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Nudity has always sent waves of shivering, pussy moistening thrills through my body, and forced my fingers between the folds of my tender slit like a thief in the night. Just the thought of being nude in front of others made me so excited. But nudity, for a girl, is complicated; to say the least. Take, for example, the first time I attempted nudism. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror naked, I had the devilish idea of walking through my house completely exposed. It was the thrill of it that attracted me more than the nudity. After all I was grown. Technically I was an adult. It was high time I started to do what I wanted. In my mind, I may have been brave, but in reality, I was trembling and afraid. I took a last look at my petite virgin nakedness, and decided to do it. The dark hallway seemed like a long gaping maw waiting to gobble me up. At the far end, the lights of the television flickered and flashed ominously. My family was there, sitting in front of the tube, completely unaware a teenage girl was about to do something life changing. I stopped. I covered my breasts and crotch with sweating hands like a Botticelli painting, yet the thrill of exposing my naked body drove me forward. I took another step. I shivered, even though I was burning up. I spun around and walked back to my room. No! I stopped myself again, spun around again and moved forward. I clenched my fists and threw my hands down to my sides in determination. I would brave this new adventure! I took each step like a Gnostic Jesus carrying the cross to his own execution. I stopped just shy of the doorway. I had no towel, no panties, no shirt, nothing to cover my exposed naturalist teenage body. Whatever the reaction from my family, I had no escape. They would see my body in all its young almost seventeen years glory. Gravity had yet to ravish my breasts and they were perfect unmoving small mounds. I had the sensual rounded stomach of the beautiful actress Nastassja Kinski, in Richard Avedon’s famous photo. After all, Nastassja and I share some of the same bloodline, and it was the movie “Cat People” that first inspired my desire for naked romps. I wanted to creep out into the world naked like an animal prowling for prey, just like beautiful Nastassja. A sprout of thin blonde hairs barely concealed the tender pink lips of a woman about to reach out on her own. I ran my hands over my smooth Nastassja-esk belly. I could smell the excited juices of my late teenage sexuality. I was turned on to the point of near orgasm. I walked into the room. Minutes later, I was back in my room with the covers over me and holding a shirt against my deflated and heaving chest. I wept like I had just been to my own funeral. My mother towered over me, standing like an evil ogre and barked out nonsensical accusations from beside my bed, “What was I thinking? Who was I trying to impress? Was I sexually active? Was I a slut? Did I do “the gang bangs”?” The torrent of silly, baseless incriminations continued until she had me sufficiently beaten down. I hugged my pillow and soaked it with tears like a silly child. Why was this so horrible? Why was my exposed and, ok… I’ll give them Escort Çekmeköy this, completely vibrantly thrilled, naked body so terrifying? How had I transformed from innocent virgin daughter to loose cock-sucking whore in only moments? It made no sense. My father simply stood behind my mother with arms crossed. The two of them wouldn’t leave until they were positive I was never going to do anything like this again. A mere two days later, my brother walked completely naked through the kitchen. Apparently, he had forgotten his shampoo in the grocery bag. He was very particular about his shampoo. His flaccid member bounced and flopped around like a untethered side arm. The thick mat of wiry, dark hair around his flesh pistol, only brought more attention to his pale, white dancing dong. My parents reaction? Oh… my mother frowned and hit him with her apron string, and my father pulled the paper up higher to keep from seeing him, but I swear I heard my father chuckle. Nothing more! Oh the horrors my brother suffered for virtually the same thing I had done. To make matters worse; my brother, the asshole, made a point of stopping in front of me and winking. Yes, winking! I sat like a terrified virgin, and my teeth froze mid bite into the juicy apple I held in my trembling hand. A trail of juice ran down my chin. Then, and I wish I were lying, then that long extension of his, that loaded gun, stirred and slowly rose like a bear waking up from hibernation. It pointed at me accusingly, mockingly. I swear I even saw a smile on the end of that red capped cock. Before anyone else could see the violation of brother and sister, he bumped me with his hip and let go a fart. He ran away laughing. My father fanned the air and burst a string of obscenities. “Aren’t you going to yell at him? Did you see that Mom? Really?” I protested. The best I got was a smile and, “He’s a boy.” There is no justice. College opened a world to me that was mind-blowing, numbing, exciting, erotic, and insane. Suddenly I was able to do anything I wanted. So naturally I did nothing. I was a wimp. I was a coward. The life sucked from me just as my mother had intentioned. My roommate, however, was anything but shy and far from a virgin. She often walked down the hallway with nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around her waist. Her large, drooping breasts hung like jellied sacks with hard nipple spouts. Obviously proud of her waist huggers, she rarely covered them with a bra. In contrast, I tried to make sure no one would see my unripened peaches for fear of certain death. I would even turn to a corner to put on my bra. Mother had done her job well, she would be proud. No one would accuse this girl of being a slut, and so I remained pathetically and karmically a virgin. Don’t get me wrong. I was horny. My pussy ached for the touch of another human being. But the fear of slut-hood was far stronger than my burning desire to have a thick cock buried inside me (be it real or not). So strong was my fear and shame, I wouldn’t even penetrate the tight folds of my puckered slit with more than the tips of my fingers. Almost as if eyes Gebze escort constantly watched and knew the state of my hymen. Each time I slipped my hand under the huge