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From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 23 Jul 2002 18:10:34 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} [sapphic] Naked on the Train (classic) (4,740 words)
Date: Sat,  7 Sep 2002 18:10:05 -0400
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Story: Naked on the Train

What a treat for Emerald! Back to school by train to the sensual charms of
her school chums. And on the way who does she meet in the same compartment
as her but Beatrice. And what a treat it is! Beatrice is a naturist on the
way back to her naturist school. Not surprisingly, therefore, and very much
to Emerald's delight, Beatrice is naked on the train.

"Naked on the Train" has been posted on ASSM and Literotica. It is a tale of
first love (for Beatrice anyway) and one which will surely be memorable. And
as a special treat for those who like their pleasures pure and pristine,
this is very much a clothes optional tale. And it's known that being in the
nude while reading about nudity is almost the best fun you can have.
Especially when you're with the one you love.


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www
           

Naked on the Train
==================


At last! thought Emerald, lovingly waving goodbye to her 
parents as the train pulled off. She'd got the compartment to 
herself, and her family were gone. Not that she didn't love her 
mother and father and darling sister Betty, but it was term time 
and she was off to her other life, where she was more or less 
free to do as she wished. She bent her neck as far as she could 
to see a last glimpse of Betty running along the platform edge, 
waving her handkerchief at her as the train picked up pace, a 
cloud of dark smoke passing by the window as the wheels 
clattered and clunked as it took her off to boarding school. 
Soon, she'd be with her friends, all in their smart school 
uniforms, plaits under school bonnets and firm young bodies 
hidden under blouses, blazers and skirts.

But her journey wasn't to be a wholly uninterrupted one, as 
Emerald found when, having hardly read any of the serialised 
adventures of the girls of Blessington High in her magazine, the 
train came to a halt at the next stop on the line. At least, after 
this, there'd be hardly any more stops until she got to her 
destination where all the girls of the School of the Blessed 
Virgin Mary, Boedean, would be gathering: a mass of hockey 
sticks, plaits and white knee-high socks with their luggage and 
hovering school mistresses and Bert, the ancient school janitor. 

She watched with some anxiety as people wandered past her 
compartment along the corridor. She was rather hoping she 
might have it all to herself, but this was not to be as a middle-
aged woman poked her head through the window, saw that the 
compartment was virtually empty, and announced: "This one'll 
do, dear." Curses, exclaimed Emerald to herself. This was not 
to be such a tranquil journey. However, her next thought was 
rather of astonishment as she realised that the woman who had 
said this was completely naked. Otherwise, she was a fairly 
conventional looking woman, her hair permed and a leather 
handbag slung over her shoulder. But all Emerald could focus 
on was the woman's enormous motherly breasts and a slightly 
bulging stomach so different from Emerald's own or indeed any 
of her schoolfriends.

"Come along, Beatrice dear," she said to a girl much more 
Emerald's own age, who was naked like her mother, but had 
her hair tied back in plaits like Emerald. She was humping a 
large suitcase into the compartment and had a satchel over her 
shoulder. Behind them came a man, presumably Beatrice's 
father, who was also naked, with a pipe hanging from his lips, 
below his neat moustache, and pulling along a much larger 
suitcase. The three of them came into the compartment, and 
began hauling the cases onto the luggage rack. The mother 
smiled at Emerald, who smiled back, but whose mind was 
inevitably focused on the man's penis. This was the first time 
Emerald had ever seen a real penis before. The only ones 
she'd ever had a glimpse of till then had been made of marble 
or stone and were attached to statues. This was a real one, 
somehow larger than she'd imagined and also rather wobbly 
and loose. And there was so much hair on it! She didn't know 
why, but she somehow imagined rather less hair than this one 
had.

