Going to School Naked (new 5/24)

[student]

Poor Callie is confused by her emotional storm--she doesn't know whether to die of shame or have a loud and public orgasm.

[neverdoubted]

Only one day?

Go back and read the synopsis.

I have multiple excuses.

• I am an old fart

• one week into a two month tropical vacation

• the synopsis was a long time ago

• disappointment that Ms Lejune will not insist on starting every day with naked Callie

Since I am an old fart, I do not recall that Callie started this adventure with outsized concern about remaining anonymous. Must be part of her last minute panic attack.

It’s cold feet, for sure! Too bad she’s in too deep now to back out.

[neverdoubted]

Callie gulped as Chad's question forced her to confront an embarrassing reality.

Her body had been in arousal mode ever since she stepped out of her bedroom that morning. Every harrowing step she took away from the safety of her home and through her neighborhood without clothes on had been in pursuit of the thrill that had taken root inside her. And every increased risk had also fed the fires of her arousal.

Whether she was fantasizing about going to school naked or having an earth-shattering climax while sprawled out in the grass, everything had been in service to the thrill.

If a girl is going to tease her own body like that, she shouldn't be surprised when it interprets those actions as sexual foreplay and responds accordingly. The roiling tightness within Callie's lower abdomen was evidence that her body, while inexperienced, had received the message loud and clear. It had begun preparing in earnest - bringing her sexual systems online and filling her inner canal with an excess of natural lubricant.

She could try to ignore it - pretend like it wasn't happening. But she would be a fool to pretend the reason the air wafting over her bald mound felt so cold wasn't because of the wetness that had spilled out from her loins and was now coating her outer pussy lips.

She was wet - there was no point in denying it. No way to hide it. Ms. Lejune and her go-go boots and dilapidation cream had made sure of that. Right now, Callie was giving the boys yet another nice, long view of her “smokin' ass”. But no matter how much she wished it would grind to a halt, the platform never stopped turning.

As her front came around once again, both boys strained forward to peer intently at her spectacular mound. Seeing what a spectacle her wetness was making, she tried to hold perfectly still to minimize the glittering effect of her bald peach beneath the bright studio lights.

That was about as effective as trying to hold in a hiccup. Though she concentrated so intensely that it made her eyes water, the muscles of her pussy betrayed her by contracting all at once. And just like that, a new bead of glittering juice was expelled and began to run down her thigh.

Hearing the boys gasp softly, Callie's shame overwhelmed her and forced her eyes shut. Without clothes, she had no way to keep her arousal a secret. But she snapped them open in alarm when she heard Chad say, "That's it. I have to record this or no one's gonna believe it!"

The school had a policy on cell phone usage in class. But it was up to each teacher how strictly they wanted to enforce it. Would Chad risk his Art teacher’s wrath just to get a naked picture of her? Knowing without a doubt the answer to that question, Callie's pulse quickened. She scanned frantically for Ms. Lejune, but the cursed woman had gone missing. Where the hell was her teacher when she needed her most?

With her ears so keenly tuned, she could clearly hear Chad rummaging around in the backpack by his feet to retrieve his phone. She had her back to him, for now, but time was ticking. Callie began to despair. In the back of her mind, she had known when she left her house without clothes on that something like this might happen. Going to school naked carries a certain risk, after all. But she didn't anticipate how quickly things could backfire into utter humiliation.

"Just admit it," her conscience gloated, "you've royally screwed up now. You gave the most obnoxious boy in the school a front row seat to your downfall. He's getting his camera ready this very second - waiting for you to complete your turn so he can record your wetness."

"I hope you learn a valuable lesson from this. Once Chad gets his picture, he won't hesitate to spread it to the entire student body. By the end of the day, every other student in your school will have seen it. He may not recognize you, but someone will figure it out. And then, everyone will know that Callie Hennerson can’t control her bodily fluids."

Suddenly light-headed, Callie reached for the column and only barely caught herself by taking a staggering step to one side. The loud, heavy thud of her go-go boot on the hollow stage drew every eye to her and allowed Ms. Lejune to re-enter the room through the other side of the curtain. Walking unnoticed, she stepped right behind Chad and plucked the phone out of his hand.

"You may spend the rest of the period in the principal’s office, Mr. Porich. And you can have this back at the end of the day."

