Hyacinth in the Mountains
a Blanke Schande story
“Hi roomie!” Sarah’s big tanned boobs almost filled the driver’s window, her erect brown nipples practically sticking Jessie in the face and seeming to bounce halfway to Hyacinth, who was curled up in the passenger seat of Jessie’s little Taurus. The shy freshman, who had been half-slid down to the floor out of sight with her arms across her breasts, decided she should get with the Blanke Schande College program now that they were on a BSC campus, and slowly sat up, with a great effort putting her hands to her sides and even bravely squaring her shoulders. Showing modesty was against the rules, though Jessie, her assigned “Buddy” and suite-mate, was very forgiving of Hyacinth’s struggles to overcome her shyness, a shyness she never knew she had until she signed up for this crazy college where female students had to be naked at all times.
Crazy, but it worked. This was a real college with real courses, professors, grades, lectures, though looking around in one of the lecture halls at all the clothed guys interspersed with the naked girls, hair draped over bare shoulders, breasts jiggling almost imperceptibly on their chests as they took notes, here and there bare feet splayed up on the seats in front, even their pussies in full view under their notebooks and laptops -- Hyacinth felt like she was in a dream, some alternate universe invented by a horny guy in which the girls were just eye candy without any thought to how they must feel if they had to be naked 24/7.
Yet the girls were happy, or at least most of them; the ones who couldn’t take the nudity, and who went crying to the counselor’s office with their hands over their breasts and crotch, had dropped out during those first rough weeks. Now in mid-October it seemed that Hyacinth, at least, might make it through. She still longed for clothes, and kept torturing herself by going to that corner of the library where the girls congregated to read romantic novels of women dressed in lavish finery. Most of all she hated “presenting” on request to any guy who asked. But all the other girls were naked too and were in the same boat. Plus, she always had her suite-mates to run to and to hang out with, especially Jessie, who was like a big sister. She loved hanging out at night in the suite watching TV with them, all lying together on Jessie’s bed, a tangle of legs against arms against boobs against butts, feeling the bare female skin all around her. Though none of the four girls had any lesbian tendencies, the feeling was just heavenly, better than the fluffiest blanket. The girls were together in nakedness, a powerful bond forged between all the BSC women which enabled them to go on.
So even though she never met Sarah before, she recognized the extra twinkle in the brown eyes of the big-boobed girl as she smiled at her. Hyacinth couldn’t help but smile back as she straightened up further. Making any motion to cover oneself was against the rules, but Jessie hadn’t said anything while Hyacinth had cowered during that drive through town, this little cowboy town way up in the corner of the state, after that long, long ride up from the balmy beachfront world of the main BSC campus. And of course Sarah wouldn’t report anything either.
“Hi, Hy!” Sarah said, that little joke that Hyacinth had always been used to. “My old roomie tells me you’re into the program, kind of.” She extended her hand, her boobs hanging over Jessie’s lap. Jessie grabbed them as if they were grapefruit that she was considering buying. “I think you’re getting bigger,” she said.
“It’s the mountain air, it makes everything grow,” she said, clasping Hy’s hand, as if oblivious to her breasts being squeezed at the same time, an attitude which was yet another thing that the new girl was having a hard time getting used to. Then she said something even stranger. “In chem lab the guys ask to weigh them before class on that little sliding scale. I’m up to left tit 1.3 kilos, right tit 1.2.”
They were just outside the admissions building on the edge of this little campus. This was after driving along a winding road through a redwood forest, passing the occasional guy and (naked) girl walking up or down. Two guys now passed by, openly gawking at the scene, as Sarah, to keep her balance, stuck her foot out behind her and her toes almost brushed against one of the guys’ backpacks. Jessie and Sarah seemed to pretend the guys weren’t there. Hyacinth was glad it wasn’t her breasts that were being grabbed and discussed!
“Can I get a lift?” And then Jessie giggled as Sarah hopped onto the hood of the car. And turned around on all fours and kept talking. Hyacinth sat there open-mouthed as the car cruised up through a rustic little village of classroom buildings made up in log-cabin style. And then there was the dining hall. Students walking around, and older types who must have been professors. And all the female students naked. . . Was it some kind of admissions policy, or the constant exercise and “erotocize” classes, but why was every female so beautiful in both face and figure? Or maybe it was something else, something in the mind . . .
Hyacinth had finally gotten used to this type of scene at the main BSC campus, but to see it played out in a new setting it was like this was some kind of alternate universe that she had entered through a different door. She had heard the campus was expanding, and sure enough there was a dug out pit and some workmen -- and a naked girl, covered with dust -- carrying stuff in and out.
Jessie, the most sober and sensible of all the BSC females, was bemused as Sarah, a “wild woman”, proceeded to live up to that reputation. “The guys’ dorm is to the right, the girls are on the left, it’s smaller of course, no closets . . . You’re really going to like going up the mountain with Wendy Mac and Hank, they’re so cool, Wendy’s a real superwoman, don’t mind the others, they’re O.K., too bad you can’t go Jess . . .” And all this time as she spoke through the windshield, her big boobs bounced crazily here and there as the Miata trundled slowly over the rocky path. Many of the guys, especially, stopped to look and Hyacinth thought of the sight being presented to them: the butt of a naked girl coming at them on top of a car. “Presented” indeed. Sarah was showing her pussy and butthole, “presenting”, to the whole campus. As for Jessie, she could only smile and try to keep an eye on where she was driving.
. . . .
Maybe it was the crisp, sun-filled mountain air that filled her lungs and made her feel so alive and sights so vivid. Or the soft scented carpet of pine needles that felt so good beneath her feet after stepping on all those stones. But Hyacinth just couldn’t help smiling as she looked up at Wendy Macalester -- or “Mac”, as the girls called her -- dancing up the high vertical rock face on the single rope.
