A Formerly Shy Person

He came up for air a couple times, but I just kept kicking my legs out, and then pushing them back.

"Well, any ideas?"

"I think you're stroke looks great, I don't really have any suggestions. Does it hurt or something?"

"I'm too cold to tell, but I'm just not sure. I could just have a cramp in my...." I paused.

"...your?"

"My right leg is a bit cramped up."

"Oh."

"It'll be ok, I'm sure," I said with a wince now gracing my face.

"Are you sure, I could um, oh,...never mind."

"What? You'd been so patient and helpful so far...what do you suggest?"

"I could massage it for you."

"Would you?" I didn't give him a chance to answer, but backed against the wall and put my arms and shoulders along the edge of the deck, my chest pushed forward. I glanced down, and was pleased to see my nipples at attention and closely outlined by the almost sheer bathing suit.

I stuck my right leg out toward him and felt his hands grip my ankle.

He began to massage my leg, and I luxuriated in the first touch of a male who I wasn't dancing with in Gym class or hugging at a family event.

His fingers pushed against my flesh, rubbing and sliding, and slowly worked their way up, his eyes inquiring if that was ok? I nodded, "It's higher up, but I think my whole leg must be tight. This feels good, so please don't stop for a minute."

"If you say so, " he said as his fingers moved up my calf a bit, enveloping it in his large hands. I didn't say anything, instead closing my eyes and arching my back a bit more.

Another 30 seconds passed and I felt him move upward more, now rubbing between my calf and knee.

"That's closer, and I can really feel the leg relaxing," I lied. If anything the tingling and sensations going through my leg and into my puss were anything but relaxing.

His fingers crept higher, now at the bottom of my thigh...I'm sure I was squirming a bit, but struggled to remain in my pose, relaxed as it was with my tits sticking out like they were.

I opened my eyes to realize he was closer just as he moved his hands up to the mid-point on my right thigh. His fingers and thumbs dug in and I squirmed, out of control for a moment, and brought my left leg up and bent behind him, pulling him forward into me.

There was an awkward moment as I felt his hardness pressed into me, and I suddenly jerked back, "Oh...."

"Um...I'm so..."

Interrupting him, "You found the spot, I think I'm good now," I said thank you. I left him there looking at me, as I moved quickly to the shallow end of the pool and up the flight of stairs in the corner. I walked to the change room, not even realizing that I'd not fixed my bathing suit. I was so lost in my replay of the previous half-hour that I don't even know if anyone noticed me, my cunt lip on display and my ass-cheek out for the world to see.

In the change room, I quickly found a stall and closed the door, leaning my back against it and breathing quickly.

It was then that I looked down and realized I was still exposed. I'm not sure how noticeable it was, without any hair to show that another 1/2 inch of skin was visible...no, that's not true. I was fucking out there, and if I did anything slower than walk past someone, they'd know for sure.

I came then and there, in the stall, as I franticly frigged myself, pulling the suit up into my slit.

Five minutes later I emerged, hoping nobody was out there; I was in luck, and I quickly approached the mirror hanging over the sinks.

The fabric was pulled tight, and I rearranged things to their "normal" position of covering my cunt, if just barely. This suit, I realized, must really be 2-3 sizes too small. It was perfect. Without any lining, the suit clung to my skin, outlining my pussy and showing fairly obvious camel toe, as I'd learned they were called. I couldn't see through it in this light, and thought that I could actually get away with wearing this in front of people I knew sometime. It really was the sort of suit I'd worn in the past, but in being too small it suggested that a) I was too cheap or didn't care about updating it and b) it was fucking hot.

I wasn't exposed, exactly, but I was almost exposed completely. In turning around I could even, I realised, see the shadow of my ass crack through the fabric. The lining was more important there. I turned back around and slid two fingers into the fabric at my crotch. I could see the shadows between my fingers and realized that in different light, or stretched out more, things might become even more obvious.

I was home an hour later, in my room, reliving the night.