Caught red-handed, Chad gathered up his things and stood without arguing. With one last, despondent look at the erotic scene on the dais, he reluctantly slipped behind the curtain and exited the classroom. Callie breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Seeing her beleaguered volunteer wobbling where she stood, Ms. Lejune made an announcement. "Let's take five, everyone. There's just enough time for one more pose. I'm going to try and simulate something a little livelier and more evocative. Clean your brushes while I ready your muse. We'll be doing an abstract this time. So, get out your drawing pads and charcoals."

She held the curtain open to show her students out. When the studio was empty, she flipped a switch to halt the motor. After the stage glided to a stop, she joined Callie on the platform and asked her an insightful question.

"You're not here on behalf of the Teacher's Aide Club, are you?"

Thinking she was in deep trouble, Callie cast her eyes down and shook her head. But her teacher surprised her by giving her shoulders a squeeze of support and lifting her chin. Raising her eyes, she saw the corners of the enigmatic woman's mouth turned up.

"Ah, Calliope," she said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, "I know exactly what it feels like to be sixteen. To wake up one morning with a new, irresistible craving deep inside you and no idea how to satisfy it."

"When I was about your age, out of the blue, I had the most vivid dream in my life about the boy's relay team. For some reason that only makes sense in the mind of a teenage girl, in my dream, they were practicing in the nude - running around in nothing but sweatbands and sneakers."

Callie furrowed her brow and tried her hardest to keep from picturing the boys of her track team naked. When Ms. Lejune took her column away and dragged it to the edge of the platform, it provided a good distraction. Callie had to teeter on her toes to keep from losing her balance. Wrestling the column to the floor, Ms. Lejune found an empty spot near the piled furniture to place it. Picking up a small, low-slung table, she continued her story.

"In my dream, I took off all my clothes, crested the hill and waved at them. The four naked boys stopped what they were doing and came over - proudly sporting their homegrown batons for me. Laying back on the hillside, I spread my legs wide and they began to do relays on my - well, you get the idea."

Callie did get the idea, and it made something inside her abdomen tighten to picture it.

"Every day after that first dream, I sat on the hill overlooking the track at school and watched them practice. They had such long legs and short shorts. Powerful strides and endless endurance. Muscles upon muscles and not an ounce of body fat between the four of them..."

Ms. Lejune shivered, then shook her head as if to clear it. Positioning the table in the middle of the platform, she motioned for Callie to sit. With a heavy sigh, she added, "Of course, it was only ever a fantasy. I lost track of how many times that dream came to me in the middle of the night. How many times I woke up drenched in sweat and resolved to turn it into a reality. Alas, I never found the courage or self-confidence to cross that formidable chasm that separates fantasy from reality. But you...ah, do I envy you, my muse!"

But Callie was barely following. As she sat demurely on the edge of the table and crossed her arms in her lap, all she could think about was how cold the laminated surface felt on her bare bottom. After being forced to hold up the rest of her body for a very long time, her calves and ankles were thanking her for the break.

When Ms. Lejune tapped her lips critically and said, "lay back," Callie did what she was told.

Finding the table almost too small to fit on, she started to scoot down to let her legs dangle off the end, but Ms. Lejune stopped her.

"No, your feet must stay on the table," she insisted.

Making room for the clunky platform boots to fit on the lower corners required Callie to shift her body so high that her head was hanging awkwardly off the other end.

Now crammed into an awkward pose, she heard her teacher walking around and checking her from every angle. When the footsteps stopped, she lifted her head and squinted through the veil down the terrain of her prone body. Too young and firm to yield yet to gravity, her large breasts did not lay flat but stuck up prominently. They were matching hills with pink nipples that strained proudly toward the ceiling.

The stiff boots kept her knees high in the air and even lifted her bottom off the table. Her bald mound nestled within the valley formed by her legs - framed perfectly by her slightly parted thighs. At the other end of the table holding an unmarked spray bottle stood her teacher.

"This mineral oil is the same formula as baby oil. I use it in my mixed media whenever I want to add a sheen to something. It will be the perfect way to achieve what we're trying to simulate, " she said with a wink, adding, "hold your breath."

Callie sucked in a gasp when the first spritz landed on the backs of her legs. Finally registering the command, she held in that breath while Ms. Lejune walked all the way around her and finished applying the oil everywhere she found exposed flesh. Setting the bottle down, the woman then stepped closer and whispered gently into her ear.

