Spreading my legs, I carefully whisked away the remaining blonde hairs with my razor until I was bare as the day I was born. After weeks and weeks of planning, the day had finally arrived; my husband Dave had left on a business trip to China yesterday and I was "home alone" for two hot weeks in July.
I've always dreamed about being naked outsideโฆclothes locked away from reach, but in the small suburb where we live such behavior is illegal. Then it hit me; what if nobody knew I was naked? What if I was wearing a VIRTUAL string bikini.
Turning 30 just last month, my physical appearance had been on my mind a lot. I've kept my weight down by working daily at the gym. My breasts, never developing larger than about the size of a couple oranges, showed little signs of gravity. Their tiny shape would make the "virtual bra" seem all the more believable.
Last week, I visited a local art store and bought a couple kits of white mime face paint. My plan was to paint a virtual bra and pair of panties and then go do my yard work in the backyard, nobody knowing I would really be naked.
After my morning shower, I completely shaved my pussy. I've never shaved it all off before, and as I stood and admired myself, I realized it made me look years younger. This could become a habit.
Then using painter's masking tape to create a mask for my virtual bikini, I stepped into my regular bikini as a guide, and began taping all the bare skin around my real bikini. I placed a long piece around my waist, just above the panties. Then I taped around my legs and up the sides of my buns, leaving a small half-inch string of bare skin around the tops of my legs.
I peeled off my real panties and exposed my bare pussy and butt, framed by tape. To be a bit more daring, I taped my exposed backside to a small thong opening that just disappeared into my butt crack.
The bra mask was tougher to create. I started with strips of tape across my back and up and around my shoulders. But when I got to my breasts, I removed my bra and improvised. I wanted something smaller than my real bra, so I began to hide my breasts with tape, leaving only a small two-inch triangle centered on each nipple. I connected the triangle openings to the back and shoulder straps and prepared to paint.
The white mime paint was cold as I spread it on my bare skin. I started with my pussy and painted over my bare mound, inside my lips, down between my legs and across my butt. I spread it all over my back thong triangle and into my crack to create the appearance of a string disappearing into my butt. Once I completely covered my crotch, I carefully removed the tape to reveal what looked line a very real pair of thong panties. Anyone from a distance would have no idea it was just paint.
Next, I created my painted bra. I started on my back and shoulders and when I reached my nipples, tingles shot through my body. I rubbed my little nubs thoroughly with lots of paint to cover their growing size. It became rather counterproductive, the more I rubbed, the more they stood up. Soon I finished and removed the tape from my chest and back.
I stood back and looked at myself in the mirror. It was amazing; it looked so authentic, and hot! As I turned and examined my backside I was convinced no one would discover my secret--I was completely naked but appeared to be wearing a pretty, although very tiny, white string bikini.
It felt weird as I ventured out the bathroom door with nothing on. I made my way down the hallway and out to the living room. Our living room has large picture windows that face the front of the house and as I walked up to them I realized it'd be possible for anyone to see me.
Even though it was a weekday and most people were either at work or on vacation, a neighbor might be home and gaze out their window at that particular moment. Armed with my illusion of being dressed in a bathing suit I bravely stood and looked out.
Within a few minutes a young mother appeared walking down the street toward our house pushing a baby stroller. I felt like ducking out of view but I held my spot in front of the window. As she got closer and closer my little heart was pounding. She glanced my way, and after doing a double take, smiled and waved and continued walking. My whole body was trembling by the time she passed but it actually worked--my virtual bikini was believable.
I went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge, since I hadn't eaten breakfast yet. I poured a glass of orange juice about three quarters full and peeled a banana. I couldn't believe what I was doing as I ate my banana standing in my kitchen in the nude. I just couldn't calm down. I normally don't drink, but thinking it might help, I opened my husband's liquor cabinet and filled the glass the rest of the way with vodka.
Several days ago, in anticipation of this moment, I'd filled an old gallon container of milk half-full of water and put it in the freezer. When the water was frozen I'd dropped an extra house key in and filled the rest of the jug with water. Now the key was frozen solid in the center of the ice. Even in the hot July sun it would take several hours to thaw, forcing me to be locked outside in the backyard for part of the day.
After making sure all the doors and windows were locked, I grabbed my ice jug, drink and new cell phone and stepped into the garage. Before chickening out, I locked the door behind me and pulled it shut. As the garage door opened, I hid behind the minivan just in case someone was walking by; however all seemed to be completely quiet.
I quietly threw all my garden tools and ice jug and cell phone into the wheel barrel and wheeled it out onto the side yard. Returning to the garage, I grabbed my orange juice, pressed the garage door button and ran under the closing door.
Suddenly it hit me, I'd really done it--there would be no turning back now--I was standing in my yard in the buff with no way back inside for several hours.
The grass felt cold and tickly on my feet and toes. In my nakedness I could feel every gentle breeze blow across my skin. The sun felt warm shining on my white triangle painted breasts. For courage, I took a big gulp from my glass and headed for the backyard with the wheel barrel.
Our backyard is not fenced, although a row of pine trees and shrubs along the back lot line blocks the view somewhat. We're at the top of a hill; houses behind us are lower than our yard, making it more private, however the side yards are completely open.