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From: Geff Oh <geffo3@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Pam NIS Background (nosex)
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Date: Thu, 20 Jan 2005 03:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Pam_01.zip" begin>


 - <zipped file 'Pam_01Background.txt'>
Pamela, eagerly NIS

Chapter 1. Background.


Me

Hi, y'all.  I'm Pam.  Pamela Fionda.  

I finished seventh grade last spring.  It was a real struggle getting 
them to let me, but I took placement tests the district gives students 
who move in.  As I expected, but they were surprised, I fit in the 
advanced placement track of all the highschool freshman classes.  I'm 
skipping eighth grade.  I was the youngest in the class.  My birthday 
just hit the cutoff date in the first week of September.  Now I'll be the 
youngest by more than a year.  That won't hurt because I don't look that 
young.  It will hurt a little to leave all my friends behind in middle 
school.  I made new ones this summer, but very few go to my highschool.

I'll be going to Lincoln High.  It's in walking distance like most of the 
other places I hang out.  The other schools in town are McKinley and 
Kennedy.  Is it just me or is there a morbid theme in these assassinated 
presidents?  There's also the Catholic highschool - Bleeding Heart.  None 
of them are very big - about 500 students each.

Readers who haven't seen me are just waiting for the physical 
description.  I know I would be.  Okay, here it is.  I'm cute.  No - more 
than cute.  My face is drop-dead knockout gorgeous.  I'm big.  Well, big 
in most places but the opposite of fat.  I think the first growth spurt 
is over.  It left me six feet tall with broad shoulders, a wide chest, a 
long tiny waist, a cute tight bubble butt and looong arms and legs.  All 
of that is packed with muscles.  Sounds more extreme than ideal, doesn't 
it.  Well, I really like showing it off - most of it, that is.

My growth spurt needs two parts.  The first one made me tall and strong.  
The second one has just started - I hope.  My boobs are high, wide and 
round.  They cover my whole big chest with good sized aureoles and 
responsive nipples.  They feel soft, but so does the rest of my skin.  
They just don't stick out very far.  Fried eggs stick out more.  Maybe, 
with the built-up swimming pects under there, they would fill an A cup.  
Jiggle?  Not even when I jump and land hard.

The public decency law finally got changed in this state - about three 
years late.  It went into effect at the end of last school year.  That's 
the last time I wore a stitch.  I have a light overall tan to prove it.  
Summer's hot here and I don't stay at home.

I'm into sports as much as into school studies.  You'll notice that all 
the activities I'm good at need quickness.  That's paramount in karate 
and my quickness makes simple moves effective.  Volleyball and basketball 
in school need quickness more than speed.  At soccer, I'm the goalkeeper 
- just the spot for a tall, quick player.  My best swimming events are 
sprints.  I get that stuff and go with my strength.

I'm a lifeguard.  I'd be too young normally, but with this new pool 
complex they needed more guards than they had.  The Parks department was 
desperate and took anyone who could pass the test.  They took me ahead of 
older students, even boys.  Is that because I could get 280 pounds of 
man-shaped blubber out of the pool or because I did it naked?  In any 
case, they assign me to the pool used mostly by teens.

The nakedness isn't that embarrassing.  It feels great and the attention 
is a lot of fun.  Just where is the line between extrovert and 
exhibitionist?  There were only a few times I felt uneasy.  One was the 
first time I wore a tampon to the pool.  You know how it is.  I wear one 
of those for a few days every month.  When I first got my period, I 
couldn't get the tampon in and couldn't do lots of stuff with just a pad.  
I got the doctor to cut me open.  It was a hurt I'd have to face someday 
and was really worth it so I could keep up with all my sports any day of 
the month.  The uneasiness came when the tampon strings showed.  That 
lifeguard perch gives everyone an eyelevel view right into my pussy.  I 
don't try to hold my legs closed - not worth the effort.  I started to 
get second thoughts when the snickering started.