"Whatever Odyssey you have embarked upon today, Calliope, is yours alone. And while I regret that I cannot join you in your journey, I am happy to at least be the wind in your sails."

The words didn't make sense to Callie. But her eyes bulged when her left hand was lifted and placed on the bottom of her ripe left breast. Similarly, her right hand was placed below her oily stomach - just beyond her waiting mound. Exiting the stage, Ms. Lejune flipped the switch to start the platform motor. As she pulled back the curtain slightly and invited the class back into the studio, Callie hung her head backwards off the end of the table and closed her eyes.

Her sensible side couldn't be any more humiliated or incensed by the evocative new pose her teacher had chosen for her. Her young body, with which the other students were already intimately familiar, was now coated in baby oil. And instead of standing idly next to a Greek column like some kind of innocent, living statue, the shiny, naked teen was now prone on a table. Her hands were positioned suggestively for self-pleasure while her head was thrown back in simulated ecstasy.

Blood coursed through her trembling, partially inverted body. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and made hearing difficult. As if through a heavy blanket, she faintly heard Ms. Lejune instructing the class to pull their chairs as close to the stage as possible. But she was too humiliated to verify.

Her teacher had laid her out basically at eye level. With the soles of her boots sitting flat on the table on either side of her bottom, she could wiggle her pointed toes and feel her calves flexing within their leather cocoon. But she could not reposition them or lower her hips fully to the tabletop. No matter how much she tried to squeeze her legs closed, her thighs remained splayed lewdly open as if she were intentionally presenting her sex to the crowd.

When her left hand twitched, she felt the squeeze in her bosom. This pose was meant to merely portray simulated pleasure. It wasn't supposed to be real. But someone forgot to tell that to her fingers.

Recently, her developing chest had grown too big to be contained in her petite grasp. She was cradling it from below now more than holding it. Giving her orb another subtle squeeze, warmth immediately bloomed outward from the slippery gland and her nipple tightened into a nub. Even this small pressure felt soooo good! ...too good.

Thanks to regular nighttime practice sessions, she had become an expert at gratifying all areas of her body. Her chest was no exception and her hand knew exactly what usually came next. But if she crossed the line from simulated pleasure to the real thing, would she be able to stop?

Striking a compromise with her demanding body, she made slow, hopefully unnoticeable kneading motions. But the warming oil made it too easy for her squeezing palm and probing fingers to tease the supple flesh of her ripe mammary. The waves of pleasure that resulted only further eroded her will to resist, and the motions gradually became larger and more overt.

As a haze of arousal enveloped her, she withdrew further into the bliss and began to pant softly. She knew that each harried breath that entered her lungs was making her young breasts swell impressively for the audience. But like a teapot slowly coming to a boil, the quick breaths were needed to relieve the excess arousal that was building up within her.

Though the veil that preserved her anonymity had emboldened her, to keep from being identified, she had resolved to remain silent. But when she grazed her nipple by accident, she made a sexy whimper. She tried to be more disciplined after that and stay away from her nipple. But as the teasing breast massage continued, she couldn't stop the occasional whimper from slipping out through her tightly pursed lips.

Her pussy was jealous about being left out of the fun and begged for attention. But Callie resisted the urge. If she started down that road, it would only lead to one thing - a real orgasm. Despite everything she had already shared with the class about her growing body, she wasn't ready to share that.

Her raised hips grew restless and began to squirm in the air. With nothing to press against, the inexperienced muscles of her reproductive system writhed and convulsed fruitlessly between her parted legs. The clumsy, uncoordinated effort of a virgin in heat only succeeded in producing one thing. And the sexual juices her body produced and expelled happily mingled with the warm, slippery oil already coating her lower mound.

The only thing holding her back now was her own insecurity. The thought of sharing her orgasmic performance with another soul both thrilled and terrified her. Before today, she had only ever orgasmed in one of two places - either the privacy of her bed or in the bathtub with the door securely locked. Even earlier today, though she had come close with the man in her neighborhood, she had been completely alone when her peak arrived.

Every squeeze of her breast, every flex of her hips, every soft whimper of need, chipped away at Callie's resolve. Bit by bit, she came closer and closer to surrendering herself to the thrill; until she felt the invisible hand clamp down once again over her molten pussy. Only, this time was...different.

Slowly it dawned that there wasn't some invisible hand clamped over her pussy. It was the one that was supposed to be resting on her abdomen! But by parting her thighs just enough and lubricating the path, her teacher had made it too easy and too tempting for her hand not to slide just a few inches lower. To confirm, Callie gave her right hand a squeeze.

