quietly into his office, so quietly in fact, that he didn't hear me take a seat on the other side of his desk; his back was turned, working on something on his computer. I crossed my legs in the most unladylike of ways, my right ankle balanced on my left knee, my pussy probably brazenly exposed. I let him sit blissfully in silence for a couple more seconds before I spoke.
"Hi."