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From: "Peregrinf" <dfowler@catskill.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Beth Naked in School 5/12 (f/m+ f/b+ exhib) by Peregrinef
Date: Wed, 13 Mar 2002 20:10:09 -0500
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<15th attachment, "Beth Naked in School 5.doc" begin>

"Beth Naked in School" is a continuation of the "Naked in School"
series that began with Karen Wagner's "Karen Naked in School."
You might want to start there. Then follow up with my first
contributions to the series, "Carl Naked in School," and "Carl
Naked in School - Beth's Story," before you start this tale. All
can be found in the ASSM archives.

Beth Naked in School 5/12 (f/m+ f/b+ exhib) by Peregrinef

Tuesday Afternoon 

Okay, if I hear one more person, male or female, of any age, say
to me, naked or not, "let's go into the darkroom and see what
develops," I am going to punch him or her in the nose! 

No jury in the world would convict me. 

"Hi, Beth, let's go in the darkroom and see what develops," was
the greeting I got from every one of the eight boys in the
photography club as they joined me, one by one, by the soccer
field. The three girls who were club members winced and groaned,
having heard it themselves more than once, they assured me. 

Yes, I was the first one there. Didn't I tell you of my obsessive
compulsive habit of always being early? 

There I was standing self-consciously in front of the home team
bench on the main soccer field, feeling the afternoon breeze
stroke my naked body with insolent little fingers. Maybe, if you
stay naked long enough, you finally become no more aware of that
than you are of the touch of clothing. If so, then I haven't been
naked long enough yet. I could even feel the breeze toying with
my pubic hair. 

While we waited for the club's adviser the kids fiddled with
their cameras - adjusting this and fixing that, polishing lenses
and loading film. They were as geeky a bunch as those in the
computer club - some of them did both, in fact. 

Finally the adviser, Mr. Kelly, my art teacher, came trotting up,
festooned with several cameras himself. "All ready then, are we?
Where should we start?" 

Not in the darkroom, I thought to myself. Anyplace but that!

"How about the goal net?" Albert Ballantine suggested. He was a
sophomore, a kind of big, pudgy guy who I'd thought of as a
possible date for Stephanie, until earlier today. Now I wasn't as
sure. 

"Why not the benches here?" Jimmy Dirk suggested. He was in my
math class, a little squirt, not even as tall as me, with
pimples. For some reason he had his shirt unbuttoned halfway to
his waist. Like anyone was really interested in his sunken chest!


Mr. Kelly made a time out gesture with his hands. "Wait. What's
the first thing we need to decide?" 

"What sort of pictures we want to take," Julie Shay answered. 

"Right," Mr. Kelly agreed. "What's our theme? Since our model is
nude, portraiture is obviously - well, not eliminated, but
improbable, a waste of resources, you could say. Are we
interested in cheesecake? Glamour shots? Perhaps erotica? Are we
going for posed shots, or candids?" 

"Planning our session in advance determines everything,
remember?" he went on. "Everything from the equipment and film we
use to the backgrounds, props, the poses - everything!" 

"How about smut?" Jimmy Dirk suggested with a smirk,
ostentatiously scratching his belly. His shirt was completely
unbuttoned now. It was not an improvement. 

"Pornography is always an option with a willing nude model," Mr.
Kelly agreed calmly. "But it is better accomplished with more
than one model." 

I nailed Jimmy Dirk with my best glare and an underhanded
grabbing and squeezing motion with my left hand before he could
volunteer and he froze before he had his hand half way up. He'd
seen what I'd done to Freschetti, much to my relief. 

"When you have a model, how can pictures be candid?" Julie asked.


"Oh, that's easy enough. Just ask the model to perform some
regular tasks and snap away," Mr. Kelly explained. "For example,
since we're here on a soccer field, Miss Finch, why don't you,
uh, kick that soccer ball around?" he suggested, indicating one
that had been left under a bench. 

I frowned. "I'm not much a soccer player," I confessed. 

"Just play with it a little," he explained. "You can pick it up,
bounce it, kick it - whatever you want. Oh, and take off your
shoes, please, to give a more natural look. 

"Since we're taking action shots, what should our choice of film
be?" he went on to the photographer wannabes. 

