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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Carl Naked in School - Beth's Story 3/8 (mf exhib voy mast)
Date: Thu,  8 Nov 2001 15:10:06 -0500
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 * This message contains the file 'Beth 03.doc', which has been
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This story is a follow up to the series "Carl Naked in School,"
which you may want to read first. Before you read that, you might
want to seek out Karen Wagner's excellent story, "Karen Naked in
School," which was the inspiration for my efforts. 

-----------------

Carl Naked in School - Beth's Story 3/8 (mf exhib voy mast)

My clock radio woke me the next morning, Thursday, with the usual
news and weather, but I felt strange. For a moment I wondered
what was different, and then became aware of the sheets against
my bare body. I was naked! For a moment I indulged in a
deliciously sensuous snuggle, before I pushed the covers down -
away - completely off, baring myself to the morning breeze. 

I was up and savoring a totally sensuous stretch when there was a
soft knock on my door. "Beth, are you up?" My mother stuck her
head in the room, and saw me standing naked in the middle of the
room, stretching like a cat, and started to back out. "Oh!
Sorry!" 

"It's all right," I assured her quickly, relaxing but making no
effort to hide myself from her. If Carl could be naked in front
of his sister, and presumably his mom, I could do it in front of
my mom! 

"Oh, well, what do you want for breakfast this morning?" 

I suddenly realized I was ravenous. "A big stack of French toast
- maybe four slices - and bacon?" I asked. 

Mom's eyebrows went up. Usually it was a bowl of cereal and I was
out the door. "All right, but don't dawdle, or you'll be late!" 

"Yes, mom," I agreed. 

She was out the door, urging daddy to hurry, too, and I heard her
hustling down the stairs. 

Running down the hall naked, risking being seen by daddy, I
popped into the bathroom, I showered really fast, dried and
deodorized myself, brushed my hair and pony-tailed it, and then
darted naked back to my bedroom, maybe a little disappointed that
daddy hadn't come out and caught me, to contemplate my wardrobe.

Such as it was. I had a good supply of short sleeved white,
button-down collar, permanent press broadcloth blouses, and an
equally good supply of demure, pleated skirts - most of them
plaid, all of them knee length or longer - and white socks and
penny loafers for my feet. 

The female equivalent of nerd-dress. Straight out of Dilbert. 

Dull, dull, dull. 

With a sigh, I grabbed a blouse and skirt, and reached for under
things. Only, my hand paused on my bra. 

Did I dare? 

I slipped on my blouse without a bra, and buttoned it, and
studied myself in the mirror. The friction of the cloth made my
nipples tingle and stiffen, but you still couldn't really tell I
had nothing on under the blouse. 

I couldn't decide if I was happy or disappointed about that. 

Then I heard mom calling, and hurriedly pulled on my dull cotton
panties, knowing I wasn't about to give the boys on the stairs
that much of a treat! I yanked on skirt and socks, stuck my feet
in my loafers and I was on my way downstairs, my book bag banging
my back, feeling my tits jiggle, hoping desperately that Carl had
gotten my thought messages and would ask me to the dance. 

I was thinking, too, as I ate a stack of French toast, about
relieving Carl again today, because I had definitely vowed that
if anyone did it, it was going to be me! No way was I going to
let someone like Marilyn within a mile of him if I could help it.
Maybe Stephanie again, but not Marilyn! 

I was in a total swivet through chem class, of course, between
worrying about Carl asking me to the dance, and what I'd do if he
needed relief. Valences and reactions and all that stuff just
went right over my head! Fortunately it was stuff I'd covered in
the text book, so it didn't matter. 

When Carl drew me aside by the door to Miss Duclos' classroom I
could only hope it was for what I hoped it was for. He was naked,
of course, and, for a change his dick was limp as a noodle, and
much less intimidating. 

My whole body and mind went into a total panic! What if he didn't
ask me? Calm yourself, I told myself sternly. Something had him
so scared already he'd lost his hardon! 

"I know it's real short notice, but - would you go to the dance
with me this Saturday?" 

He was so nervous his voice was shaking and his hands trembled,
but I just couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little, even
as my heart leaped with joy. 

I nibbled my lip and frowned thoughtfully. "You're right, it is
kind of short notice." 

How could I say that with a straight face? Well, it was short
notice, I reminded myself, watching him crumble. For a moment I
was afraid he was going to cry! 

"I mean, if you've got another date, I understand," he admitted
miserably. "I should have asked sooner, only I've never even been
to a dance before." 

I knew he'd never had a girl friend he could ask before. 

"I didn't say that," I said softly. "I just said it is kind of
short notice!" Inside I was doing handsprings, of course. 

