The Naked Smile

Summary

The "O" series is tasteful, gentle, soft, artistic erotica unlike anything you have read. There's no sex, yet it is completely sensual and erotic. They are the internal personal growth stories of women, who during unexpected dramatic events, experience an uninduced, spontaneous orgasm from their struggles' culmination in a moment of extreme emotional intensity. If you can't imagine an orgasm that goes on for pages, a blend of art, deep emotion, reflection, and the most erotic experience of a woman's life (and maybe yours), you are in for a treat.

The Naked Smile is the story of Carolyn. Before her second year of college, shy and reserved Carolyn spends a summer month at her aunt's house in a rural town in the south of France. Captivated by the sensual European culture, Carolyn experiments with letting go of her shyness by exploring her sensuality. Having just gotten out of the pool one beautiful warm day, she throws a dress over her body and bikes toward town. Enjoying the sensations from the gentle breeze all over her body, she decides to let go of her shyness and smile at a local French woman. The warm smiles that end up being exchanged between them overwhelm her, and she experiences personal growth in a blissful, shared smile she'll never forget.

This is the third of the "O" series and is exceptionally warm, tender, and positive. There's no sex, no men, and the focus is again on a woman's internal experience. Emotions and themes include positive and uplifting energy, venturing out into sensual exploration, sensual exploration by a college student, overcoming shyness, personal growth, gentle bliss, kindness, and complete warm-hearted acceptance. The story contains a 12-page-long orgasm. This short story is a work of fiction with sensitive content for adults only.

The Naked Smile

By Stellan Emrys Wild

Carolyn woke to the sunlight glistening off her walls and birds chirping outside. Her first thought was a delicious reminder that she had decided to sleep nude last night. It was one of her first times doing so, inspired by the adventure of being in her aunt's country villa in a small town in the south of France. She'd just finished her first year of college, and what a change for this 19-year-old, going from a tacky, loud American university town, to the adorable, rustic French countryside.

Staying in France for a month was the most interesting experience Carolyn had ever known. She had always been very shy and reserved. Quiet. She was not expressive, in her voice or her face, having grown up afraid to be her true self. She was even shy about smiling amongst her American peers. When she smiled socially, it was usually a fake or poor attempt at a smile. She herself wondered if it was a shyness she never grew out of or a lingering self-consciousness about imperfect teeth. She had gotten her braces put on late at 16 and only off at 18 after starting college last year.

But it ran much deeper than that. Deep down inside, she was afraid of not being accepted if she let out her natural expressiveness.

Part of her always felt that being "cool" and in control was the way to be. This was obviously some type of self-protection mechanism, but she couldn't rationalize her way out of it. She rarely showed enthusiasm, afraid that her feelings, openness, and trust would be betrayed. Her parents were strict and involved, so she always felt like they were looking over her shoulder ready to judge her. She wondered if, due to their constant criticality, she never learned to let go.

Carolyn often felt jealous of her friends who had animated faces and bold expressions, all thoughtlessly reflecting their emotions. She noticed their completely genuine micro-gestures, unhindered by self-consciousness or fear of looking goofy or silly. Watching some of her peers' faces as they were having a conversation was a show of smirks, winces, excited and funny faces, and open-mouthed expressiveness. For her to let go like that was much more of a conscious and thoughtful effort. She sometimes tried to break out of her shyness, but it rarely came off as natural, which made her even more afraid of judgment.

Being in France was interesting because the people here were very warm and friendly. Their expressiveness was to a completely different, European standard. The noises people made when they greeted each other were completely different than in America: "yoooohooo!" as two ladies greeted each other in a restaurant or the exclamation when a waitress dropped her dishes, "opah!" and such, were completely different than American standards she was used to. If the American standard was the "cool" standard, then the French standard was far more unabashed and absent of self-consciousness she saw in the American social norms. At the same time, the French seemed to be a warmer, happier, more expressive people, at least in this cozy little French town.

Carolyn was fascinated to see the contrast, though she never thought she could be so expressive. She had always wanted that part of her personality to flow naturally, but she was too self-conscious, too thoughtful, too introverted, introspective, and nervous. She felt like her parents were always critical of her, even when they were not there. This wasn't even just in her big things like her school or her studies. It was everything, from what she was wearing, to how she spoke, to how she said hello, to how she ate in restaurants.

She was very excited to be in France visiting her aunt for the first time, having heard many stories about France from her family growing up. Getting away from that stressful home life the summer would offer to a completely new and different world in France with different customs, and different people with different natures right down to their cores gave her a taste of being completely free of judgment. Her aunt wasn't critical in the same way, and allowed her to be very free, offering her only kindness and encouragement for however she chose to spend her month-long visit.

