tagText With AudioMy Body, My Self

My Body, My Self


Copyright © Kingswoman 2015

It's been a little while since I posted a story. I had this idea for a quickie and I couldn't resist putting it in for the Nude Day competition. Thank you everyone who sent kind messages and posted comments on the stories while I had to be away doing other things.

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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (8 min/mp3)

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I'm cycling to the shop when another surge comes up through me -- heat flushing my skin like the colour through rose petals. It's a warm day, but I know that's not why I suddenly feel hot. A vague mindlessness mists up my brain. I start to pant. Lightly. I run my tongue over my lips.

When I get to the shop I just keep going, aimlessly. Soon I'm out of the zone of pretty white houses and light traffic. My feet move the pedals round. My light skirt flies up in a breeze to show my knickers, there's nobody to see. I just laugh and pant and keep on going up the hill.

My clothes are light and loose but even so they feel burdensome. The straps of my bra are restrictive. I wish I were nude on this bicycle, my hot skin exposed to the warm air, my big boobs bouncing free, my cunt squishing on the saddle as I pedal up the hill.

Suddenly I'm in the shade of woods which line the narrow deserted country road. I see the world darkly the other side of my sunglasses. The moist woodland air is fresh on my hot skin. I'm still panting.

I cycle through the cold shadows, the heat ebbing and flowing in my flushed skin, my mind a blank slate for my senses to scrawl inarticulate responses to extraordinary ordinary meaningless beauties: the dense summer green of the leaves on the trees, the gnarled dark bark of the tree-trunks, cold moist air on my hot skin, a sudden sweet sniff of honeysuckle, distantly the trilling pure notes of a bird dropping a song into the well of the woods.

I burst out into the sunlit tops by a cottage with a roughly handwritten sign advertising eggs and potatoes for sale.

Here I stop. I turn my bike to go back down the hill. I whizz through the cool dark woodland shade, panting in silent laughter and hot ecstasy.

I remember to stop at the shop for milk although goodness knows if I'll remember to put it in the fridge at home. My overloaded senses are skipping on the confusing kaleidoscope of packaging on the shop shelves. I'm keeping at bay an irrational fear that I may not be wearing all my clothes properly. I smile at the woman at the till. Normally I would ask about her child but the hormones surging through me make me fearful of speaking in strange tongues so I only smile today.

I plan now for these days when my body takes over, turning me from a cool competent rational being into a seething cauldron of sensations and emotions. I prepare work early so I don't have to make weak-sounding excuses about deadlines. I wasn't planning to meet anyone so I don't have to re-arrange with friends today.

When I let myself in at home, one of the cats appears at the top of the stairs. I climb up, panting, and run my hand over her sleek pelt: so silky smooth. She brushes round my bare legs, her whiskers tickling.

My light summer clothes feel so irksome to my tingling skin. What relief, to shed them and stand naked in the caressing cool air. The sensations dance in my hyper-sensitive skin as if the air is kissing me all over, now that my clothes are off.

I start the shower, twist my long hair up on my head. I adjust the temperature of the water, tempering its usual brisk heat to an even warmth.

The splashing droplets play on the sensitive nape of my neck: that part of the body the Japanese consider most beautiful. The water's fingertip touches make me gasp with pleasure. My full breasts have tiny rivulets running over their veined curves, dripping down my body. The water drops patter on my neck and run down my buttocks; I stand panting with the hot blood surging under my skin, letting the tepid water play over my skin.

Caressingly I wash off and dry my body. I let down my long hair and pad nude through to my bedroom where I lie myself down. The hot hormones are still surging, throbbing under my clean skin. I cannot think. I only lie, panting, my legs and arms spread wide in the cooling air.

I stare blankly. The cat pads carefully round the mounds of my body, leaps from behind my head onto the windowsill, sits there sniffing the light cooling breeze that blows in over my hot naked body.

OK, if it gets worse I'll take the HRT. I don't want to wake in the nights drenched in sweat, as wet as if I've just taken part in a multi-hole gang bang orgy. On a clear day, if I have world enough and time, I just spread my limbs, lie feeling the tingling heat flush through me. My senses are rioting in Bacchanalian orgasm, no need for a hand on my breast, fingers tweaking a nipple, or the thrust of a cock in my cunt. I lie panting and grinning, spread out on the cool kindliness of the cotton sheets.

I realise I forgot the milk, I left it in the bicycle pannier. I just lie panting lightly in the breeze from the open window. It will still be there if I want it later.

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