Climbing the Shamelessness Ladder

Part 1 — First babysteps at home and at friends’

INTRODUCTION

Here you find the story of the journey our girl nude Joanna undertakes to get to know and conquer shame and embarrassment. She is eighteen-years old and a senior at highschool. At this point, it comes in three parts. In the first, she takes her first nude baby steps at home and hence takes a giant step when she exposes herself to her friend Louise and her boyfriend Robert. In Part 2, she takes another big step, but in a different direction, when she claims the right to be naked at home, amongst her mum and dad and two brothers. Part 3, finally, for now, sees her be exposed and inspected at a party, under the guidance of her elder brother.

I hope you find it a sexy story. I try to paint a picture of how things look, sound and smell and how the protagonists feel. It may not be for everyone, however. In this story, there is no penetration, for example. Or fucking, if that is your word. But I know there is a category of readers that like my kind of story, with details of things, sensations and feelings.

NOTE: The main narrative passes twice. The first time, where we have a narrator, who talks of Joanna in the third person and we see the proceedings from an external perspective. The second time, IN ITALICS, where Joanna describes the proceedings herself, obviously along with her feelings. If you are in a hurry, you could skip the second version of the narrative, but you would miss certain details and an account of what Joanna felt and thought.

JOANNA’S EXHIBITIONIST HIGH — SO FAR!

Here is a look forward –

‘Who?’

There is a short period of no sound, no movement — all eyes are on Joanna, who hides behind her mask, in a tense posture. Then a voice replies, a woman’s voice, ‘I will make the first cut!’ Heather! Is she a friend or a foe? She goes to Julian and receives the pair of scissors. She then comes to stand right in front of Joanna. ‘I have an idea. Why don’t you go and stand on the coffee table? It will be a sort of stage, you see.’ Assent all around, so she moves and climbs on the coffee table. Heather looks at her, approving but wearing a mischievous smile. ‘Yeah, much better, but why don’t you go down on all fours? After all, you want to play the dog here… Help yourself!’ We see Joanna stiffen and clenching her fists. Who knows what she is thinking, but she relaxes again and complies. Right, she wants the degradation! There she is, a nice girl in nice clothes, on her hands and knees, waiting.

Heather lifts up the dress at Joanna’s butt and snips off the fabric she is holding, thereby creating a roughly circular hole when the rest of the dress falls down again. The hole exposes the grey pantihose and pink panties shining through. She then turns to the audience, triumphantly holding the scissors high and exclaiming, ‘Who is next?’ There is immediate response now. And so, a sequence of guys and gals take turns to cut away Joanna’s clothes.

After Heather’s first cut, the next few cutters continue in the area of her bottom, pinching the pantihose there and cutting a hole directly underneath that in the dress. The next cut, you guessed it, is in the panties underneath. There we have it: part of the crack of her ass is the first hidden flesh to be revealed. The following cutter manages to sever the waistband of her pink panties, rendering the garment sloppy and useless. The skirt of the dress hanging down from her butt is then removed in about half a dozen goes. The next frenzy of cuts stays in the same area, cutting up the pantihose there and what remains of the panties. You can imagine the excitement among the audience grows as the baring of her cunt grows closer. As chance has it (is it chance?), it is Heather again who cuts the final bit of fabric away and reveals the vagina opening. What Joanna will feel when air instead of fabric touches that opening, we can only guess. We do know she does not move, but to say that she does not respond? There are sharp intakes of breath and sighs.

What area is targeted next, you think? Yes, naturally, her tits. The first cutter there has to pinch and pull the dress down and has perhaps hoped to bare the nipple in one, but, no, more layers were revealed — a camisole (easy) and a sportsbra (hard, in fact could only be done when dress and camisole were gone.) So, it will take a campaign of snips to bare the breasts.

To be sure, it takes more than one snip by each of the guests to complete the job of baring Joanna. Heather, for example, takes five. Recordholder is one of the hosts, who takes no less than seven! Thankfully, the audience is sufficiently sophisticated to not take the shortest route to Joanna’s nudity, thus sustaining the curve of the arousal at a high throughout. Naturally, Julian abstains. Joanna all the while manages to stay put like a statue. Like a saint!

