I was nude and up to my neck in cool, rippling pond water, and Jennie--the topless girl on the bank--was putting on my jeans. Her own clothes were piled beside the rock where we had stripped together before we dove into the nippy water for a hot weather swim.
"There are three kinds of men," she was saying. "The first kind—" she pulled my tee-shirt on, covering the perfect tits that—in conjunction with her awesome legs and her cock-inspiring ass—had lured me there on my first day at my new school; my first day in the state, too, for that matter. I felt like a total idiot. Girls who are as hot as she is don't just walk up to total nobodies on the first day of classes and invite them to skip for a naked swim before lunch. But that totally sexy smile, that totally sexy body, and that totally innocent gleam in her eyes had convinced my rapidly swelling cock that, well, that apparently they did.
"The first kind runs home naked and hopes that no-one sees them. Of course, you've got about eight miles to run, and you live on the far side of town from here."
"How do you know where I live?"
"In Ashton Flats? This place is tiny. Everybody knows everybody, and everybody's known you were coming for weeks now." I stared. "Your dad couldn't stop bragging on you to Mrs. Wilson. She's the only Realtor in town, and she happens to be my mom."
"But—"
"A little research, a smidge of interlibrary loan, and every girl in a thirty mile radius had a picture of David Barnley in his whitey-tighties from that underwear ad you did last summer. Nice ass, by the way."
"Oh great."
"You have no idea how much competition there was to be the girl who lured you out here." I didn't know what to say, so I just stared. She'd been soaking wet when she pulled on my jeans and tee-shirt, and they were both pretty much sodden, and entirely clinging to her. I hate to admit it, but I was starting to get hard again.
"Weren't you afraid that doing this'd make me, I don't know—hate your conniving, slutty ways?"
"A little," she admitted. "But I knew that I'd see you nude, and the idea of stripping off in front of the most interesting male to live in Ashton Flats since Brad Marshton moved away pretty much made up for that." She blushed, and involuntarily crossed her arms over her chest for a second. Then she let them drop to her sides. She hadn't bothered with her bra as she'd redressed, so my shirt outlined her boobs. Her nipples were practically pulsing they were so hard. My cock, cold as it was in the water, clenched and stood, pointing right at her mouth.
"So the whole plan was to make me run home in the nude so you could laugh, or get an eyeful, or whatever?"
"Not exactly."
"What, then?"
"Well, like I said, the first kind runs home naked. The second kind is either so secure or so ashamed that he'll run home in my clothes." I looked at the lacy bra and panties laying daintily atop the "Daddy's Girl" bellyshirt and the matching neon miniskirt.
"Not gonna happen," I said. "What's the third kind?"
"The third kind of guy—the kind of guy I hope you are—will do whatever it takes to get me to give him his own clothes back."
"I'll bite. What do I have to do?"
"Well, first, you have to come out of the water and give me a hug so I know there's no hard feelings."
I've always known when I'm trapped. And as traps go, I had to admit this one was getting interesting. I climbed out of the water, knowing that she was checking me out, and my boner intensified. "I'll hug you, but," I started, and then chickened out of the hard-on joke I almost said.
She swallowed hard, and blushed beet red, I guess realizing that my cock was going to press up against her when we hugged. I laughed, and hugged her hard, pulling her lap into mine and rubbing my hands across her panty-less blue-jeaned ass; a good offence is the best defense. I might be the laughingstock, but I was gonna make her work for it.
She moaned.
