stealing from the campus dining hall

“‘Afternoon,” she said to everyone, and then immediately got into the business of stretching and her two pupils followed her lead. Three right feet, one of them bare, extended onto the edge of the cold concrete, then they switched as muscles and tendons got ready. Wendy looked at Susie’s sneaker and sighed with exasperation. She didn’t have to say it. Hank had heard Wendy and Susie having that conversation several times before, Wendy trying to get her to run barefoot, stressing the importance of toe thrust, Susie resisting, Wendy saying you don’t have to be naked, several famous runners had run barefoot, it’s just a matter of toughening the feet, Susie resisting again. Susie looked up to Wendy, that’s why she asked to train with her. . . Hank and Wendy, lying in bed at night in his dorm room, had discussed what might be going on in Susie’s mind. Maybe she was attracted to the naked life but didn’t want to admit it. Or was too intimidated by the prospect. Perhaps she saw being barefoot as the first step, a “gateway drug” to the “hard stuff” of the naked BSC lifestyle which she could not yet face. Now was the time for Susie to apply to BSC, if she was going to do it. Just wait and see . . .

The two pupils copied their leader’s upward stretch, Wendy in the middle, reaching up to the sun, her body a tall naked “X”, legs apart, toes spread and grasping the clean slush, eyes closed, firm breasts sticking out with nipples pointed and hard in the cold, over the narrow concavity of her tanned tummy and strong back. Corey took this in and said, “You’re looking very lovely today, Miss Appleby.”

This was a little joke, a reference to Wendy’s apple-sized breasts. Such a compliment was also a standard polite way of asking a girl to “present”. She smiled. “Why thank you Mr. Soggybottom,” she said with deadpan tartness, and she pivoted on one bare foot and extended the other widely, past Corey onto the far edge of the table. She flexed her pelvis forward and pulled her lower lips apart, revealing the pink inside, then pushed forward again until a dark cave appeared. “Mmmmm . . . ” The automatic reaction of any male to such a sight escaped from Corey’s mouth without embarrassment at its triteness as he tilted his head to see better. Ahmad smiled too, as did Hank, who like any BSC guy was flattered whenever his significant other was asked to present. It was a way of being told, “You have a gorgeous girlfriend!”

The moment seemed to linger and suddenly Hank and his friends realized that Wendy and her charges were halfway across the field, gathering speed as their muscles got warmer, the tall naked girl clearly more effortlessly than the other two as she paced them. On the other side of the table Jerry and Bob Eggles and Keroy continued their soccer workout, now getting closer together and focusing on headers.

Lisa, a thin girl with black hair and glasses, and Sandy, a bleached blond and the oldest of the BSC students, dodged by one side of them and stopped at the table, toting their bookbags. “Hi lover,” Lisa said, grabbing Corey’s hand as she stood next to him and he glanced down lovingly at her pubic patch so near his face. “That was the worst chow mein I’ve ever had,” Sandy said with her usual frankness. Sandy was a trip. 35 years old, majoring in biology with an eye to becoming a neurologist someday, she had been a practicing nudist for ten years before applying to Blanke Schande. The girls never knew what to expect when they went into town with her. Alturas was kind of a Wild West cowboy town. The townspeople had learned to live with the occasional naked females from the nearby college, but as BSC girls knew from the orientation sessions and also from their natural instincts, you should be discreet and shouldn’t be “out loud naked” there, like stretching and sticking out your boobs in front of the old guys sitting on the bench on the commons. But Sandy, not having worn a stitch in so long, usually forgot that she was naked and would do just that kind of thing without being the least bit aware of the scene she was making.

Ahmad’s stomach rumbled again.

Lisa dropped her bag and got up onto the table. “But -- ” Hank was about to mention that nobody had asked her to present. She anchored her feet wide apart, toes pointing out, then squatted in front of Ahmad and Corey, Corey chuckling as he saw the yellow-green appear between widening pussy lips and then, with a little straining grunt --

She handed it to Corey, a pear purloined from the dining hall, then stood up and jumped back down onto the soft snow. Corey sniffed the pear with a smile. “Thanks, Babe. . . Though I think Ahmad would need this more than me.” He went out to the untouched snow under a nearby tree and wiped the pear off and returned.

Ahmad hesitated a little but his stomach decided for him. “Thanks,” he said, munching.

“Who wants gum?” Sandy said in the singsong of an old TV commercial that only she was old enough to remember. She flung a leg onto the table and extracted a small apple from her lower lips. It was grabbed by Hank, who nibbled it gratefully.

Ahmad had already wolfed down the pear and thrown the stem into the snow under the tree. “You girls amaze me,” he said, not for the first time.

“I can’t complain about the taste,” Hank said between munches. “Next I wonder if you’ll carry a banana.”

“You’ll know that, if we’re trying to hold back orgasms as we walk,” Sandy said.

“Actually, bananas slip out,” Lisa said. “We’ve tried.”