There are many, many cuts to go before she is naked (save the bootties. Those are off-territory! What is a woman sans shoes?) Highlights are when to back of the dress was fully severed, rendering the beautiful garment a mess of red velvet around her body, only requiring cutting off the puff-sleeves to complete the job of making her dressless. The pantihose — the quickest would have been severing the waistband, but somehow people decided to leave that to the last. Patience is good! Instead, they pinched the hose material up, cut and made holes, then cut from hole to hole, thus joining them and slowly shredding the pantihose, next cut off the feet and finally severed the waist and let the hose drop away. As we know, the panties had already lost its shape and function early on. A few more cuts see the pink panties drop to the table.

So, Joanna is nearly naked by now. There is just the sports bra to go at this point. It would have taken more than a saint’s patience to stretch that beyond the minimum of three cuts. This is how it happened. Finally, Joanna is stark naked. Save the red bootties of course.

Throughout the doggy-style cutting process, the attention of audience members not active cutting or standing in line feasts upon her cunt. Don’t forget that at the time, fully shaven vulvas were very rare. Moreover, it was not common even for steady boyfriends to study their girlfriend’s naughty parts in detail. The baring of Joanna was a little local revolution therefore.

Julian gathers the pile of once coherent material around her body. He briefly embraces her in her doggy-style position, awkwardly. A moving sight. Now there is nothing left to remind us of the time Joanna was not naked, with her free breasts hanging down and on display. Touching is not allowed. Honestly, we imagine emotions would run high at this point and are sure some would kill for a touch…

WHERE THE GIRL IS COMING FROM

There is a picture of her as a baby, you know the one, on the changing mat after her bath, nice and pink and rosy.

There were occasions when the album with this photograph would be passed around. During puberty she hated that, aunts and neighbours giggling over her vulnerable, nude baby self. Still, the operative word here is embarrassment. She was not ashamed. The baby was perfectly acceptable.

Nor was there any shame involved in playing doctor behind the garden shed, age six, seven or eight, although she and her friends knew it was ‘wrong’, for some reason they did not quite understand. They just felt some excitement they were unable to describe.

She did get know embarrassment full-on during puberty though. She started to hide her body from her parents and siblings, and did not particularly like the communal showers at highschool at first. There was even a period during early puberty when she did not like her own body. She was ashamed of her developing breasts and of the dirty pubic hair that began to sprout, and that in her armpits.

At fifteen, she started to grow out of that. Her confidence was blossoming. This was due in no small measure to the signals she received from her peers and also from the boys. She had found out that she was attractive. (Beautiful? No, she wouldn’t say that. She was a modest girl.) This meant the end of the feelings of embarrassment during the school showering and she no longer minded when she appeared in bikini at her family swimming pool or at those at her friends’ houses.

A quick aside: at this moment, having just turned eighteen, she still was a virgin. We hasten to add that was not through lack of opportunity, but entirely by choice. She did not want to give herself away too cheaply.

She did, however, remember the days when she had experienced embarrassment. It sort of amazed her that she had felt uncomfortable during communal showering. She liked the look of her nude body in the mirror, so what had that feeling of embarrassment really been? It fascinated her. She researched the issue of embarrassment and shame and found this quote:

“Embarrassment is a feeling of discomfort that often doesn’t last very long. What differentiates embarrassment from shame is that when we do something embarrassing, we know we’re not the only ones who have done that thing. Shame makes us feel completely alone.”

Completely alone? Yeah, she felt alone during those showering events, the rest of the girls against herself. The article discusses that the same event can hit the one person lightly, in the form of embarrassment, and the other hard, in the form of shame, making the person fold into herself and be miserable. And alone, then. Her feeling must have been somewhere in the middle of shame and embarrassment, if you want to be technical about it. But when the aunties giggled at her baby photograph, she had clearly felt embarrassment.

Embarrassment, shame — not the end of the world, but a loss of control in any case. She decided to see if she could train herself to leave all that behind. She had to think this through and progress gradually from embarrassment to shame, or bigger embarrassment, whatever. That is, imagine a process of graduation from the one stage to the next. She figured that as she would progress, what appeared as shameful at the start, might only be embarrassing when she got there! The thought excited her no end. She had turned eighteen and would leave home to go to college soon. She considered that that might be as good a moment as any to see her process peak. But, impatient as she was to start, she had to do something sooner. Now!