"Oh God!" she uttered in a high voice. Feeling a pleasurable jolt between her legs, her eyes fluttered open...just in time for the still rotating platform to bring her face to face with Derek. Because she was laying prone with her head thrown back, his face was upside-down from hers. But even through the double-veil and without her glasses, there was no mistaking his awed expression. She didn't have to wonder what he was thinking about her erotic performance.

If both her hands weren't already occupied elsewhere, she would have snapped one over her mouth. She had been determined not to speak for fear of being recognized. But she hadn't been prepared for what her completely hairless pussy mound would feel like.

What she really needed was a shirt collar. Giving her mouth something to suck on would soothe her. But the topless girl had no way to occupy her lips and keep quiet. With immense effort, she got her mouth to close. But when her bottom rose further off the table as her restless hips bucked to meet her cupped palm, the resulting jolt of pleasure caused a sexy whimper to leak out despite her tightly pressed lips.

"I would remind our muse to remain quiet and still for the sake of the artists," Ms. Lejune called out from some distant land. But the sheer delight in her voice nullified any pretense of being stern. As her teacher jubilantly launched into a lecture about juxtapositions and what it means to capture such an abstract thing as a raw, unbridled emotion, Callie tried to chasten herself.

"Knock it off right this instant, young lady," her conscience warned, "or you're going to blow your cover. Be smart about this. Class has to be almost over. Just don't move a muscle and hang on a little while longer."

But it was too late. She had lost the war for control of her muscles. Though she sent a signal to her hands to be still, the one on her chest just kneaded her slippery breast with renewed vigor while the one between her legs began to stroke her bald pussy lips just like it had practiced during countless midnight sessions.

Whimpering in hopeless need, Callie couldn't even control her eye muscles. It's like they had been glued open - forcing her to look every artist in the face until she rotated back around to Derek.

Just like all the other students, he sat as close as possible to the round stage - a drawing tablet in his lap. But the charcoal pencil stood forgotten in his idle hand. All thoughts of completing his piece had fled. With lust in his eyes, he roamed up and down the shiny, naked, masturbating teen - too distracted to draw anything.

She felt her thighs squeeze together bashfully when her fingers began to peel back the protective petals of her womanhood. It was a last-ditch attempt at modesty. And a futile gesture. The boots made sure that no amount of squeezing could close the gap at the apex of her splayed legs. And her probing hand still had the perfect amount of room to operate.

As her throbbing clitoris was exposed to the open air, the depth of her humiliation was only balanced by her spiking arousal. She was along for the ride now and could only writhe and moan as she barreled toward her peak. This one was going to be big - bigger and more explosive even than the last one. And her fingers would not stop until they had finished playing the erotic symphony on the instrument that was her primed body.

Doing everything in its power to demonstrate its sexual capabilities despite no actual experience, her bodily instincts told her hips to buck her needy pussy into the air over and over. Her fingers met every urgent buck with a dutiful counterstroke. But as the muscles in her core clamped shut, she only felt an aching emptiness. It was a painful reminder that, without a male partner, her performance remained merely simulated.

Filled to bursting with arousal, every nerve in her body tingled with pleasure. Yet the aching void within her core gave her a feeling that she was still missing out on something.

She was like a child who discovered a new door in her house despite having lived there her whole life. She sensed that the door led somewhere amazing - like the world's greatest toy store. But though the girl visited the door frequently, she only ever stood outside and played with the door knob. Callie had to wonder; if masturbating could make her feel this good, how much better would the real thing be?

The bucking of her hips accelerated and grew more violent. A sheen of sweat coated her naked flesh and made her skin glow even brighter under the lights. Every pant she made now included a whimper of urgency.

As endorphins flooded her trembling system, her pupils dilated, and the world faded to white. Her time had come. It started in her clitoris but spread rapidly. Arching her back, her hips gave one final thrust. The seed of an obscene moan began to bloom but was cut short when all the muscles in her body locked up and began to shudder.

Innocence became prurience as her orgasmic wave crested. And just like that, the privacy of the most intimate act she had ever known was sacrificed on the altar of the thrill. She came...and came...and kept coming. Her ecstasy stretched out into a continuous release longer than any she had formerly known.

It was sustained as only someone with her untested, adolescent potency and limitless sex drive could. Only after her lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, did she start to come down from her peak.