Julie was first with the answer again. "Fast film, so we can use
the fastest shutter speeds possible without sacrificing the depth
of field we gain with high f stops." 

"Right!" Mr. Kelly agreed eagerly. 

Kicking off my loafers left me naked but for the usual gold chain
around my neck with the simple gold cross. Totally
self-conscious, I bent to dig the ball out from under the bench.
Picking it up, I tried to bounce it and it hit my foot, and of
course it got away from me and I had to chase it down. 

Handling it awkwardly, I tried to ignore the cameras being
focused on me. Dropping the ball on the grass I kicked it the way
I'd seen soccer players doing it, sort of nudging it around the
field. The grass was cold under my bare feet. The breeze was
playing with my tits and my pussy. My tits were jiggling, and I
was waving my arms to keep my balance. Cameras were all around
me, snapping away. 

I was intensely aware of my exposure. 

I was doing pretty well until I accidentally stepped on the ball
instead of kicking it. Twisting my ankle, I went flying, legs all
akimbo and landed hard on my butt while the ball scooted away
from me. 

The cameras kept right on clicking as, wincing, I got up and
rubbed my bruised bottom, brushing grass clippings off it, then
limped after the ball, my ankle complaining. Picking up the ball
I walked back, tossing it lamely in the air for some semblance of
action for them. 

"How about if she plays goalie," Jimmy suggested snidely. "She
could sit in the goal with her legs spread and we could try to
score." 

I decided I could develop a real dislike for that horny little
twerp. 

"I think that's enough of the athletic candids," Mr. Kelly
countered, taking the ball from me and putting it back under the
bench. "We'll have June Farrow for that tomorrow, remember." 

That announcement was greeted with whistles from the boys. 

"And Mr. Freschetti will join us as well for some beefcake," Mr.
Kelly added, with a wink to the girls, who did not look thrilled.
"Now, why don't we try some poses on the benches here? Now, do we
want artistic or cheesecake shots, and who can tell me the
primary difference between them?" 

Julie raised her hand. "Well, the goal of cheesecake photography
is displaying the sexuality  of the subject," she suggested. 

"But isn't the sexuality of the subject an important element of
artistic figure studies as well?" Albert asked. 

Julie looked thoughtful. "I guess so." 

"Any other ideas?" the teacher asked. 

I wished I knew just so I could raise my hand and end the
silence, but I didn't. Besides, I wasn't part of the club, I was
their model. 

"Okay, it's kind of subtle, but with cheesecake and glamour
photography, and beefcake and all erotic photography, the goal is
to establish personal contact between the model and the
audience," Mr. Kelly explained. "For example - uh - stretch out
on the bench, Miss Finch, on your side, please." 

I did, the bench cold against my naked hip, and I rested on one
elbow, folding an arm self-consciously across my breasts, my leg
bent to conceal my pussy. Even now, on the second day in The
Program, I had this instinct to cover myself. 

"Now, an artistic nude," Mr. Kelly went on, "usually will not
show the model's face in detail, perhaps not at all. You might
take a picture from the back, for example, concentrating on the
curved line of her hip, buttocks and legs. Or the model might
look at the ground, pensively, never smiling." 

He directed the class around me to show them what he was talking
about. His hand stroked my hip and ass, my leg. I stayed still,
remembering the lessons learned from my art class modeling, in
spite of the shiver his touch gave me. 

Then they moved around in front of me. "A cheesecake shot, on the
other hand, virtually always shows the model's face, and usually
she, or he, is looking directly into the camera, making eye
contact with the audience, with an expression that invites some
sort of response. Look this way, please, Miss Finch," he
directed, focusing on me with his own camera. "Now smile in a
friendly fashion." 

I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly fashion. Staring into the
camera made me much more intensely aware of his scrutiny. 

"Lick your lips, please," he added. 

I licked my lips. 

"But doesn't erotic photography show more, too?" Albert pointed
out. 

"That depends on the market," Mr. Kelly answered. 

"Today's market shows much more," Albert pointed out, his hands
fiddling nervously with his camera. "Magazines today show
everything - pubic hair...." He gulped, sweating. "Everything!" 