"What happens if I pull your string?" asked a boy who thought he was 
being smart.

I couldn't let him get to me.  The lifeguard is supposed to be in charge.

"You get a handful of stinky red crap.  Want some?" I answered and spread 
my legs really wide, offering it to him.  The horrified look on all the 
boys ended that.


Mom

I live with my single Mom in our own house in a fine but not fancy 
neighborhood.  We get along with all the neighbors now, but it wasn't 
always so.  Mom took a lot of flack, mostly over me with her never being 
married.  We moved a few times, won some people over and ignored the 
rest.

Fionda is Mom's maiden name - Caroline Fionda.  She stayed home to care 
for me until I started school, then got a part time job.  When I could 
take care of myself, she got a great job.  Now at 45, she's the maitre d' 
and assistant manager at the fanciest downtown restaurant.  She puts her 
knockout figure in a fancy evening gown five days a week from four to 
midnight.  I don't see her on school days when she works.  She works 
weekend evenings, so we're together those days, her evenings off and in 
the summer, but almost never on holidays.  We're really close because we 
work at being close when we can.  We talk a lot about everything and we 
do things together.  Here's the routine of our days this summer

I got up early, ate a little, quick breakfast and got to the pool 
complex.  The next two hours were swim team training - laps, entry dives, 
flip turns and more laps at sprint pace.  We have a great coach and he's 
paying more attention to me since summer began.  Do you think it's that 
I'm stronger and faster or that I'm naked?

After that, I went back home for a bigger breakfast with Mom.  We took an 
early karate class.  It's pretty advanced.  Our belts are black, and 
Mom's a third degree.  We both do the class naked.  Guys think it might 
be nice to work with us at first, you know, to check us out.  They don't 
often come back for seconds after being partnered with either of us for 
one class.  The master has to make them work with us so we don't get 
stuck with each other too often.  It's fun when we work together, but we 
don't learn as much as when there's variety.  Mom's still doing morning 
karate, but I have to drop it to make time for sports in school.  I'll be 
lucky to get there on Saturdays.

We worked out together at the health club after karate.  We don't need 
much warmup or aerobic work, so we did an hour with weights.  Presses, 
curls, thrusts, crunches and all that have worked.  I'm packed with 
muscles.  So's Mom, but she has softer, thicker skin over them.  Mine 
show and ripple.  My abs are really spectacular all the way down to my 
mound.   I think some guys don't like that look or that I can bench press 
them.  From all the stares I get, there are a lot of guys who do like it.  
They're the ones who interest me.

We had some time for whatever before lunch - shopping, errands, whatever.  
Electrolysis - my pussy is permanently bald and ready for the Program.  
Lunch was the last I saw of Mom on her work days.  After lunch I went to 
work back at the pool complex.  I did an afternoon and evening shift 
guarding with a supper break in between.  I mostly sat there.  It's not 
strenuous until someone needs a rescue.


Dad

What's Dad's name?  Don't know.  That's an occupational hazard in Mom's 
former profession.  It could be any of six guys, but we only know two of 
their names.  There was a batch of pills made with no estrogen at all.  
That company got sued and pays a lot of child support, including mine.  
The condom was either bad or put on wrong, too.  I am sooo glad we don't 
have to worry about those anymore.  The one guy we all hope is my Dad 
pays, too.  He paid so Mom wouldn't have to work while she raised me.  
There's some resemblance, so we really think he's the guy and he likes 
the idea.  He likes me and I make him proud.  His wife knows and accepts 
me, but her family would be hurt by a scandal.  I won't be outing them in 
this journal.

Dad and Wife, as I'll call them, took me to supper last Monday for Labor 
Day.  Mom had an extra long day, so she was agreeable.  I dressed up in 
shiny, strappy sandals instead of my usual sneakers and took a patent 
leather clutch purse instead of the usual little pack around my waist.  
The big deal was makeup.  Not the dab of cover-up on some zit - my eyes.  
That's all the makeup I need - eye liner, very light mascara and light 
shadow.  Emphasis on the `light.'  It's just enough to change me from 
gorgeous to spectacular.