She had to think of an appetiser, that she could eat now, so to speak. She had overheard one of her brothers excitedly tell a friend that pornstars sported bare pubes. Wow! Pretty extreme! You have to know this story played out two decades ago, when pubic shaving was the exception, not the rule it is right now. She had not seen a hairless crotch since childhood, a time, of course, when she paid no attention to such things. So, on a certain night, before bed, she locked herself in the bathroom, assembled her shaving tools plus a small pair of scissors and set to work. Somewhere along the line she had to employ contortionist moves to reach the area between her vagina and anus and the folds between her labia and legs, regularly checking with a little magnifying mirror. In private, she had never been particularly shy, but had not devoted such lengthy concentrated attention to her naughty parts. She did only experience a flash of true embarrassment, however, when her brother Ben suddenly rattled the door, crying, ‘Come out, it’s my turn!’ and she had to cry back, ‘Won’t be a minute’ and rushed to complete the job.

The next day after PE she flaunted her newly denuded pubes and made sure that everyone around her could see the effect. She was sure a number of girls did, and the teacher too. No one spoke to her about it though. She didn’t think she experienced any embarrassment. If anything, a few girls that saw appeared a tad flustered. That was interesting! The tables turned! To feel embarrassed observing, rather than showing a scandalous deviation from the norm!

OK, let Joanna herself talk about her plan to progress.

CLIMBING THE LADDER OF SHAMELESSNESS — THE PLAN

I want to become shameless about my body. My naked body, of course. My body in clothes, easy! I am fine with it. Why do I want to become shameless? I guess the best way to get to know what shame is, is to experience and then conquer it. My aim is not to become a naturist and feel natural about my nudity. I just want to be in control of it and play.

As the first step, I want to spend time at home naked. Innocently in my room for now, when no one is home. A small thrill will be that someone may surprise and catch me in the act. Going to the bathroom outside my room will be a modest exhilaration. A bit lame perhaps, but I certainly don’t want to drown first time.

The following step will have to involve other people, obviously, at home territory. A girlfriend most likely. Then more people than one. Then shift away from home territory. The steps after that — too far to be specific on for now. Public nudity of sorts, no doubt… and to be without the fall-back of clothes somewhere in a non-nudist context… Exciting prospects!

STEP 1 — NAKED AT HOME

According to their school schedules, she should arrive home an hour before her brother should. She resolves to prick up her ears, just in case a sick teacher alters this. She is excited. She is not sure why, as she has spent naked minutes in her room before, deciding what to wear or whatever, and obviously has migrated between her room and the bathroom in just a robe about a million times.

She enters her home through the front door and throws it shut with a bang. Then listens to the silence, which is only not absolute because of the air-conditioning unit buzzing ever so lightly. It is her own house, in which she has lived for about a decade, but she feels she is trespassing. Perhaps this is because she has decided to bare all right here and now, on the doormat. And she does. Off come the pink T-shirt with the white ‘what are you staring at?’ text on her chest. She looks in the hallway mirror and sees herself in a lavender padded bra and white skirt. She has been everywhere in her bikini and has therefore been seen in much scanter garb than what she wears just now, but, again, she feels very naked already. She kneels down so as to undo the laces of her red Converses and takes them off, along with her little white socks. She gets back up again, smiles at her reflection in the mirror and takes a deep breath before undoing the buttons of her skirt. Oops, and down it goes. Bra and white cotton panties — again, she knows this ensemble is less revealing than her bikini. But it feels the opposite. Another deep breath and off go the panties — she likes the bottomless look — and another, and off goes the bra.

The mirror shows her an attractive naked form. A very nice young woman indeed. Only one who is naked in her own house, in an unusual place. And one without pubic hair gracing her vulva, which she can therefore not mock-absentmindedly ruffle. She bends over in a deliberately ungraceful way and picks up her stuff. Her clothes she deposits on the stairs.

What to do?