Her ringing ears was the first sign that her titanic orgasm hadn't killed her. But though her eyes remained open, she was still blind and seeing only white.

Her diaphragm was the next to come back online. All at once, it registered all the signals her frantic brain had been sending. And with a convulsion, the naked girl came back to life and sucked a large gulp of air into her lungs. Her already overworked heart pounded to pump fresh blood into all her oxygen-starved systems.

When the ringing stopped abruptly, she realized she had been hearing the school bell signaling the end of first period. Her vision returned just as the platform came to a stop beneath her. She was looking right at Derek! And at the worst possible time, the veil, which had been turned askew by her lively masturbation session, brushed across her cheek. In a flash, it came the rest of the way loose and fell to the floor in a puddle - leaving her head and face as uncovered as the rest of her.

[student]

Callie managed to both die of shame and have an earth-shattering orgasm!

[neverdoubted]

Callie managed to both die of shame and have an earth-shattering orgasm!

You predicted it for sure.

[cradulich]

More

[neverdoubted]

More

short and to the point. I like it. But no

[Freesub]

More

short and to the point. I like it. But no

Your signature has been taken very literally

[neverdoubted]

Derek said nothing. He didn't have to. The look on his face said it all. He recognized her - though his glitching brain was having trouble believing it.

Her face burning with shame, Callie slumped her torso to the table and closed her eyes. But the boots continued to hold her bottom half up by her knees.

With the dismissal bell, Ms. Lejune shooed everyone out of the studio so they could get to their next class on time. Once they were gone, Callie raised her head to check on herself.

Her skin was glowing like a sexy cinder just plucked from a blast furnace. Sweat and arousal mingled with the oily sheen coating her supple flesh. With the aftershocks of her monumental release pulsing up and down her spent body, and now that she was alone, she would love nothing more than to just lay there and savor her post-orgasmic bliss for a while. She also needed to process everything that had happened so far. Walking the whole way to school with no clothes on. Modeling in the nude. Chad trying to take her picture. Masturbating to completion in front of a live audience. Derek.

But with only one period complete, she had no such luxury. Processing would have to come later. Now was the time to act. With a groan, she stretched out her bent legs and lowered them tenderly to the floor and forced herself to sit up.

As if she had just run a marathon, her muscles complained about every command she gave them. But of all her muscles, it was the ones behind her pussy which remained flexed tight as a drum that concerned her the most. She could stretch out her back and shoulders, and just walking around doing stuff would eventually work the stiffness out of her arms and legs. But how was she supposed to work out muscles she couldn't even get to?

With a gleam in her eye, Ms. Lejune entered the studio.

"Bravo my muse," she beamed, helping the wobbly girl to her feet and escorting her off the stage.

"I commend you for embracing the challenge to express a raw and unbridled emotion for my students to paint."

"It seems I owe a token of gratitude to the Teacher's Aide Club," she added, with a wink, "that was a truly gratifying performance. One that I suspect will not soon be matched or forgotten."

Unaccustomed to walking in the steeply heeled boots, Callie stepped cautiously beyond the surreal confines of the studio. Back in a traditional school setting, she came to an abrupt halt.

There was no antique furniture or eclectic props out here. No circular stage. Just row after row of wooden desks facing the blackboard. And she was no longer a veiled muse on a platform. She was a regular student, wearing nothing but black leather boots and covered head to thigh in oil.

The remnants of her incredible orgasm still glowed brightly inside her. But with that sensation starting to fade, the impending embarrassment of spending an entire period naked and surrounded by her peers loomed large.

Squinting, she located her usual desk - the one she always sat in for her second period "Intro to Art" class - waiting for her across the room. In her fantasy about being in class naked, she had pictured herself sort of hunkering in place and remaining incognito - as if no one would be able to tell she wasn't wearing clothes as long as she stayed in her desk and sat very still.

She now saw the folly of such a fantasy. It had always been her clothes that made her so forgettable and overlooked. And a small rectangle of wood held up by spindly metal legs was a terrible substitute. Even seated primly like a model student, the blessed endowment of her naked chest would be on full display. And thanks to Ms. Lejune’s special oil coating her breasts and nipples, no amount of hunkering down or sitting still would keep her glistening glands from being an attention magnet.

"Now that your volunteer time is over, I assume you'll be wanting to change back into your regular things," said Ms. Lejune.

