Amber does High School Naked: A story of the Permanude Universe and Young Love (The Permanude World Book 4)

by Gloria

  “I’ll let you this time. Stay well behaved, and I may let you again. Misbehave, and it will be the bathroom downstairs.

  “Oh, please, don’t exile me to the bathroom down stairs,” he said, leading me from my parent’s room and then stepping aside to let me take the lead.

  “I’m out of my high heels. I guess my ass isn’t calling out to be touched.”

  “It is. May I?”

  “Please.”

  A few fingers flitted across my butt. It was like an electric shock.

  I sighed.

  “That big a sigh for me just stroking your butt a little bit?”

  “It’s been a long dry winter,” I said, and led him into my room. I settled into the chair at my desk. “You can leave your clothes on my bed.”

  “Good idea. Get the bed full.”

  “I thought so.” Actually, I hadn’t. I glance at his clothes, then at my bed. If I wanted to crush him to my bed, his clothes would not take up nearly enough space to stop me from ravaging him.

  Me ravaging him?

  He took off his shirt. He was wiry, no thick cords of muscle, but nothing to sneeze at. I don’t imagine he had a lot of time to work out and still break the curve in calc.

  He looked down at his pants. They were lumpy. I told him they were.

  “That’s kind of my problem. Have I told you how gorgeous you are? How naked, too.”

  “Are you trying to blame your lump on me?” I demanded in mock anger.

  “Gal, if you can’t take this as one powerful complement to all that skin you’ve been showing, I might as well pack up and go home.”

  I canted my head and made as if to study him. “I might. Maybe I could. Let me see what that lump looks like without the pants.”

  “Oh, you are a hard woman.”

  “No, I think you’re the hard man.”

  “You also commit bad puns. You do have no morals.”

  “I have morals, just not modesty and shame. My morals are just different,” I said as his pants hit the floor.

  Then he must have figured out that this was not going in a proper order. He settled onto my bed, then removed his tennis shoes and socks. Then he dropped his pants again.

  I signaled for him to stand up. He did. Boy he did have one huge boner filling those briefs.

  “Hmm. I haven’t touched one of those in eight, ten years,” I said. Actually, I’d copped a feel on another eleven-year-old at the beach the year before everything changed. Since then, I’d been avoiding cock like snakes.

  He said nothing as I looked him over.

  “Are you willing to drop those shorts?”

  He dropped them.

  His hard on was about six inches long. I’d found that to be about average from my time at clothing optional beaches. It pointed straight up. He now stood with his hands behind the small of his back.

  “It’s going to be painful walking around the house with that bouncing around.”

  “Likely so,” he admitted.

  “You could duck down the hallway to the bathroom and take care of that for yourself I’m told.”

  “I imagine I could.”

  “You ever have a girl take care of one of those?”

  “A cousin when we were up at the country. She took care of me out behind the barn. I think I took care of her, but I was a bit on the young side, so I’m not all that sure she enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed her.”

  “Would you believe me if I said I’d never taken care of one of those things?”

  “Likely. Royalty often lives in high castles that few dare approach.”

  “So, do I approach you, or do you approach me?” I asked.

  He glided toward me, hands still behind his back.

  For a long minute, we did nothing. I was seated. He was standing. His hard on was right at my eye level. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. As I watched it, it would throb and bob.

  “That thing have a mind of its own?” I asked.

  “That’s the rumors. I sure didn’t want to have this stiffy. It makes me feel undignified. Needy. Kind of humiliated.”

  “Kind of like when I’m bleeding each month,” I said. Then I realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I think I heard it the way your intended. This whole procreation business is nature in the raw. I know I’d sure improve on the design if I had a choice.”

  “Yeah. My monthly is messy. I imagine if I touch that, it will get messy.”

  “After a while.”

  “Not immediately?”

  “Takes a while.”

  “What’s a while?”

  He grinned. “Touch it and see.”

  “Oh, tempt the scientist in me. Conduct a series of scientific tests under laboratory conditions,” I said, but one of my finger were wandering around his shaft, testing it.

  It was a whole lot different from the little cock I’d examined on my eleven-year-old beach playmate. Lew’s was much longer. Its color was darker. Oh, and there was hair everywhere. Having just shave my own coochie clean, I wondered if a boy was willing to shave his.

  He moaned as I encircled his dick with two fingers and ran them all the way down from just under the head to the base. I noticed the head was forming a drop of something.

  I took that drop between my thumb and forefinger. It felt like what lubricated my hooha when I jilled off. I used my thumb to rub it around the head of his cock.

  “Nice,” he said. “You might want to get some tissues or I’ll make a mess on the carpet.”

  I had a small box on my desk. I got two tissues and rested them in my lap. Then I studied his cock some more. There wasn’t nearly enough lube. Sometimes I used my own spit. I could get some saliva on my hand.

  Instead I bent over and kissed my way down his shaft, licking it and leaving moisture behind.

  He shivered.

  “I take it that that was good.”

  “Very good,” was a bit strangled. I started running both my hands up and down his shaft with one paying extra attention to the head.

  He spread his feet wider. I could feel his body tensing. Then he arched his back and thrust out his hips, as if thrusting deep into me. That sent a shiver through me.

