Tami’s (new new new) plan to get into clothes

       It was mid-morning when the truck finally slowed and came to a stop.  She lay there with weary eyes, feeling the hot sun on her back, her body slimy against the wet, dirty metal that was getting warm also.  After a few minutes she tentatively brought her legs up under her and raised her head to look around.  The trucker had stopped at a diner on an outer road.  The naked girl looked to the other side.  No one there, just palm trees and bushes.  Knowing by now that hesitation could be fatal, she steadied herself, then jumped all the way down, her bare feet plopping ankle-deep into the muddy unpaved ground.  And now she ran, kicking the mud up behind her.  No one was there to see her.

        She crouched in the bushes and wondered where she was.  She heard the sound of ocean behind her.  A sign on the road said, “Mariposa 8 miles”.  Now she wandered wearily through the low brush, leaning against palm tree after palm tree, and heard the surf get closer.  A few more steps and she found herself on a beautiful deserted beach.  To her surprise she found a banana tree next to her, the bananas all yellow and ripe, and gratefully ate one.  Then she gathered some more to her breasts and plopped her butt down onto the sand, eating bananas and looking at the endless ocean in front of her and wondering what to do.  The Atlantic, she guessed.  Or maybe it was the Gulf of Mexico.  A paradise, she wished Rod was here to share it with her.  But of course she had to get going.

        She finished the last of the bananas and buried the peels in the sand.  Well, there would be nothing like a nice bracing swim.  The naked girl ran up to the surf and prepared to jump in.

        Whoa.

        She had known only the cold waters of the North Atlantic, out on Cranston Beach, in Rhode Island, and then of the Pacific, that one time when she had that dream about the Mexican girl and the C-string.  But now there was warm water swirling around her toes.  It was a wonderful surprise.

        “Ooooohhh .  .  .”  She couldn’t help smiling as she went further and further in, the frothy bubbly water caressing her like a warm whirlpool bath as it went up her legs, past her pussy, and then finally over her breasts.  It was so relaxing.  She ducked underwater and slithered like an eel, once again enjoying the currents against every curve and crevice of her body, this time warm and comforting like swimming around in a great big womb.  This was a gift from God, and about time too, after the rough times she had recently been through!  After a few minutes she wandered back out of the water like a rather pooped Venus reborn, then dropped down in the shade of a palm tree and began a long, long, pleasant sleep.

        .  .  .  .

        Thus began Tami’s life at what she quickly christened “Honeymoon Beach”.  It was a paradise.  First there was the solitude.  There was no sign of civilization anywhere, except for the big ships she occasionally saw way out on the ocean.  Then there was the food.  Bananas everywhere, and mangoes, and even some wild pineapples.  And coconuts.  She had gravitated toward a little shady spot surrounded by big rocks, in the center of which was just clear sand, a nice soft bed.  To one side was a stand of coconut trees, slanting out toward the ocean.  The coconuts were not right over her, there was no danger of being hit.  But she was intrigued.  The bark scraped roughly on her breasts and thighs, but she shimmied up all the way to the top, foot by foot, and finally pried a couple of coconuts loose.  When she hopped softly down onto the sand she hit them against rocks until they split.  The milk inside was delicious, like water but with a gentle nutty taste.  The pulp she scraped out with one of the many shells she found.

        And a hundred yards from her bed, in from the beach, was a little stream that that fell into a pond before running into the ocean.  Fresh water, and cool and delicious.  She drank in it, played in it, it was so good and life was so good for a naked girl who had all she needed and had no need of clothes.  If only Rod were here!  A perfect place for Adam and Eve.

        The days went by slowly and she enjoyed the time passing.  She remembered a book she had read in high school, “Island of the Blue Dolphins”, about a teenage girl who lived by herself on an island, off California maybe, and she remembered thinking how incredibly boring it must have been to do that.  But this was not boring at all.  Figuring out how to climb the coconut tree, watching the ships slowly cross the horizon, carefully making meals for herself from the vegetation -- she spent hours doing these things, being interested every minute.  What brought this home to her was her method of keeping time.  Every morning she would put another rock in front of her bed.  She was surprised to see one morning that there were five rocks -- and it seemed like she had just gotten there!  If it weren’t for her need for human companionship, she could see how she could spend the rest of her life here and spend it happily.