She will visit every space in the house, naked as on day one. In theory, voyeurs could observe her only in the dining room and lounge at the front of the house. She makes sure she stands still quite close to the windows of each of these rooms for a couple of minutes. The streets remain deserted. The thought that a neighbour might be spying on her from the shade of one of the houses across the street exhilarates her, however. The kitchen and family room at the back appear as safe as always. She makes a point by sprawling shamelessly on the family couch, legs wide open. She chuckles. In the kitchen she pours herself a big glass of juice and drinks it at the kitchen table. Normally, if anyone, her mum reigns over this space. Now, if anyone, she feels she is the one. She burbs and scratches her open groin. No one protests. The pantry and the boot room present no particular excitement. Time for a pee. The downstairs bathroom has a floor-to-ceiling mirror, which gives her another opportunity to inspect herself. After doing the business looking into her own eyes, she adopts all manner of postures, from matter-of-fact relaxed girl-next-door to a pouting Marilyn to a downright slut with open legs, squeezing her tits. She did not know she had it in herself! The basement, this rickety hobby and workshop area, is too cool for comfort. She could sprawl again or play the captive slavegirl, but she feels she will be repeating herself. There we have it: she is getting used to being naked here in her house.

She goes upstairs, not forgetting to pick up her clothes on the way, which she casts into her bedroom without entering it. The guest bedroom at the back of the house presents no excitement, as it harbours no spirit, and she leaves it in a shot. The deserted bedroom of her brother at college appears to make her feel uncomfortable, as she frowns. She is close to him, but he has never seen her in anything less than a bikini, not even fleetingly. She also misses him. Her parents’ room makes her momentarily shudder, as if she is cold. She sits down at her mother’s dressing table and looks quite seriously at herself. Then she suddenly gets up, offhandedly strokes the seat clean and leaves the room. Her second brother’s room is the usual mess. She sighs, as she would do when dressed. Then she sits down on the edge of his bed, hanging back, supported by both arms. She slowly opens her legs as wide as they will go, but for just a moment. She snaps them back shut and lets herself drop to her back. She closes her eyes and lies there motionless for a few minutes, before shooting back up and leaving the room.

Finally, she arrives in her own room, where she steps over the clothes she just dropped there. Without further ado, she casts herself on her back on her own bed, eyes shut. She remains motionless for at least five minutes. The image we see is that of a still-life painting. Or, better, the scene reminds us of Millais’ Ophelia. She is playing dead. Or she could be sleeping. Lord knows what goes through her mind. In another sudden movement — she is quite impetuous today! — she gets up again and positions herself at her window, facing the street, about 2 foot back. From across the street, an adult viewer would see her face and most of her chest. From the opposing bedroom windows, her neighbours would get the additional view of her hips. She can’t be sure whether they would see her sex — it would be hit or miss. As it is, the street is empty and judging from the shimmer in the bedrooms opposite, no one is there. But after a few minutes, two or three houses along and across, a neighbour leaves his house and walks in the direction of her house. His friendly gaze openly surveys the street ahead. In the two dozen seconds it takes for him to pass her house, her breath is stuck and ends in a sigh when he has failed to look into her bedroom window. After another few minutes she sees her brother slowly enter the street, far to the left, and bicycle home. Would she risk it…? No, she steps back, breasts jiggling, strides to her clothes and puts them on. She is properly dressed when her brother is heard entering the house and make his way to kitchen and the fridge.

She greets him there and he says, ‘How was your day?’

JOANNA’S REFLECTIONS ON THE ABOVE

I just got home. About to get naked and roam the house that way. Excited! Nothing unpleasant, naturally. I will do an unusual thing, but in my own house. On my way home, I decided to waste not a second and get naked the moment I’m inside. No rush, no fake-striptease either. Just slow enough to be conscious of what I am doing. Still on the doormat, I take off the handful of items I am wearing. I look at myself in the hallway mirror. I am naked. Feel more naked than ever. A fleeting hint of shame, as if I am desecrating the home temple. But that is the point, to feel proper shame and deal with it. I want to be seen, so I have to be somewhere where that’s a possibility. I go and stand within arm’s length from the windows in both front rooms in turn. Stand still for 5 minutes (300 counts, to be precise.) No one passes. Anyone watching me from the houses across the street? I wish, I wish… Wonder what they’d think of me. The neighbours across superficially know me of course, but they are not family friends. If they see me and were family friends, would that be good or bad? Not sure. I’d have liked it to happen regardless, though.

OK, let’s move. The family room, safely at the back of the house. I drape myself lengthwise on the couch, draw my feet to my butt and let my knees drop to either side. To complete the obscenest pose I can think of, I pinch my nipples and pull hard on them, until they genuinely hurt. Ouch! Then I scratch my crotch. I imagine my mum and dad and my brother seeing me this way. I cut the rising feeling of shame short by laughing out loud. And perhaps my family would laugh with me. Perhaps we’d laugh together and be the closer for it. After all, it is just their daughter’s natural body on display here!

