Bits and Pieces

Naked day.

We warned Dani….I swear to God we warned her.

Emily and I have been wanting a ‘naked day’’ at home for ages, but with a live-in housekeeper, it’s not as simple as just throwing caution and clothes to the wind and going for it. We didn’t want to embarrass her, or make her uncomfortable, but then, hey, it’s our home…then again, it’s also hers…up to a point. 

So we gave her the option when we told her it would be last Saturday, of having the weekend off (paid) and maybe visiting her mum, but when we came downstairs, both of us stark naked, the breakfast table was set and the coffee pot was on, meaning she was still there. 

Em and I sat down to breakfast, both of us feeling rather…..hmm…..I don’t know the word….remember when you first did something ‘rude’? That feeling. 

Creaks on the stairs and we knew that could only be Dani. She has breakfast with us at the weekend. Well, we had warned her! 

But she hadn’t warned us! We were both expecting to see her in her usual jeans and top, but not today. Today, she was as naked as we were. “I thought it sounded fun. Do you mind?” Mind? It’s hard to mind…or speak, come to that, when you’re creaming yourself as much as Emily and I both were. Dani has the perfectly proportioned body. All the right curves, in the right places, and sculpted to perfection. Oh, and that little triangle of pubic hair…..I had no doubt she had thinned it out a bit, since she looked almost pubescent. 

It’s not a good look really….staring at the help while dribbling milk from the cornflakes all over your tits. But the way she looked was only part of the story. As she walked past me, there was the ‘scent of heaven’, as I call it. It’s that scent a girl has when she’s just woken up, is still warm from sleep, is carrying just a little sweat, and there is a definite scent of vagina. If I have the choice of what my last scent on earth would be before I die, this is what I’d ask for. Dani wafted by me first, then Emily. Both of us locked eyes, and we knew that at that exact moment, we could both of us jumped on her and had her right there on the kitchen floor. 

I saw Emily’s right hand sneak under the table. Surely not? She wouldn’t dare….would she? Not here…not now! But there was no doubt that she would! I saw that unmistakable flush appear on her chest, and what happened next was, I have no doubt, purely intentional. Dani bent to get something from the fridge, but she bent not from her knees but from her hips, keeping her legs straight. This pushed her pussy lips into our view, and they were visibly moist. 

I heard a sigh at that moment, followed by some very fake coughing, and I knew Emily had cum. Fuck…I wish I’d thought to rub a quick one out. Oh well…we will have more naked days…and now, there’s something I need to put to the test, namely was Dani deliberately teasing, or did she just not realise? 

Watch this space. 

Memory from the girls’ locker room. 

I masturbated this afternoon. As usual, Miss Brain led the proceedings - she always does - from the moment of making me aware that I felt horny and actually wanted to flick the bean, to picking the spot (my bedroom) to what image, or composite series of images/events would be the focal point of my fantasy. Miss Brain is complex. Sometimes she gives me the wildest of fantasies, at others, she will make me weep with the depth of love I feel. Mostly, these days, Emily is the subject of my masturbatory fantasies, but this isn’t always the case. 

Like this afternoon. 

I always let Miss Brain lead. She will decide if I’m to be fully clothed, or naked, or somewhere in between. Miss Brain decides if it will be a dirty session, or using Emily’s discarded panties, or perhaps it will be a memory…sometimes, even a memory I had all-but forgotten. 

As I lay there, allowing Miss Brain to flick through her masturbatory scrap book for ideas, I felt myself inexplicably drawn to the girls’ locker room in my old school. This was, without doubt, the most hated, and yet loved room in the place. Hated, because the two nuns who took PE were vicious cunts of the first order, and loved because it was in here that I discovered my sexuality. 

Alice. (I almost typed her full name then…oops) Alice wasn’t by any means the most attractive girl in my peer group, neither was she the tales or the most developed, but there was something about her. Up until this afternoon lying on my bed, I had no idea what it was, but Miss Brain did. It was a combination of her being just a lovely, friendly girl, and her scent. No perfume or deodorant for Alice - she just smelled great as she was. In real life, I was friends with her but we weren’t close friends, we never had a sleepover, or went to each other’s birthday parties. Alice was just…well…Alice. 

I was drawn to her though - perhaps because when I saw her naked, she looked very similar to me….not very big in the boob department, but a cute bum, and a little patch of pubic hair, like me at the time. Miss Brain remembered that it was Alice’s panties that I first took into my hand, fingered them until I found the crotch, and gazed in wonderment at the white stains before burying my face in them and inhaling deeply. Holy Mary, mother of God….I could actually remember her scent! 

As I lay on my bed, my right hand in my panties, eyes closed, I let Miss Brain have unfettered reign over what she gave me next. Alice. My first cunt. Alice owned the first panties I masturbated with. Alice taught me that, if the opportunity ever presented, I would have no difficulty in going down on a girl. Oh, underneath the fresh scent of cunt, I could smell that sharp tang of pee….perhaps more strongly with Alice than with any other panties I have ever used in this way, but even then Miss Brain told me there was something sexual about it…that it was Important…that it would come to be important to me. 

Miss Brain took the reality of the memory and moved it slightly. Alice and I alone in the locker room. Me because I had, yet again, forged a note from mum excusing me from PE, and Alice, sent in early for some misdemeanour on the playing field. We were both in the shower together. The showered were odd things. Cubicles that could hold, 6 girls, but the walls didn’t go all the way to the ceiling. The shower heads were pipes firmly bolted to the walls - no quickies here - and they stuck up above the height of the walls. The nuns could easily look into the cubicles to make sure we were behaving ourselves. 