Hank was standing next to her in his big hiking boots and climbing outfit, holding a coiled rope and various climbing implements, and he was smiling too as he watched his girlfriend, naked and unadorned with any equipment, prance up away from them. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he said, clearly in love, and in a way so was Hyacinth, admiring the skillful and strong girl as she bounced off the rocks, her toes grabbing an outcropping here, then splaying the other leg to grab another outcropping there, as if she were upright and dancing happily on moon in one-sixth gravity. The muscles of her tanned shoulders and butt worked quickly and gracefully, moving deceptively fast and pretty soon she was up, up, way up onto the top of the cliff, then she disappeared. A moment later, having undone the grappling hook and tied the rope securely so as to take all of their weight, she reappeared, on hands and knees so all they saw was her head and her taut, brown breasts. Her yell of “come up!” pierced easily through the quiet clean air.
Scott, Ahmad and Tommy came up behind and now all eyes turned to Hyacinth. “You first, Hy,” Scott said, maybe too eagerly. “That way we can spot you.” Hyacinth’s face burned with shame. Yeah, right. And also look up at my crotch. Scott wasn’t really a bad guy, but was a pimply gawking type who was doofy and mostly likely a virgin, probably quite an accomplishment here at Alturas where, it was joked, the girls had a reputation for being horny all the time and wearing the guys out.
Hyacinth felt Scott’s breathing on her breasts as he helped Hyacinth into her belt and cinched it tight around her thin waist. And then up she went. She had never scaled a rock face before, but it turned out not to be so hard. She was used to climbing ropes in her daily body conditioning course, and this was much easier, with part of her weight on her feet. Her soles weren’t as tough as Mac’s but it didn’t hurt at all as she went from one rock to the next. She knew she was being looked at by the guys who were following below. Fortunately when climbing rocks, she was told, looking down is not a good idea.
When she got to the top it was just her and Mac, naked women on top of the cliff and maybe on top of the world. She felt the moment lost when Scott lumbered up and stood behind them. Ahmad, originally from Syria, came up next, a shy guy. Then Hank, who went to stand over next to his girlfriend. And finally Tommy Chen, exhuberant as always, saying, “I love this place. . . Where now, Four O’Clock?”
“Four O’Clock” . . . she had heard some of the guys call Mac that. Odd nickname. The tanned athlete, pretty tall anyway but standing higher than the rest on a rock, pointed to a steep, rocky rise that ended with a grove of pines on top. And off they went.
It was pretty rugged hiking, and then it turned into climbing -- “bouldering” -- as they scaled from one rock to the next. The girls, not carrying any equipment, just their naked selves, climbed crablike on spread arms and legs and found it easier going than the guys, pulling away ahead until Tommy complained. “This isn’t exactly fair, you know.” Which was a good point, so Mac and Hyacinth each strapped a backpack on, one strap just under their breasts and the other across their taut midriffs, leaving the guys with just carrying the ropes and climbing gear.
Hyacinth grunted as she hefted herself up onto another rock. This backpack was heavy, though in her improved physical condition it was no big deal. Up ahead of her Mac seemed impeded not at all. And with the benefit of toes to grab with and no clothes to hinder them the girls seemed to be at an advantage. Except for the shame, that is. As Hyacinth spread her foot out to grab another rock, then spread the other foot the other way to grab another, she was blushingly aware of her pussy opening slightly and the air hitting her inside and also her butthole. She knew Scott was staring right up inside her. And looking at her anus! She just never could get used to the idea, of her most private place being constantly on display in public, always looked at.
As she hefted up again she looked up at Mac, whose crotch was equally widely spread. Even Mac’s pussy lips looked strong, somehow. And her butthole. Mac paused for a moment unexpectedly and Hyacinth found herself right under her. She couldn’t help but look, in a kind of morbid fascination, curious as to what guys would look at. Mac had a little birthmark just above the wrinkled little asterisk, and another a little off to the right and down. Four O’Clock!
The shaming ordeal ended with all six BSC students up on the high land, looking into a grove of trees. Mac knew the way and the rest followed wordlessly. Hyacinth felt the hotness in her face but the blushing went to the back of her mind as she took in their surroundings. The sun was hot on her shoulders and the soft wind was bracing as it brushed her nipples and filled her nostrils, sticks warmed by the sun cracking underneath her bare feet. To the side, she saw the land fall off and a great vista of crags and hills that went on for miles, in the far distance the great grey figure of an immense mountain. She had always thought the ocean and beach were beautiful, but this! She had an odd urge to stand there and raise her arms out and pray, thanking God -- maybe thanking “Gaea”, that Earth Mother Goddess a lot of the BSC females had gotten interested in -- for such beauty. Maybe she would have done that if she was alone, but then she heard the guys’ big hiking boots behind her. Maybe another time.
. . . .
Hyacinth carefully nibbled at the burnt marshmallow, then got her mouth around it and gulped it down, leaving just a gloopy white trace on the stick, and leaned against Wendy Mac for warmth and carefully put her dusty feet a little closer to the fire. She looked at the big tent appreciatively, looking forward to burrowing into one of those sleeping bags they’d brought. It was chilly already, even though sunset was still maybe an hour away. An occasional wind kicked up and stiffened her nipples and raised goosebumps. Of course, they had ended with marshmallows. Hyacinth loved the smell of wood smoke and she looked at the grill where they had cooked ears of corn and hot dogs. If only she had clothes. Being naked she felt so vulnerable out in the elements like this.
On the other side of Mac was Hank, trying to negotiate a triple marshmallow that he had overcooked and was threatening to fall off the stick. As he did this Mac’s toes caressed his hiking boot. These two were always showing some kind of affection. Hyacinth was jealous. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since high school and though there were some fine guys at BSC, she couldn’t imagine getting together with someone, with her being naked all the time. It was almost like trying to run a race when you were already at the finish line, the guy already knew everything about you, at least on the outside.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Mac said, grabbing Hyacinth by the hand. The others looked on as the girls got up and walked over a little hill and out of sight.