Time for a drink in the kitchen, no antics. I just sit there for a minute and drink a glass of juice. The utility rooms downstairs I skim. Boring. No spirit.

I need a pee. I see myself sitting on the toilet bowl, naked. An unusual sight. After wiping myself, I stand in front of the full-length mirror and pose as a shy girl, a pin-up girl, a downright slut. It is hard to pose as myself. Who am I, I wonder?

Upstairs I go, grabbing my clothes along the way. I chuck them into my room. The guest bedroom. OK, I said I’d visit every room, but I have no connection there. It has not been occupied by any family member and the fact that my mum and dad occasionally use it as an office, oh, well.

The bedroom of my elder brother at college, Julian, is tidy, but clearly his. We are close and have talked in here about love and life and I miss him. He has not seen me naked though. I feel uncomfortable, as if he is looking at me, as if he disapproves. Not that I expect him to do so. I don’t know. (Note to self…) My emotions don’t allow any jokes in here, so I leave the room and his memory in peace.

I have some trepidation playing in my parents’ room — is that shame? Maybe it is — I just sit at my mother’s dressing table. I look at the mirror and see a serious self. What am I doing here? Nothing wrong, really, but… The spirit is against it…

My brother at home, Ben, is just over year younger and one grade below me — his room is a mess. This lowers my inhibitions and I sit down on the edge of his bed and lean back. Then I spread my legs, again in an obscene posture, for a few seconds only, and let myself drop to my back. I zone out for a few minutes and then leave the room. My sexuality is his room — I should not flaunt it.

In my room, I immediately drop on my own bed and zone out again. I start thinking that it has been a fun thing to do, but it has run its course. Without other people, there is only so much shame and embarrassment to meet. As a final act, I get up and will stand at my window until I will see my brother appear. People would be able to see my torso from the street and a bit more from the houses opposite. My level of anticipation rises. I might be seen! I continuously survey the street and the houses, for any movement of curtains or any passing figures. I try to zone out, rather than fear or crave such happenings. I wait for nothing, until across the road, leftmost in my field of vision, a front door opens and a man starts to walk in my direction. He does not have his gaze glued to the pavement, but actively looks ahead and about. Alas, ahead is the operative word — he does not look at the houses on our side, let alone ours, let alone upstairs, at me. Still, for a moment I felt observed and vulnerable. That was a high. A low is that I know I wasn’t spotted. My feeling of being left out is cut short by the appearance of my brother, far left. I hesitate for a split second but step back before he could have seen me. The act is complete, I pick up my clothes, dress and enter the kitchen just as he pours himself a soda. I say hello and he ask me, ‘How was your day?’

JOANNA’S NEXT STEP

That night — naked in bed, which is how I already slept off and on, but will consistently sleep from now on — I think about the event. Clearly, it was a bit lame. I was not seen by any stranger, neighbour or family member. Next time, I should be.

Now, who shall have the honour? Who are the candidates? Let’s see… Louise, my best friend, Robert, her boyfriend, who joins us frequently and is my best male friend, my mother, my younger brother Ben, my older brother Julian? I certainly want to do something with dear Julian, who is three years my senior, but he will not be home for a couple of weeks and I can’t wait that long.

It’ll have to be Louise and Robert. Although Louise has been my best friend for a while, she has not seen me nude. In underwear in changing booths when shopping for clothes, yes. So, how shall I set this up? Robert has got a place of his own, he is a bit older. We do get together there from time to time. I will just tell them that I want to talk about something.

STEP 2 — NAKED AT LOUISE AND ROBERT’S

A few days later, straight after dinner, Joanna rings the bell of Robert’s apartment. She has dressed to the nines, with many layers. We see a nice green dress, sleeveless, high neckline, mid-thigh, which shows her figure well. Necklace with big amber beads. Orange cardigan, just about appropriate for a semi-cool evening. Tan pantihose, certainly on the warm side, but she must have wanted the layer. Green heels. That is what the eye can see. But we know that she has put on a lilac faux-silk camisole, matching scant silk and lace bra and panties. She brushed off her family’s surprise by saying she was going out with Louise and Robert. She ignores Ben saying, ‘On a weeknight?’

