Kristen Chapter #8: Full-Blooded

Submitting your vote...
Rating: 4.5 of 5. 8 vote(s).
Click the rating bar to rate this item.
Published on 23.02.06 11:21 Age: 18 yrs

Letters : 15569 Words : 2726

By: Nemo

Kristen learns a surprising news about her past !

Kristen glanced back at the stairs leading up to her room. “I—I really need to go put something on,” she said.

“Sit down, silly,” her father said. “You’re not showing us anything we haven’t seen before.”

Kristen reddened. “I can’t sit at the kitchen table with no clothes on,” she said. “It—it’s indecent!”

Her mother gasped. Her parents frowned and exchanged a troubled look. “I think we might have overdone it,” her father said. Her mother nodded grimly.

“Kristen,” her mother said, her voice husky with some emotion that she was clearly straining to master, “you are perfectly decent, whether you have clothes on or not. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you would think otherwise.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I suppose it’s our fault.”

Kristen’s head was spinning. There was something puzzling going on here. She struggled to sort it out, but only became more confused. “You—you’re right, of course,” she stammered at last, “Nudity isn’t indecent, but I, uh… I really would feel a lot more comfortable right now if I put something on.”

Kristen’s mother took her seat at the kitchen table with a heavy sigh. She fixed Kristen with a steady and solemn gaze. “Well, I’m sure you know what’s best, dear. I just thought that since you’re going to be working as a lifeguard at Black Knife Beach, you’re going to have to get used to being nude sometime. I don’t see how you’re going to get used to it if you keep putting clothes on.” Kristen’s father nodded soberly.

Kristen took one more quick glance back at the stairs. With a sigh of resignation, she lowered herself into the kitchen chair.

Her mother smiled sweetly. “There’s no reason for you to wear anything inside the house, I think. Maybe you should have a robe to put on if we have company, but I really don’t think any of our friends would object if you just stayed nude. You would really only need the robe to pay the paper boy or accept a pizza delivery or something.”

Kristen’s father scowled and said, “Well, I think you should cover up whenever you have a boyfriend come over. Boys… well, they just tend to read a little too much into the fact that a girl is naked.”

“Oh, you should talk!” Kristen’s mother retorted sharply.

“Well, I just happen to know something about how the male mind works, and I…” He shook his head and shrugged. “Naturally, it’s your decision, Kristen. Use your own judgment. I’m just, uh, trying to offer some fatherly advice.”

Her mother smiled her approval. “You can go nude in the back yard so long as you stay on this side of the rose bushes. None of the neighbors can see into the yard up that close to the house. Actually, you know—I can ask the Johnsons—I don’t think any of our neighbors will care whether you’re wearing clothes in your own yard.” She paused and thought for a moment, then continued, “Yes, stay on this side of the rose bushes for the time being, and I’ll check with the Johnsons. I’m sure there won’t be any problem using the whole back yard.”

Kristen sat in stunned silence. Here she was, sitting stark naked at the kitchen table while her fully-clothed parents cheerfully plotted out a clothing-free existence for her. They acted as if it were normal that friends and neighbors would see her naked. She felt as if she were dreaming.

“This will be a big help when you have to get undressed at work, Kristen. You’ll see.” Her mother smiled a beatific smile, and a faraway expression came into her eyes. “I wish I had been able to go nude at home when I was your age. The first time I went to Black Knife Beach, I was literally shaking in my boots.”

Kristen’s jaw dropped, and a faint whimper rose from somewhere deep inside her. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t find any words to say. Her mother seemed not to notice Kristen’s stunned reaction.

“A couple of my girl friends from school had been there a few times before. I must have driven them crazy asking questions about it. It was a perfectly natural young woman’s curiosity. They got tired of answering my questions, and told me that the only way to find out about the beach was to join them the next time they went. I really wanted to go—I felt so excited just thinking about it—but I was almost sick with embarrassment when I thought about taking my own clothes off. Finally, after a lot of argument, I agreed to go only on the condition that I wouldn’t have to get undressed if I didn’t want to. This was years before they made nudity mandatory.