The two parents settled down their charge, who sat immediately 
opposite Emerald, discreetly crossing her legs so that she was 
barely able to see a glimpse of the short sparse hairs of her 
crotch. However, Emerald's confused eyes were able to settle 
on her small but perfectly formed breasts, with slightly darker 
pink nipples than the pale pink of the rest of her skin, and a 
general slimness much like Emerald's own and very much like 
that of most of her friends from school. The parents fussed 
around Beatrice, kissing her goodbye in an awkward angle 
which gave Emerald a very close view of their different sized 
buttocks and a glimpse of their genitals. The father's bottom 
was taut and tight, and ever so hairy! The mother's buttocks 
were very round and large and fleshy, and Emerald was slightly 
startled to see just how much hair she had around the crotch. It 
had been a shock enough for her when she and her 
schoolfriends became hairy down below, but it was even more 
shocking to reflect on just how much more hair was due to take 
root in that so very private area.

"Have a good journey, Beatrice darling," said the mother. "And 
don't forget to write. We do so love to read your letters."

"I will, Mummy," Beatrice said, kissing her mother on the cheek.

"And goodbye dear," said her father. "Don't forget to tip the 
porter when he carries out your bags. A thruppenny bit should 
be more than enough."

"I won't forget, Father," Beatrice assented.

"Well, we must be off dear," announced the mother. "We don't 
want to be caught on the train as it leaves."

With that, the two parents left their daughter in the carriage and 
returned to the platform. Emerald watched them leave with 
barely hidden fascination, and joined Beatrice's gaze who 
waved her parents goodbye as the train prepared to leave. 
Emerald found it very difficult to focus on the adventures of the 
girls of Blessington High when there was so much bare flesh to 
study. It was true that she'd not seen anything to compare with 
the naked bodies of the two naked parents as they stood on the 
platform smiling and waving at their daughter, the father with his 
pipe in his hand and the mother with a handkerchief held up to 
her weeping eyes. However, this was certainly not the first time 
that Emerald had seen a naked girl before. Indeed, one of the 
very things that she was looking forward to when getting back to 
school was to revisit just those pleasures.

In fact, it was the prospect of thinking about her many 
schoolfriends, but particularly Edith and Belinda, that Emerald 
had been looking forward to in the compartment. And this was 
why she'd so hoped that she'd have the compartment to 
herself. Then she could slip a hand down her white cotton 
knickers, and perhaps the other up her blouse to massage her 
own small nipples, and think again of her girlfriends' bare 
bodies. Edith's slender dark arms and firm growing breasts. 
Belinda's freckled face, and those freckles which scattered over 
her shoulders, breasts and over the slight down of her arms. 
And here, instead of memories and fantasies, Emerald was 
confronted by the real thing.

Soon enough, the train was on its way, Beatrice's parents 
receding into the distance as Emerald's own had been, and 
Emerald was curious to see Beatrice brush away a tear. 
Clearly, this was a girl with stronger family feelings than her 
own. She smiled at Beatrice as the girl looked up and studied 
her fellow passenger seemingly for the first time.

"So, you're back to school for the new year as well?" Emerald 
asked boldly.

"Yes," sniffed Beatrice. "I'm back to Burlingbury School for 
Girls."

"I've never heard of it," sniffed Emerald who thought she knew 
the names of all the top public schools. This must be a very 
minor public school indeed. "Is it a day school or does it have 
boarders?"

"It's all boarders," replied Beatrice, dabbing her damp eyes with 
her own lace handkerchief. "That's because it's the only school 
of its kind in the country. Almost everyone has to travel ever 
such a long way to get there."

"What's so special about it that it's the only one of its kind?"

"Well, that's because it's a naturist school."

"A 'naturist' school?" queried Emerald, who had not even heard 
the term before. "What's that?"

Beatrice smiled at Emerald's innocence. "It's a school for 
naturists." She could see Emerald's continued 
incomprehension. "You know. Nudists. People who don't like to 
wear clothes. Like my parents. And, I guess, like myself. My 
parents were very keen that I continue in the family tradition."

