Bonnie Cuts Loose

SS24: "Bonnie Cuts Loose"

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You know what, Faithful and Beloved Readers? I'm going to start mentioning the names of the other categories these stories can fall into in my intros. After some of the others, like the relative dud "Trust Me" turned out to be...well, actually, "dud" may be going a tad far...but, anyway—I think this might be part of the reason...readers starting out thinking they're reading something that kind of turns into something else. I try to determine what category stories belong to most accurately, but sometimes that's difficult to do. So with this one, I will tell you, it's mainly an Exhibition story—as you can see on the site—but then, halfway through, it turns into a little more of a comedy, so in that respect it's also Humor (or Satire), there's a little Fetish, and then the Voyeur part enters the picture. So, not to give you spoilers, just mentioning that that's the sort of content you can expect here. Hope you enjoy.

***

May 1st, 2:40 p.m.

"Mr. Grant?"

"Yes?"

"You can come on back now; the doctor's ready for you," smiled Bonnie. She took the patient down the hall into the exam room to weigh him and take his blood pressure. When the doctor came in, she turned the patient over to him and returned to the front desk.

Bonnie was single, 22, a student, and an aspiring nurse trainee at the medical center. She was a science and biology major at Denmore, and was planning to go into medicine professionally. She hoped to become a registered nurse, and if she worked sufficiently hard and was fortunate enough, one day a physician. Ever since a very, very young age, she'd admired doctors, and she'd also been positively fascinated with the human body and its workings and intricacies. She felt everyone should love their body and treat it like a temple, and wished to be able to help heal temples that were in any stage of ruin.

It was so interesting to her how every person's body was different, yet every person's body was also really quite the same (with the one or two big obvious gender differences). When she was little, she'd wonder, how come we have two of these and one of those, why's this here and that there, why do they do what they do, until she grew up and told herself, there's no answer to those things; the answer is, 'cause that's just the way we were made, and that's that. At a certain point you just can't ask "why" anymore.

Her fascination with the human body went hand in hand with her fascination for basic nudity, many, many others' as well as her own. A great deal of her time growing up was spent either exercising or studying her own naked form in the mirror. Her parents weren't at all big on nudity—she had no idea where she'd gotten this offbeat characteristic from—so she had to lock her bedroom door and draw the curtains before she could shed her garments. She couldn't wait to grow up and get a place of her own so she could traverse each and every room fully naked, with absolute and total free rein.

One thing she really liked about the body was its eternal consistency—the fact that the human form had been identical since the dawn of mankind. It wasn't like fads, trends, styles and fashions that came and went. Oh, hairstyles changed, nails were painted and polished, perfumes enhanced one's scent, and many areas were tattooed and/or pierced, but everyone was basically born the same.

Her intrigue didn't only go skin deep. Skin was great, of course, and the largest organ humans boasted, but the inner systems were just as exciting to her physi-curious mind. Growing up, she could say something not nearly every kid could: that P.E. was her favorite subject. Other subjects in high school and college could come and go, but as for biology and phys-ed, when the teacher/professor would present the lectures, well, let it just be said that hardly any of her classmates would also whisper, "Wow!" in genuine awe, or scribble down notes so furiously fast smoke began to rise off the paper.

She didn't ace every single subject, but she was thrilled the first time she found out she got in major in her favorite thing in college. She'd been told that if she applied herself and tried hard enough, there was nothing she couldn't do—actually, those were the words of the guidance counselors who sent her on her way. She knew a bit better. She knew how stressful and challenging it was out there, especially in the medicinal arts, and that as much as she enjoyed her journey, it was going to be a lot of work. Fun work, but work.

But in and around the work, she managed to find time for friends, family and leisure activities. When a gaggle of her buddies or her parents took her out somewhere—anywhere—in public, her mental processes and her imagination kicked into overdrive. Say Bonnie should be walking down the street one day and cross paths with any other person, regardless of sex, age, race, ethnicity, anything, and exchange eye contact and a simple hello. On a regular one-on-one basis such as this, she'd scan a quick once-over of the individual in question, make an educated speculation of the person's entire naked body based on the percentage she could see, enjoy the image for a moment, and be on her merry way.

