J McKenna: Naughty girl

But she hadn’t seen. Rob tried to help her in his gentle but clumsy way, yet she never achieved that climax Lucy had described. They eventually broke up and DeeDee dated other boys and had sex with a few, but none could sustain that anticipation, that sexual stimulation she craved. They all wanted to fuck her quickly and didn’t understand why she wanted to prolong the act.

She had discovered the answer herself, during the spring of her senior year. It had been a hot day, promising to hit eighty. DeeDee had been in her room, in a bad mood because she didn’t have any clean panties. So, she’d gone without them. She wore baggy shorts, so it really didn’t matter. No one would notice.

Yet the feeling she’d had, walking around campus, knowing that she was naked underneath her shorts, gave her a glimpse of what she’d been missing. She liked the feel of her naked sex, the cool air occasionally brushing her tuft of hair. It had made her wet. It had been such a simple thing too.

When she got home that afternoon, DeeDee had gone straight to her room and masturbated. She had her first real orgasm, more powerful than anything she’d felt with a boy. She had to bite her pillow to keep from screaming. So that’s what Lucy had been talking about, she’d thought to herself.

When she recovered, she noticed her Mom had washed her clothes and left a laundry basket on her rug. She’d stared at the clean clothes for a minute, then carefully put everything away, including all her panties. Her mind whirled.

The next morning, after her shower, she had hesitated over the drawer, letting her fingers brush the silky garments. Then she closed it and went to the drawer containing her bras. Again she had hesitated, relishing the feeling in her stomach and loins, the tingle in her nipples. She remembered her orgasm and wanted to reach those heights again.

She had walked naked to her closet and chose a dark blue blouse—very concealing—and another pair of baggy shorts. DeeDee had felt delightfully naughty not to be wearing underwear. She doubted anyone could see, so she felt safe.

Of course the boys noticed—her nipples seemed to poke out all day. It only increased her sexual stimulation. She got lots of looks, a few comments. Even the male teachers suddenly wanted to talk to her about her assignments, up close, their eyes glancing down when they thought she wasn’t looking.

For a few weeks, DeeDee was in heaven. She loved the feel of her nipples against her blouses or t-shirts, and the attention. Too soon, however, that began to pale. She felt she was losing her tingle, as she had called it. She believed it was because her baggy shorts too well concealed her secret. So one day, during late May, she’d worn a skirt to school without her panties.

This simple act had ratcheted up her libido tremendously. The feeling of her legs swishing under her skirt, her naked pussy open to the breeze, kept a smile on her face all day long. She had felt so very naughty she couldn’t wait to get home and rub herself. She’d stopped off in the bathroom after fifth period, ready to relieve her itch, but there had been too many other girls present. She could only enter a stall, cup her mound and press her fingers hard against her clit, biting her lip to keep from causing a climax. God, she had been so close! That afternoon, as soon as she got home, she gave herself to two quick orgasms.

Remembering that day, and the days that followed, brought a smile to DeeDee’s face for the first time. She peered into the mirror and finished putting on her makeup, wondering how her date with Carl might go.

Seven o’clock sharp, Carl appeared at DeeDee’s doorstep, freshly washed, shaved and dressed. He had never anticipated a date more than this one in many long years. His nerves jangled anew as he rang the doorbell.

DeeDee appeared in moments and took his breath away. She was wearing a full-length sleeveless peach-colored dress, belted in the middle, big buttons running all the way down. A pale yellow scarf helped conceal the scoop neck. Perhaps she was being modest. Her hair was done up in a bun and she had gold earrings in the shape of dolphins.

“My god, you look lovely,” he said without thinking.

She blushed and it only flattered her features. She invited him in. Carl stumbled past her, thinking about how fortunate he was and what a complete jerk Frank had been to lose her.

“I’ll be ready in a minute. I just have to finish up.”

“Take your time. But keep in mind, if you’re going to get any more beautiful, we’re going to need a police escort.”

She gave him a big smile and disappeared into the bathroom. Carl rearranged his pants, giving his cock a steely glare.

Timing is everything, mister!

When she came out a few minutes later, a whiff of perfume preceded her. Something expensive and very sexy. His cock throbbed with need.

“Would you like a drink before we go?”

Carl hesitated. He didn’t want to drink much—he was afraid it might dull his enjoyment of this evening. Yet, he wanted to stay in her apartment alone with her just a few minutes longer.

“Sure. Just a quick one.”

She turned to the kitchen and fixed two martinis on the rocks. He watched her work. He couldn’t help but notice there didn’t seem to be a panty line under the smooth curve of her dress. Nor did he see a bra strap up where her tanned shoulder disappeared into the dress. His cock noticed as well.

She came toward him, drinks in hand. Carl took one and gave a tentative sip. “Umm, perfect.” He was talking about a lot more than the martini.

They stood there, drinking silently for a few minutes. Carl thought about safe topics, like the weather or the books she liked, but he really wondered if he dared to ask the pressing question on his mind. He feared scaring her off, yet his curiosity burned to know. Maybe it was the writer in him.

“DeeDee?” He jumped in without really thinking about it.

“Yes?” She looked at him over the rim of her glass, perfect lips leaving perfect pale red prints.

“I, um, couldn’t help but notice… I don’t mean to pry… I mean, I’m just curious…” Carl flailed about, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

Mirth flashed in her eyes. “You’re wondering about my underwear—or lack of it, right?”

She had nailed him. “Well, yes. Forgive me for noticing. I hope I’m not—”

“It’s okay.” She waved a hand. “Most men notice. I guess I should be flattered by it. But the thing is, I just don’t like to wear them. Never really have. My breasts aren’t so big so that I need a bra and I find panties just pinch me or ride up.” She laughed. “Maybe I should wear those big granny panties—what do you think?”

“Um.” The mental image startled him. “Er, I can’t see you in granny panties… I mean—”

She laughed again. That she would be so open and easy-going about it floored him. Carl thought he might be risking the goodwill he had built up by even mentioning it, but she talked about it as if he had asked about a book she was reading.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

His head shook firmly with each syllable. “Not. At. All. I find it incredibly sexy. How long has this been going on?”

A vacant look passed briefly over her face. It was just long enough for Carl to notice it. “Every since I was in high school. We lived in Texas and it was really hot much of the year. Somewhere about my senior year, I just took off the damn things and felt so much better, I never wanted to put them on again.”

“Wow.” He could imagine DeeDee as a teenager, driving the boys wild. “I’ll bet you were popular.”

That infectious laugh returned. “I suppose. I didn’t do it to attract boys, but they certainly seemed to notice.”