Emerald raised her eyes and eyebrows as she began to 
comprehend the situation. "So you and your family are 
'naturists' or 'nudists'. Is that like a religion or something, like 
'Baptists' or 'Methodists'?"

"Not exactly. Many of the girls at my school are religious. But 
they're all sorts. Quakers, Catholics, Anglicans, everything 
really. No, naturism's a way of life, not a religion."

"That sounds really funny. So, you don't wear clothes at home 
and you don't wear clothes at school?"

"Yes, that's right. None of the girls at school wear clothes ever. 
Not in the classrooms, not in the playgrounds and not in the 
playing fields."

Emerald drew a deep breath. The vision of a whole school of 
naked girls excited her. She could just imagine a class of naked 
female flesh: girls with firm breasts raising their hands for 
attention from a naked teacher. Or playing hockey with no 
clothes and only hockey shoes to protect their feet. And 
possibly not even that, although Emerald observed that 
Beatrice was wearing some quite smart black shoes with white 
ankle-high socks. Perhaps that was the nearest to a school 
uniform they had at Beatrice's school, other than being naked of 
course. 

The very image of so many naked girls flooded her mind, and 
almost choked her with a sense of excitement. "And do the girls 
have sex together?" Emerald found herself saying, before 
common sense could censor her thoughts.

"Sex? Of course not!" gasped Beatrice, who seemed genuinely 
shocked. "I mean, they're not married or anything. And certainly 
not to each other. And anyway girls don't ... don't ... not with 
other girls anyway. That just doesn't make sense. I just never 
thought anyone ever would. It's not right, is it? It's got to be with 
... with ... After all. Girls don't have what boys have ..."

Beatrice's innocence rather startled Emerald. But then, of 
course, there were girls at her own school who'd never 
suspected that there was more to life than virginity followed by 
marriage and children. In fact, Edith herself had been just as 
naïve when Emerald had first introduced her to pleasures of the 
flesh that she now craved so often and so fervently.

Emerald chose not to pursue that exact line of discussion. "So, 
everyone at the school wears no clothes all the time? And the 
teachers as well?"

"Pretty much so. After all, it is a naturist school. There's no 
sense in being a naturist if you wear clothes."

"I'm sure that's true," Emerald agreed. "But don't you ever feel 
quite strange being naked? After all, it's not normal, is it?"

"It seems normal to me. It's only at times like these when I'm 
with textiles like you that I ever feel at all self-conscious about 
it."

"So, if I wasn't wearing any clothes like you, then you'd feel 
more comfortable?" asked Emerald with such a sweet 
concerned smile on her freckled face.

"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose you're right. It's not very 
often I get to meet people with clothes on. To me, it seems a bit 
strange. Clothes seem so unnecessary. It's not as if what's 
hidden underneath is anything to be ashamed of."

"Indeed not!" vehemently agreed Emerald, who in truth was in 
no way ashamed of her body and who associated pleasure 
rather than shame with any opportunity to divest herself of her 
clothes. She liked the contour of her slim waist and her thin 
thighs as they trailed towards her angular knees, the slight 
bulge of her calves and eventually to those toes which Belinda 
so enjoyed taking into her mouth. Emerald smiled indulgently at 
the memory of her friend's tongue on the sensitive web of skin 
between her varnished nails. "So, if I were to take my clothes off 
here. In this compartment. With you. Then you would feel more 
comfortable and relaxed?"

Beatrice blushed. "Well, I wouldn't want to put you to any 
trouble. After all, textiles are supposed to prefer wearing 
clothes. That's what I've always understood."