"I...don't have regular things," Callie answered, though it pained her to admit.

"Of course you do," the confused woman insisted, "it's not like you came to school naked!"

When Callie hung her head in shame, the woman's eyes bulged.

"My goodness, Calliope! Aren't you just full of surprises?" she sang - her voice a mixture of manufactured scandal and unrestrained delight.

"Haven't you done enough damage to your reputation for one day?", her conscience demanded - plunging into the fray, "this isn't some concurrent education class full of random adults. These are kids who know you."

The naked girl shuffled back and forth on the stilts that were her platform shoes and threw a nervous glance at the door which would be opening any second as students filed in. As the arrhythmic pattering in her chest was quick to remind her, going to school naked was not for the faint of heart.

It was simply too much to ask of her modesty to attend class dressed like this. Needing something soothing between her lips, she reached for the collar of her shirt. When she felt only bare collarbone and was reminded of her toplessness, her already weakening resolve crumbled. Raising the white flag of surrender, she started to rush back to hide behind the studio curtain when Ms. Lejune spoke.

"If you want keep wearing those boots, and nothing else, who am I to argue? I enforce no dress code in my classroom. But since you will be using oil-based paints today, you'll probably want to go ahead and grab a smock and-"

The smock! Callie didn't wait for her teacher to finish her sentence. Practically running, she clomped her way to the large cabinet on the wall and threw open the doors – her naked bottom jiggling the whole way. When working with caustic mediums, Ms. Lejune occasionally provided her students with painter's smocks to keep them from staining their school clothes.

Relief washed over Callie as she tore one of the speckled garments off its hook and threw it over her head. According to her own rules for the day, she was allowed to wear it because her teacher had offered it to her.

The smock was essentially two panels of cloth connected at the shoulders. Most kids ignored the two sets of ties on each side and just wore it like a loose poncho. But as Callie hustled to her desk, she carefully cinched each tie as tightly as it would go. With nothing underneath, it was critical that she minimize the side gaps.

The upper ties were around her armpits while the lower ones were near her waist. The smock was almost long enough to reach her knees when she was standing. But as soon as she sat down at her desk, it rode up and revealed her bare thighs sticking out above the tops of her boots.

Just then, the door swung open and a girl entered. Callie felt like she was going to faint. She was actually doing it! She was sitting in a real class without clothes!

When two boys appeared right behind the girl, Callie held her breath. The thrill surged inside her and her pussy muscles clenched so tight it made her want to moan. Biting her lip, she squeezed her thighs together and tried to remain as still as a statue.

With her desk half-way across the room from the door, distance was her ally. But new arrivals kept coming and the room would soon be full. Ms. Lejune, who was carrying a bowl of fruit to the front of the class, placed it on a stool. She then welcomed the students and directed them to the smock cabinet.

With her eyes down, Callie noticed a worrying gap up both sides of her legs caused by her newly seated position. Afraid the new arrivals were going to figure out she wasn't wearing panties, she wrestled with the smock. But the ties at her waist were in no position to keep the cloth panels closed below it, and no amount of tugging could keep her bare hips from peeking out.

With her heartbeat pounding out the seconds, she held the lower gaps closed in her trembling fists as the students filed in from the hall. Finally, her best friend, Amy, appeared in the doorway. This was one of the three classes they shared. Callie was relieved to see the friendly face.

"Where have you been, girl," Amy called out as she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone, "I've been trying to reach you all morning. Why haven't you been answering me?"

She started scrolling through her messages and glanced up when she got to Callie's desk.

"Woah, when did you start wearing hooker boots," she teased, "and where are your glasses? Did you get contacts or something?"

When the blushing girl said nothing in response, Amy lowered her phone and took a closer look at her friend.

"...Oh my God. Callie...ARE YOU NAKED?!"

"SSSHHHHHHH," Callie hissed to quiet her friend. So much for people not noticing! Reaching out, she dragged Amy down into the desk next to her so they could converse more privately.

"I didn't get contacts," she explained in a whisper, "I just left my glasses at home. My phone, too...and my c-c-clothes."

Amy scooted her desk closer and reached out her hand. When she peeled open the already loose flap of Callie's smock a little and saw nothing but the bulging edge of a creamy, white breast underneath, her jaw dropped to the floor. Swatting her friend's hand away, Callie closed the gap and tried to explain herself.