It was then that Hyacinth said, “It’s too cold. Let’s go in the tent.”
“Nonsense. Just keep moving, you stay warm that way.” That’s what the Alturas women always said when they were asked about it at the BSC main campus, it had become a cliche. So, hugging her hands, watching where she put her feet, Hyacinth tried to keep up with Mac, who seemed to know no other walking speed except fast.
Mac angled this way and that through a stand of trees and then went through a clearing and then into another stand and then another clearing, with Hyacinth trying to keep up.
It was a little circle of trees, almost perfectly round as if planted that way. And tall thick shrubs. When Mac came to them she turned and waited. Hyacinth felt the late sun on her body and she was warmed by the fast walking, her arms now dropped to her sides as she came up. Mac took her by the hand and they made their way between two of the shrubs, feeling them scratch against their breasts and thighs.
They were in the middle of a circle of stones with a big flat stone in the middle. Out of the sun, the stones were cold against their bare feet. In fact it was impossible to see out of this place, the shrubs were so thick all around them. Above, the trees formed a circular canopy, the only place they could see out was directly above at the deep blue sky, amazingly dark blue even though it was still daytime.
Mac held Hyacinth’s hand as they both stood on the round flat stone. “Welcome to Tami’s Clothes.”
“That’s what they call this place, Tami’s Clothes. I know, it’s like too weird. Nice though, right?”
Hyacinth looked around. “It’s like a . . . like a church. No, more like a . . .”
Mac shrugged. “I’m not exactly spiritual, but there is something about this place.”
“It’s like . . . no one can see us.” She and Mac looked at each other. They both laughed as she said it, thinking the same thing. “Like this is our clothes!”
They calmed down and stood there, hand in hand, for a long time silently.
“Who made this place? It can’t be just . . . natural.”
Mac spoke slowly. “It’s just a story, but supposedly there was this girl named Tami who had to go to college naked all the time. I don’t think it was Blanke Schande, some other place. Except she didn’t sign up for it like we did, they forced her to do it, she didn’t want to be naked. I don’t know how that could happen, but when she got older she created this place so that any girl who had to be naked could come here where she would be covered and no one could see her body.”
Hyacinth smiled. “You’re right, that is just too weird. . . But it is nice to be here. Even if there were guys right out there they couldn’t see us.” She looked up at her athletic friend. “I’m not like you, I go through every day wishing I could have clothes.”
“No, I want clothes too.” The two looked at each other. “That’s right. I think any woman is like that, any normal one. Every day I fight the urge to grab the shirt off the next guy who passes by and put it on.” She was quiet for a moment. “Don’t tell Hank that, O.K.?”
Hyacinth thought for a moment and ventured a guess. “Fighting that urge is what makes you strong.”
Mac looked down at their bare feet, then looked at Hyacinth’s pussy. “I didn’t mean to tell you that. That’s another thing they say about this place. It makes you always tell the truth.”
Hyacinth hesitated for a moment, but it really seemed like the right thing to do. She drew Mac toward her and gave her a full body hug, skin against skin, warmth against the increasingly chilly air. They stood there for a while.
Mac stood apart, still holding Hyacinth’s hand. “Time for the little ritual. You should be initiated. Go like this.”
Hyacinth, curious, watched as Mac stood straight up, face to the sky, arms stretched out and up. “Please God, give me clothes.”
Mac’s eyes were closed as she kept looking up. In another setting Hyacinth would have thought this ridiculous and stupid, but not here. She took the cue, arms out, face up. “Please God, give me clothes.”
Mac continued. “Please God, make the earth and sky my clothes.”
“Please God, make the earth and sky my clothes.”
“It is the prettiest dress I ever wore.”
Hyacinth felt strange saying this. “It is the prettiest dress I ever wore.”
“Thank you God. Amen.”
“Thank you God. Amen.”
Mac put her arms down and took Hyacinth’s hand again. “Corny, right? Some women like to say ‘Gaea’ instead of ‘God’, but that would be just too much for me.”
Hyacinth smiled. “I agree.”
“Let’s go. Gotta keep warm.” And Mac jogged off, shooting through the shrubs. Hyacinth followed her, braving the scraping branches, and they ran back to camp. Hyacinth glanced back at the little grove. Such a silly little initiation, and yet the more she thought about it, she had to concede being pulled back there . . . Now she turned around and huffed mightily and the two naked girls laughed as they turned the trip back into a race.
. . .
It gets dark quickly in the mountains after the sun goes down. By the time the two naked BSC women got back to the camp site it was also getting seriously cold. Hyacinth was glad to see the tent flap open, with pairs of hiking boots set outside. Inside there was a little electric lamp and warmth. And, of course, the guys.
This was a pretty big tent, big enough to hold all of them easily. Yet as Hyacinth took her place sitting cross-legged next to Mac she was intensely aware of the close quarters and the intense stares by Ahmad, Scott and Tommy on her breasts and her pubic hair, clearly visible. She longed to cover herself but that was against the rules. As for Hank, he was laid back as always, holding Mac’s hand as they all sat in a circle.
“How do you like it up here? Rugged, you say?” Ahmad said.
Hyacinth smiled and blushed. He was being polite but still staring at her. She couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his pants and dreaded the prospect of it getting stiffer and more obvious. “Cold,” she said. “But beautiful.”
“Not half as beautiful as you are,” Tommy said. The new girl found herself blushing again. What a sweet thing to say! Yet also an open acknowledgement of her nudity. “Thanks.”
Now an ominous clearing of the throat. And now Scott said, “I’d like you to present for me, please.” He cleared the space in the middle of the tent.