Robert lets her in. Louise is already there, must have rushed over, as she eats dinner with her family as a rule. Louise and Robert did not expect to go out, of course. They expected Joanna coming over to talk about something. So, they are dressed as casual as it comes. T-shirts and shorts. Louise is braless. Her bra lies on the armrest of the couch they were sitting on. The apartment is still hot from the day.

Louise says, ‘My, why have you dressed up? You look great, to be sure.’

Joanna replies, ‘I won’t talk about why just yet. It will be clear when we are done.’

Robert says, ‘You come in mysterious ways, Jo.’

She says, ‘Sit down, please, both of you,’ and she clears her throat. ‘I won’t go and yak on about why right now. We can talk about it later. I want to experience embarrassment, if I can. Shame of my body.’

Louise says, ‘What? Why be ashamed of your body? You have not been bullied, have you? Or worse. You don’t want to exorcise anything? But, yeah, you said you don’t want to talk now. I understand. Well, do what you need to do.’ Robert nods.

Joanna replies, ‘What I want you to do is watch me. Watch me as hard as possible. In fact, I want you to get up and look up close, sniff me up if you want, but don’t touch me. I will undress in front of you.’ Her audience looks puzzled but expectant. ‘I know, it is a funny thing to ask. Hope you want to help me here. And be shameless, please!’

Louise and Robert look at each other, puzzled but amused. Louise speaks, ‘We won’t say no to you, would we? We are your friends. For myself, I think nothing of seeing you naked. Surprised I haven’t seen you yet, but I can’t remember I did. Now, for us to come close and sort of inspect you, and sniff you — is that what you said? — well, it is a strange thing to do. You want to experience shame, OK, we’ll try, won’t we, Robert?’ Robert adds, ‘I cannot refuse, can I? Crazy request though, Jo. I guess me being a guy will help the shame? So, I guess I am needed. I know I will have to conquer my own embarrassment.’

‘Thank you, my friends. Talk to me if and when you want. I won’t blabber on, though, and bore you with how I feel throughout. I just want to feel. We’ll talk later.’

Joanna positions herself opposite the couch, her audience in rapt attention, her gaze far away. Her heart will be racing, as she takes off her green heels and puts them away, neatly next to each other. She is now two inches smaller and less commanding. Her cardigan goes, arguably the last garment before she actually starts undressing. Her hands reach to the back of the dress, find the zipper and lower it. She pushes the left strap, then the right down her shoulders. She lowers the dress and steps out of it. Now she is in a state of undress. Of course, Louise has seen her like this before and worse, but the difference is the intention. Robert has seen her in bikini, but him being a guy and the intention being different, things must be hotting up for him. Both sets of eyes are glued to Joanna, who currently stands still. She looks angelic in her lilac ensemble. Like a sexy angel, to be sure.

‘Go on, Jo!’, whispers Louise. ‘It is alright.’

We don’t know whether Joanna needed this encouragement. Perhaps she was pausing for effect, perhaps she was lost in reverie. As it happens, she grabs the hem of her camisole and slowly lifts it off her body. She does not yet look like a lingerie model, because of the pantihose. Never a pretty thing, really, but it does help to make Joanna look positively in a state of undress. Clearly, there are some of us that love pantihose for that and other reasons. But off it goes now. Taking it off is laborious, but again, some of us will drink it in with gusto. Now we have revealed our lingerie model. It seems Joanna realises this, as she starts striking a number of appealing poses, slowly and deliberately and with a model’s smile. This goes on for five minutes or more, after which the smile fades again and her hands move to the clip of her bra, thereby naturally thrusting her breasts forward. And her bra falls, she catches it and drops it on the pile. No coyly hiding her breasts, no model contortions now — she is the girl next door, who is not aware that nudity is ‘wrong.’ In this fashion, she hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her panties, pulls them down, steps out, drops the garment and is naked — that is, save for the necklace. Naked for the first time in a sexual sense in front of others. She first stands there, relaxed as if alone, arms to her sides. But then, she adopts what we know as the BDSM display position — feet well apart, arms up, hands behind her head. We doubt if she knows this term, but who knows? She clearly offers herself up for inspection and after a pause of a mere few seconds, Louise takes up the invitation and gets up. Robert follows in her wake.