"I'm sorry," I apologized abjectly. 

I squeezed his arm. "Of course I'll go with you!" I whispered
eagerly. 

"You...." For a moment he almost shouted, then brought his voice
down to a strangled sort of squeak. "will?" he finished. His cock
leaped to attention. "You really will?" 

"Yes! I've never been to a dance either, though my Mom made me go
to dance classes," I added, now glad she had. 

"Wow! Me, too. Uh - should I get you a corsage or something?" 

"If you'd like." 

"What color should it be? What's your favorite color?" 

I thought this over. "White is always nice, and it goes with
anything. I don't know what I'll wear," I wailed, suddenly
realizing how true that was. Homecoming was a Big Thing - almost
as big as the senior prom! White blouse and plaid skirt would
just not cut it! 

"I'm sorry, I should have asked sooner," he apologized abjectly
again. 

"I'll think of something," I assured him quickly. "A white
corsage would be nice. I like camellias." 

"Camellias." 

I could see him making a desperate mental note. "Now come on,
we'll be late for class," I urged. "How are you doing?" I looked
down at his hardon, which had done a real Lazarus act, returning
from the dead once I'd accepted his invitation. It was at full
staff once again. 

"Would you?" he asked as we went through the door. 

I knew what he meant. "Ask me," I whispered before heading for my
seat, and I knew HE knew what my answer would be. 

When he did ask me he did it so formally that, for a moment, I
wasn't sure he was asking for me. I did not think of myself as
Mademoiselle Finch, even in French class. But then I was up, and
for some reason I thought of one of daddy's favorite films, "The
Blue Angel," with Marlene Dietrich, and something made me walk up
there like she moved, slowly and confidently and, well, sultry, I
guess you'd have to say. 

And I saw in Carl's eyes, and the way his cock rose even further,
that it worked. 

Vowing to give him an orgasm unlike any he'd ever had before in
his short sexual life, I touched his cock, curled my fingers
under it, and felt the stinging touch of his pre-cum. After
looking up at him - and gee, is he tall! and I like that - I went
to my knees in front of him! 

I knew what he was thinking, that I was going to give him a blow
job. Well, there was no way I was going to do THAT! Aside from
the fact that I was, I admit, a tad repulsed by the thought, that
would have put me in head-to-head (pun intended) competition with
Marilyn! No way I'd risk that! 

Instead, I made love to his cock with my hands, and my eyes.
Really! That's what I did! I made love to his cock with my
fingers and palms, and my eyes. The bullet-head of his hardon was
only inches from my face. I could see the slit of the tip, the
texture of the glans (that sex ed class had taught me something,
after all), the groove where that mated with the hard, hot shaft.


I fingered the tip gently, and felt his thighs quiver as I gently
spread the slit open for a moment. Then I milked the shaft, and
got a thick wave of pre-cum that I spread over the tip with my
thumbs, and down the shaft. It was hot, sticky, and slippery all
at the same time, so my hands slid over his hot, hard cock. 

I didn't hold back, stroking the whole thing, getting my hands
more gooey every time I passed "Go," the oozing tip, stroking his
juices over the head and down the shaft. 

I wanted to give him pleasure like he'd never felt before, and I
guess I did pretty well, because it didn't take long before he
was panting. 

"I'm gonna cum," he moaned, and Mademoiselle Duclos was waving a
wad of tissues but I ignored her, not wanting to miss an instant
of this. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the whole class
watching us, captivated by the way I was stroking Carl's
marvelous hardon, the hardon he had for me! 

I knew what was going to happen, and I wanted it to happen! I
didn't even flinch when his cock gave its first powerful pulse.
My thumbs were on the underside of his cock and I actually felt
the wad of cum shoot the length of it, like an express train
through a tunnel or something. 

It burst from the tip and hit me right on my chin! It was hot and
sticky and musky smelling, and I was afraid the next one might
hit me in the mouth, and I wasn't quite ready for that, so I bent
his cock down just in time and the next spurt caught me in the
throat. 

I felt that one slowly ooze down my chest, between my bra-less
breasts as the next spurt and the next erupted, spattering my
blouse, the slope of my breasts. His cock pulsed with every
eruption. Wave after wave of his thick, creamy semen splattered
my pristine white shirt, until the violence eased to droolings,
and long strands drizzled down on to my skirt. 

Carl was panting, but I didn't stop milking his cock until I'd
squeezed it dry, the last thick drops landing in my lap. Both he
and his cock were limp by the time I released his prick and held
my hand out, all sticky with his cum, for him to help me to my
feet. 

