[
Note: This is a sequel to my story "
T-shirt Weather
." You probably don't need to read that one to understand this, but if you're curious about what went on with John and the magnolia tree, that's where you can find out.
]
*
Senior year of college I moved off campus, like everybody else. But as a budding exhibitionist, I was more ambivalent about it than most. I missed walking to the bathroom wearing only a towel (or, when the hall was empty, carrying the towel). I missed leaving the door open just a crack so that I could watch strangers pass by as I lay in bed and quietly masturbated. I missed those late, drunken nights when I would sneak down to the boys' floor naked to knock on a random door and then bolt, so that the boy saw only an unidentifiable streak of bare girl-ass disappearing up the stairs.
On the other hand, since my roommate Alice and I were close enough to have seen each other naked a million times, there wasn't much need for me to ever be fully dressed in our apartment. At first she teased me for walking around naked in the mornings and lounging topless on the couch in the afternoons. But before long, it became just the way we were together, and she started doing it too. It wasn't uncommon for us to eat dinner together in our panties, or have heart-to-heart conversations while we shared the shower. When I lounged topless on the couch, she would be there too, tits out while she dozed with her head in my lap. When one of us was feeling particularly needy, we might even crawl into bed together and stroke each other's hair until we fell asleep.
I knew her body like I knew my own—with the one big exception of the naughty bits. We were like friends with benefits, if the benefits only extended to cuddling. We were pretty much the Amazons from
Wonder Woman
(my favorite movie)
,
living in our own little sapphic/platonic paradise.
All that changed after things got serious between Alice and her boyfriend, Jake, and he started sleeping over all the time. At first I made the most of it—I'd let myself get "caught" in a t-shirt and nothing else when she brought him over, or I'd "forget" to close my door while changing clothes when he was there. I couldn't be naked nearly as often, but it was a lot more exciting to expose myself to someone who shouldn't be seeing me. Whatever I did, Alice laughed it off; she was used to my antics by then and saw them as an endearing quirk.
Or so I thought, until I finally took things too far. I had noticed that Jake got up to pee like clockwork at 1 a.m. every night, so one night I arranged to be in the kitchen, gathering a naked midnight snack, at that time. As Jake passed by the kitchen door, he'd see me dramatically lit by the refrigerator light, and I'd deliver my prepared line: "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone else was up." But when the moment came, I realized that Jake was saying the same thing to me, because he was naked too!
We both froze. I couldn't do anything but stare at his cock as it inched up toward half-mast. Before either of us could break the spell, Alice appeared, the only non-naked person in a room with her boyfriend and her best friend. Jake ran back to the bedroom under a barrage of Alice's curses, but I got it worse: as soon as he was gone, she went totally silent and just stared at me, as I helplessly tried to cover myself with a tupperware full of ham. As I squeaked out my line one more time, Alice turned and walked away.
Jake was quickly forgiven after, I assume, being sternly admonished to put his boxers on before he left Alice's bedroom. But with me it was different. Alice stopped laughing at her goofy nudist roommate and started glowering and not speaking. I had maintained enough plausible deniability that she couldn't confront me, but it was obvious she was seriously jealous. I cleaned up my act, wore so many layers I was sweating whenever Jake was around, but things still didn't go back to normal between us. She was polite, but the old intimacy of our friendship was gone.
After a few weeks of awkwardness I couldn't take it anymore. I decided I had to talk to her, even though I was petrified of what might come out in the conversation. I waited for a weekend when Jake was out of town, and I caught Alice sprawled out on the couch binging old TV shows. I arrived with a bowl of popcorn as a peace offering. Alice grudgingly made room for me on the couch but turned down the snack.
"Hey, Alice," I said, after gathering up my nerve for half an episode of
Gilmore Girls.
"Is everything OK with you and me?"
Alice just sat there staring at the TV for what seemed like forever, or at least long enough for Rory and Lorelei to order breakfast at Luke's and then leave without eating. Finally she spoke, not turning to look at me. "You mean aside from you wanting to fuck Jake?"
My response was reflexive, almost shouted: "I don't want to fuck Jake!" As guilty as I felt, I was genuinely offended that she would think I'd do something like that. I really didn't want to fuck Jake, I just wanted him to see me naked—and I wanted
everyone
to see me naked. I couldn't exactly offer that as an excuse.
