The End of Blanke Schande

This morning, watching his girlfriend up on the platform, spreading her flushed feet and legs apart for the icy wind, Corey had remembered this story and knew that his girlfriend was perfectly safe, and in fact getting stronger for the effort.

Now, in the bright snowy afternoon sun, Lisa said, "You're right, Corey. That erotocize clas this morning was brutal." Then she exhaled. "Sometimes I can't believe I signed up for this. It was almost a Tami moment."

Tami, Tami, Tami . . . The legend of Tami Smithers. Who knows how the Tami legend started? It had been passed down among BSC girls since nobody knew when, perhaps when BSC was first started in 1970, maybe even before. Tami Smithers, another naked college girl, but Tami was forced to be naked against her will, something about keeping her scholarship, and was the only one naked, no other naked girls around to comfort her. The Tami legend had inspired a body of Tami fiction and poetry, written by those girls so inclined, and a number of the guys too. The library had an archive of them, some of the stories approaching novel length.

There was a black metal statue in front of the administration building, of a young clothed man and a young naked woman, both looking ahead and striding forward, each carrying a lumberman's ax in one hand (appropriate to this redwood country) and a book in the other -- someone always wrote "Tami" on the side of the base, near the girl's bare left foot. It was hard to pin down exactly why the legend had such an allure. Did BSC girls identify with her? -- how could they? For them, nudity was voluntary! Maybe it was Tami's strength, in surviving such an ordeal. Strength through nudity. Their patron saint.

Sara, having finished Shelly's last toenail, stood up, holding the little bottle, her breasts swaying to and fro. She wiggled her butt back and forth, flexing her muscles, getting the feeling back after sitting in the snow for twenty minutes. Shelly spread her toes and shook the little snowballs loose and got up too and hugged her, a rather assertive gesture for her. "Thanks." Shelly looked down and flexed her feet. "Expert job." They went off hand in hand. Not lesbians. But BSC females, no matter what their sexual orientation, show a lot of physical affection for each other, right down to cuddling with each other as they go to sleep on the big beds in their doorless dorm rooms.

Now another couple, trudging up the path that came up from the main gate, Kathy and Willy, two panting grease-smeared 20-year-olds carrying suitcases with grimy hands. Willy, a tall guy with an attempt at a beard and a sherpa cap, wore junky overalls and a sweatshirt with dark streaks here and there. Kathy, a thin white girl with an outsized chest, had smears of gunk across her belly, all over her thighs, and criss-crossing her huge boobs which wobbled in front of her as she jerked the suitcases up onto the bench. "What is it with you men!" she said to her boyfriend with mock exasperation as she jerked again, the suitcases being so heavy. "All these CLOTHES!"

"Jesus," Hank said to the two newcomers. "What happened to YOU?"

Willy sat down with his honey and caught his breath. Beads of sweat on his forehead matched similar moistness over her breasts. "A great end to a long weekend with my folks. My car got a flat tire just as we were getting to the gate. Not easy to fix."

"And then when we finally got those lug nuts off and got the tire changed the damn car wouldn't start," Kathy said, pulling her long black hair past her eyes. "We had to push the freaking thing all the way back to Merton's." Merton's Service Station was the last thing you came to before the drive up to the campus gate.

Corey's eyes widened. "You pushed it all the way to Merton's? And then carried all this stuff up from there?"

Kathy, still catching her breath, nodded. "Pushing that huge Ark-like thing was rough. My ta-tas almost got crushed." She looked down at her breasts and caressed them, trying without success to cup her huge endowments into each hand, then bent down and playfully kissed one and then the other. "Poor babies!"

She sat back and crossed her legs like a man does, one foot up on the other knee, and everyone was treated to the site of her totally black, grimy sole. "Yuck," Lisa said.

"I'll say," Kathy said. "Merton's has the greasiest garage floor in the world. Haven't they heard of Quik-Dry?", she said, referring to a gravel-like material used to soak up oil spills. "And they made us wait about three forevers before they told us they had to order parts and we had to leave the car there."

Willy said, with a smile, "Well they weren't in a hurry, with what there was to look at. You could have sat with me in the office with that crabby old cashier. You didn't have to get right in under the hood with them and point to what was wrong."

"Once a motorhead, always a motorhead," Kathy said. She looked down at her black sole and spread her toes. "I can't wait for the sponge." The "sponge" was the little soapy mat the girls kept in their bathrooms. It was not used as much in winter with the snow keeping their feet clean.