"Indeed," Mr. Kelly agreed. "Why don't you raise your leg, Miss
Finch, and move your arm to reveal your breasts." 

I tried to figure out just what he meant, lifting my leg,
exposing my pussy. 

"Cup your breast, too," the teacher suggested. "Play with your
nipple. Tilt your head down and look sultry." 

I blushed, and tried to comply, wondering what "sultry" was,
feeling the air on my pussy, pinching my nipple, my hand cupping
my modest breast, offering it to them. I tried to look like
what's her name, Humphrey Bogart's girlfriend in "To Have and To
Have Not" as I did, but only felt foolish. 

The cameras clicked, flashes winking at me. 

"Very good, Miss Finch. And class, remember, when working in
bright sunlight, either to set your flashes to fill in the
shadows, to reduce the contrast, or use a reflector to do the
same thing," Mr. Kelly went on. 

"Now, one of the tricks to posing a woman is to shoot from an
angle that shows one breast in profile. And the nipple should be
stimulated so that it is erect. One way to accomplish that is to
rub it with an ice cube. Lacking that, tactile manipulation,
combined, perhaps, with some fantasizing by the model can
accomplish the same effect. Miss Finch, if you please." 

I tilted my body. Lacking an ice cube, I pinched my nipples and
fantasized about Carl toying with me. My nipples were not the
only parts of my body that reacted. I felt my pussy flush and
blossom. 

The session went on, much faster than in art class, of course. I
followed directions as they shot picture after picture of me. It
wasn't possible, of course, to look directly at each camera, so I
chose first one of them and then another, deliberately avoiding
Jimmy Dirk's smirking, drooling attention as much as I could. 

"Show us some pink," he ordered at last. 

"Some pink?" I asked, puzzled. 

"Cunt," he explained. "Spread your pussy." 

I blushed brighter, looking at Mr. Kelly for some protection, but
he just indicated I should continue. 

I reached for my pussy, spreading the lips, feeling the air
strike deeper into my damp slit. Jimmy got down to get a good
angle on my exposure, moving into what I can only describe as a
gynecological close up. I was mortified, but tried to comply as
the requests became more and more provocative. 

I could hear the band practicing on a distant field, and thought
of Carl, how he'd marched so naked during the homecoming game,
standing out from the group even more by marching alone to "Dot
the `i'" during the half time show. I remembered how proud I'd
been of him, his bravery, and it stirred me to try to comply with
the photography club's requests. 

"Play with yourself," Jimmy suggested. "Get a finger in there!" 

And I did. I slid my finger into my hot cunt, while cameras
recorded every bit of my exposure, my wantonness. Sitting on the
end of one bench, my legs spread wide, leaning back on one hand,
I masturbated my gaping cunt while they all clicked away, even
the girls. 

Then I was ordered on to my knees, reaching under my body to
spread my pussy again, while they took pictures of my naked ass,
my open slit. I even toyed with my asshole, at Jimmy's request
again. 

They had me sprawl on the grass, legs spread, knees raised,
pinching my breasts as I humped my hips as if I was welcoming a
lover. I spread my pussy with both hands, displaying all my
glistening pink cunt to them, remembering how Kate had found
beauty in my so private folds. 

I even managed a back-bend, my body arched, my pussy prominent,
until my back gave way and I tumbled again to the grass. 

Mr. Kelly checked his watch as I got to my feet and tried to
brush off the grass clippings and dirt. "We have about fifteen
minutes more. Why don't we let Miss Finch shower off in that
time," he suggested. 

"Can we take pictures of her in the shower?" Jimmy asked eagerly.


"I don't see any reason why not," he agreed. 

So that's how I found myself in the shower room of the boys'
locker room - it was more open than the girls' shower - while the
photography club snapped pictures. Starting at the top, in the
usually organized way I do things, I soaped my hair, soaped my
face and then my torso, my breasts and back, turning as I did. 

I was soooo aware of the feel of my body under my hands! Much
more than when I washed at home, or even after gym class. My
nipples were stiff little buttons, slick with soap. I washed my
ass, between the cheeks, my soapy finger again toying with my
anus, until I even sneaked the tip of it in a teensy bit, driven
by that mad, evil twin of mine to explore this unexpected
erogenous zone. 