***

While I was searching the net a few nights later, I noticed a lot of people wearing one-piece suits of tight stretchy nylon. I learned that this had originated in Japan with a type of theatre-art where people dressed all in black stood in front of all-black backgrounds, almost invisible. They then moved objects in ways that, normally, would be impossible; it was called Zentai. A character on that show, "Always Sunny in Philadelphia" even dresses up in a green Zentai suit. Seriously, Google it. But it got me thinking about Halloween, only a week away. I'd heard about parties being held, but had never even thought of attending. But this sort of costume might give me the opportunity to reveal more, to people I know, than I ever would have normally been able to. I had to figure out a costume - something that covered my face - and something that showed off as much of me as possible. I had a week to plan.

I found out that a local theatre shop sold Zentai suits, and I went down to see what they had. They had a range of colours and styles, some with an open face, and some that completely covered the face. Some were metallic, others matte. I spent a fair bit of time looking at them, trying to think of a way to incorporate them into a costume of some sort.

I let the saleswoman know I was ok on my own, and just trying to decide on a Halloween costume. I looked at the various accessories, and even at other costumes they had there. Some were quite sleazy, some quite dull. Few, though, completely hid one's identity, which is what I was after.

Some of the fabric, I realized, was light enough to be sheer - like a light pair of nylons - if nothing was worn underneath it. Other was thick enough to be completely opaque. The first category, obviously, were intended to be worn with additional garments, while the second category saw it as unnecessary. I started to look at stuff in the middle.

I finally settled on a black full body suit, without a head, in a nylon material a bit thinner than my bathing suit. In the store-lighting, which wasn't great, you could just barely see the changes of colour on a flat object (my patterned wallet) held underneath. I picked up some yellow fabric paint.

Over the next few nights I worked away in my room, trying on my costume, and trying different combinations of outfits. I finally settled on a pair of shiny black jogging, a wide, yellow, leather belt from a raincoat of my mother's, and some old leather belt cases my older brother had left-over from the cub-scouts years before; he said I could paint them yellow. I even stitched some black nylon fabric over some hard foam for some pointy ears. Black leather boots and long gloves with lots of buckles, happily loaned to me by my motocross loving brother. My mother surprised me with the gift of a dark cape when I asked her to help me make a cape, and my biggest purchase was a Japanese full-head latex bat mask; it had a smooth, non-threatening face that was fairly androgenous. I carefully traced out the batman logo on an old black t-shirt that was fairly snug. It was the perfect batgirl costume. The new one, not the old.

I showed it to my family as I went out that night. They all thought it was great, even my dad, and I could tell they wanted to ask why now, after 18 years of never going out, was I going out to a party; they held back, though. I was wearing oversized black shorts and a loose black t-shirt (with logo painted on) and perfectly decent, if not cute. It was a not-sleazy version of a superhero normally known for her skin-tight suit.

I drove off, my parents trusting me not to drink, with the mask on the seat beside me.. I parked a block away from the party I thought Joey would be at. I gulped and took the plunge.

This is where my real costume appeared. I slipped the t-shirt over my head and slid the shorts off my body. I was now clad only in black leather boots that went up to the top of my calves, a Zentai suit with a bat painted across the chest, a yellow belt, and a black cape. I'd looked in my room with the lights on, off, and during the day and at dusk, trying to simulate what people might see. The suit was stretched out a bit more than my experiments in the store, but still left some possibility that no-you-weren't-actually-seeing-the-blush-of-that-girl's-nipples was the reality. In bright light it was fairly obvious that you were indeed seeing the colour of nipples through thin fabric - even my belly-button's shadow, where it receded from the fabric was clear. The suit showed every curve of my body, pulling up into and separating my ass cheeks a bit. It was pulled up, slightly, into my pussy, and if I'd had dark hair there, or "outties", my lack of underwear would have been very obvious. As it was, it was merely suggested.

With the hood pulled over my face, and the cape around my shoulders and over my breasts, I was fairly presentable walking along the street. My keys, ID, and some cash went into a now-yellow pouch on my belt. My nipples perked up in the cold night air. I walked past a few families, secure that on the poorly lit street here in the suburbs, that they couldn't see through anything. I heard the party before I saw the house. I rounded a corner and there it was, two houses in; it was a large two story house with a big yard. Most of the people were inside, but a few, in costume stood smoking on the front steps. I didn't recognize any of the people there, nor they me; hell, I was the last person they'd expect at any party, let alone one dressed like I was - and that was if they even knew who I was.