  Suddenly, a whitish stream shot from his dick. The gob of it flew up, then fell back to splatter on the carpet.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking at what he’d done.

  “Let’s call this a learning experience.”

  “Well, could you learn to do me some more.” His cock jerked and another steam of stuff headed up and then down for the carpet.

  I grabbed the tissues from my lap and clapped them over the head of his dick, but I used my other hand to stroke his shaft.

  He shuddered two more times, and the tissue became over filled and began to drip. I knew from the look on his face that he was enjoying my touch, but I also was having a hard time balancing his fun against my mess.

  To my surprise, the tissue kind of melt away as I used it to try to soak up his cum. Right, that was the word I was looking at. His cum was on the carpet and on my hands and was totally overwhelming the tissue.

  “I will have a washcloth handy next time we do this,” I said, a studious frown wrinkling my brow

  “They’ll be a next time?” a lot more surprised than I wanted. Yes. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to enjoy him enjoy me. Strange this. I’d never wanted to do this to William. Actually never wanted him to touch me.

  Now I was feeling a tingling between my legs and a strong desire for his fingers to be the ones that made me scream.

  “Of course,” I said. I looking up at him and as seriously as my grin allowed said, “You can’t have an experiment with only one data point.”

  “Very logical of you,” he said. “Now, about that experiment you did at or rather below the lunch room table.”

  “Oh, that one.”

  “I’d love to expand your grasp of it.”

  “You would, would you?”

  “

If the queen bee is interested in it.”

  Oh boy was the queen bee interested, but at the moment, “Well, right now the queen bee has a bit too much honey on her hands.”

  “Literally. Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Across the hall,” I said.

  “May I suggest we adjourn this scientific symposium to there.”

  “Please,” I said, trying to stop one drip with one hand while the other hand was dripping. This was not well planned, I chided myself.

  We scampered across the hall. It seemed I was doing a lot of scampering about these days. Did nudists do more scampering than the clad? Did scampering mean that nudists had more fun?

  I was becoming more and more sure that we did.

  I managed to shake the wreckage of my two tissues off my hand and into the toilet. Lew had already gotten the water running and was moistening a washcloth. I washed my hands, then offered to take the cloth and wash his dick.

  He shook his head. “Let it get warmer. How do your lady parts take to cold water?”

  “Not well, and we really must redefine our terms.”

  “Terms?”

  “Lady parts.”

  “You prefer naughty bits?”

  “Yoni, hooha, coochie, pussy, maybe cunnie, even cunt if we’re on good terms.”

  “Oh, my, and all for that small place.”

  “That you boys desire so much.”

  “We’ll, there is that.”

  I was enjoying this banter with a naked Lew, but the water was warm, I moistened the cloth, rung it out, then used it to clean up his now recumbent dick. He seemed happy to have me providing the service. Then I surprised him . . . and myself . . . by stooping down and gently kissing the head of it. It was soft, yet firm. For the moment, it had no taste.

  “You didn’t have to do that?”

  “I know, but I wanted to. Don’t know why. Why did your hands want to paw my butt?”

  “Not paw. They pleaded for the grace to worshipfully stroke your butt.”

  “Who was it complaining a few minutes ago about too many ways of saying the same thing?”

  “Okay, you win. Now, turn the water back to cold. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”

  “You don’t want me to?”

  “I think I have more experience with guy messes than you do, from the looks of the fine mess you got us into.”

  “Yes, Oli.”

  So, I got a good lesson on how to get stains out of carpet before it sets. It seemed to involve one very damp washcloth and one very dry one. Interesting.

  He was on his knees, literally, at my feet as I sat at my desk. It was easy to watch his ass as he worked. I reached out and stroked it.

  “I’ll give you half an hour to stop that,” he said as a tremble went through his entire body.

  “I think that was what I should have told you when you stroked my butt.”

  “We’ll get better at this. We have to.”

  “How much better?” I asked, frowning at him. His eyes looking up at me were so sincere.

  I’d seen sincere eyes on William.

  “We do whatever you want,” he said.

  “I make the rules.”

  “I once saw a tee-shirt. It said ‘I have the pussy. I make the rules.’”

  “It didn’t?”

  “I swear it did. On the internet.”

  “And you believe what you read on the internet?”

  He shrugged. “Something that logical seems highly probable.”

  I stoked his butt some more. He seemed to be keeping his butt easily within my reach.

  All evidence eliminated of my fumbling at my first hand job, I hoped, we ditched the washcloths and headed down stairs. Regretfully, my ass wasn’t nearly as accessible going down stairs as it had been going up.

  Mom was delighted to see that Lew had decided to join us in our chosen lifestyle. But Mom can be something of an imp. “I wondered why it was taking you so long to take off a few bobbles. Did something come up?”

  I rolled my eyes as Lew looked around for a place to hide if Dad reached for a shotgun.

  “Yes, muu-ther. But we put it back down and in its place. It was quite an interesting first experiment. I will have to run it many times to build up a large enough database.”

  “Princess, your mom is still running that experiment.”

  Van and Pete kind of stumbled in, both of them looking rather gob smacked.