I slid soapy hands over my pussy, down my thighs and legs,
bending and turning, giving them a look at every angle of my
bathing. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, I toyed with my
clit, slipped a finger up into my cunt. 

I tried to be subtle about it, but I masturbated there in the
shower, right in front of the photography club, until I came with
a delicious rush, my cunny spasming around my finger, a flush
blossoming on my body as I pinched my tit. 

And all the time they were taking pictures of me. Each of them
had reloaded at least twice, and they captured every inch of me,
as I came, as I rinsed off the soap, the grass that had been
clinging to me swirling down the drain. 

Flash. Flash. Flash. The lights sparked and sparked, catching me
from every angle as I dried myself. 

I had NO secrets. 

I was mortified. Mortified! 

I was also still incredibly turned on from stimulating myself,
from all the attention. 

"Very good, and thank you, Miss Finch. After we've developed and
printed contact sheets we'll be picking the best shots to put up
on the club's Web site," Mr. Kelly announced cheerily. "And I
have some great shots in my digital camera that will be up by
tomorrow morning, so be sure to log on, and tell your friends
about it!" 

I shuddered inwardly, realizing that by tomorrow the whole world,
the whole, complete world would see me! People not only in my own
home town but in England and France, Russia and China, San
Francisco and New York and Australia would be looking at me! The
concept was almost impossible to grasp. Talk about exposure! 

Finally I was outside the north entrance to reclaim my clothes. I
dressed in front of a dwindling crowd, while Carl waited
patiently, and then took my books, and my hand, and we walked
homeward. 

After what had happened, I felt a bit silly, even uncomfortable,
walking home with Carl with my clothes on, even my undies. But
try as I might, I couldn't quite get my nerve up to stop and
strip naked, right there on the street. And when Carl told me he
had stuff to do for his mom, so we couldn't go to his house, or
mine, I was really bummed out, still burning with the arousal
from my posing. 

As I made my way up the driveway to my house I was worr - well,
terrified, actually - that maybe Carl was only making an excuse
because he didn't want me anymore, only to be shaken out of my
thoughts when the kid from next door appeared. 

"You said you'd meet me in your back yard today and show me more,
remember?" he pointed out irritably. 

I remembered how I'd stood in my window the night before. "I'm
sorry, I had something after school. I'd forgotten about inviting
you over. Uh, would you like to do it now?" 

"Uh huh!" Eager didn't begin to describe his expression. 

Oh, well, what was one more young kid looking at me, considering
my photography session. "What about your mom?" 

"She's not home," he answered quickly. "We can go to my house." 

"Okay, come on," I agreed, wondering how I could show him more
than I already had. 

"I - uh - invited some friends over," he confessed. 

I felt even worse for having been late. "I'm really sorry, I
should have told you yesterday I'd be late. Are they angry?" 

"Naw," he assured me, opening the gate to his back yard. "We
played computer games. I told `em you looked like Lara Croft in
Tomb Raider." 

"Well, you're not going to get any credit for truth in
advertising," I scolded him. 

"It won't matter, once you take your clothes off," he assured me.


I had to admit, this kid did have a talent for cutting straight
to the chase. "Why don't we do it in the back yard," I suggested.


"Okay, great!" he agreed. "Hey, guys, come on out. Beth's here!
Would you like a soda or something? This is Pete, and Max, and
Phil and Steve and Charlie." 

"That'd be nice," I agreed as five kids about Larry's age, maybe
ten or eleven, tumbled out of the house. 

"Make yourself at home. I'll get drinks," Larry offered. 

"You're not naked," one of them protested - Pete, I think. 

"I just got home from school," I pointed out, putting my book bag
on the patio table. 

"You gonna get naked?" another asked. 

"That's why I'm here," I admitted. 

"Well, hurry up!" another urged. 

I decided to tease them a little, they were so eager. I toyed
with a button on my shirt. "I don't know, it doesn't seem fair
that I have to get naked and you don't." 

"I'm not gonna get naked!" Pete argued. 

"Why not?" I asked. 

"It's embarrassing!" 

"You're Phil?" I asked. He was a handsome little kid with a shock
of black hair. 

"I'm Max," he countered. 