"Well let's go," Willy said. "I'll give you a nice scrub-down all over." The two of them jerked the suitcases off the bench and struggled around the bend to the dorm.

"It's the least you can do," Kathy said, the snow sucking up the sound of their voices as they turned out of sight. "Tonight I'm on top."

The friends at the table saw them go and then resumed their contemplation of the snow and the sunshine. Ahmad, having finished his pear, brought his bag up onto the table. "Show us your latest," Lisa said. Seeing his shy hesitation, she insisted, "Come on! I saw you working on something yesterday."

It was a charcoal rendering of a stand of trees, then the quad behind it, the administration building in the distance and the black metal statue, tiny in the distance. "Good perspective," Lisa said.

"You're getting better and better," Hank said. They were too tactful to mention it but drawing in the statue was a breakthrough. Ahmad still had his inhibitions, the product of an upbringing in conservative Islam, which forbids depictions of the human form as idolatrous. Secretly he wanted to draw the many naked girls around him, but that day was still quite a ways off.

And now another unattainable object, Naomi, along with her friends Jason, Maury and Graciela, one white and one brown female approaching with two guys in sweats. Naomi spoke first with a typical Naomi comment. "Such gorgeous creation all around us."

Naomi was a born-again Christian and one of BSC's several dedicated virgins, who for some reason tended to gravitate to Alturas. It was hard for some of the students to believe that there was such a thing as a born-again nudist camp but Naomi's family had been members of one, down near Santa Barbara, and she had grown up about as uninhibited about nudity as any BSC student. To Ahmad she was just gorgeous and made even more so by her virginity and her desire to keep it until marriage. Could he marry her? Traditional courtship rituals competed in his mind with ideas that were more distinctly his own, for example interdenominational relationships. He admired her and loved her. . .

"You are very beautiful, Miss Naomi," he said, nervously, and of course both of them knew what that meant.

She smiled and said, "You're a sweetheart, Ahmad. Why don't we do a Bible study in the library later?" Ahmad allowed a raised eyebrow to interrupt his admiring gaze. She smiled, knowing that she and he had differing ideas about the Word of God.

And now the wind played with the light blonde curls caressing her bare shoulders, making Ahmad almost swoon.

Not forgetting his polite request, Naomi walked over to him and, seeing his nod, turned around and bent over, again without shame. She had often said, "The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, every part is sanctified". Ahmad felt sublime as the sun glistened on her dewy, lipless vaginal region which nothing had ever penetrated. The darkish brown hair -- no jokes about "natural blondes" here, BSC guys were experts on the topic and knew that most girls who have natural blonde head hair really do tend to have darker hair below -- and the tight butt cheeks around it. Ahmad thought to himself: this is the view Adam had, like Eve looked on the first morning in the Garden of Eden.

Naomi turned back to face him and he joined her and her friends as they walked off, leaving Corey and Lisa and Hank. They sat silently. Far off, in front of the trees, Wendy and Susie and Tommy ran across the field, the last two having a hard time staying even with the naked track star. Bits of snow flew out behind her (toe thrust!) as she continued what to her was a relaxed pace.

"Well gotta go," Hank said, off to sociology class, leaving Corey and Lisa alone. Corey looked at Lisa with a smile. Lisa extended her foot under the table and caressed his jeans-covered crotch with her snow-encrusted toes. Corey exhaled and leaned over and the two lovers gave each other a long kiss.

They got up and decided to take a little walk, hand in hand, their bags over their shoulders as they went up the hill path up toward the ridge.

Lisa stopped to take the folder out of her bag once again. Corey looked at it. "I don't know about signing that petition."

It was what was in Lisa's folder. "I wish you'd come out with it. I hate to put it this way but, you KNOW you want it."

"No, I'm not sure about it."

Lisa looked up at the trees, then stopped and leaned back against one, a white birch. She wiggled her back as if scratching it against the bark. She dropped her bag to the ground, looking down, tracing in the snow with her big toe, as if signing a name. "Corey . . . Kaminsky. . . Let the guys be naked too."

It was an idea pushed sporadically at BSC, being given new impetus this year by Lisa (who was the Alturas student rep on the Board of Governors) and Wendy. Wendy was tired of dealing with guys she considered to be weaklings; she thought they needed some strengthening. Lisa's motive was more altruistic. Being naked was a benefit for the females in so many ways. Why not extend that benefit to guys too?