They don't pick me up at home in front of the neighbors or even take me 
anywhere in this town.  The limo picked me up.  The old chauffeur stared 
at me as I walked and got a great look as I stepped into the car.  He 
fumbled with the door.  He noticed when I pulled a little towel from one 
compartment of my purse and put it down to sit on.  I noticed how much 
trouble he had in his pants when he tried to sit.  He fumbled with the 
keys starting the car, fumbled with the gearshift and almost ran us into 
the neighbor's mailbox.  Nudity has its hazards.  After he calmed down 
and got on the road, he adjusted the mirror for a better view of me in 
the back seat.

Dad and Wife were waiting outside the general aviation terminal at the 
airport - where the private planes are.  I've done this enough to know to 
wait.  The chauffeur came around and opened the door, staring all the 
time I was climbing out.  I stood behind the door with its heavily tinted 
window so all Dad and Wife could see was my face.

"Oh! So beautiful!" Wife gasped.

See where I get the idea that I'm cute?  My face lit up with a bright red 
blush.  Dad's face lit up, too, with a smile.  Then I stepped from behind 
the car door.  Wife didn't quite stifle the scream by putting her hand 
over her mouth.  Dad's jaw dropped.  The chauffer rolled his eyes.  That 
was old stuff to him by then.  He just closed the door and left.  I was 
facing those two adults in the altogether with a blush running down to my 
navel and both nipples out as stiff as they can get.  That's what happens 
when I'm embarrassed.  Nudity and teasing don't get that from me, but 
compliments do.

"Oh, dear," Wife finally managed.  "Are you really one of those nudes?"

"Yes, ma'am.  I haven't worn anything since the law changed," I answered 
trying to keep from rolling my eyes.

"Didn't you see her in that news report?" Dad tried to remind her.  "Oh.  
Of course not.  That's when you were in New York.  It was about the new 
pools and all the lifeguards.  Pam was featured for making the most 
rescues that month.  The nudity was incidental, but they played it up.  
They wondered how many of the rescued were really in distress."

That didn't help the blushing any, so I asked, "Can we please just go?" 

Dad waved to the pilots as we went through the terminal.  They were 
already through security, so they went to the plane and got started with 
pilot stuff.  Yes, there's security in the general aviation terminal.  
Like in the airline terminals, it's pretty good and we hardly see it.  
Just after I walked through, this uniformed guy came out and stopped me.  
Everyone wondered how I could hide anything dangerous.  He asked to see 
my shoes.  Of course.  The shoes.  The only things I have on have to be 
what's dangerous.

Dad started to throw his influence around, but I didn't think it would do 
any good.  I didn't need his help either.  I kissed Dad on the cheek and 
whispered that it was okay.  That left me with my back to the security 
guy.  I bent over at the waist and unbuckled one shoe.  That guy got a 
real eyeful of my ass and bald labia from the back.  When I stood up, 
Wife was looking at me horrified.  Dad was scowling at the security dude.  
I turned and handed him that shoe.  I put the other foot on the arm of a 
nearby chair.  That spread me wide open and gave him a view from the 
front.  He checked the shoes very briefly.  That's what pissed Dad off - 
it was just too obvious.  I gave the security guy another round of the 
same show when I put the shoes back on.  Meanwhile, Dad talked to the 
security manager.  The guy's eyes went wide when we all heard the word 
`unprofessional' from the office.

Dad had arranged a small plane this time.  There were three of us in a 
plane with room for four.  I pulled out the little towel to sit on again.  
Wife noticed and smiled at how thoughtful I am.  Hey, that wasn't my 
first day naked.  The jet plane is pleasantly quiet, so we had a good 
conversation.  I told about my seventh grade and summer.  I asked them 
about their interests.  I got clues about his from the business pages of 
the newspaper.  The society pages tell about hers.  I did a little 
reading in library books and on the web over the weekend so I could keep 
up a good conversation.  They were impressed.  That's the stuff that 
gives them pride and makes them like me.