Hyacinth’s heart froze for a second, but then she saw that he was looking at Mac, sitting tall and tanned and strong and so invincible looking. With a poker face Mac shifted over to the middle of the circle, then lay back and spread her legs. Each bare foot extended to the edges of the tent in between Hank and Tommy on one side and Ahmad and Hyacinth on the other. Then she lifted her pelvis seemingly right up into Scott’s face.
Scott bit his lip and was entranced. Mac looked up at him but he kept his eyes fastened on her slightly opened pussy lips. After a long moment he said, “Thank you.”
But Mac didn’t close up; she increased her exposure, bringing her hands around and spreading her lower lips further with her fingers. Now Scott was faced with a wide open vagina, a hole gaping open at him that he fervently longed to put his penis into. Mac undulated her hips and pushed herself even further into Scott’s face, only a foot away now. A faint scent of female whiffed through the tent, and all four penises responded to this natural signal within the cramped quarters of their respective pants. “N - no, that’s enough, th-thank you,” Scott stuttered.
“Have some mercy, Four O’Clock,” Tommy said, only half-jokingly. And with a little smile Mac brought her hips down and retreated cross-legged to where she was sitting before.
This scene puzzled Hyacinth. She was still puzzling when Ahmad said, “I would very much like for you to present to me. Your face is beautiful and I am sure the rest of you is too.” Hyacinth steeled herself. She knew this moment was bound to come. With a little glance at Mac, who gave her a reassuring look, she scooted over to the middle and was ready to lie back when he said, “No, the other way.” Damn! He wanted to see her butthole! Not that he wouldn’t see her pussy too. Feeling awkward in her nakedness, all breasts and butt and bare feet, Hyacinth turned around and got on all fours. This was a well-practiced pose, along with the rest of the standard presenting postures Professor Reddy had the girls go through to begin each “erotocize” class, but Hyacinth always felt awkward doing it “in real life”.
“Spread open, please.” And now she rested her head on its side and reached back to spread her butt cheeks. Though the electric lamp did not provide much light Ahmad would see every wrinkle of her butthole up close, the stretched skin between it and her pussy, every little pussy hair at the bottom of her pussy, the beginnings of her lower lips, then the lips themselves. She prayed there would be no female scent like with Mac. And now she looked back at him, part of the prescribed routine.
Fortunately he didn’t make eye contact, staring at her lower crevice appreciatively. But now came another request. “May I spread your buttocks further?”
The college rules prohibited nonconsensual touching. But this was a request occasionally made. The request had to be specific about what was going to be touched and how. The female had to answer affirmatively; no answer was to be understood as a refusal. The rules were very clear about that. Hyacinth looked up at Mac. Again the small reassuring smile. Well, it wasn’t like he wanted to stick his finger in there. Hyacinth cleared her throat and said, “O.K.”
She felt the hands gently push her butt cheeks apart further. She let go with her own hands and folded them under her turned face. Ahmad pulled and stretched Hyacinth’s buttocks this way and that, and the girl felt her sphincter tugged in different directions. Halfway through, Tommy leaned over to look. A little draft of cold air came in through the slightly-open tent flap and Hyacinth felt it hit right on her sphincter, which clenched reflexively, no doubt to the great interest and attention of the two guys. She closed her eyes, bit her lip, trying to hold down the intense shame. This was the lot of any BSC girl: to be naked all the time, and to have her most secret parts on display and examined closely by any guy at all. Naked and not being able to do anything about it, totally in these guys’ control.
But now she opened her eyes and looked up at Mac, strong and undefeated. How could she be so? Her thoughts were interrupted by Scott, who said, “Mac, I’d like to see you like that too.”
The athletic girl got on all fours opposite Hyacinth; in the cramped tent this meant that her face was right next to the other girl’s. And she stuck her butt up toward Scott’s face. Scott didn’t ask to touch her, content just to look as Mac spread her lower cheeks. No one spoke. There was heavy male breathing, the stirring of hard dicks within undershorts.
Mac turned her face and the girls were face to face, each looking upside down at the other’s eyes. Hyacinth blinked and her eyes got a little wet as the two naked girls looked at each other in comfort and commiseration and with another feeling, a feeling Hyacinth had felt when lying together with her roommates and a feeling that was in the twinkle in Sarah’s eyes, a feeling of . . .
The moment was over when all four guys seemed to say at the same time, “Thank you.” Ahmad let go of Hyacinth’s cheeks. The two girls got up and folded their legs, going back to their spots.
Then Scott said impulsively, “Could you two do a sixty-nine for us?”
Mac glared at him. “NO.”
Scott said, “Oh, come on.”
Mac looked at Hank, who was already looking at Scott. “Hey, man. Give it a rest.”
Mac shrugged and reached over into a corner to get a rolled up sleeping bag. “No offense guys, but we’re going,” she said, and before Hyacinth knew it she was being dragged outside into the freezing black night.
God it was cold!! Hyacinth stumbled at first as Mac, the bag under one arm, pulled her farther and farther into the night. Her bumped against unseen rocks and stepped on pointy clumps of brush. She looked back at the lit, warm tent, the shadows of the guys’ heads, realizing that a minute ago one could have seen the shadows of her and her naked friend presenting, and then the tent got small and went out of sight as Mac turned into a stand of trees and then up a little promontory and down the other side.
Hyacinth crouched and wrapped her arms around herself as Mac unrolled the sleeping bag with one motion and unzipped it while still in the air. “Mac, it’s freezing! This is crazy!”
“Actually it’s probably a few degrees above it,” Mac said. “Don’t worry, this bag is rated to twenty below.” She flung it onto the ground and opened the end. “Hop in.”
Hyacinth dove in to the sleeping bag, and though the silky waterproof fabric was a little cold, it was better than the freezing air outside. She curled up into a ball, holding her freezing toes in her hands, but then moved over as Mac slid in next to her. This bag was pretty roomy. The two girls hugged each other for warmth, arms around each other, legs intertwined, the wonderful, precious feeling of full body skin against skin that all BSC women learned to treasure. Hyacinth’s face lay in the nape of the taller girl’s neck. She was conscious of the fur of their pussies resting against each other, becoming one tangled female forest.