Unless she only met one or two people while out and about and then went straight home, she would have to snap a quick mental picture of the person's imagined naked form, enjoy it for a second, and move on. Although, depending on what kind of mood she was in, she might try it on fewer people in order to spend more time on the ones she did choose. The problem was, there were just so many! She found it a shame that at this point in time there were over seven billion people on the planet—not because she thought it overpopulated, but—because as much as she wanted to meet and perform this brief mental x-ray attempt on all of them—excluding children—not even a hypothetical worldwide travel tour could accomplish that feat. It was okay, she thought, she had more than enough to keep herself occupied just in her daily life. And should she still desire anything more? Hello Internet!

And as if there wasn't already sufficient visual intrigue for her prying eyes, this fascination of hers was doubled by the fact that she was bisexual. How amazing it was that should a friend point out an attractive specimen to her, boy or girl, she could weigh in and relate on the same level, guaranteed. Wow, she thought, I've got the best of both worlds here. She adored men, and she adored women, and so every day in public was a feast for the eyes. Granted, some days the feast was less sumptuous than others, but she normally caught sight of at least something rather appealing. She couldn't help being thankful she was single. She wouldn't automatically turn away the opportunity of a boyfriend or girlfriend, should it knock, but with such an array of fine dishes from which to choose, she'd have a hell of a time deciding. In any case, it sure was fun to peruse the menu!

Many in her circle, given that they knew her well, would be surprised and a little startled to learn that Bonnie liked to hop online and look for more than just the odd sample of (tasteful) pornography. It was a personal secret she concealed and guarded with her life. She didn't want to feel ashamed of it, but something in the connotation told her she was base, lascivious and crude for being drawn to it. But hey, she thought, she might as well live up to it: base, lascivious, crude—those were her initials. Bonnie Linn Cutler.

But her friends would find it downright laughable to be informed that ironically enough, Bonnie would insist she didn't watch the porn to become aroused or get herself off. That was not the purpose. Well, okay, she would have to admit, that was not the only purpose. But she also watched it to put her imagination to rest and just admire some raw, exposed, lovely bare human flesh. The distinction? Bonnie determined a lot could be told about a person by the way he or she treated his or her body.

Oh, she loved her own species so much. To her, humankind was the greatest gift to...well, to itself, on this planet. She wouldn't be gotten wrong, animals and nature were terrific on their own level, but nothing stacked up or held a proverbial candle to the wonder and affection she bore for another evolved human being. And she loved being bisexual. She was enamored of both penises and vaginas (or dicks and pussies, she called them in her more naughty moods), and felt it was too bad she only had one of them to play with. Yet she knew she also mustn't discount her boobies. Whether one had them or not, who didn't love boobies?

One day she got curious enough to look up and read about male masturbation. She just wanted to know what it was like to have a penis (and balls), and toy with it (them). To her surprise, lots and lots of other women seemed to share this particular enthrallment. They thoroughly enjoyed watching a man jerk himself off for them, and especially come. They described it a hundred different ways. Just as with her own self-loving activity, there were literally dozens of euphemisms for men masturbating. "Tickle the pickle" was the one that made her laugh out loud. After reading up on it, she located some videos of it and settled back to enjoy them.

And enjoy them she did. When the gentleman in question climaxed, she saw his face morph into a portrait of passionate intensity, and she almost—almost—fell in love with him just a little. And when she got to see that whitish, semi-transparent end result fire out of the urethra of his dick in repetitive spurts, like a lawn sprinkler, she couldn't explain it, but it was as if someone set her pussy on fire. My God, she thought...it was the normal ejaculatory outcome—pun intended—when men reached orgasm, of course, she knew that, but she wished she knew what exactly about it made her melt with scalding hot lust inside. Just nature, she had to assume. She wanted to slow down the frames and watch it in slow-motion. At her horniest, her pussy was like a hot wax-dripping candle, but she couldn't achieve such an extreme effect as that. That is SO damn awesome, her mind gushed. Men's bodies and dicks are sculpted so fantastically...damn it, I'm jealous; why can't I do that with something on my body?

