I am Rose and the story I will tell you is Sarah's. As Sarah told it to me, mind. Why me, why not Sarah herself? One thing that qualifies me is that I am in it, as supporting actor, one might say, supporting, but actually pivotal to the proceedings. Why did Sarah not tell it herself? She couldn't be bothered, or was shy, or humble or it was too personal? It does not matter. I convinced her, however, that it was important to be written. Well, alright, she said, but because it is a personal story, she thought it would be best served by the hand of someone else, with a tad of distance. Easy for her to say, but she may have a point. So, it is me writing, from her perspective. Confusing? Yeah. But the truth has to be clear. You need to know. It is me, trying to do her story justice. But it is still me, writing about her and myself and an interesting supporting cast.
Preambles: Who am I?
On holiday with my parents. This should be the last time I will have gone with them as a family. I am 19 years old and have been in college for a year. Before then, I was the last child at home. The last one of two, that is. My sister is five years older and left home a handful of years ahead of me. To another college, by the way. We get along fine the few times we see each other, better now as we grow closer in maturity. I did not learn much from her, however, in how to battle the hardships of teenager-ship or how to become a woman. She was not around when I could have benefited from her advice.
Is it strange for a 19-yr old to go on holiday with her parents? It may well be, but the holiday suits me, I mind my own business when I want and my parents are cool. It is still probably the last time, though.
A fairly mature girl I consider myself. I think I did develop over the last few years. Girl? Woman, I could say woman, but why would I? I am 19, but hardly settled and I am content with girl. I am mildly pretty, which is great. This way, my life is not ruled by my appearance. I am bright enough, B+ or A- quality at school. Thoughtful, they would say. Not quite a loner, but I am used to be alone and content to be so. Bookish too. But not on the shelf.
I know what I want, usually, and how to get it. So, don't laugh when I tell you the following. I know that it is fairly rare for a highschool girl to stay a virgin, but I did not want a boyfriend in a hurry. Boys are not mature at my age, I thought, and I was content on my own. You have to know that I have and have had male friends, and female of course, but I simply had no intention of amorous dilly-dallying and being a couple. Especially not just before I was to leave for college. None of my friends ever really bugged me about this.
I was determined, however, to lose my virginity before I started college. It came down to the last summer holidays before then. I had turned 18 a few months before, late bloomer me. The reasoning was as follows. I assumed all my new college friends would talking about sex, sex and sex and I didn't want to be a loser in their eyes. I wanted to be able to say, yes, I am fine, I have done it! OK, I was a little curious too and wanted to get the experience in the bag. Mind you, I had been masturbating for a few years. That suited me fine, thank you!
So, about a year ago now, I made a plan and it had to happen during the family holiday, away from home. We were camping out, as we are now, my parents in a little caravan and I in a little tent a stone's throw away. The plan was to set designs upon the best available male, nurture the relationship and sleep with him on the last night. This way there would be no time for a relationship!
As it happened, the campsite was a farmer's, very small, nice, but the farmer's son was the best and only male! He wàs nice, though. I didn't have to force myself to make do with him, and he was sensitive to my advances. He took me to the local bars on his motorbike, to a party one weekend and we had chats most every evening after his work was done. He could talk and was clever enough, a first-year engineering student and helping his dad out during the holiday.
We were friends and if he had designs on me, he did not let on. We did not even kiss before I made the suggestion to be intimate together. I did this on the evening before the last when we were hanging out as usual and talking. He blushed, looked at me for a few moments, then nodded and smiled.
We met the next day after dinner at the barn. Of course, the barn! The haystack! He had brought a blanket and laid it out carefully. I was nervous, just a touch, but looking forward to the experience. Why was I not more nervous? Cannot say with confidence. At times of crisis people surprise themselves. But I did have confidence in my partner in crime, that he would not hurt me, take advantage. And if anything, he was more nervous, so the mothering fell to me. Nothing more to do, but to prepare for the act. To undress and lie down.
I had thought for months about the undressing, the state of undress I wanted to be in. I wanted to be seen and I wanted to be stark naked. I did not want myself or him to be shy and stealthy. When I saw him starting turn his back to me and scuttle away to the corner, I called him back. 'Peter, I want us to face each other. I want to see you and for you to see me. Is that OK?' Without further ado, I gave the example.
Slowly and deliberately I took of my booties and socks. I undid the belt, button and zip of my jeans. Took off my plain cotton panties. My shirt and my bra, and there I was: naked. I looked him in the eyes the whole time. He looked flushed and excited but took me in from head to toe. I was glad. I knew what I looked like.
Ever since I was eleven, I had studied my image in the full-length mirror in my room. I could not wait for my breasts to develop and the wisp of pubic hair to become a full bush. I did not have detailed expectations of what my sex should look like, I roughly knew about clitoris, inner and outer labia, but what I saw evolve over the years, that strange pink flower of flesh, was fine. I sensed that talking about bodies with friends and parents was considered odd, hence I kept to myself. My sister and I flashed by each other occasionally, we were neither prudish nor open, I guess pretty normal. I only saw my parents in bathrobes.
Whether my interest in my body was normal or extraordinary, I have no way of knowing. Nor do I care. It was probably a bit beyond normal. Towards this boy I felt OK, knowing I was attractive enough, if not pretty, with my general body shape, breasts, butt and cunt all fine. It was exhilarating to show myself to him, the first person to see me naked as the centre of attention. Yes, in a sexual context.