"I don't know. I admit, I'm afraid," Corey said. "It didn't seem to work out when they tried it."

"Oh, Cor . . ." The original 1968 - 1969 experiments on campus nudity that had given birth to Blanke Schande -- the students had been taught all about it at orientation. How men did not react well to being naked, universal nudity caused male acting out, as did male only nudity. Female only nudity, though, worked like a charm, so long as the females were treated with respect with no non-consensual touching. The men ended up better adjusted about sex, as did the women, who overcame modesty and body image issues to end up strong and self-assured. Lisa and Corey had gone around and around about this, Corey being hesitant, though not being able to disagree with Lisa's assessment that times have changed, intergender relationships are more equal and more individualized now, and the men (and women) of 1970 were not like men are today.

Corey dropped his bag and put his arms around his girlfriend, brushing his parka against her bare breasts, putting his head on her bare shoulder. "If the guys were naked, on a cold day like today we all would have dicks the size of thimbles."

"So what? Look at all the girls with tiny titties. I used to be worried that my breasts are too small. Now I don't care, they're part of me."

"I think your breasts are beautiful."

"That's because you love me. It's part of me, my personhood, not just an external. What about Stacey Peaches?" Stacey, an art major, thin as a rail, had no breasts to speak of, just two hard nipples sticking out in the cold, and even they were small. "Some guys have big dicks, some have little ones. Once you're all naked for a few weeks you won't care."

Corey had to be honest with his girlfriend but couldn't unstick himself from standard male insecurities. "We can't all be Dan Small." Dan was a student at the main campus, the only guy whose penis size was generally known because it was so huge, the bulge running down his baggy shorts visible even though limp. Was he a virgin? A nice guy, he was so quiet, didn't have a girlfriend -- were the girls afraid of his size?

Lisa could guess his thoughts. "Will you stop thinking about Dan!? Think about YOU. I'm in love with YOU. Your penis is beautiful. . . And huge."

Corey laughed.

"I'm getting cold. Let's get going." And she picked up her bag.

They went over the rise and into the clearing into the glorious view of the ridge, huge and distant, the stand of redwoods going up to the rocky precipice to the right, above the expanse of forest. The path then wound around to the left, down into a little cove and a bridge over a stream, then up again.

"Unhhh! Unhhh!"

Corey and Lisa looked at each other and exhaled in exasperation. Jane and Janeane were at it again. As Corey and Lisa turned the bend that led up to the main concourse the two naked lesbians were 69-ing in a snow bank on the side. Corey and Lisa resisted but finally had to look. Side by side, a position that is normally uncomfortable, except they had bunched up snow to prop up each head and each bent upper leg. Flushed toes spreading and clenching, red fingers grabbing each other's butt cheeks, tongues pushing into each other's pussies, consumed in the high metabolism of sexual excitement they seemed oblivious to the cold and to any onlookers.

These two were a big problem. Public sex was a no-no at BSC like everywhere else. It was especially bad at BSC because if it ever got out that the naked BSC girls were having sex out in the open, it could totally ruin the reputation the college had carefully cultivated, confirm people's worst fears, cause an uproar with the local authorities, and bring the great experiment to an end.

"Nnnn!! Oh God! Ohhhh!" Janeane was coming, probably not for the first time. Her cries rang out in the clear winter air, fortunately getting swallowed by the snow before it carried any distance. Out here the snow was about a foot deep, slowly melting after that big blizzard last week. Lisa and Corey stopped and looked with mixed emotions. The two girls were in love, and the Blanke Schande life was designed to abolish any female inhibitions. With straight or bisexual girls, they could "do their business" in the guy's room, but the girls' rooms had no doors, the girls were totally open to anyone's view, day or night. Jane and Janeane had graduated quite naturally from tonguing each other in their doorless room with guys watching, to doing it in front of guys using the laundry room, then out in the woods, now ever more in public.

They should know better. It was hard to escape the conclusion that their ultimate fantasy, which they were realizing in stages, was to 69 each other to orgasm right in front of the quad with the whole campus watching. Both Lisa and Corey watched with increasingly unsympathetic gazes. Now as Janeane climaxed again, her body turning red in her trademark all-over "orgasm flush", Jane was doing what everyone by now knew was her specialty, spreading Janeane's butt wide and spearing her tongue into Janeane's anus in time with its spasms. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! . . . Oh!"