panties purchased at Wal-Mart, and rubbed circles around my tiny clit, I was biting my pillow and praying for forgiveness from an unforgiving God. I was in hell. My life changed with an innocent question posed to a girl I barely knew. I sat across from a sweet girl in the cafeteria and, in the simple interest of conversation, I asked, “What do you do?” I chewed on the tasteless styrofoam textured food waiting for her answer. The answer contrasted sharply with her sweet, angelic features; she was a nude figure-drawing model. My pasty, starch laced mouthful of school food went uneaten. I listened, and fantasized while she explained her simple “job”. Immediately after, I found myself standing in the office of the School of Art with a completed application hanging from my hand. I watched the secretary for some condemnation, but there was none. She seemed bored, yes, actually bored, as she told me the schedule of classes and explained how to sign up. Was it really this simple? My heart hammered in my chest. Butterflies gave way to a flock of birds beating their wings around my insides. I was going to model nude. Me…nude. The first class came and students filled the room. The more that came in, the more I felt like the world was spinning out from under my feet. The instructor was a kindly man in his mid-forties. He could tell that I was shaking in my flip-flops. His touch on my arm sent electric jolts of excitement through my body. He motioned for me to disrobe behind two display boards, jammed together against a paint and dirt smudged wall. I expected some privacy, but, to my horror, he stood at the opening and watched. Was he really going to stand there while I undressed? What if I waited? Would he eventually let me undress in private? Well, why would he? I was about to pose completely naked in front of him, and a room full of students my own age. None of them knew the monumental leap I was taking. I inhaled a deep and shaky breath, and took off my clothes. I felt the teacher’s eyes burning into my skin. After stripping to my undies, I felt horrible for not shopping for better fitting underwear. I dropped the huge panties quickly, unceremoniously, and peeked over my shoulder to see him staring at my ass. Now the moment of truth, my bra. No corner to hide in. No justified reason to cover myself. Soon everyone would all see my small bits and curves. I dropped my bra and flashed a nervous smile in his direction. My face reddened. I quickly shoved all my clothes inside my gym bag. I felt like I was floating in an odd dream. Never in my life had a man watched me undress. Never in my life had I believed that a man his age, would be staring at my naked body. I snatched up the robe I had purchased just for this occasion. It already had smudges of black, brown, and yellow on it. Everything in the room seemed to be covered in some sort of paint, or charcoal, or other medium. He motioned for me to walk out, and I pulled the robe tightly around Şerifali escort bayan my naked body, and realized I had to push past him. Walking past him, I felt heat rush from my chest down into my heated thighs. It had nothing to do with being attracted to him, he was just so close to me. His hand could reach out and touch me as I passed. I couldn’t stop him. A part of me wished he had. The students seemed unfazed by my presence. I mounted the platform decked with chairs, a table, a lamp, a large patterned blanket, and part of an old bicycle. I hardly had time to think or look around me, before the instructor stepped on the platform with me. “Are you nervous?” he asked, obviously sensing my terror. I said “no,” with a barely perceptible shake of my head. A lie. “Then let’s begin. You can disrobe any time you feel comfortable. I will help you into the poses, and after you’ve done this a few times, you’ll get what we need without me even having to say it,” he said. I had dreamed this moment a hundred times. I was in love with the idea of other people looking at my naked body. What would they think of me? Would they laugh? Would they like what they saw? Would they think I was beautiful, or just see me as I saw myself, a slender little geek with tiny breasts. I dropped my robe, and he started talking to the class. I should’ve waited. He wasn’t ready to begin and this forced me to stand beside him naked and exposed to everyone. I became acutely aware of every detail of my naked flesh. The blonde hair that cascaded over my small bare shoulders. My tight breasts with dime-sized areola. My nipples remained constantly hard but extended like little bullets when I was afraid, excited, or both. My small roundish Nastassja stomach. My pubic area made me the most self-conscious. The pale, whisper thin blonde hair always made me feel like a little girl rather than a woman. It did nothing to hide the pouting pink labia of my pussy. In the right light, I looked as bald as the day I was born. I was cursed with the body of a virgin. “Are you ready?” The teacher smiled and held my arm again. His hand was recklessly close to my bare breast. My breathing was rapid and short. My body responded to his touch, and my pussy ached to have his cock inside me. My GOD! Why would I think that? Thank God he couldn’t read minds. My fear thought maybe he could. He had to know the petite nerd-ish girl standing before him was simply terrified, but could he tell there was more? Then something amazing happened. Drawings appeared on paper. The drawings weren’t of an insecure and terrified little girl. The drawings were beautiful, gorgeously rendered sketches of a lovely young woman, with a beautiful body. Sure, some of the boys had spent far too much time on my nipples and naturally bald vagina, but overall the room filled with sensual and lovely works of art. Artwork of – ME! Nothing mattered now but the next time I would model. Each class was a drug and the professors were my dealers. Other classes didn’t matter to me. Somehow nothing was real when I wasn’t nude. The only thing that made me happy, the only thing that gave me any peace of mind, was to drop my robe in front of a room full of students, and have them study and draw every inch of my body. Oh joy and trembling shivers! After each class I masturbated furiously. Orgasms had never felt so alive and fully satisfying. My original figure drawing professor invited me to an evening drawing club.

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