"I would much prefer that you were able to be more 
comfortable," Emerald commented, taking off her blazer and 
then unbuttoning her school blouse, exchanging glances 
between the awkward buttons on the cotton front and Beatrice's 
bemused expression. Emerald was enjoying this. She loved it 
when she let her arms slip through the blouse sleeves. And she 
got such a little thrill that trembled her legs and caught her 
breath as she eased her skirt down off her knickers, over her 
knees and threaded her feet through it: in their black patent 
leather shoes and knee-high socks. And then as she sat there 
in just her slip and knickers, she smiled to herself. This was 
such a thrill! And there was more, so much more to do. 

"I have to take everything off, don't I?" asked Emerald with a 
wicked smile which a less innocent girl than Beatrice would 
have recognised as lascivious excitement. "That's what you 
naturists do, don't you? Everything off? Nothing on?"

"Yes. That's true. That's exactly right," said Beatrice who was 
feeling far from more comfortable as this strange girl she'd only 
just met was taking off her clothes. Why did it seem so different 
when this girl displayed her flesh? Why wasn't it the same 
somehow with her friends at school? After all, they were always 
naked like her. And she'd never felt so uneasy as she did with 
this girl who was still wearing her underwear.

But not for much longer. Emerald pulled her slip up over her 
head, revealing her pert lively breasts on her slender chest, 
freckles over her shoulders and the top of her bosom. And then 
the knickers were eased down over the bare legs, revealing a 
crotch of immaculate perfection: the folds of her vagina only 
partly invaded and the bare wisps of hair adding only the 
merest shadow to her young pale skin. She sat there on the 
train seat, naked flesh from brow to knee, her legs open 
somewhat wider and bolder than Beatrice's, taking pleasure in 
the frisson of daringness, given license by Beatrice's example 
to relish her naked flesh in the confines of a railway carriage, 
enjoying the warm and slightly moist sensation of the leather 
seat on her bare behind, a slight breeze coming through the 
carriage window onto her breasts and arms and legs, slightly 
rising the soft pale hair, bringing with it a delightful tingle which 
made her gasp in a strange almost guttural way.

Beatrice was slightly alarmed. She knew that nudity was better 
than being clothed, but she had never thought of it giving quite 
as much pleasure and so soon as that which Emerald was 
clearly experiencing. What did that broad grin mean? And what 
was the intent of that glint in Emerald's eyes? Whenever 
Beatrice had worn clothes, she'd always felt a kind of relief 
when she was at last able to remove them. But she'd never 
experienced the kind of strong sensations that Emerald was 
enjoying.

"It feels so good being naked like this!" exclaimed Emerald. "I 
think I could easily be a 'naturist' myself."

"I think you could," agreed Beatrice, but feeling rather 
embarrassed as Emerald began pinching one nipple with her 
forefinger and thumb, whilst her other hand wandered down to 
her crotch. Beatrice's alarm grew as Emerald stroked her crotch 
up and down with her hand, slightly parting her smooth 
unbroken lips, as her fingers glid up and down. Beatrice had 
sometimes touched herself down there. And she knew that it 
gave her a strange kind of pleasure as the sensitive lips of her 
other mouth responded to her own furtive probings. But she'd 
never seen any of her classmates indulge in such behaviour, 
and certainly not while looking at her with such a steady 
transfixing gaze. Nor had they ever let their fingers get between 
those fleshy lips, as Emerald was letting hers. Nor had they 
actually taken their middle finger in her presence and slid it 
between those lips and with a sudden irruption of a gasp of 
throaty release thrust the finger straight into those lips, while still 
looking deep into her eyes.

"It feels so good," repeated Emerald breathily. "So good! What 
does your crotch feel like."

"I don't know," replied Beatrice uncertainly.

"You try."

"I'm not sure. I couldn't."

"Let me try for you," continued Emerald, extending the hand that 
had earlier been pinching her nipple and stroking Beatrice's 
bare knee. 