“Brrr,” Hyacinth said, though she was quickly getting warm. “Eeek!” she said as Mac playfully pressed cold toes into her thigh. The girls’ breathing slowly quieted as their metabolisms relaxed.
After a moment, Hyacinth said, “What was all that about?” It was a little uncomfortable back in the tent when Scott asked to touch her, but she felt confident with Mac and Hank around. But when Scott asked her and Mac to do “sixty-nine”! Not only was it icky, Hyacinth never having had any lesbian urges, it was like Scott considered them some kind of, not whores exactly, but performers who were there to do what he wanted.
“Scott is a virgin and he’s still not totally BSC yet,” Mac said, shifting a bit so she could hold Hyacinth’s head against her shoulder. “Sometimes he acts like he’s walked into a living Penthouse magazine. I’m sure Hank’s having a few words with him right now.”
“Wow . . . a virgin.” Not that Hyacinth had been having any relationships during her time at Blanke Schande, being still too shy about being naked around guys. But she had heard that at Alturas everyone was in bed with someone or other.
“Yes, and it must be rough, living around all these naked women. We’ve thought about one of us women making it with him, just to get him over that. But it would be like leaving milk out for a stray cat, he’ll just keep coming back. Cruel as that sounds.”
Hyacinth so enjoyed snuggling with Mac in this warm little cocoon. Hints of cold air came in from the open flap above them. Now she felt sorry for Scott. “What a shame.”
“I think he’ll be O.K.,” Mac said. “Almost everyone here at Alturas is getting some. It won’t be long.”
“Mmmmm . . .” Hyacinth said as they snuggled closer in their cocoon, feeling their furry pussies against each other, then she felt a little embarrassed at being so vocal. She hardly knew Mac, it wasn’t like she was with her buds in the dorm suite. Yet all BSC women were sisters in nakedness, they knew they had a bond even the first time they met, and Hyacinth decided it was nothing to be embarrassed about.
The taller girl craned her neck down a little and softly kissed Hyacinth on the lips, like the standard BSC greeting between females but slower. Hyacinth found herself responding, embarrassed a little again. She had done this kind of kissing before, but always with a guy.
“So how do you like the naked life?” Mac said.
Hyacinth grunted. “Don’t ask. Thank God I have my friends.” She shifted and lifted one of her breasts up to a more comfortable position. “I hope I don’t sag.”
“Don’t worry. What are you, a 34 D?”
“We play that game in my dorm,” Mac said. “Even though it’s a dumb idea, we end up wishing we had our bras again.” Another shift, limbs rubbing, bellies undulating against each other, another cold draft from above, welcome as they breathed in the clean forest air while being warm and snug below. “Sarah is a 36 double-D, and she seems O.K. It’s the exercise.”
To Hyacinth it seemed like her whole life at BSC was exercise. Three sessions a day were required, the morning aerobics at 9, “Anatomy and Movement” (a.k.a. erotocize) at 1 p.m., then the full-hour workout at 7 p.m. The morning session was in the main hall, on a platform in full view of anyone who was passing by, and there usually was a steady crowd of guys looking up, new guys coming up as the others left, now and then professors and staff and administrators, seeing the girls’ sweaty naked bouncing bodies from every angle. Hyacinth was in the best shape she had ever been in, and was secretly proud of the hard, concave belly she had acquired. And it was a nice feeling of freedom to exercise naked. But she still longed for her old sneakers and sweats, and would never get used to being up there naked and exposed, showing everything she had to anyone who wanted to look!
Hyacinth asked the question that had been on her mind all day. “How can you stand it, when it snows?” Hyacinth said. “I just couldn’t step out in bare feet and in that cold air.”
“We keep moving.” Probably realizing this was the standard response Alturas women gave to their main campus sisters, Mac elaborated. “No really. It’s not that big a deal. The secret is to know that there’s nothing to be afraid of. You actually get used to it and don’t mind it after a while.”
“I just can’t believe that. Isn’t it dangerous? Won’t you get frostbite or something?”
“I asked that once from Tereshkova, she teaches physiology. I said, ‘Aren’t we pushing the envelope?’ She said” -- Mac tried to imitate a Russian accent -- “‘No, is not near enfelope. We are nowhere near enfelope.’ She used to do hypothermic surgery in Russia.”
“They put you under then chill the body to seventy degrees or something like that. It helps prevent infection.”
Hyacinth shuddered, and hugged Mac tighter.
“Then there’s Olga,” Mac said. Hyacinth had walked by her when she and Jessie when they were walking to Sarah’s suite in the dorm. A chunky, tough-looking girl who was smoking a cigarette, somewhat of a rarity among BSC students. “Olga’s from Siberia.”
“God -- she doesn’t go naked there too, does she?”
“No. She gets asked that all the time. ‘F--- no!’ she says. ‘It gets fifty below a lot of nights. I’d be dead!’ . . . She’s got a mouth on her. And she smokes these pukey cigarettes her dad sends her. They smell like gasoline.”
Hyacinth grimaced, remembering the smell. She could sense Mac grimacing as well. It was too dark to see anything in the sleeping bag but the two girls could sense each other’s expressions. Hyacinth turned her head and she knew Mac could feel her breath going down on the top of the taller girl’s breast. They couldn’t see each other but could hide no secrets from each other.
“Olga used to work in a hospital where she saw REAL frostbite victims, some had to have their hands and feet amputated, but that’s because they were out in forty below all night without gloves, or got drunk on vodka and passed out in the snow. Last year she went outside one night when it was five below, near that shower.” Hyacinth had seen the shower head on the corner of the academic building right on the little quad, no doubt used by some of the more uninhibited girls as the whole campus watched. At the main campus there were showers all over, and Hyacinth swore she would never use one. It was just too embarrassing, and too much a treat for the guys, though some girls who she thought were shy as she was sometimes succumbed to the temptation, a quick pass under the shower being just the thing on a hot day.