Penises (or "willies," she also playfully called them, imitating the British) were cool to her just because they kept changing size and shape all the time. The very first time a guy undressed for her, and she saw a cock in person, as it sprang excitedly from his boxers into the air like a catapult, her only and gut reaction was a less than romantic but highly impressed, "Dude!" She wasn't crazy about the term or the idea of penis envy, but she thought she might have it a little.

Sometimes she thought she was a little more straight than bi...but that was certainly not to take anything away from the girls. Girls being intimate with others and with themselves was just as intoxicating. She loved them just as much—and so sometimes thought she was a little more gay than bi. Being truly bisexual, she found herself wondering surprisingly often how appropriate it would've been had she been born a hermaphrodite. She was biologically equipped to accommodate men, but she had no penis with which to please a woman and discover how it felt inside her. That part almost seemed a little unfair, but oh well, she thought. We can't have everything, and besides, I should feel lucky enough that I could theoretically fancy absolutely any person I meet in the entire world.

Bonnie was roughly 5'5", with light brown hair, honey-colored eyes, modest-sized breasts, and a frame not too slender and not too broad. She liked clothes and shopping for them, but she liked being able to let them fly more. She thought she had a pretty nice figure, and she did subscribe to the philosophy of, "If you've got it, flaunt it." It made her quite sad and a little angry that public displays of nudity were considered "indecent." A word that was right there in the name of the so-called crime, along with "exposure," and could lead to so much as arrest. How offensive, when she found the human body—ANY human body—such a beautiful thing.

Who made up that stupid rule? she thought indignantly. Babies aren't born wearing clothes, for God's sake! Women who give birth to them don't have any clothes "down there," no one considers that indecent! People in locker rooms are naked together, everyone's cool with that...what, do they think if we can see each other naked every day, we'll just all start boinking each other? That we just have no willpower? Unfortunately, as she thought about it, the answer to that question was probably affirmative (i.e., that's what enforcers thought would happen, not what would actually happen). And she could see some consequences there...all right, so maybe there was a reason. But then she remembered folks got around that by visiting nudist colonies. Hey, I'll have to check them out! Actually, she was surprised she hadn't already; they seemed right up her alley.

All this being noted, Bonnie's chosen career path was an understandable one. She amused herself considering becoming a obste-gyne, but she wanted to be able to treat men too. And she could see others being led to believe she was a degenerate for thinking the way she did, but she really wanted to heal people's maladies, not just cop a depraved peek at their vulnerable bodies. Right now in this stage of her life and career she called patients from the waiting room, took them down the hall, weighed them and monitored their blood pressure, which was fine; it was good interaction with them, and good experience in her chosen field as she slogged through her many, many years of medical school. So for now, she was content performing these pre-examination tasks.

Nonetheless, it didn't stop her from scanning her secret personal x-ray of them.

Bonnie didn't have any significant others or better halves, but she did go on about twice as many dates as a monosexual kid her age. She just hadn't found that one magical person who could light up her life yet. But she was in no hurry. Dating was a lot of fun, as was flirting, making out and harmlessly fooling around was even more fun, and her parents always advised her it was better to take her time, and not rush into anything drastically. But while she wasn't actively in a relationship, there was one particular classmate she had her eyes (often glued) on. It was a very, very handsome fellow named Steve, just a couple years older than she (on whom she secretly had an enormous crush). On the female end, there was a lovely lass named Jessica in another of her classes. Coincidentally, the subjects of these classes weren't exactly Bonnie's fortes—they were core courses students were required to take in order to graduate, regardless of major—and so she was thinking of asking one or both of them to tutor her, had they the time and inclination.