But as the fantasy developed, Alice and `I were in there alone. We were both chatting while washing. In the next moment, we were covered in soap and holding each other while rubbing our slippery hands over each other’s back an bums. I realised how much I would have loved to do this in real life. Then we were conscious of our emergent boobs touching. For girls like me, hugging another girl, even if innocently, puts our boobs together. It’s one of life’s free cheap thrills. 

In the shower, Alice and I began kissing before our hands inevitably felt each others’ boobs, and finally disappeared between each other’s legs. In that moment, I felt like I could really feel Alice, and as she came on my fingers, so I came into my panties lying on the bed. 

Urban exploration. 

Some of the buildings are still there. When the convent and its school closed, it did so abruptly. The students were merely told not to come back, the nuns were recalled to the mother house, and that was that. No thought to the students about to take examinations, or being half way through their course, just thanks and bugger off….without the ‘thanks’. Metal fencing went up, but it was the cheap kind. Personally I think the Church were hoping that someone would torch the place so they could collect on the insurance. For a month or two there was a night watchman, but that didn’t last. The weeds grew, windows got smashed, and one summer’s day, I decided to see if I couldn’t get in and have a look around. I’d already done it once, but this would be the last time. 

The outer fence was still broken where I got in, but the door, conveniently left wide open had been barricaded. It is illegal to force entry, but it isn’t illegal if there is a ‘point of access. Wandering round, I found another door. It was partially open inwards and just enough for me to squish through. 

The place had suffered since I was here last. The smell of damp and mould hung in the air, even though this was a hot day. Looking along the corridor there were puddles of water, so I guess the slate roof had suffered. Sister Assumpta’s office. (All the nun head teachers assumed this name) was utterly trashed….probably some vengeful students who, like us all, had suffered from these nuns vindictive sense of self-righteousness. 

My old home room was south facing, and I found my old desk with ease. I sat in my old seat while Miss Brain reminded me that I had enjoyed many quiet orgasms in this chair. It’s a wonder the wood had dried out! But Miss Brain also reminded me of many erotic dreams I had experienced that involved me being forced to strip naked and lie across the huge teacher’s desk at the front. ‘Humility is a great teacher’ various nuns would chant. 

Is it? Sometimes, the more errant girl would be told to come to the front, climb up on the desk and stand there so the other girls “…could see what sin looks like.” Fucking nuns! Sometimes, my erotic dreams had me being told to come to the front, strip naked and then, purely to embarrass the vicious little nun concerned, I’d masturbate. It always led to a great cum as I imagined it. 

And yet, here I was. I only had a t shirt, skirt and panties on (apart from socks and trainers). Before I knew it I was standing and having a discussion with a probably long dead nun. “But sister….I was doing anything.” “Oh yes you were….get down here, and show the class what sun looks like.” This time in this empty, decaying room, I spoke aloud. “Really, sister? Is that what you want? You want me to show them what sin looks like?” I could see the tiny little black eyes, burning like coals with hatred in the wrinkled old face “Yes! Get down here.” 

I walked the familiar walk, except this time, shedding clothes as I went until I arrived at the desk naked, apart from trainers and socks. I hitched my bum onto the desk and lay back, bringing my feet up to my bum and opening my legs. “Here, sister….take a look. You want to know what sin looks like? It looks like my cunt, you dried up wrinkled old bitch.”

And lying there, on that dusty old desk, I gave myself a viciously strong orgasm, squirting onto the classroom floor to imagined cheers from my classmates. 

The rest of my tour of the old building was done naked, my clothes held over my shoulder carelessly. Oh, I know the security firm may have put motion detectors in, or even cameras, but honestly, I didn’t care a fuck. I doubt anyone viewing the images would do anything except make a copy for themselves….good luck to them. The chapel has been trashed, and metal thieves have robbed the organ of its pipes, leaving the most valuable wooden ones behind. (I was told that some of the wooden pipes were made by a famous organ builder called Fr Willis, or someone.) I paused briefly at the foot of the statue of Our Lady, which has a specially rough, sharp and downright painful piece of flooring - perfect for making naughty girls say the rosary while cutting their knees to pieces. 

I won’t bore you with the rest of my walk around except to say that on the way out, I felt a deep sadness. Not for the place, but for the nuns. What has to happen, I wonder, to a group of women, to make them such bitter and twisted souls? Why would they enjoy inflicting pain and humiliation to the degree that they did? Now and then we had younger sisters join the school, and they weren’t like that at all, but without exception, every nun aged, say, over 50 was a thoroughly nasty piece of work. I’m sure Our Lord didn’t intend that….it’s another excess of the Catholic Church, and I think celibacy is at the heart of it. 

Every day, these nuns were faced with hormonal, sexual girls, most of whom would go on to have rich, full and varied sex lives - hell - some of them were already having these sex lives by the time they got to the top of the school. Every day these wizened old crones would gaze out on girls who, they knew, would have rubbed one out last night, or that morning. How would they know? Because at that age, they were doing exactly the same! Only their pathetic vow of celibacy stopped them, and they’ve been bitter ever since. 

So yes, I felt a deep sadness for these women, banned from sex by men who are themselves terrified of sex.