"Sorry. Well, how do you think I feel?" I asked, having loosened
one button and playing with the next one. 

"Here you are," Larry said, offering me a bottle of soda. 

"Thanks." Still  under the influence of all my posing, I kicked
off my loafers and strolled languidly around on the grass,
savoring the fizzy sweetness of the drink. "I think it's only
fair if I get naked you should." I looked coyly at them. 

"Aww, I don't know," Charlie, a red head answered nervously. 

"Are you guys chicken?" I asked, my shirt open enough to show my
bra now. 

"I'm not chicken!" Steve argued. 

Ah, testosterone. I love it, I thought. "I dare you to get
naked." I stripped off my shirt and draped it over a lawn chair.

"Y-y-y-you dare us?" Larry asked. 

"I double dare you," I challenged, unzipping my skirt. 

For a long moment there was a tense silence. "Last one naked is a
rotten egg," Charlie shot out, pinking up as he tore at his
clothes. 

Well, I wasn't a rotten egg, since I did have a head start, but
in less than a minute they were all shining naked in the bright
sun, all pink and white. 

"Nyah, you're the rotten egg," Charlie teased a blushing Steve. 

"Now what're we gonna do?" Larry asked. 

"What do you want to do?" I asked, feeling free again, now that I
was naked. I noticed their little peckers were sticking out
eagerly. They didn't have any pubic hair yet, but the hormones
were obviously working anyway. 

"Let's see you!" Steve challenged. 

I put my hands on my  hips, facing them, my feet apart. "Look
away," I said, feeling a sense of power over them. 

Charlie bent over to look at my crotch. "You've got hair down
there." 

"Yes, I do," I admitted. "You'll grow hair down there, too, in a
year or two or three, and under your arms." 

"You don't have hair under your arms," Charlie pointed out. 

I raised my arms and turned sideways to them. "I shave under my
arms, though I don't have very much there anyway." 

"Can we touch?" Steve asked. 

There was one of the requests I'd been dreading, but who better
to begin with than these kids? "Okay," I agreed. "Yeah, you can
touch." 

I turned back toward them and put my hands behind my head, the
way Karen had. They touched my breasts, and Steve even explored
my crotch, while I fought down shivers. "But no tickling," I
cautioned. 

The moment I said it I realized it was a mistake. 

"No tickling? You mean like this?" And Charlie gave my ribs a
quick tickle. 

"Yow!" I giggled, dropping my arm defensively. "I said no
tickling." 

"You mean like this?" Larry countered, going for my flank. 

I was swarmed under, giggling and squirming as the little rascals
tickled me. We went down in a heap, and it reminded me of a
litter of puppies grammy's dog had had when I'd been about four,
clambering all over me as they tried to lick my face. 

We rolled and tumbled on the grass. I tickled them, they tickled
me, and each other, reducing us all to helpless giggles. It
didn't end until we were left gasping, aching from laughter in a
tangle of naked arms and legs and bodies. 

The funny thing was, it wasn't sexual, really. Oh, I was aroused,
and they were as well, but for them it was all innocent fun, I
think. It was bare skin against bare skin, even though their
little peckers were stiff. They didn't try to ravish me or
anything. It was sensual, and joyous, a celebration of youth and
innocence and life, not wicked or lascivious. 

By the time we got untangled it was late and I had to go home. I
didn't even bother to dress, just popped out the gate from
Larry's back yard and in the gate to ours, giving anyone who
might be on the street a flashing glimpse of me naked. 

Mom's eyebrows went up when I walked in the kitchen door with my
clothes over my arm and my book bag in my hand. "Have a good
day?" she asked. 

"It had its moments. I'm going to take a shower." 

"Your father will be home in about half an hour. Are you going to
dress for dinner?" 

I got a tingle at the idea of a naked dinner. "Only if you insist
on it." 

"Makes no difference to me," she answered with a smile. 

I paused in the doorway and looked back over my shoulder at her.
"What about daddy?" 

Her eyes twinkled as she eyed my naked back. "Oh, I don't think
he'll mind." 

"That's good." I bounded up the stairs, feeling good about
myself. Maybe I'd go over to Carl's tonight, after supper, too. 

I  had a couple of ideas that I could use his help on. 


<15th attachment end>

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