The flight to a nearby city took almost an hour, then a little limo ride 
took us to the restaurant.  This is one of those well run places like 
Mom's.  The maitre d' greeted Dad by name and showed us right to the 
table.  I went to pull the little towel from my purse again, but the 
maitre d' beat me to it.  He put his towel in my chair.

"Oh," I was a little surprised.  "Thank you so much."

"I hope you're not offended, ma'am," he said.

"Oh, no.  I was about to use my own," I said showing him my towel.  "Not 
offended and way flattered at being called ma'am."

I made a note to ask Mom whether she gave that service.

Dad suggested steaks.  Wife and I agreed, so he ordered filet mignon 
around and a bottle of red wine.  While Dad was checking the cork and 
first sip of the wine, the waiter asked if we would all be having some.  
Dad let him off the hook with, "I'll pour, thank you."  There were 
already wine glasses at all the places.  There was suddenly wine in mine.

That one glass of wine lasted me all evening.  It worked to loosen me and 
I talked more about being naked.  I also tried to explain the Program as 
I understood it.  Wife needed three glasses of wine and the conversation 
took all of dinner and the trip home before she start accepting the 
ideas.  She understood them.  Accepting them was another matter.  By the 
time we took our separate limos, we were all on very good terms with it.  
We separated with hugs and kisses around.


The Program

That's almost all the background.  The active day with a lot of working 
out explains the extreme body.  Am I perfect?  Not quite.  From this side 
of the eyes, I see three problems.  First, I'm conceited.  I really do 
think I'm great and gonna get better.  The other problems will be fixed.

One I thought would be easy to fix is that I'm a virgin.  Highschool boys 
would hit on me at pool closing time.  I am naked after all.  They were a 
little too careful.  They found out how old I'm not and word got around.  
They looked, but didn't touch me.  I touch me.  I'm ready to be touched 
more and I'm ready to not be a virgin.  All the responses are there.  My 
body does all the stuff the books and Mom tell about.  And. I. Like. It.

The last problem is this damned flat chest.  The first guy I tried to 
date this summer got to second base.  He complimented me on my nipples 
and their response, but wondered what they're connected to.  He figured 
out the too-young thing from that and spread the word.  Damn these flat 
boobs.

Mom has a couple of dozen of those evening gowns, each with its own way 
to show off her 40D cleavage.  I tried one on.  It needs boobs to stretch 
it tight.  It fell off.  "Maybe someday," I sighed.  She caught me.

"Like mother, like daughter," she said.  "I tried on my mother's stuff 
when I was your age.  Had that figure then, too.  I got these when I was 
14, so you might not have to wait too long."

The mother to daughter inheritance worked for being tall and strong.  
Maybe it will for the boobs, too.  Her point is that, since her boobs are 
real, there's hope for me.  

I mentioned the Program above.  I've read and heard a lot about how it 
goes in other states.  Besides Mom, my idols are Karen Wagner and Beth 
Finch.  I want the Program to mean as much to me as it did to them, at 
least what they told of it.

That's the point of this journal - telling my story like they did.  I'm 
starting this section on me and my background Sunday evening.  School 
starts tomorrow.  A month ago, we got the pamphlet.  You know the one 
with the naked couple on the cover and all the rules inside.  Mom and I 
both like the idea.  She noticed how I react to comments about my nudity 
- with grace and poise when they're negative, with pleasant joy when 
they're positive and with those blushes when they're compliments.  She 
thinks that's just what the other students should see.  She suggested I 
volunteer for the first group.  I've been thinking about what sort of 
example to set ever since.

I do have a unique thought about the Program.  It came across at first 
like a school course - vocational training for Mom's old profession.  In 
the Program, I'm sure to lose that ol' virginity.  Can't wait.  Mom and 
I both signed the volunteer forms.  We got the doctor to fill in my shot 
records. Highschool provides birth control shots, so I don't need to see 
the doctor that often anymore.