"Oh shit," Corey said. Walking up the concourse was Mr. Joseph Karasik, the BSC Dean for Alturas, with Professor Outler, the geology teacher, serious men in casual suits, talking no doubt about serious things. Corey and Lisa looked at the spasming couple in the snow, and out of decency waited for Janeane's climax to run its course. It went on and on as Karasik and Outler approached. Finally the last spasm -- no! There's another one!

It was at the very last minute. Corey whispered loudly, "Karasik!!" The two naked lesbians got up and scurried into the brush and out of sight like squirrels, their toes kicking up bits of snow behind them.

Karasik was cordial and unsuspecting. "Hello, Ms. Tornelli, Mr. Kaminsky. . . Lisa, Mr. Landau has to talk to you about next week's meeting. They want everyone to go down to Olive Beach."

Lisa contained the barest eye-flick toward the woods where Jane and Janeane had recently disappeared, then looked up to the Dean. "What for?" Usually to accommodate her and Mr. Landau, the writing instructor who acted as the Alturas faculty rep, the Board of Governors meetings were done by speaker phone.

"They want to make a presentation, a lot of documents and a slide show."

"Oooh, a slide show," Lisa said in gentle sarcasm. "Popcorn too?" It was an unspoken triumph of the Blanke Schande ethos that this naked female standing barefoot in the snow could be so self-assured surrounded by two clothed authority figures as well as the clothed Corey.

Karasik smiled. "Seems odd to me too. Well, bye." And he and Mr. Outler passed along.

After they were gone, Corey and Lisa looked into the woods. The lesbians had completely disappeared. "I don't know why we keep protecting them," Corey said. "Before they get us all in real trouble, somebody should talk to them."

"They've BEEN talked to, Cor, it was no use," Lisa replied. She stepped over to the side of the path into deep snow up to her knees and squatted, the bottoms of her butt cheeks staying just clear. Elbows on her knees, a stream of piss began dribbling out and soon was cutting a yellow hole into the snow. "They just don't see what's wrong." She exhaled and the pee came out faster. "If Karasik sees them, or God forbid the mayor when he visits, it would be The End of Blanke Schande."

She kept peeing as Corey looked down. Lisa was beautiful no matter what she was doing. "No, if the men were naked too . . . THAT would be The End of Blanke Schande. . . Maybe you should get Haelters involved."

Evelyn Haelters was the guidance counselor and what passed for a disciplinarian at this rugged little campus. Lisa looked up at her boyfriend as the pee gathered force and then began to subside. Steam rose up from the yellow hole. "You mean get her to talk to them?"

"She won't mind if she knew you tried with them first."

"Maybe I should tell them first, that I'm going to tell Haelters." Lisa coaxed the last few dribbles out and then gathered snow from in front of her with her hands and pulled it forward to cover all traces of yellow. Then she stood up, shaking her muscles all over. "I'm getting cold," she said. And they got moving again.

It was while Lisa was lathering up, under one of the standalone shower heads in the middle of the big Student Union lobby, that Mr. Landau came up. Shower heads were in open areas all over campus, in fact the only place where a girl could wash herself was in full public view, another BSC rule for overcoming modesty. In the coldest months, of course, the outdoor ones were turned off to prevent freezing pipes. Here in the lobby there were six shower heads in a little circle, so that no girl could hide behind any other, with a little stand in the center holding soap and a towel drawer next to a hamper. Once the girl had dried off, she was not allowed to use the towel to cover herself even for a second; the used towels were placed in the hamper, to be emptied nightly by someone from each of the three dorms on a rotating schedule.

Sandy had just finished drying to Lisa's right and walked off, all flushed and warm, the warmish water having taken the chill off an afternoon outside, which was the reason Lisa was showering too. As she spoke with Mr. Landau, who was admirably undistracted as she soaped up her breasts and between her legs, Corey came up to wait for her and to listen. Apparently there was going to be a vote on a proposal for a new outdoor bathhouse for the Olive Beach campus and a new dorm at Alturas, increasing enrollment here from 60 to 100. Lisa, raising her voice to be heard over the shower, looked Mr. Landau in the eye as she spoke of funding mechanisms and staffing issues, while spreading her legs to get the cloth in between her lower lips.