I let the cape fall back from my shoulders as I neared, throwing my shoulders back and my chest out. I walked up as one of them said, "Fucking-awesome!". I nodded my head in silence, smiling underneath as I walked past. As I walked up the stairs, I lifted my cape up and pulled it around the side, ostensibly to keep from tripping on it.

"Oh my fucking God. Did you see her ass?"

"That is perfect...perfect..."

I stood taller hearing those comments as I walked up the stairs into the house. I knew I was getting wet already, and hoped that it wouldn't show in the suit.

***

I walked in the front door, both relieved and disappointed that the lighting was a bit lower than it had been in the store where I'd bought the suit. But that was probably ok. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. I immediately had to squeeze through a crowded hallway, and did so by raising my arms above my head and trying to slip through between bodies. Instead I managed to rub up against a fair number of bodies, and - I believe now - had a few bodies rub up against me if you know what I mean.

I received some very positive comments from the sober, "That is an awesome Batgirl costume - the new one, right?" and drunk, "Nice bat-tits!". I enjoyed them all. My nipples were hard and sticking out and I was leaning back, perhaps more than I needed, as I worked toward an area clear of bodies; my breasts were pushed forward and up with my arms raised, and I felt the suit being pulled up into my ass and pussy.

I reached and empty spot away from the entry way, and wandered into the living room. People were scattered around, some on couches talking - even a few making out - all in costume. There were slutty nurses, and was one brave girl in a bustier a silk boxers; perhaps she was someone from Moulin Rouge? The boys were dressed in unoriginal outfits. Cowboys, tuxedos, and various athletic genres. There was one of the football team dressed in a toga. He had nice shoulders.

I kept to the edge of the room, moving toward a corner and staying out of people's way. I was quickly, though, joined by a boy I recognized as being in my year; actually, he'd been in my older sibling's grade the year before but had failed and was repeating the year; he'd come to a birthday party my brother had years ago, and I remembered his name as Christopher. He was dressed in a Tuxedo.

"Hi, I love your costume."

I nodded, not being drawn into speaking. That was a bonus of my character, she didn't talk, or at least my version of her didn't.

"Ah, you're staying in character I see. God, is it OK that I say you look amazing. Anyway, I brought you a drink, would you like it?"

I shook my head, and then followed it with a nod I hoped indicated I appreciated his offer.

He moved a bit closer, to me, crowding me into the corner a bit. "Did you make the costume yourself?" I could tell, now, by the slurring of his words that he was pretty drunk. One clue was in his quick downing of his own drink, and a quick sip of the one he'd brought for me.

I nodded and gave a bit of a curtsey to him, and finished up in a chest thrusting heroic pose.

He stared at my breasts and said, "What is the fabric? Can I touch it? How did you get the logo so perfect?"

I nodded and reached out my arm to him, but he didn't reach out and grab that fabric. He instead walked in closer to me and, looking right into my eyes, traced the logo painted across my chest...or should I say my breasts. As his finger traced along the side and underside I shivered, closing my eyes and leaning back into the corner.

"I love how they, it feels. You've done an amazing job. Um....are you wearing anything underneath?"

I paused here, feeling like I'd been caught out. I didn't want to admit that I was wearing nothing else, but I didn't want to lie. Instead I opted for shrugging my shoulders as I ducked down and under his arm.

I heard him whistle as I moved into the party more, taking in the costumes of others and exploring the house. And letting myself be seen.

A girl came up to me, dressed as Catwoman. She was sexy, but not slutty. I gave her a thumbs up and she smiled, "Hi, I love your costume - but who are you?"

I shrugged away in a friendly way and she laughed!

"Maybe I'll get to find out later," she questioned with a slur. She wandered off drunkenly and I watched as Christopher approached her with an extra drink in hand. I didn't know who she was, but realized that I didn't mind the attention. It was all so new and novel - having people notice me - and being almost naked, in a way.

I decided to move out to the back yard, I could see people milling about there through a window, and there was a bit more space to roam. And it was dark. I realized that while I'd been standing around, several of my classmates, though I didn't know any of them, were starting at me. I needed to get out in the cool air and not let them see me quiver.