I took the forms in before lunch one day last week.  Mr. Carlson, the 
principal, knows me from the grade-skipping flap.  He's okay with it, but 
had to be in the middle of those who weren't.  I think he got to like me 
and he was surely happy to see me naked.  While the secretary was 
checking over the forms, he came out of his office for a chat ... and a 
good look.

"Good morning, Mr. Carlson," I greeted him cheerfully.

"I know you're anxious to start here, Pam, but that's not until Monday.  
What's up?" he asked.

"Oh, just turning in these forms for the program, sir.  Volunteering," I 
answered.  "What are my chances for the first week?"

"We'll pick some people on Friday.  The first few weeks will be all 
volunteers.  Your chances are fairly good sometime in September," he 
said.

"I really like being naked, sir.  Did it all summer, even at work.  I saw 
you at the pool and saw you looking at me.  Just think.  If I can work 
nude like that, wouldn't I be a great example in the first week of the 
Program?" I suggested.

Actually there were very few others nude around the pool - only one other 
girl lifeguard.  That was even after we tricked some, dared others, 
offered to let them put sunscreen on me and even rigged some to lose 
bets.  A few more girls and some boys got out of their suits that way, 
but only for a day.  There were several women and girl swimmers and two 
noticeable boys who were naked regularly.  We few nudes really stood out.  
In my case, sat out perched on a high chair overlooking the pool.  They 
gave me the chair at the shallow end.  A big gang of guys would stand in 
the water and gawk at the show.  The view was great in both directions.  
Those boys hang their shorts really low.  Maybe the Program will help 
them feel comfortable swimming naked by next summer.

I heard some of their comments.  The compliments made me blush.  Some of 
the boys noticed my nipples pop out when I blush, so they poured on the 
praise.  Others got rude about what they wanted to do with me, where they 
wanted to stick things and how they wanted me to suck them.  That 
bothered me, but not the way you'd think.  It made those thoughts run in 
my imagination and fluids run in my pussy.  It took some effort to stay 
focused on my water, watch all those swimmers and keep my hands out from 
between my legs.  The point is that I could function in the nude with all 
that going on.

Mr. Carlson and I talked some more about the sort of example that would 
help the Program work well.  I may have convinced him that my sort of 
enthusiasm would be a great start.

"You know I'll just be naked anyway," I concluded holding my arms a 
little away from my sides.

"Be a little careful.  There's a catch," he warned.  "The Program rules 
say that a participant has to strip at the start of participation.  We've 
heard that means the participant has to start dressed.  We're afraid that 
if you're already naked, your week won't count.  Be sure to wear 
something at least to start Monday.  You won't need to keep it on after 
the participants strip, but you'd need it again the next Monday if that's 
when you're chosen.

"I can't promise anything, Pam, but it might give you a head start.  All 
the first week participants will be assigned to write a journal about 
themselves and about their week.  You might want to get started on it.  
Put down what you think your goals for the week are, then we'll see how 
well they're met."

"Ooh.  I already know two goals.  Mostly I gotta lose my virginity.  No 
more missing out or being told I'm too young.  Do you think the Program 
has anything for my other goal - to get my boobs to grow?" my answer kind 
of shocked Mr. Carlson.

"Time will take care of your figure, Pam.  What does your Mom think of 
that first goal?"

"She remembers her teens with the raging hormones, sex going on all 
around her and being told she was too young.  She tells me about all 
those so I'll know she understands.  All she says about me doing it is 
`The first time can be great or horrible, depending mostly on your own 
attitude.  Hope you enjoy it.'  I think I have a great attitude - just 
what I need for the Program."

Just then a beautiful nude woman in her twenties strolled into the 
office.  She's almost as tall as I am, in great shape and almost as 
strong looking as Mom.  She and Principal Carlson greeted each other, 
then she looked me up and down.  She had a look like she was salivating 
over me.