Beatrice's initial response was to move her leg out of the way, 
but somehow she didn't. She sat there watching Emerald with 
fascination as her fingers now parted her lips and plunged deep 
into the moist warmth of her vagina, a hand stroking her knee 
and sending tingling spasms of an emotion she hardly 
recognised up the length of her thigh and penetrated her own 
vagina which she was ashamed to admit to herself was burning 
so hot all of a sudden. What was this feeling that was gripping 
her? Why was her breath coming out with so much difficulty? 
What was this emotion that was gripping her chest? And all the 
while Emerald was gazing deep, so deep, into her eyes: such 
long eyelashes, such a mischievous smile glancing off her eyes 
and mouth, and those freckles on her nose becoming curiously 
larger and more emphatic in her imagination.

It scarcely surprised her at all when Emerald leaned forward, 
bringing her face close to her, an arm against her shoulder and 
that other hand sliding up her slender thighs, sending an 
electric tingle up the inner muscle, causing a sudden tautness 
and tightness to grip her own crotch. And then those eyes and 
those freckles looming so close, so close, so near, so 
intimately, and her mouth parted slightly with a gasp as 
Emerald's fingers slid towards her own young crotch, a tender 
spark electrifying her so tender and unsullied lips and hardening 
both her nipples and clitoris, and then. And then. Emerald's 
mouth was on hers. At first just warm dry lips on hers. A tender 
heat that reddened her ears and her cheeks.

And then. Her eyes closed. A tongue, so muscular and thick 
and liquid and warm and inviting, plunged between her teeth 
and through her lips, and without thought, and with no 
consideration, while a shiver of pleasure travelled up the nape 
of her neck from somewhere between the angles of her 
shoulder blades, and she found her tongue reciprocating in 
liquid passion. And all the while she could feel Emerald's fingers 
stroking and caressing her vulva, while another set of fingers 
pulled her face against Emerald's mouth. She timorously 
ventured out a hand and ran it over Emerald's shoulders while a 
strange passion took hold of her and pulled her against this 
bold young stranger.

And how it all happened, Beatrice couldn't say! But somehow, 
she found herself laid out on the long cool leather of the seat, 
with Emerald above her, mouth against mouth, bosom resting 
sweatily on bosom, Emerald's hands behind her back and along 
her thighs, while she gripped onto her naked textile lover with 
an urgency and a helplessness that was absorbing her. She 
loved the feel and scent of Emerald's body. So warm. So 
smooth. Those little freckles. Those soft hairs on her arms and 
legs. Those sensuous parted lips. She gasped and grunted, 
unaware of Emerald's own gasps and grunts as she 
surrendered herself to this new passion.

A passion further heightened when smoothly and so naturally, 
Emerald and she shifted position, and she found her eyes 
gazing at another set of lips, while beneath her a mouth and 
tongue and teeth were kissing and licking and nibbling her own 
vaginal lips, sending yet more electric signals of passion and 
desire along the length of her spine and legs. It seemed so 
natural, after examining the lips of Emerald's vagina with her 
fingers, to lower her mouth and tongue (after all, they were so 
close) onto those moist parted lips, slightly ragged on the 
inside, so smooth on the outside, folds hidden under folds, and 
then to lick and nibble this vagina whilst her own was being 
licked and nibbled in turn. There was ever such a confusion of 
smells, a melee of which she could not distinguish one from 
another. Or which came from her and which came from 
Emerald. So rich. So strong. So intoxicating. And those smells 
assailing her nose so close to Emerald's vagina were the 
strongest of all. And it was so moist and liquid. What was this 
pale viscous liquid that had moistened those lips? Not just her 
own saliva, she was sure. Perhaps this was what was smelling 
so strong.