  “How did it come to pass that my daughter has brought us more nudists?” Mom asked.

  I explained Van and Pete were involuntary because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and what them being made the scapegoat would cost them.

  “Oh, you can still wear something to the prom,” Mom said. “You would be surprised at what you can wear that still shows your pussy, your boobs and your backside. When the time comes, I’ll show you some stuff designers have put together for the nudist market.”

  That was news to me. Hmm.

  Then I explained how my day had gone downhill. “My cute little car got keyed.”

  “How badly.”

  “I counted eight different scratches down one side or the other, from headlights to taillights.”

  Mom and Dad exchanged glances.

  “That’s not a vandalism. That sounds more like a threat. A major threat,” Dad said.

  I nodded agreement. Dad hit the dialer on his phone. It seemed that he had the number right up top. It only rang twice before, “Twelfth Precinct. Lieutenant Turn here. How can I help you?”

  Dad quickly filled him in on our protected status, me, my school, the prospects that this involved a complicated relationship breakup with an unstable man and that my car had been keyed, using eight keys from front to back.

  “Eight. That’s a lot of keying from a lot of keys,” the lieutenant said. “Do you have any photos.

  I transmitted the ones I’d taken.

  “Not good,” the officer said.

  “And therein lies my concern,” Dad said.

  “I will have an officer around to take a statement from your daughter. Do you have any other witness?”

  “No one saw the keying being done. Three students came home with her from school. They can report on what they saw when they got to the parking lot.”

  “I’ll send two officers.”

  The call ended soon after that. My three new friends called home and explained they’d be late tonight. They got permission to stay and talk to the police.

  I asked mom if we could take over the dining room table for a study time. Very quickly, the four of us were intent on our homework. All four of us were taking AP Calculus, though in two different classes, still we were able to help each other out with problems. We worked until Mom called in an order for chicken and vegetable wraps.

  We broke to swim some laps, then ate supper. There was more studying, but there was also a break for a four-way match of the latest game of skill, chance and problem solving I’d just bought. Lew and I played against Van and Pete. The game also pitted each team member against the other. No surprise, the four of us chose cooperation over stabbing the others in the back.

  Our final score put us in the top one percent nationally of those who had played the game so far. I was not surprised.

  Since the police still hadn’t shown by seven, Mom suggested we see about what to wear tomorrow. Van was the complete opposite of me. A blond, she was petite, maybe five two, five three, and her breasts were no more than an A cup, although when her nipples hardened, they stood up very solidly. I think the word starter buttons fit her very well. Her hooha was lost in a muff of dark hair, hair she was not at all willing to part with.

  Van was attracted to several necklaces of a more primitive nature. She preferred leather thongs with beads strung along them or dangling from them. Van loved at first sight a bright red yarn collar with shells and bits of polished stone dangling from it or entwined in it. There was even one leather necklace with lovely feathers strung along it that she looked at longingly.

  “We can tighten the leather to make sure it doesn’t obscure Van’s breasts,” Mom said.

  I studied Mom’s jewelry collection, and as I did, a realization dawned on me. “Mom, everything here is really best worn naked.”

  Mom nodded.

  “Mom, for the last fifteen years, while you were clothed and raising me, you were still buying jewelry to wear when you could get back into your skin.”

  Mom eyed her collection. “Well, you could wear most of this with clothes, I know I have.”

  “Yes, Mom, but look at what you wore last night. Look at all these loose collars, belts, necklaces, they all go really well with a bare boob or a bare tummy. You really wanted, all along, to be a nudist again.”

  “Maybe you’ve discovered something I hid from myself,” Mom said, and opened her arms to me when I kind of barged over for a hug from her. I know I’m eighteen and supposed to be past the need for these things, but I’d just been hit by another eighteen-wheeler.

  My mom’s jewelry closet told me more than all the words could say about just how much she and Dad longed to return to being permanently naked.

  We broke form the hug, and Lew somehow had found a box of tissues that we both needed.

  I ended up choosing for tomorrow something a bit less pretentious. A finely worked loose grid of silver chains fell in several waves, barely covering anything from my neck to my navel. Two silver combs would hold up my hair. I added a chain link belt of alternating silver medallions and silver loops with a lobster clasp that left a chain to dangle down, pointing wherever I might decide for it to. Mom suggested a trio of silver bracelets, one wide, the other two thin. I liked the way I looked in the mirror.

  Better yet, I liked the way I looked in Lew’s eyes.

  He said nothing, just shook his head and smiled softly. Feeling so beautiful, I felt so in need of busting out. I leaned over and kissed him.

  I think I shocked him. He didn’t kiss back.

  So, I decided to see just how good a kisser he was. I stepped closer, seized his head with my left hand and pulled him close while molding my body to his. This kiss went longer.

  A lot longer.

  Our kiss stayed lip to lip, then I tentatively brushed his lips with my tongue.

  His mouth opened wide, inviting me in. I began to explore. It was a nice place to explore. His tongue touched mine and we began a dance, to and fro. I retreated and invited his tongue into my mouth. I loved his exploration, and felt his tongue’s invasion all the way down to my toes.

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