“The shower was shut off for the winter but she walked right onto the ice patch and leaned back right under the light, stretched her arms out, and lit up. She stayed there the whole five minutes or whatever until the cigarette was done. We all watched from inside, shuddering. I couldn’t stand it finally, I opened the window a crack and yelled for her to come in. She just shrugged, took her time, and when she was finished she just stamped the butt out with her foot and sauntered back in like it was nothing.”
“Amazing. She must have a death wish.”
“I asked her later, she said, ‘At forty below, my hands and toes would be bit, at seventy below, I’d be dead. But five below for five minutes is nothing.’ Of course, she had a tub of hot water waiting for her.” A little giggle, which Hyacinth shared in. “She’s right though. You get tough after a while. Something else too. During the winter all us girls eat like pigs, and put on a little fat. The guys get a kick out of it in the dining hall, seeing us girls go to the salad bar over and over. Then spring comes and we get back to fighting weight again.”
The two girls lay intertwined, listening to the wind rustle the branches outside. Carried on the wind was a faint word or two from the guys in the tent, some distance away on the other side of the rise.
“Gotta pee.” Mac scooted up and slipped away, her toes scraping past Hyacinth’s breasts. Hyacinth listened to the breaking of twigs under tough bare feet going into the distance, then heard the squirting onto the leaves. She pictured the lithe athlete squatting down in the freezing forest, as casual and oblivious to the cold as a wolf, steam rising from the hot little puddle. Then more snapping of twigs coming nearer, sandpapery sounds which were probably Mac brushing the dirt off her soles, and then her hard body slithering back into the sleeping bag, the chilled skin making Hyacinth shudder. Still, she wanted to warm her friend and took the lead in wrapping herself around her.
Mac’s mouth found Hyacinth’s and they again kissed on the lips. Now a silent moment. Hyacinth knew what was about to happen and was nervous. Their lips met again and Mac opened hers and her tongue explored, in a more artful way than a guy’s would, yet still strong and assertive. They were in their own world now, a world encompassed by the sleeping bag and the immediate surroundings, a world with only two persons. The college, their families, anything anyone would think, these were all far away now. The two girls were hidden, no one could see them or anything they did, clothed by the borders of their little universe. Hyacinth found herself exploring as well and now they got more passionate, pressing their lips against each other’s, grinding the fur of their pussies together, feeling their hard nipples meet and rub each other raw. They drew apart, and Hyacinth felt the electric tickling of Mac’s fingers as they danced barely perceptible whispers on her pubic hair.
Hyacinth lay her head on Mac’s shoulder again. “Did that feel good?” Mac said. Hyacinth surprised herself by saying, “VERY good.”
And now like a driver doing a jack-knife Mac rose and bent around and dove down. Hyacinth sensed her head brushing past, felt the cold air from above, then the slightly chilled breasts and hard nipples and midriff and now the thighs coming down, felt one thigh bending and she put her head up on it like a pillow, the other thigh above, soft and strong at the same time. She opened her thighs and felt Mac’s head resting down there too, each girl a mirror image of the other, and she held her breath as she sensed the heat of Mac’s pussy in front of her and now felt Mac’s breath on her inner thighs and pussy and waited --
Mac’s skilled tongue drilled right into Hyacinth’s core and she felt her lower body turning to jelly. She hadn’t known how ripe and ready she was and within seconds she was pulled over the waterfall. “Ohh -- God -- OHHHH!!” The loud groans filled their little bag-shaped universe, she barely having a mind to think of how loud and uninhibited they were.
And when the spasms died down Mac went at her again! It was joy, joy upon joy, the greatest pleasure she had ever known, as Hyacinth’s body rocked side to side, half trying to escape Mac’s insistent tongue, feeling like she was being driven out of her mind. Finally after who knows how many crests Mac withdrew her tongue, then with long gentle strokes licked the entire length of Hyacinth’s outer lips. By then Hyacinth felt so grateful she had to give her back something, with all her skill and all her love. She had never done this, but in the hot humid blackness in front of her she tried to imitate what Mac had done, finding the hard little knob of her clit, pressing against it, then flicking it up and down.
Mac’s orgasm was a torrent of groans and shouts, of spasming thighs that squeezed Hyacinth’s head like a nutcracker, but Hyacinth grabbed onto Mac’s hips with an iron grip of her circled arms and would not let go, staying with the tall athletic girl until the last spasm. Then she let go, her tongue a little sore, and rested her head back on Mac’s thigh like on a pillow.
There was nothing but hot humid blackness and the gradual subsiding of long heavy breaths by the two nude young women. Then Mac started absently playing with Hyacinth’s lower lips with her fingers. “Feel good?”
Hyacinth laughed, a deep womanly belly laugh. Her voice was low too, a well-f**cked voice. “God, god . . . Jesus . . . Thank you . . . I never . . . oh god . . . That was wonderful!” And she drew forward and kissed Mac’s moist vulva.
As they lay there in total darkness, each unable to see a thing, Hyacinth felt a question coming and got brave and answered it. “That was my . . . my first time.”
A low giggle from Mac. “So good to be with you in our snug little world.”
“I thought you and Hank -- “ As the girls’ breathing got back to normal, they got back to talking, pleasantly spent, still facing into each other’s crotches.
“Oh we are. I’m a happy het,” Mac said. “Hank has the God of All Dicks. We’re at it constantly. I can’t be a lesbian, I must have a dick in me. I drink him too, twice a day.”
“Oh really?” Hyacinth was amused. “Oooh!” she jerked a little as Mac pulled on her still-sensitive clit.