Then he did something that made me want to melt. Seeing I had a
drool of his cum oozing from my chin, he tenderly scooped it off
with his finger. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

I grabbed his hand and studied his finger with its thick, white
coating, wondering what his semen tasted like. Before I could
think, I stuck his finger in my mouth and sucked it, tasting the
slightly salty musk of his juices as I bathed his finger with my
tongue. 

Not bad! I realized that someday I'd get it straight from the
source. 

"You're welcome," I assured him softly before I turned to saunter
back to my desk, the class applauding and whistling. I didn't
need to look down at myself to know that the evidence was
spattered all over me, staining my blouse and skirt, even oozing
down the valley between my naked tits. 

I mentally vowed that I'd never wash that blouse or skirt again.
It was going into my personal museum along with my hanky from the
day before! 

He caught up with me after French class and asked me how I could
do what I'd done, and I told him the truth. 

"Because," I said, "I'm your girl, and I want everyone in school
to know it." 

He was dumbstruck for a moment, I guess, and had to hurry to
catch up with me, jostling through people in the hall. When he
took my arm, I drew it close, pressing the back of his hand
against my breast, so I could feel how close to me he was. I knew
he could feel that I wasn't wearing a bra. He rubbed my already
hard nipple, making it tingle and stiffen even more, and I shot
him a sly smile, noticing that his cock was already rising again
by the time we walked into math class together. 

As we entered math class, everyone was watching as we parted,
watching me as I made my way to my desk. The evidence was all
over me, drying slowly. I could even feel a little of it crusty
on my chin. There were whispers, and one of the kids that had
been in French class with us must have passed on a report, as
there was an excited rustle as it ran through the room. 

Even Freschetti was looking at me in a different light, though I
wasn't exactly overjoyed by his smirk. 

I was disappointed when Carl didn't ask me for relief at the
beginning of class, then chalked it up to the fine job I'd done
just an hour before. I was a bit worried, though, that he'd find
relief with someone else later in the day, when we didn't have
any classes together. 

But, all I could do was resign myself to the situation, reminding
myself that this was HIS program. Possessiveness and jealousy
weren't supposed to have any part in it, according to the handout
they'd given us all. The point was, each person's body was his or
her own. Sharing was encouraged, and program participants had to
respond to reasonable requests, and there was nothing I could do
about it. 

I'd seen Karen getting felt up in the hallways, after all. It had
made me feel all twitchy to see her standing there, hands behind
her head as some boy fondled her breasts, or even slipped his
finger up into her pussy. I doubted I could possibly be that
brave. 

I didn't see Carl for the rest of the day, which was surprising,
even though we didn't have any classes together. Usually I at
least saw him to wave at in the hallway. After French club I went
looking for him, knowing he'd had band rehearsal in the music
room, but someone told me he'd already headed out. His bike was
gone from the rack, and I felt a wave of dismay that he hadn't
waited for me. 

I hurried, hoping to catch up, but without much hope, because he
was probably on his bike anyway. So, when I saw him half a block
ahead, walking it, I even broke into a very unladylike run,
calling after him, only he didn't even turn around until I'd
almost caught him. 

I was scared! He seemed so - so uptight, almost hostile! What had
I done? I hadn't done anything, had I? I'd masturbated him, but
he'd wanted me to, and I was wearing his cum all over my clothes!
What did he want from me? 

"You've been avoiding me," I accused when he finally admitted I
existed, after I practically tripped him. 

"Yeah," he admitted, not looking at me. 

My heart plunged into my shoes, or did it rise into my throat to
choke me? I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I was scared he
suddenly hated me. "Why?" I asked, almost choking back tears. 

"I can't go to the dance with you," he mumbled. 

That stopped me dead in my tracks. Did he say "can't" or "won't"
I asked myself, my ears ringing. "Why not? Did you ask somebody
else?" I wanted to sit down right there on the sidewalk and cry
as I watched him walk on ahead of me. "I bet you got a date with
that slut Marilyn," I accused angrily, seeing my greatest fear
come to life in front of me. I went after him and grabbed him so
hard he dropped his bike with a clatter. 

"No! I haven't even talked to her since she gave me that blow
job. I can't go, that's all," he concluded miserably, coming to a
stop. 

"Why not?" I grabbed at him as he reached for his bike again.
"Why not?" I pleaded, feeling my heart break. 

"Because since it's an extracurricular activity," he explained,
making a rare grammatical error.

"That doesn't make sense," I observed after pointing out his
mistake. 

So he explained how the rules wouldn't let him wear clothes to
any extra-curricular activity until Monday, even marching band! 

"Oh!" That stopped me, and he scooped up his bike and walked on.