I gave the principal a quizzical look, then he introduced, "Donna, this 
is Pam, our youngest student.  Coach Reeves does PE, varsity volleyball, 
JV basketball and soccer."

"Oh, yeah.  The grade skipper," she said, still looking hard at my body.  
"What's your sport?"

"Umm, I played volleyball, basketball and soccer in seventh grade, all on 
the A team.  I also do karate and I'm on the parks department swim team.  
To answer your real question, ma'am, I will be trying out for volleyball 
on Monday," I told her, then to the principal, "Sorry to cause you more 
trouble.  When I make the team, you'll have to change my schedule."

At this school, sports count as PE and the last hour PE class is reserved 
for team practices.  Anyone who makes a team is scheduled for that hour 
and has to change if it wasn't planned.  New freshmen can plan for 
athletic PE if they're recommended by eighth grade coaches.  I didn't 
have that chance.

"Hmm.  Let's see," mused Coach Reeves, still with the looking.  
"Volleyball.  Six feet tall.  Strong, eager, confident, and Six. 
Feet. Tall.  How about putting her in athletics right now.  She has my 
recommendation.  If she didn't learn the eighth grade stuff, we'll teach 
her."

I totally blushed at that.  I got red from my face to my navel and my 
nipples stiffened again.  They all noticed.  The principal and secretary 
looked sympathetic.  Coach Reeves salivated some more.

"Okay, Donna.  For you.  Pam, stop in here first thing Monday.  Program 
or not, you'll get a new schedule.  Throw away the one we mailed," the 
principal is decisive.

He nodded to the secretary.  She scurried off to file the forms and work 
on my schedule.

"Thank you, sir.  Thank you, Coach Reeves," I said.  That's the real me.  
The sucking up is natural.

"Are you ready to talk about uniforms, coach?" the principal asked as I 
went bouncing out.

"Yes, sir.  And model our idea," she held out some pieces of cloth - very 
small pieces of cloth.


I just finished trying on some clothes for tomorrow, just to cover that 
catch.  Damned growth spurt.  Nothing fits.  Blouses and shirts won't go 
around my shoulders.  Panty waistbands won't stretch over my hips.  I 
found one spandex skirt that will go around me, but it comes out micro-
mini length and stretched enough to see through.  I would so rather be 
naked.

I still needed help with a top.  I took the laundry basket full of 
everything else down to Mom.  The "I have nothing to wear" is literal 
this time.  Mom was sympathetic as always and we talked about where I 
wanted to donate the discards.

"If you're desperate enough to wear that skirt, I might have somethin' 
for you," she offered after the chance to think.

She got this huge tank top.  She says it's expendable because it's too 
big for her.  At least her boobs hold it on.  If I let one strap fall 
down my arm, the other one stays up, but ...

"Maybe a little pin right here will keep that nipple covered," Mom 
suggested.

It worked, so I have something to strip off tomorrow.  It'll be my 
biggest day yet.  I start highschool a year early; I turn 14 and am 
finally legal; and, oh I hope, I start the Program.

Oh, yeah - the goals.  Here's what I want to get out of the first week:

First and most important, I must lose my virginity.
Then I'll have lots of sex.
I want to impress the teachers and earn their respect as a good student.
I will grope and be groped.
I want to make the volleyball team by playing well, not by being tall.
I want to learn lots of ways of doing sexy things.
I will keep up swim team as I did all summer.
I want the reputation as the school slut for it with lots of people.
I will be nice to everyone and still be popular.
Did I mention a lot of sex?
I want to set a healthy example for Program participants to follow.
That means having lots of sex, doesn't it?

Looks like the Naked in School Program and sex are big parts of my goals.  
Hey, it is my vocational training, after all.



------------------------------

Comments to geffo3@yahoo.com

Thanks, Geffo
 - <end of zipped file 'Pam_01Background.txt'>
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