“We planned to spend the whole day at the beach. I packed a picnic lunch for all three of us. My heart was pounding when we got down to the beach. Everywhere I looked were hundreds of people of all ages, shapes and sizes.Except for me and my friends, everybody was totally nude. I didn’t see a single stitch of clothing on anybody. People were acting just like it was any other beach, walking, running, talking with friends, laughing.

“I felt as if I were the only person who noticed that everyone was naked. I was standing there with my mouth open, and my friends were totally oblivious. We found a good location, and they stretched out the beach blanket. I know I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was… with people all around us, my friends just took off all their clothes. They didn’t show a hint of embarrassment, even as they took off their underwear. I was flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted,” Kristen choked. “Good word.”

Her mother responded with a winsome little smile. “Thanks,” she said. “My friends—well, you know them—they’re my friends Anne and Melody. They put their clothes in their beach bags and started smearing on the suntan lotion. They helped each other get the hard-to-reach spots on their backs. They were giggling and having a good time. I was trying to take off my regular beach cover-up—I had my swimsuit on underneath, and I had no intention of taking it off—and I was dying of embarrassment. I couldn’t understand it.

“Finally I got down to my swimsuit and sat down on our blanket. Anne and Melody teased me a little and tried to talk me into taking off my suit, but they gave up after a couple minutes. We settled into a fairly normal, pleasant day at the beach. They were good friends of mine, and the fact that they were so relaxed helped me to relax.

“There were people walking past our blanket all the time, and sometimes people on neighboring blankets would strike up a brief conversation with one of us. The girls introduced me to some of their friends from the beach. Watching their eyes, I could see that everyone noticed my swimsuit, but nobody said anything about it. Since everybody was naked, after a while the nudity didn’t seem so strange—I didn’t really notice it anymore. But I was feeling more and more self-conscious about my swimsuit. Being the only person on the beach with clothes on, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

“’You win,’ I told my friends. I said I was going to take my suit off. They gave me a little round of applause, and I felt embarrassed again. People from the nearby blankets heard, and turned to watch. While I was taking the suit off, I was afraid I was going to faint, but as soon as I had it off, I didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed. I thought I was going to be hit by a bolt of lightning, and it didn’t come.”

Kristen gasped and nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” she breathed.

Both her parents beamed. Her mother continued, “Anne and Melody helped me with my suntan lotion. The sun felt wonderful. I felt a little self-conscious for a while, but after about an hour I had virtually forgotten that I was nude. I even walked down the beach and bought some ice cream for the three of us from a guy who had set up a little shop on the beach. I was shaking a little, but… no lightning bolt!”

Kristen smiled feebly.

“The girls went down for a quick dip before lunch, and I stayed behind and started to spread out our picnic lunch,” her mother continued. “I had put my own sandwich on a paper plate and set it down on the blanket when this great big foot came down and stomped right in the middle of it.”

“I didn’t ‘stomp’ on it!” her father interjected. “It was an accident. I just wasn’t watching where I was walking.”

“Wait a second!” Kristen shouted. In her family, the sandwich story was famous—how her parents had met at the beach when her father stepped on her mother’s picnic sandwich. “That was Black Knife Beach? You met on a nude beach?”

“Well, your father wasn’t nude,” her mother responded. “He was dressed in a t-shirt and blue jeans. And those big old high-topped Keds. He didn’t see where he was going because he was too busy admiring the scenery.”

“Daddy!” Kristen exclaimed. “You were a gawker?”

Her father’s face turned beet red. “A gawker? Oh, hell, no!”

Her mother suppressed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say he was a gawker. He was really more of a tourist.”

“I was going to take my clothes off as soon as I found a good spot,” he objected, still red in the face.

Her mother giggled, and said, “I have never seen anybody more embarrassed than your father was when he realized what he had done. He must have been ten times more embarrassed than I had been when I took my swimsuit off. His face was red, and he was falling all over himself trying to apologize. He was very sweet, really. It actually wasn’t that big a deal. I had packed extra sandwiches. I think he was especially embarrassed because he had not just stepped on someone’s sandwich, he had stepped on a naked woman’s sandwich.”