"Oh," I said more softly, walking along beside him while I sorted
this out. He was going to have to march in the band naked, and if
he went to the dance he had to go naked? Oh wow! That was
something else again, wasn't it? 

Then I thought of missing the dance, and felt a horrible pang. It
was so close - I was so close to actually going to my first big
dance, and with the guy I cared about most in the whole world,
and now this! It wasn't fair! 

But, no one said he couldn't go, I mused. It was just that he had
to go naked. So? Hadn't I walked down the street with him naked?
And we'd kissed, right there in public, with him naked. And I'd
masturbated him in class, and I was wearing his cum. 

Would going to the dance be any worse? Would being with him at
the dance with him that way be any worse than what we'd already
done? Didn't being his girl mean being with him, no matter what?

"So, you'll be naked," I said. "So what?" 

He protested, of course, so I argued, and I've gotten to be a
good arguer, since joining the debating team in an effort to
overcome my shyness. 

"It's a formal dance," he reminded me unnecessarily. 

"There's no rule you have to wear even a jacket and a tie," I
pointed out. 

"Everyone does." 

I tried teasing him. "Girls don't." 

He wasn't giving up easily. "Well, okay, girls don't. They wear
nice dresses and stuff." 

Which I didn't have yet, I reminded myself. But we'd reached the
corner where I was going to have to turn off, and I wasn't about
to let him get away. 

Desperate times demand desperate measures, I reminded myself.
"Take off your clothes," I ordered. I could tell he wasn't
wearing much anyway. 

"What?" 

"Put your bike down and take off your clothes," I insisted. 

He looked around blushing. "Here? Now?" 

I insisted, reminding him that the rules required him to obey any
reasonable request, or I could report him for a program
violation. 

He must have read the determination in my eye, because he leaned
his bike against the post and pulled off his shirt. I took it
from him, then tapped my foot impatiently as he fiddled around
nervously, finally shoving his shorts down around his feet. 

"Shoes and socks, too," I insisted. 

Handing me his shorts, he danced first on one foot then the other
as he took them off, his cock bouncing around as it stiffened.
After I took his shoes and socks from him, I looked him up and
down critically. 

Darn but he looked good! He was trim, and fit, and he had that
beautiful red hair around the base of his cock. It was all I
could do to keep from running my hands over him. "You look formal
enough to me," I told him. Remembering some of the outlandish
outfits that some of the guys thought were fashionable, I had to
add that he'd look better than them in his skin than they would
in their dorky duds. 

"But I'm naked!" he pointed out. 

Well doh! "So you are, but I am not going to let you cheat me out
of going to the homecoming dance just because you're suddenly
going all modest on me!" 

Sometimes you just have to take command!

"You mean you'd go with me like this?" He spread his arms. 

"I'd go with you if you were, well, any way you go, I'll go with
you," I assured him desperately. 

"Are you sure?"

He was weakening. "Positive," I told him. Unable to resist, I
tickled the underside of his cock, and gave him a peck on the
cheek, my heart singing again. I could see his spirits rising,
along with his pecker. 

Then his face fell again. "But what about your parents? How will
they feel about it?" 

I felt like I'd been sucker-punched again, but I was not about to
go down! "Well, I don't know." I thought hard. In for a penny, in
for a pound, I'd have to take this one head on. There was no time
for subtlety. 

"Can you come by my house tonight, after dinner? Just the way you
are now?" I added. 

"Uh, yeah, if you think I should." 

"I do." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I'm not sure, but I'll think of something. Do you have the
program brochure with you? Can I borrow it?" Time for a
propaganda attack. If I had the forces of law and order on my
side, it couldn't hurt. 

He dug in his book bag. "Sure, but what for?" 

"I think they got a copy in the mail, but I'm not sure. When all
else fails, there's always the truth." 

I thought maybe I had a couple of things going for me already.
For one thing, while I hadn't meant to, my display before my mom
that morning had to have had some impact on her. At least I'd
shown that I wasn't afraid to show my true colors, or skin, in
this case. 

Secondly, and more important, the one I really had to convince
was daddy, and he doted on me. Maybe, if I played my cards right,
I could put him between a rock and a hard place. 

"What time?" Carl asked as he handed me the brochure. 

"Make it eight o'clock," I answered, turning away toward home. 

"My clothes!" 

I turned back, hiding them behind my back. "You'll get them back
tonight, at my house," I promised, grinning wickedly at him.  

"Thanks a lot!" he protested, but I could tell he wasn't really
upset. As I turned back toward home, I waved his shirt, short,
shoes and socks over my head triumphantly, and heard a honking
and the shrieking as a bunch of girls drove by, screaming at the
sight of him. 



-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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