“I’m addicted to his juice. I make sure he eats a bunch of parsley each night, it makes it taste sweet.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Jessica, she was my ‘buddy’. She’s graduated now. She hated giving head at first but got converted by parsley.”
“I’ll remember that,” Hyacinth said with amusement. “Next time I . . . I’m like you, a ‘happy het’, of course.”
“Of course. There’s not too many lesbians at Blanke Schande, though a lot of us do this once in a while. It’s not. . .” Mac was thoughtful. “It’s not romantic, more like something . . . sisterly, friendly.”
Hyacinth thought for a moment. “There are some nice guys at the main campus.”
“So you haven’t -- well I suppose you wouldn’t yet.”
“No,” Hyacinth said. “It’s not kicked in yet, I have to wait a few more weeks.” They were talking about the special powder put on the pathways at BSC campuses, or mixed in with the sand put on the Alturas paths over the snow in winter. Everyone was told about it at orientation. Absorbed through the girls’ bare soles, it contained a contraceptive and also a vaccine against several sexual diseases. For new female students the contraceptive took two months to become effective. In the odd case where a female student actually wanted to get pregnant, she would put in for an “antidote” pill which she would take every week at the health center.
Upon hearing this arrangement some girls dropped out of orientation, though this was often just a pretext because they were beginning to realize they really didn’t want to go through four years of college in the nude. But to most of the others it just seemed like good sense, no need to remember to take a pill every day.
For Hyacinth, it had not yet been two months, not that she was in a hurry to get it on with the guys. There was still that shyness, that weirdness about trying to approach guys who had already seen you naked all the time. But here in the blind humid femaleness of the sleeping bag, Hyacinth was not shy with this companion whom she could not see but could sense and feel in every other way.
Mac poked her finger into Hyacinth’s pussy, making her jump. “Ready to go again?”
“Oh God, you’ll kill me.”
“I got six out of you, you can do some more,” Mac said.
“Six -- OH! God! --” And though she squeezed her thighs in a feeble effort to push Mac away, Hyacinth surrended to the assault yet again, laughing, moaning, exhausted, curious, wondering at this new experience and how normal and healthy and natural it now seemed . . . And in her trancelike state she found her own tongue, despite its soreness, stretching out to flick that clit again -- and they were once again whirling each other around weightless in their private black-hole universe and at the same time holding onto each other --
. . . .
From somewhere Hyacinth heard the scrape of gravel from all sides. She turned her head and felt the blast of light through her closed lids. She squinted her eyes open and saw up around her a circle of guys, Hank closest, then Scott and Tommy and Ahmad, standing over them in their big hiking boots and jeans and sweatshirts.
She blushed and almost tried to cover her breasts, but suppressed the urge. “Mmmm . . .” She nudged the warm softness under her and realized that she and Mac were lying on the ground, only their hips and legs still in the sleeping bag, exposed down to the hip bones like low-rise jeans, her head resting on Mac’s breasts like a baby’s.
The two women dragged themselves out of the sleeping bag into the chilly sunny mountain air and lurched to their feet, staggering and still half awake, naked in the middle of the circle of fully clothed, admiring males. Hyacinth hugged herself, not so much out of modesty (though she was plenty ashamed) as from the cold. The air could be fairly described as freezing, and she was sure she could see a little of her breath. She had the intense urge to embrace Mac in a tender full-body hug, but resisted. Mac took the lead as usual, slapping her breasts up and down and shaking herself awake, then bending over to straighten out the bag, giving everyone a clear view of her upturned butt and anus, her breasts jiggling as she made little steps forward on tough bare feet to roll the bag up.
Then Mac hefted the tied-up bag onto her shoulder and, taking Hyacinth by the hand, led everyone back to the campsite. “Coffee’s on,” Hank said, like a lieutenant reporting to his commanding officer. “Good,” she said.
As Hyacinth sat with the others around the little fire, shrouded in a rough blanket which did little to protect her from the coldness on her butt from the big stone she was on, drinking the cowboy-style coffee Hank had made, munching on an apple, she glanced around, hoping nobody’s eyes would meet hers. It was just so obvious that these guys knew what she and Mac had been doing in that bag. How could they not? She dreaded any mention of it, felt her face get hot with a blush as she thought about it, and had a fleeting image of her and Mac casually getting into a sixty-nine on the ground, right in front of the guys, as they folded up their things and broke down the tent to get ready to go. Ridiculous, tacky, like something nude dancers would do, or so she imagined, yet oddly appropriate.
Fortunately nobody said anything. Instead, some idle chatter about the nice clean air, and as if in a hurry they were soon getting organized and heading back.
Down they went the cliff, the guys going first, and of course as Hyacinth held the rope and trod her way down all she could only think of her splayed-out legs and Scott, who was right under her, looking up at her spread crotch. But looking down she saw that Scott’s attention necessarily was directed downward to where he was heading. Just a little ways and then Hyacinth stopped and looked at the top of the stand of trees in view, the last glance of “Tami’s Clothes”. She looked up at Mac. They smiled at each other, another secret they shared.
The sun was warm on her butt, though not enough to remove the chill. It was COLD! Hyacinth wished time would go by so she was once again in the yummy warm sunshine of yesterday afternoon, she found herself missing the near-tropical warmth of the main BSC campus. She felt the goosebumps on her front, her nipples felt as hard as little rocks as they walked through the brush, the girls once again carrying the backpacks as the guys carried the sleeping bags and climbing equipment. A creek was up ahead. Suddenly Mac shucked her backpack and pranced up to the stream. “Come on, Hy,” she yelled, to Hyacinth’s horror jumping right into the waist-deep water.
“No way!” Hyacinth said. “That water must be freezing! -- No, no!” Mac had rushed up to her and yanked her hand. “No, are you nuts!”
“It’ll warm you up!”