Her father smiled ruefully.

Kristen’s mother continued, “I think he had just about run out of apologies when Anne and Melody returned from their swim. He got wound up again and rattled off another hundred apologies. I kept saying, ‘Forget it, we have plenty,’ and he kept apologizing. Anne and Melody told him it was okay, and he kept apologizing. Finally, mostly to get him to shut up, I said ‘I’ll forgive you on one condition: you sit down and have lunch with us.’”

“Best offer I ever had,” Kristen’s father murmured.

“Your father couldn’t believe his luck,” her mother said. “He had made an embarrassing mistake, and now he was being invited to have lunch with three nude women. He kept thanking me—it was almost as bad as the endless apologies.”

“I’m still thanking you,” her father said softly. There was a big playful smile across his face. Kristen looked at her parents’ faces—they seemed to be aglow with a strange inner light. For some reason, they both seemed ten years younger.

“I don’t think Anne and Melody liked the arrangement,” her mother continued. “As your father sat down on our beach blanket, Melody said, ‘There’s one more condition: no clothes!’ She jumped on him and pinned his arms down. Anne ‘pantsed’ him. For a few seconds there was a violent struggle and I was afraid someone was going to get hurt, but in the end he didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“I thought at first that I might die of embarrassment, and I put up a pretty good fight,” her father said. “But just about everybody on the beach was naked, and it was hard to work up a good head of steam to fight for my clothes.”

Kristen’s mother continued, “Anne and Melody stuffed your father’s clothes into my beach bag, and told him he couldn’t get dressed again until I gave him permission.” She looked fondly at her husband. “I think we both turned a pretty bright shade of red. He nodded and gave me the sweetest little puppy dog look. Surprisingly, we all had a very pleasant lunch. I think even Anne and Melody were happy he had joined us. When we had finished eating, he asked if he could have his clothes back. Anne and Melody shook their heads, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no. He thanked me for his clothes, thanked everyone for a delightful lunch, then put his clothes on and walked away. I felt very sad as I watched him go.” She lightly dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye.

“We both became regulars at Black Knife Beach that summer,” she continued. “I never felt embarrassed after that first day. Your father always let me put his clothes in my beach bag, and at the end of the day he always asked my permission to get dressed.”

Kristen’s father said, “I was seeing your mother for almost three months before the first time I saw her with clothes on. Other guys have fantasies about seeing their dream girl naked. I fantasized about seeing my dream girl wearing a dress.”

Her mother laughed. “We kept seeing each other after the summer was over, and he finally realized his dream of seeing me wearing clothes. I’m not sure how much he liked it—when we got married, we had our honeymoon at a nudist resort.”

“We were both naked for an entire week,” her father added, his smile growing.

“When we came back to our own place,” her mother continued, “we both agreed that clothes were out. Anybody who was offended by the fact that we didn’t wear clothes in the house stopped coming around. I can hardly remember any of our friends who were offended. Whenever we could get away, we visited nudist clubs. We made a lot of nudist friends. Our big Caribbean cruise was clothing-optional.”

“Naturally, we opted not to wear any,” her father added.

“Wait—you mean the cruise nine months before I was born?” Kristen asked.

Both her parents smiled and nodded. Her mother said, “You’re a full-blooded nudist, Kristen. I guess you don’t remember it now, but you used to love running around with all the other little kids at the nudist clubs.”

Kristen’s head was swimming. “What happened? I mean—you’re not nudists now.”

Her mother suddenly looked embarrassed. “Well, we used to have to fight you to get you to put clothes on. As you grew up, we started to worry about how you would adjust to school and the whole clothes-compulsive world. We stopped going to nudist clubs, started wearing clothes at home, and tried to impress you with the importance of wearing clothes.” She let out a long regretful sigh. “If you now think it’s indecent to be naked in your own home, then we seriously overdid it.”



There are no comments yet on this article

Post a comment on this article

Adding an entry to the guestbook
CAPTCHA image for SPAM prevention 

Please note that comments are moderated and need approval to be published.