"Remember what you suggested yesterday when I said I didn't have anything to wear? That I should come to school n-n-naked? Well, I'm actually doing it!"

The ring of the second period bell drowned out Amy's gasp as Ms. Lejune promptly began issuing instructions. Since Amy hadn't grabbed a smock yet, she stood up along with a few other stragglers and went to the cabinet. On her way back to her desk, she retrieved two palettes which their teacher had helpfully already loaded up with the necessary paint pigments and placed one on Callie’s desk.

"As you're painting this still life today," continued Ms. Lejune; imbuing her rhetoric with lofty eloquence, "I want you to slow your breath. Let your eyes linger and think about every stroke. Everything has an essence just waiting to be revealed. Discover the hidden warmth and story that exists even in what at first may appear to be a mere bowl of fruit. Any questions?"

From among a cluster of boys seated nearby, one raised his hand. "Yeah, I have a question - it's about Callie."

Feeling every eye in the class turn toward her, Callie squirmed where she sat. Squeezing the edges of her smock as tight as they would go, she blushed profusely and prayed for a distraction - anything to take the attention off her. Luckily, Ms. Lejune came through.

"Calliope had a wardrobe issue while volunteering as a Teacher's Aide during first period. It is nothing to concern yourself with, Mister Weaver."

A murmur of whispers oozed through the class. By the sideways glances and huddled whispers, Callie could tell everyone was debating what manner of issue had stricken their poor classmate.

The whispers died down a little when Ms. Lejune clapped her hands and insisted everyone focus on the assignment. Essence or no, for the bunch of amateur artists, painting a bowl of fruit would be a difficult task. As they worked, Amy kept leaning over and peppering Callie with questions. And with the attention now mostly off her, Callie didn't mind answering them.

Gradually, over the course of the period, she told her friend more about what she had been up to that morning. From going downstairs naked in search of an outfit, to stepping outside and walking all the way to school, to volunteering to be a figure studies subject for Ms. Lejune. She left out a few parts; giving the man who had been taking out his trash a pleasant surprise, her first orgasm in the grass, and masturbating in front of Derek.

It wasn't that she was ashamed to discuss those events with Amy. In fact, she was eager to tell her best friend about the thrilling new sensations her nude adventures had brought about. But she was too afraid of eavesdroppers to get into torrid details.

Her feet had been trapped by the boots in a permanent point since the start of first period. Wiggling her toes, she wished she could change their position. But there was only one way to place the bulky footwear that didn't put her at risk of flashing something naughty. She had to keep them side-by-side flat on the floor with her knees pressed tightly together. Even then, the aftershocks of her most recent orgasm reverberated within her fertile body, and each ripple of echoing pleasure would make the muscles of her legs quiver and threaten to splay open.

Whenever she took too deep a breath, the still stiff points on her chest would rub against the rough fabric of the smock and raise goosebumps all up and down her arms. Luckily, the fabric was heavy and thick enough to hide her excited nipples from her classmates.

Keeping one hand always on the lower flaps of her smock, she used her other hand to paint. She wasn't a very good painter to begin with. Verbal prose was more her thing. And the distracting aftershocks of her recent orgasm didn't help matters. Judging by the crude paintings around her, the other students were struggling just as mightily. She tried to draw inspiration from Ms. Lejune's speech about everything having an essence.

What is the essence of an orange? It's the fruit of an orange tree, of course. But what is its essence - its purpose? To help the tree reproduce. Isn't that the purpose of every living thing?

...What about me? What is my essence?

Wasn't it obvious? Just like orange blossoms are built to attract bees, she too was a sexual being. Her body was made for sex - and not just the simulated kind. Every fiber of her being, every curve and crevasse, every mound and morsel on her body, was designed to excite and attract a mate. Her insides literally ached for it. She was in heat. And like a puzzle missing its most critical piece, she needed the organs of a male. To fill her void and make her complete. To copulate. To fuck.

Callie grunted as her vaginal muscles fluttered, and a fresh supply of sexual lubricant was expelled. She had neither panties nor pubic hair down there to absorb it. And with her pussy lips already coated in wetness, it quickly spread to her thighs.

"Are you ok," Amy asked, looking up from her painting.

"Yeah," Callie replied, through clenched teeth, "I'm just - is it hot in here?"

Amy blinked. Oblivious to the internal struggle of her exceptionally aroused friend, she simply answered, "mmm...not really."