Hey...maybe they could both come over at the same time, she thought, entertaining herself. Then perhaps afterwards we cou—

WHOA—down, girl! she scolded herself. Sometimes her mind got carried away at the idea of more taboo erotic byplay, like threesomes. Yet at the same time, should it ever become a reality, she'd be at an advantage. Theoretically, if she could locate one more bisexual person—preferably another girl—she didn't imagine they'd have a boatload of trouble convincing a cute guy—or lesbian—to join them in a good old-fashioned American ménage. That was her speculation, at least; she couldn't know for sure.

Not in school, Bon-Bon, she thought, mentally waggling a chiding finger at herself. Keep it to ourselves until we get home.

The blessing, Bonnie considered it, of being able to like, be drawn and make love to both men and women shaped her into more of a sexually active person than she'd have guessed. She'd learned to masturbate with the help of magazines. Some of the publications for more mature readers dealt in rather spicy, secret material and featured pictures of some pretty attractive male and female eye candy—in their wrappers, of course. She vastly enjoyed turning page after page and undressing them with her eyes. Then when her imagination inevitably wore down, she went into her Dad's "secret" stash of girly rags, and after scoping enough visible and invisible flesh, her libido was tickled awake, and she got excited.

It wasn't hard to fall into her simple masturbatory regimen. She found a way to bend and fold the magazine and then prop it up so it stood upright on its own, then she scooted her tush up to the edge of her chair, spread her legs, licked her fingers—or didn't, depending on how much secretion had been generated—peeled her vagina open with her left hand, began gingerly rubbing herself with her right, worked herself up to the point of insertion, eased one finger in to whet her pussy's appetite, and then another when it craved still more. Her pussy was moderately tight, and she couldn't fit more than two fingers inside, but that was just fine; two was enough, if not more than enough. And her thumb was free to rock the metaphorical "girl in the boat."

By this time, her nipples were usually very erect, and she would start playing with her boobs at the same time with her left hand, if she hadn't been already. This meant that while her breasts were enjoying some attention now too, if she wanted a different piece of eye candy, she had to abandon her chest for a second to quickly flip the page and find the next savory treat.

She didn't want to use toys. She wore her wrist out sometimes, but there was no substitute for fundamental skin-on-skin contact for her. (Secretly, when she was younger, she did once "experiment" with a banana, but was just between her, herself and she.) She guessed she could grasp the concept of a plaything that simulated a penis; she could imagine getting really horny and her pussy potentially extending to what felt like seven inches, using a large artificial cock to press inside her and stretch out her cunt as much as it would go...must be pretty intense, she thought. Even so, given the hypothetical choice—and leaving ramifications out of the picture—she and her vagina would prefer a real penis. Again, nothing compared to the feel of pure human flesh on/in her.

She might've been a virgin at the age of 22, technically, but after educating herself on the finer points and the responsibilities of the act, the...ins and outs, as it were, she finally brought herself to a point where should she feel a true emotional connection with another person, man, woman, whichever, she would allow herself to become intimate with him/her, and vice versa.

It wasn't as if she'd engaged in no sexually-related activity whatsoever in her life. She'd gone on dates with both guys and girls, made out, let herself be stroked or fondled in her favorite sensitive spots, and performed a bit of stroking and fondling herself. She grew close and comfortable enough with a few to bare herself in front of them—with her fascination for the naked human form, and the beauty thereof, she would naturally feel a little more okay with this than perhaps would a more conventional individual.

Given all this about her, she figured it should come as little to no surprise that she had vivid, elaborate fantasies of exhibitionism. It was easy to understand that if she visited a nudist colony, the fantasies could be lived out, but honestly, as hot as the idea of public nudity struck her, an additional kink thrown into the mix multiplied her excitement tenfold. Much as she loved the thought of being outdoors, letting the breath of nature caress her bare skin, and as good as it felt to picture in her mind, being furthermore the only person who was naked, amid a gathering of fellow clothed human beings, sent an exponentially charged rush of arousal through her, and fired her up so smoking hot she couldn't describe it.