And she probed and probed with tongue and fingers, while 
occasionally releasing a spasm of ecstasy from the reciprocal 
probing below. Her own vagina was feeling so tender, so 
sensuous, so vulnerable as Emerald nibbled around its lips, her 
fingers probed almost knuckle deep into the moistness which 
was engulfing them, and her thighs shivered and trembled, and 
her buttocks pushed themselves up without thought against 
Emerald's mouth, just as she could see her lover's crotch push 
up and down against her face. Blood filled her ears and she 
was unable to distinguish her gasps and the occasional cry from 
the rumbling clickety click of the steam train over the 
countryside tracks and the occasional hoot from the steam 
engine. She barely noticed even the roar as the train entered a 
tunnel and all went pitch black and steam flooded the carriage. 
But she noticed the train's emergence as, with a flood of bright 
morning sun, she was once again able to appreciate the folds 
and contours of Emerald's crotch, so damp and sticky and 
burning with such unfamiliar warmth.

So intent was she on her lovemaking, that Beatrice hardly 
noticed the train slow down, the rhythm of the tracks becoming 
steadier and slower, and then come to a full stop at a station. 
She and Emerald continued exploring each other's crotches, 
the tongues slowly transferring their attention up the stomach, 
over the breasts and back to the mouths again, fingers still 
deep in each other's crotches, two, even three fingers, sticky 
and moist inside the welcoming holes, juice easing down the 
vagina and onto the pursed entrances of their anuses. Neither 
girl noticed as a young woman's face peered through the 
compartment window, a broad brimmed hat sheltering her eyes. 
Nor did they notice as the train picked up steam, and with a 
loud hoot, slowly began to pull out of the station. Behind the 
train, the guard lowered his large red flag while the train 
rumbled on.

But the girls did notice as the door to the compartment slid 
open. With a shriek, Beatrice looked up and behind her, almost 
relinquishing her hand from Emerald's crotch, as the woman 
who had peered through the window slid the door close behind 
her. She wore a pink and blue summer dress and was carrying 
a book in one hand while a straw bag was slung over her 
shoulder. She smiled at the girls, and then sat down at the 
opposite side of the compartment from where the two girls 
were, just by the door to the corridor, and continued smiling 
while she straightened herself. She lay her bag by her side and 
placed her hat on top of it. Then, with no comment, she opened 
the book she was carrying and started reading it; seemingly 
more engrossed in fiction than whatever the girls were doing.

"What do we do?" hissed Beatrice, with Emerald on top of her 
and their bosom and faces squeezed close to each other.

"We continue," whispered back Emerald. "She clearly doesn't 
want us to disturb her reading, so why should she want to 
disturb us?"

"But ..." began Beatrice, but too late before Emerald's mouth 
was once again glued to hers. Somehow the fact that there was 
someone else in the same compartment as them gave an extra 
impetus to their lovemaking, even if that someone seemed 
more interested in the works of E. M. Forster than in the girls' 
passion. 

At first this passion was more subdued, fingers stroking the 
outer surface and not exploring deeper, kisses more limited in 
scope, and tongues kept inside the lips. But gradually, as the 
young woman continued reading, occasionally crossing or 
uncrossing her legs, and more frequently turning a page of her 
book, the two girls returned to a degree of passion which was if 
anything more than that they'd experienced before. Even as 
they erupted in cries and shrieks, the young woman seemed 
barely to raise her eyes to see what was happening.

Even when Beatrice felt a sharp fingernail slide into her anus, 
lubricated by saliva and vaginal juices, there was no reaction 
from the young woman. Unless the slight adjustment of her skirt 
were some kind of a response. Beatrice had never had a finger 
in her anus before. It felt strange. Quite unnatural. And slightly 
sore. But also, as the finger pushed deeper into her, the very 
tightness of the aperture gave her a spasm of pleasure she'd 
never expected. Beatrice didn't feel like reciprocating, and she 
wasn't sure that her reluctance was evidence of politeness or 
lack of consideration. The leather of the seat beneath her was 
hot and sticky and clammy, while Emerald's body above her 
was slippery and liquid and warm and firm. 

And then the door to the compartment slid open again.

"Tickets please!" announced the guard.