‘Wow, Joanna. You are an awesome sight. Isn’t she, Robert?’

Robert groans and says, ‘I have never seen anyone this naked, including you, Louise.’

‘Touché,’ she replies, ‘but I didn’t have the same chance, did I? And we’ll have time to remedy that later. But let’s enjoy Joanna for now.’

She stoops deeply and places her face close to Joanna’s vulva and sniffs and sniffs again.

‘Jo, I have not seen a cunt up close and a shaved one to boot. You know, I smell you. And I see the moisture between your cunt lips. Here, feel my breath.’ And she puffs. Joanna shivers a moment.

Louise walks around to the back off Joanna, stoops again and sniffs once more. ‘You have a nice ass, Joanna. I could get to like this, you know?’

Robert mimics Louise movements, but more inhibited and he does not speak.

Louise is inspecting Joanna’s breasts. ‘You have tiny nipples, but large areolas. Clearly, we women are all different.’

Meticulously, Louise and Robert survey every millimetre of Joanna’s body, front and back, up and down. Up close, just not touching. Finally, after a quarter of an hour, they take their distance and sit down.

With a sigh, Joanna lets her arms drop, places her feet together and relaxes.

‘Phew… That was intense. Thank you, guys. I do appreciate it.’

She goes to sit in the easy chair, naked still, and crosses her legs.

Louise asks, ‘So, Joanna, how did you score in terms of the shame you wanted?’

Joanna exhales and replies, ‘Taking off my panties when you were looking like that was hard. And, boy, when you and especially Robert came along to sniff me in my crotch…! I am pretty clean, I think, but I just wasn’t sure. I suddenly felt pretty dirty when you sniffed me. Nothing has ever come close to this. That was shame. But I was also aroused. A crazy mix.’

Robert, ‘I smelt that. But you didn’t smell dirty. I have been with a couple of girls…’, he flashes a smile at Louise, ‘… but was embarrassed myself, for fuck’s sake. You asked for it, but I was still embarrassed. I was also flattered, honoured, chosen, whatever. It was like a ritual. I will not forget this experience lightly.’

Louise says, ‘So you see, Joanna, we enjoyed the experience and will not forget it, but it came with complex feelings. Not only for you. To be honest, I didn’t like Robert seeing you up close and smelling you. Don’t yet know how to stop him from dreaming of you from now on. I am half-serious. Anyway, I will have to step up now.’ She sniggers. ‘But this is your event. Bet you are excited.’

Joanne, ‘I am still reeling. And aroused. I loved it, though. I never want to be dressed again!’

Louise, ‘Fine by me. I am sure Robert feels the same. But don’t get any ideas, Robert. As far as I, or we, are concerned, Joanna, you can strip whenever you want.’

The three keep on chatting for another hour or so, until the girls need to go home. The atmosphere is warm and intimate. If there was ever any ice, it has well and truly been broken. Likely forever. Whether Joanna will strip opposite them again, we will have to see. But it is well possible.

Then Joanna performs the striptease in reverse, watched by Louise and Robert, and after strong hugs goes home.

JOANNA’S REFLECTIONS ON THE ABOVE

I have butterflies in my stomach. I can’t say they’re happy or unhappy butterflies. It is an indescribable feeling, the anticipation of exposing myself for the first time. Flashes of doubt — what is this craziness? I have rung the bell and seconds later Robert opens the door, hugs me and stands aside, ushering me in. I look up the stairs. He should go before me, if he were an old-fashioned gentleman. But I let it go and get to the stairs first. As it is, he can look up my skirt. I don’t check whether he looks or doesn’t. A flash of excitement! I am wearing my fancy underwear, thereby look my best. Lilac, with lacy bits. I am wearing as many layers as possible without looking stupid. Camisole, pantihose, green dress, cardigan and heels. Too fancy for a social visit so Robert and Louise will wonder. My family at home did, wondering why I did not go out in T-shirt and skirt or shorts, but I acted as if I didn’t notice their surprise. I said I was going out with Robert and Louise.

I find Louise sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked under. She is informal as can be, dressed as lightly as possible on this warm evening. Braless. My breasts are a touch heavier than average, but hers are doubtlessly heavier. Not excessive, but nice. I can see her nipples poking the light shirt.