***

I found a quiet corner and didn't think anyone had followed me from inside. I took in the scene, realizing that dressed, as I was in black and standing in shadow, I was almost invisible.

I'd never been to a real party before - I mean one with drinking and no cheek-pinching adults. As I relaxed in the shadows, confident I wasn't being stared at, I took in the back yard. It was a fair size, perhaps half the footprint of our school's gym. Near the center was a fire-pit with a nice camp-fire blazing away. Coolers were scattered around the people sitting by the fire on logs - some even on the coolers. Every few minutes someone would stand, grab a beer from a cooler, be it the one on which they sat or one outside the ring. I'd hear snatches of conversations; the main thing that struck these conversations as different from those I overheard at school were comments like, "I'm soooo wasted."

I wasn't the only woman there dressed in something form-fitting or revealing. I recognized a girl from my Lit class dressed as Wonder Woman in a printed bathing suit and shiny red rubber boots; it was revealing, but she wasn't exposed, if that makes any sense. There were two girls French maids and a naughty nurse. Over there making out with someone dressed as Harry Potter was a girl in an abbreviated school-girl's costume. Her white panties kept flashing into view in the darkness as he pawed her ass. I liked it.

One of the guys was dressed as a caveman, while another in a cardboard box for some reason; He kept tripping and his cardboard box was almost destroyed. There were two Jokers hitting on Wonder Woman, though only one of them had a good costume.

And there was a caveman with a really attractive body revealed by his leopard-skin tunic. From my vantage, I looked right toward him as he sat by the fire, and I quickly realized that the fire lit up his underwear under his skins. I couldn't really see anything, but I did enjoy being in the voyeur role for a change. I imagined how big he might be under the dark briefs - was he circumcised or not - was he hard or soft. He was close enough to the fire that his night vision was shot - none of those around the fire noticed me watching from 30 feet away in the corner of the yard. I watched for quite a while and enjoyed watching a drunken Tinkerbell walk over and straddle his surprised lap and grind on him a bit while they made out. Those around the fire noticed and laughed after a bit, and I heard one of the guys call out, "We want to see what's under her costume, man, not yours!" as the guy's leopard-skin was pushed out of the way. I think that the caveman was embarrassed, for he picked up Tinkerbell in his arms (sadly allowing his costume to again cover him) and they moved away from the fire with laughter following them.

I was surprised, at that moment, by a flash of light and the clicking of a camera. As my eyes recovered, I saw a camera-holding cowboy standing there - Joey. "I hope you don't mind, I'm getting photos of everyone at the party," he said.

I shook my head, and shifted nervously, though I realized that in the dark he couldn't see me that well.

"I get it!" Joey guessed, "You're staying in character tonight, and not talking, just like the Bat Girl in the comics. Cool."

I nodded, and stepped toward him, not sure what I was going to do. As I stepped into the light though, that was answered for me, "Let's take some fighting photos Joey!"

It was Cat Woman, who had found me in the yard. She was drunk, and trailing behind her was Christopher in his tuxedo.

"Fantastic idea Kath, let's do it?" He looked toward me as he responded, obviously hoping I'd go along with it. I had no trouble agreeing with a nod and held up my hands with a shrug to indicate, "What next?"

"OK, let's get the two of you on your own in action poses first."

That was easy enough, I stood proud, my chest out, and fists on my hips. Click. Click.

I tried crouching in a superhero-ish manner. Click. Click.

Catwoman struck a few poses, and the camera clicked away. It clicked many times when she was on all fours, looking back over her shoulder at the camera which, I think, was more focussed on her ass.

Joey asked us to pretend to encounter each other and then fake a fight, all in slow motion. It sounded easy enough and I nodded.

Catwoman and I backed up until Joey said, "OK, move toward each other, but slowly."

Click. Click. We each crept along, our motions overly dramatic. Click. Click. A recogniztion sequence, and Joey moved in closer, focusing on each of our faces in succession. Click. Click.

This was fun, I was able to act in public safely behind my Latex mask. I put myself in the place of Batgirl, and shook my fish at Catwoman. Click. Click. She in turn "rushed at me" in slow motion, and Joey stepped back to get all of our bodies in the frame again. Click. Click. We began to grapple. Click. Click.