With a start, the two girls sat up and hurriedly searched for their 
train tickets in their bags. The guard stood at the door, an 
impassive expression not betraying at all what he might think of 
the sight of two naked young girls, wearing only shoes and 
socks, with sweat pouring down their faces, hair damp and 
unkempt from the selfsame sweat, a glossy shininess on their 
chests, stomachs and crotches, and rather foolish faces. He 
took the girls' proffered tickets, clipped them and handed them 
back with only a smile and a "Thank you."

The young woman took rather longer than the girls to find her 
ticket, which eventually after rummaging in her bag, she located 
in a side pocket of her dress. This was the only evidence that 
either of the girls had that the woman might have been at all 
flustered by their lovemaking. He clipped the ticket, stood by the 
door and bade the compartment farewell with a "Take care!" 
and was gone.

However, this coitus interruptus was sufficient to halt the girls' 
lovemaking. Emerald put back on her underwear, skirt and 
blouse, while Beatrice sat opposite looking at her with a sad 
and slightly desolate expression. When Emerald settled down 
again, once more the innocent schoolgirl, Beatrice smiled.

"Shall we write to each other?"

"Write?" wondered Emerald.

"Yes. Letters."

"Of course. Of course." Replied Emerald, who had no such 
intention of doing so. "We must exchange addresses."

And so while Emerald wrote down the fictitious address of one 
of the girls from Blessington High who featured in her 
magazine, she thought all the while of how she would relate her 
adventures of having sex on her way back by train to a fresh 
term at school. It certainly beat Edith's story of how she lost her 
virginity. Or even Belinda's story of how she'd made love to the 
maid-servant. And it really didn't need much embellishment 
either.

She smiled at Beatrice as she shyly handed over the neatly 
handwritten address of her school. Such a sweet girl! thought 
Emerald. Too weird though to have as a long-term prospect. 
This naturism thing was fun, but it wouldn't help a girl find a 
good match or a secure future. And she was even now 
rehearsing in her mind all those little details of her story which 
would make it so much more exciting when she'd tell her 
friends. And then the three of them would collapse together on 
the one bed, a mass of flesh and passion, fired up by her story 
of her making love while naked on the train.


======== The End ============



Reflections on "Naked on the Train"
===================================

In Great Britain, there is a practice of sending one's children to what 
are called 'public schools', if one can afford it. In some countries, this 
term is used to describe schools run by the state, but in fact a public 
school in Great Britain can be very exclusive. It isn't only affordability 
that lets some students in, and keeps some out. Many are restricted to 
particular religions or particular philosophies of education. Some like 
Dartington Girls' School in Devon are famously liberal.

So, here is a story of two girls going back to their very different public 
schools. One is a normal public school, whereas the other is a Naturist 
school, ran on naturist principles. That is, of course, a fantasy. As far 
as I know, naturism has never been nearly as institutionalised as that. 
But this gives the opportunity to imagine what it would be like for two 
girls from quite different backgrounds coming together and (because 
of the nature of this kind of fiction) having sex together.

This is a classic tale of first love, but one where the innocent and 
inexperienced party is actually the one who is the most provocatively 
unattired. It is, of course, a nonsensical fantasy, made all the more 
absurd by featuring public nudity in a 1950s England where two girls 
can make love together on a train compartment shared by another 
passenger. Although there are well-accredited stories of people having 
sex in such places, it is generally not a common sight. But it makes a 
pleasant erotic fantasy.

Why lesbian love? Well, public schools have been famous as places of 
rampant adolescent homosexuality, particularly between men. Much 
of the ethos of these single sex institutions unintentionally encourages 
young girls and boys to experiment with each other, as members of 
the opposite sex are simply not available. This was particularly so in 
the 1950s where growing liberal views were clashing against more 
traditional ones. So it seems quite natural to imagine a sapphic 
encounter in these circumstances. 

Even if it is one where like many young people, Emerald is more 
interested in scoring a success than in starting a relationship.







For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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