They comment on my party dress and I explain that I won’t explain. I urge them to sit down, saying that it will become clear soon. I keep standing and announce that I want experience shame. Shame of my body. Or embarrassment, but that is a technical difference. I say I want to learn about shame and embarrassment, before I can free myself from all of that.

Louise says, ‘Why be ashamed of your body? You have not been bullied, have you? You don’t want to exorcise anything? But, yeah, you don’t want to talk now. I understand. Well, do what you want.’ Robert nods. I reply, ‘Here is what I want you to do. Watch me. Watch me as hard as possible. In fact, I want you to get up and look up close, sniff me up if you want, but don’t touch me.’ My audience looks puzzled but open. ‘I know, it is a funny thing to ask. Hope you want to help me here. And be shameless, please!’

Wide-eyed, they agree to do this. Not that they understand. Robert is extra-fussy, about being a guy and so on. He says he will be embarrassed as much as I. But he does not show it. He looks excited. Louise notices and he notices her. Sure, this little event may be a small test of their relationship, but they’ll manage. I will not seduce him. Or her for that matter. Robert gets seated next to her, hand on her thigh. Four eyes glued on my shape. The distance is ten, twelve feet. My heart is beating fast. I take a deep breath and there I go.

I tell myself to be slow and try to make my movements elegant and not fumble. Slowly, I take off my heels, by hand, one at the time, rather than kicking them away, and neatly place them under the nearby easy chair. This is the preamble. Next, I take off the cardigan and lay it on the easy chair. My heartbeat drops only slightly. Now comes the actual undressing. I realise Robert has seen me in bikini and Louise in underwear in changing booths, so nothing to worry about, is there? It is just they are actively watching! And they know I am going all the way. Another deep breath. The dress… Zipped up at the back, I reach there and undo it. I feel their gazes acutely. I lower the dress and step out of it. I am in camisole, pantihose, bra and panties. Both have seen me closer to nudity. Again, this feels harder, because I will be presenting myself stark-naked and a state of undress is worse than wearing a bikini. The presence of Robert makes a big difference. Not that I sense a threat coming from him. It is purely me. Louise may sense this as she whispers that I go on. Pull yourself together, girl. They are friends and you want this. I return to actress mode, stare into the distance and slowly lift the camisole over my head, strip off the pantihose, take another deep breath before I remove bra and panties. I return to myself, to my consciousness, and relax — I stand there naked, as I wanted, in front of my friends Louise and Robert. I relax. I want them to see me well and open, so I place my feet apart and hands behind my head.

Four eyes study me. Then Louise gets up and approaches me. Robert trails her. Especially he is in awe of me. That feels good. Louise is a touch jealous of me, I think. But she is a trooper and will realise I am not on the hunt. Except I am on the hunt for myself.

Any signs of envy, after a glance to Robert, are soon gone from Louise. Both she and he simply admire me. They provide comment throughout. Inside, I am glowing with pride. And feel so naked and visible. Brief flashes of embarrassment pepper the good feeling… Embarrassment, when Louise inspects my cunt and sniffs it. Robert copies her. Wish they would stop this. No, I don’t! They don’t touch, according to my request. Wish they would… I am aroused!

It takes them 10-20 minutes. I am not sure.

We talk about my experience. It is great to be naked with my friends and talk about my thoughts, feelings and emotions. And theirs! They were affected as much as I. They found the experience awesome. They have never seen, rather: studied a cunt, one without hair too! Louise has looked at hers, but it is quite hairy, she says, and the word ‘studying’ does not apply. Robert has seen the sex of the few women he has been with, but has not been close to the thing, nor felt free to look well. We keep chatting for quite a while. It feels intimate and warm. If this is possible, I feel our friendship has deepened tonight. No harm done! And I feel beautiful and desirable!

Sad, I have to leave and, bugger, I need to get dressed again. Alas, I cannot go home naked.

———

Mum and dad have gone to bed when I arrive home. Ben is at the kitchen table. ‘Nice party? At least you’re not still sweaty from all the dancing!’ ‘We only slow-danced, Ben. And you, had a good wank yet? Don’t tell me! Goodnight.’ And I leave to go to my room, where I regain my nudity as soon as I close the door. I revisit the evening lying on my back on the bed and, well, wank the way girls do…