Then, leaning in closer and speaking in a whisper, she changed the subject.

"So, how exactly is this going to work? After Art, I mean. Do you just take off your smock when the bell rings and stroll to your next class naked as a jay bird? What about the boots? Are they coming or staying?"

With her stress levels spiking, Callie motioned for her friend to stop talking. The problem of what to do about next period had been percolating in the back of her mind with no good answers.

She wasn't about to do what Amy suggested and strip in front of the rest of the class. And her risk of exposure would only multiply once she left the Art classroom.

There was only one possible way to navigate the halls unseen: leave class early. But even that plan was risky. Her personal rules for the day forbid entering any girls' restroom. If she didn't reach a safe destination before the dismissal bell, she would be caught naked in a hall full of rowdy students with no teacher oversight. The mob would eat a naked girl alive! Her pulse quickened at that thrilling thought. But her sensible side was just as quick to veto it.

It didn't help that her next class was in the English hall on the opposite end of the school. Even fully dressed and in a calmer state, she sometimes had trouble getting there on time. Even if she somehow made it, her prude of an English teacher was not as open-minded as Ms. Lejune and was unlikely to tolerate the appearance of a nude student in her classroom.

Callie squinted at the clock and wished she could see the hands clearly. But she need only look at the clumsy attempts at art taking shape all around her to know time was running short.

Leaning toward Amy, she said, "Listen, stop by Mrs. McCord's room before next period and tell her that I'm volunteering and won't be in class, ok?"

"Volunteering. Really...where?" Amy demanded to know.

But Callie didn't have an answer to that question yet. She only knew that she had to pick somewhere closer for her next stop.

Ms. Lejune, who had been walking around and offering advice to her budding artists all this time, addressed the class.

"I see many of you struggling to capture the dichotomy of light and darkness, gleam and shadow. It is one of the most difficult skills a painter can possess. I don't expect any of you to master it today. But please, at least make an effort to...perhaps some more direct light would help."

Her heels tapping smartly on the linoleum, she walked across the room. When Callie heard the scraping sound of the heavy curtain being drawn fully open as Ms. Lejune entered the studio in search of a spotlight, her heart stopped.

There in the darkness stood at least a dozen portraits of a veiled subject wearing black, thigh-high go-go boots and nothing else standing next to a marble column. Mixed in among the fantastically painted figure studies portraits were detailed, charcoal drawings of that same subject laying prone on a table, masturbating wantonly, and in the throes of her sexual crisis.

Since she was still wearing the exact same boots as the girl in the paintings, Callie knew it wouldn't take her classmates long to draw the connection and figure out how she had spent her volunteer hour. Jumping to her feet, she exclaimed, "I need to be excused," and made a beeline for the exit.

Sacrificing modesty for speed, she felt the lower sections of her smock flapping open as her platform heels clomped across the room. But at least the commotion - not to mention flashing her hips and too much of her bare bottom for comfort - distracted the students from Ms. Lejune flipping the studio switch and bathing the lewd gallery in bright lights.

Plunging through the door without stopping, she slammed it closed without waiting for permission to leave the class. As waves of excitement inundated her jittery nervous system, the giddy girl had to reach for the wall to steady herself following such a close call.

She had never intended to hide out in the Art classroom all day. But she definitely couldn’t go back in there now! Burning that bridge helped her refocus on her sexual odyssey which was far from over. With her pulse racing, she bent over and made quick work of the buckles around her thighs and calves before tugging on the bows of her smock.

The tall boots remained standing as she stepped out of them. Her classmates would see the monuments, along with the smock, on their way out, and know the sexual creature who had shed them and returned to her natural, naked state, was wandering the school in search of her next thrill.

Lifting the smock over her head, the naked teen shivered. Discarding it in a heap next to the boots, she padded barefoot to the end of the alcove and peeked around the corner. English class was out of the question, but she had another destination in mind. Doubting the coast would remain clear much longer, she took a deep breath and entered the main auxiliary hallway.

With constant jolts of arousal wracking her pussy muscles and roiling her insides, the wall was her frequent friend as she waddled her way to her next stop. She could feel the seed of her third orgasm already taking root but tamped down the urge to nourish it with artificial stimulation.

She was done with simulated pleasure and wanted to experience the real thing. That's why she had chosen the boy's locker room as her next stop. It ought to be the perfect place for a naked virgin in heat to get what she needed.

[Casanova]

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