'Yeah, look at me! I want you to. For as long as you like. But first you have to get naked too! Go on! Show me the lot of you and face me!'
He stood still for a moment, took a deep breath and practically ripped his clothes off. My first naked man and I was not disappointed. Farmer's sons do hard work and it showed. Best of all, his penis stood proud. 'Come on, let's lie down', I took his arm and led him to the blanket. It was good, I think, having had no prior experience. We were gentle and stroked each other's bodies endlessly before I took his cock and guided him to my entrance. All systems worked, I was wet and he slid in smoothly. Yes, there was the pang of him breaking my hymen, ouch, there was the blood, there was him managing just a handful of strokes before he came. I don't think I came, I can't have, but what did I know then?
We relaxed for a while after, kissed and that was that. I was no longer a virgin. My parents and I left the next morning and I never saw him again. No offence to him. He serves a good memory.
Fast forward to now, a year later and at another campsite. This campsite suits me for the designs I have this year. It is located just outside a small town of about 1,000 inhabitants, large enough to have an urban quality, with a highschool, some shops, a film theatre and so on. What I want to do is to exhibit myself. Plainly put, walk around naked! And perhaps be seen.
How did I come to want to do this? And why here and now?
The latter question, of 'how?' is easy: because it is away from home and the consequences of getting caught are lower. Caught by the police? A creep? Just anyone? I do not want to articulate the 'who by' part! Plus, summer temperatures allow not wearing clothes.
Now the 'why?' I first heard the word 'exhibitionist' a couple of months ago. A newspaper article described the 'lewd act of a man in a raincoat', opening it up to a bunch of teenage girls, who screamed (laughed?) and ran away. Their parents reported the incident to the police, but the man was never caught. I was curious, not yet excited, and ran the term 'exhibitionist' through Google.
My, a world opened! Most hits concerned porn- (erotica-!) sites showing attractive girls parading around. Some concerned 'amateurs', 'girls-next-door', like me in other words! God, l spent hours cruising around these sites, seeing pictures and videos, no longer just interested, but outright excited. I wanted to be like those girls. Why? That is like a little child, asking 'why, why, why?' There comes a time when you cannot answer anymore.
You note that I have been interested in my body since I started to become a woman. I never thought that odd. But now I wanted to be seen, potentially seen by others. What did I feel when cruised those porn-sites and adopting the skin of those girls? A mixture of the humiliation of my private parts being on display, but also of the excitement at doing something 'shocking' and of the pride of being admired as an attractive girl. And sexual excitement, yes! I had started masturbating almost daily after I had lost my virginity and this exhibitionism thing really got me going. So, I had to do it myself. And here I am, about to do it.
What is the plan? I will start easy. Alone, I cannot go out in broad daylight. I would get arrested, hounded, whatever. Yes, the ambition is to once do it in broad daylight and see that I shock or entice those that see me. But I should learn to walk before I will run. Pun intended. So, I will go out at night, after I have said goodnight to my parents and see that the lights in their caravan have gone out. After midnight, for sure. I will leave the campsite in a raincoat and trainers and, once away in the open, will shed the coat and hide it in a bush somewhere. Then I will play it by ear, where I will go and how long I will stay out. In case of 'danger', I am quite a good runner!
The first night: Walking alone
I am more than a little nervous at dinner. I am given wine at dinner during holidays, so I hit the bottle as hard as I can, without drawing undue attention. After coffee, we take a walk in the surroundings and then sit reading. The sound of insects buzzing around the lights enhances the languid atmosphere. Around eleven or so, I bid goodnight to my parents and prepare for bed. During summer, I sleep naked, as I believe do my parents, so nothing unusual so far. I am still nervous and cannot lie still, if my life depended upon it. I listen to music to pass the time. I monitor my parents' light and see that it is off around midnight. I give it 20 more minutes!
When the time has come, I listen intently for five minutes for any human noises, especially in the nearby caravan. I hear my dad's snoring, which I know my mum miraculously can stand. She sleeps first, so she says. The moment is now! I will be doing it! Softly, I put on my trainers, slowly zip my tent open, grab my raincoat and put it on, but leaving the buttons undone. Then I zip the tent shut again - softly, softly - and there! My adventure starts!
I tiptoe past the caravan and the few other dark tents and caravans and leave the campsite. I will walk around the town a bit, just while I get my bearings, and will then venture in. My raincoat is open and already I enjoy the movement of air around my naked body and the bouncing of my tits. My cunt has never felt anything like this flow of air! I feel a sense of protection by the coat. When I realise this, I decide I have to get rid of it soonest. There, under a set of shrubs... When I am bent over pushing the coat underneath, I am aware of the view I am allowing, of my sex between my naked thighs. No one there to see it...? And then I am free. I raise my arms to the sky and spread my legs, to be open to the world! I bend over and give the world that rear view again. I shake my tits like a stripper. I run for a few hundreds of meters, to feel my tits bounce. See me, world! I feel like shouting, but here I restrain myself.
I move along small roads, foot- and bicycle paths around the town. Soon I feel far away from my coat. No protection anymore. I hear a church bell announce one o'clock. The town is asleep and I dare take a road leading to the centre of town now. It is not far, a mere five minutes. There is a school on the edge of town. I walk onto the schoolyard towards the main doors. There is a spotlight illuminating the entrance. When approaching the entrance, my body starts to catch the light and I see my image clearly reflected in the glass doors, like a ghost almost. I smile and wave to myself and do a little dance. That is better. I see a fun girl.