“Yeah right!” Mac was so strong that Hyacinth couldn’t shake herself free as she was pulled to her doom. Behind, the guys ran to catch up.
“EEEEK!” It was like liquid ice, the cold water of the stream, as it knifed into Hyacinth’s crotch, numbing her legs and feet so she could hardly feel the rocky bottom. “NOO!” Now Mac pulled her down and she was submerged!
It was so silly, so horrible, Hyacinth’s screams started mixing with laughs as she and Mac took turns dunking each other, falling sideways and backwards as their numb feet slipped on the rocks below, drenching each other in the stream as the guys watched.
Walking onward a few minutes later, the towel around her head, the backpack scraping her shoulder blades, avoiding the little cactuses with feet caked with dried-on mud, Hyacinth realized that she felt a lot warmer now. A good cold dunk was just the thing. Just like so much at Blanke Schande, crazy but it worked.
. . . .
“Clothes, clothes, clothes, my whole life is clothes,” Keisha said, her dark brown body sweating all over as she put another shirt on the ironing board in the hot laundry room. She wiped back her cornrows, then tied them back behind her, her breasts wiggling, the big black nipples dancing back and forth, then resumed her labors. “These guys have so many clothes, I never realized it.” She turned up a collar and spritzed it with starch. “This is it, the last day. Next year, I’ll sign up for something else.”
Hyacinth watched, partly with bemusement, partly with delectable hunger, as she saw Jessie’s friend toiling. She felt like saying something along the lines of, It must be agony, being around clothes so much, yet not being allowed to put any on yourself. But of course Keisha knew that and saying it might just make it worse.
Hyacinth was waiting for Jessie to clean up. Jessie was outside at the shower, no doubt with guys watching, a scene Hyacinth could do without, so here she was, hanging out with another one of Jessie’s old suite-mates in the basement of the men’s dorm. Keisha had been “purchashed” by this dorm at the last frat-sorority “slave sale”, where in exchange for a donation to charity each girl had signed up for a task. Keisha’s was to do the laundry for two weeks. A black girl signing up as a “slave” for a dorm of, mostly, white guys -- Hyacinth liked the absence of any sense of irony. In the abundance of female skin at Blanke Schande, issues of skin color somehow disappeared. Maybe it was just because naked women are good to look at, no matter what the hue.
It might have been against the rules, but Hyacinth just couldn’t let Keisha labor alone, and soon she was helping her, folding the ironed clothes and putting the shirts on hangers. It was agony, of course. Everything she touched, Hyacinth longed to put on, longed to slip one of these pairs of white tube socks onto her bare feet. Her whole body tingled as fabric ran past her erect nipple. But if Keisha could withstand it, so could she, damn it!
Now, back in the second floor of the women’s dorm, Sarah’s suite in fact, waiting to start the day-long trip south back to southern California and the main campus. Jessie seemed to know everyone here. She wanted to take Hyacinth along to say her good-byes, but the new girl preferred to sit cross-legged on the floor in the suite and watch TV. As she half-paid attention to one of those MTV shows where they visit a rich actress and show you her mansion and swimming pool, Sarah came up from downstairs, carrying a notebook.
“You look beat,” Hyacinth said, which was the truth. Sarah’s usual bubbliness was subdued by the all-nighter she had just pulled. Her eyes were tired little slits, even her large breasts seemed a little droopy, her nipples soft and pale, as if as tired as her eyes. “Big test at three.” Sarah turned wearily to look at the clock. “Ten thirty. I can get four hours sleep. That’s good.”
A girl came out of the bathroom with a towel piled high on her head. This was Marti, the dorm’s fashion plate, acknowledging the visitor and then getting to the serious business of dressing for her eleven o’clock class. “Marti, when you get back make sure I wake up at two thirty?” Sarah said wearily. Marti nodded as Sarah went out to the porch that overlooked the campus where a large couch lay in the sun.
Marti started “dressing”, Hyacinth watching out of the corner of her eye. Combing her hair, braiding it, tying it back. Make-up. Mascara. Earrings. Now, some touch-up on her fingernails. Finally, bringing one foot up to the table and then the other, touch-up on the toenails. Women are the same all over and, even when clothes are forbidden her, a woman so inclined will find plenty of ways to make herself pretty for the day’s activities, and manage to spend a lot of time doing so.
Just before Jessie came back Hyacinth had one last view of life at BSC-Alturas, of Sarah lying on the sun-warmed sofa on the porch. The sofa could be seen from anywhere on the quad, Hyacinth guessed, and she furtively approached from behind, noticing the sight of Sarah’s foot propped up on the wide wooden rail. The other foot, she saw, was propped up far to the other side. Sarah, the notebooks on the floor, was spread out, her pussy wide open to the sun, and as Hyacinth watched in amazement the blonde girl slowly stroked her pussy, eyes closed, her big breasts lolling slowly from side to side like mountains of jello on her chest as her stroking increased, getting faster. Her hips rose up, she gasped, toes spreading, her whole body now tensing. Now the soft groans, the rhymthic spasms, the little cry of pleasure. Below, the campus day went on. Perhaps a few people were looking up, but if they were, the big-breasted naked blonde girl was not aware of it, instead curling up when the last spasm was spent, then stretching out like a lazy cat on the sofa, bringing her feet underneath, her head resting on its side, and in a few seconds there was the loud snoring of a happy woman.
Now, booming along Route 385 in Jessie’s Taurus, watching the Sierras go by, Hyacinth saw a stand of trees that looked familiar. In fact every stand of trees they passed by looked familiar in the same way, and she thought of repeating the prayer Mac had said in that natural, or maybe woman-made, cathedral. She thought of what Jessie said to her a few hours ago: “Wendy Mac tells me you’re a Tami now.” So Jessie had been initiated too. Being a Tami: it sounded like a high honor, Hyacinth was flattered. Could she live up to it?