        She thought of Rod often.  And the warm, easy life brought the desire back into her veins.  She was always using bananas as something other than food.  She would lay under the little waterfall at the pond with the spout of water centered right over her clit, lying there in the soft mud very comfortably, and look at the blue sky as she drifted from orgasm to orgasm.  Thank you, God .  .  .ohhh .  .  .thank you .  .  .  OHH!  She could really indulge her boundless sexual capacity now.  She would stay there all morning, for hours.  Maybe, just maybe, she broke her own record.  But she was too lazy to count!

        By anchoring her feet and stretching her legs, she did her old trick of opening up her pussy as the warm fresh water poured inside.  Now she flipped around and opened her butthole to fill her rectum.  Giggling, she decided to imitate a whale.  With crimped steps she ran to the ocean and dove in.  Slithering underwater, she emerged and stuck her butt up.  A stream of water blew explosively out of her butt, straight up.  This was a neat trick, and real perverted too.  She laughed at herself but kept on practicing until she became an expert at it.

        The wide beach became a big blackboard.  With sticks and triangle-shaped rocks she went through the proofs of the Pythagorean theorem.  Then she thought of ways to express other mathematical rules, using only sticks and rocks and lines.  Maybe she was discovering something.  Probably not, though.  The ancient Greeks had the experience of hundreds of years of writing on beaches like she was doing.

        And, sitting on the sand, watching the tides go in and out, she got to thinking about the great curse of her life and how to undo it.  The motions of tides, of the earth and the sun, gave her perspective.  The way to get out of it, she decided, was by the truth.

        .  .  .  .

        “Friends, welcome.  A year ago I stopped wearing clothes.  Since then I have met many wonderful friends like you, and have been through many experiences.  I have learned a great deal, and will be always thankful and lucky that I have your love and your respect.  Being naked has also allowed me to love more fully and more deeply.

        “Life goes on, and I have felt myself entering another phase.  Nudity was not really my religion, it was something I was called to.  Now I feel myself being called to wear clothes again.  I have here in my bag some things I will now put on.  This is something that I do not do lightly, the year of being naked was so wonderful and enlightening.  I will now continue in life, wearing clothes like everyone else, but remembering and keeping the lessons and the power of love which I experienced and acquired during my time being naked.”

        The words were spoken by the naked girl to the ocean.  She was standing at the edge of the surf on her seventh day at Honeymoon Beach, practicing the words for the twentieth time.  The speech she was going to give on her third day back.  She had formed a plan.  She would announce a prayer gathering for in front of Rossland Hall, and invite all her friends, and then take borrow a pair of Jen’s shorts and a T-shirt to put on in front of everyone.

        It was a good way to end her ordeal.  It had the element of truth -- she could no longer go on living a lie, pretending she was naked because of her religion.  And how could the Dean do anything to her?  She remembered him calling her to his office at the end of the spring semester, and offering her the chance to put clothes on again.  She refused, it obviously being a trick, and at the time she was sure she was leaving the college for good anyway.  But so many people on campus liked and respected her.  She would invite Professor Congi too, who was the Assistant Dean, and who would surely be supportive.  If she put on her clothes in the way she was planning, there was no way the Dean would expel her.  The more she thought about it, the more absolutely sure she was of that.  And then, of course, afterward she would go to the woods and ceremoniously burn her diary, which was still secreted in the backpack she had left in Terri’s apartment.

        It was in this manner that Tami Smithers decided to put on clothes again.  She realized there was a reason for her incredible bad luck across the country, where she had been unable to find clothes despite her most desperate efforts.  God was denying her clothes until she corrected the falsehood at the origin of it all, this lie she had been living.  Only then would she be allowed clothes again.  By putting them on herself, on purpose, right in front of the administration building, she would correct what had been false and unfinished for a year.

        That night, lying on the sand under the stars, Tami had the best dream she had ever had, of being happy and married to Rod and with little kids running around.  And a job teaching mathematics at a college.  She was clothed.  There was no element of nakedness in the dream.  It was the dream of a normal person.