Alice abruptly turned off the TV and headed to her room, but I couldn't let the conversation end there. "What can I do to make it up to you?" I pleaded after her.
She turned back toward me and crossed her arms. Her face looked as hard as I had ever seen it. "Alright," she said. "You like to be naked so much, I want to see you to streak Spring Bash."
I'm a natural redhead, so I blush easily, but at that suggestion I felt myself go pale. Spring Bash was the biggest social event of the year, a massive block party that stretched the length of Prince Avenue, the student drag where we lived. Every front yard for five or six blocks would be filled with partiers emptying solo cups and playing beer pong. Streaking Spring Bash essentially meant being naked in front of the whole school.
I'm not dumb; I know that public nudity isn't the way to mend a damaged friendship. Alice was just trying to punish me, and the extremity of the punishment made me think it was about more than flashing her boyfriend. But the truth was, not so deep down, I loved the idea, and appeasing Alice gave me the cover to do it without revealing just how much I wanted it for myself. So we agreed to terms and shook on the deal.
***
Just a week later I was standing at my front door wearing nothing but knee-high socks and running shoes. (The socks were Alice's idea, meant to make me look ridiculous; I had talked her down from much worse.) The house that held our apartment and a few others was about three-quarters of the way down Prince Avenue. I was supposed to jog (no sprinting!) to the far end, turn and come back to the near end, and then finally I was allowed to loop back home. It was part of the route I jogged daily, though usually with slightly more clothes on. Alice would follow behind me in her car to make sure that I stuck to the terms and that nothing worse than she had planned happened to me.
As we got ready to go, her eyes kept wandering down my body, taking in my freckled skin and my trimmed, fiery red bush. I supposed she was savoring my humiliation in advance. In contrast to my nudity, she was dressed to kill, in a red satin bodycon dress and her highest black suede heels. If I was going to play the fool tonight, she was the queen of hearts, ready to take her man on a gloating tour of all the parties after she had vanquished her rival, me.
She grinned at me as the sounds of booming music and chattering crowds poured through the windows. "You sure you can go through with this?" she asked, more taunting than concerned.
"I'm sure," I said, though in fact I thought I might faint halfway down the front stairs.
We walked out together, and I hung back in the shadows of our front porch while she cranked up her car and pulled onto the street. She leaned out the window and waved me on. I took a deep breath, counted to three, and dashed down to the sidewalk.
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Alice honked the horn constantly to make sure that no one missed me as I passed. Every last boy, and a good number of the girls, threw their hands up and hooted as I did.
"Woo! Naked girl!" one especially drunk frat bro shouted. Somehow the nickname stuck instantly; it seemed to precede me from house to house as I jogged down the street. A few other people recognized me and called out my actual name (Bonnie, by the way). My tits and ass were loudly praised. One guy followed me for a block, but thankfully he was too wasted to keep up my pace and soon dropped off.
I was almost to the end of the street by the time the blood stopped pounding in my head enough for me to take in what I was experiencing. It was a cool April night, and the wind felt amazing on my skin. It made my nipples harden into tiny pink gem stones at the center of each bouncing breast. Against the chill of the breeze my pussy felt like it was on fire, and with every stride the movement of my thighs sparked it anew. But most of all, what I felt were the eyes—dozens, hundreds of eyes groping and releasing me in succession, like an army of hands touching every spot on my body at the same time. Here it is, I wanted to shout, all of me, nothing left to hide. Here's my body, and here's my perversion. On some level I was humiliated, as I should have been, but that feeling was drowned out by the overwhelming sense of freedom.
At the end of the street I crossed to the other side and jogged in place for a second while Alice turned the car around. She leaned out the window and shouted, "That's enough! You can get in the car if you want."
I was disappointed by the offer—I wasn't done with this feeling yet—but I couldn't say no without revealing how much I was enjoying my supposed punishment. As I reached for the door handle Alice pumped the gas, leaving me stumbling as she laughed hysterically. When she did it two more times, I started to think she might be prepared to lead me all the way back to our apartment that way, and I might've let her, except I was afraid it would be too obvious how the humiliation added to my arousal. I filed that discovery away for a future adventure and set off to finish my jog.