The house where Carolyn was staying was a rustic farmhouse-style chateau as they called it, and absolutely delightful. It wasn't the same as American standards. The stone was cracked along one wall of the house, but it had apparently been that way for over 100 years, and bore a certain charm, with ivy growing artfully in the crevasse. This week, her aunt was away in Paris on business for three days and had left her completely alone. Ah the joy of having the entire place to herself. The best part, of course, was the swimming pool.

Because of Carolyn's newly inspired exploration of personal freedoms, she had been thinking of sleeping nude for several the past several nights. She had once heard that many Europeans sleep nude, and this was the perfect excuse to try it. She needed an excuse to try it at first. Maybe it was something about the air or the European vibe. Two nights ago, she had tried it for the first time. While she was initially afraid of being caught, she decided to accept the risk, figuring it was a different country and nobody knew her. She immediately fell in love with the sensations. The comforter and sheets felt divine. She couldn't believe sleeping nude was legal it felt so delightful and freeing!

As her thirst for sensual adventure grew, she had been increasingly thinking of swimming nude in the pool. The first time it crossed her mind, while having dinner with her aunt, her first thought was "OMG, I wouldn't dare." A few days of swimming in a bathing suit later, she couldn't wait for her aunt to be out of the house, so she could try it.

Yesterday for the first time ever, with nobody around the property, she tried swimming in the nude and was instantly enamored. The water felt like silk all over her body. She couldn't believe the sensations! Of course, it was a private pool on more than two acres of wooded property with multiple driveways. The property was well-covered with trees and bushes, so nobody could see. There was at least another acre of woods between her aunt's house and the nearest country road.

Still, it felt a bit rebellious and adventurous, making her very excited by it all. As she stretched between her comforter and sheets in the nude, she enjoyed the feeling of the cotton on her soft skin, and slowly pushed her wavy blonde hair out of her face. She felt a sense of amazing joy and couldn't wait to have another nude swim in the pool. The excitement she felt superseded and drowned out any fears or concerns. She still knew the same risks were there, she just didn't care, figuring she'd just deal with the situation if it arose then. After staying cozy in bed for a few more minutes, she got up and threw a feather-light pink summer dress over her body that she found hanging in the closet. After having a cup of coffee in the kitchen as the French do, she headed out to the pool.

She almost skipped as she embarked down the hallway toward the back door to the pool patio. As she opened it, the beautiful warm summer air hit her immediately. The rustic pool built into an old stone patio was surrounded by trees and shrubbery in every direction. Off to the left, there was a nice sized lawn and a dirt and gravel road next to it which became one of the driveways. Around the pool, trees let the sunshine sparkle through their leaves, lighting up the shimmering surface of the beautiful pool. Knowing she was safe and completely alone, she immediately whipped off the dress in one move and gracefully laid down on a comfy canvas lounge, excited to be sunbathing nude. She consciously kept her knees together to be ultra-ladylike as she did it, for her own amusement.

Carolyn spoke to herself playfully in a French accent, as though she could step into being a different European woman in a European culture and sidestep all her American shyness about being nude. She said to herself smilingly, "anz zis pool iz all yours, mademoiselle, if ze lady would please enjoy", and then she laughed to herself. She even giggled out loud a little.

She didn't know what came over her. She had never gone nude before. Now, she was stark, raving buck, laying on a lounge outside in the open air on her aunt's pool patio -- not even in her own house no less.

She was always curious about other women who slept nude or sunbathed nude or went swimming nude. She thought it was the most sensual, exciting thing a person could do. She was enthralled by the idea that many mature, intelligent, young women had a preference for not wearing pajamas or bathing suits. She thought about how sunbathing and swimming nude was completely and perfectly respectable. She thought about the mature, intelligent women who would engage in such recreation and otherwise leading completely normal and respectable lives. It was simply how they chose to sunbathe and swim. She wondered how they could be confident at school or work after having slept nude the night before, and wondered if it was even empowering and the sensuality actually added to their confidence. The idea was fascinating.

She had read that a highly respected actress had mentioned in an interview that she chose to swim in her pool in the buff, and she imagined most highly respected and educated women justifying it purely for health and practicality reasons. "It's perfectly legitimate," she told herself, "for reasons of personal freedom, enjoying the breeze, letting go of daily stressors, to sunbathe in the nude." She told herself it wasn't even scandalous, even though she did find it sensual and thrilling that she was laying her beautifully tender pale skin out in the sunshine "completely bare."

She lay there for quite a while, sparring with the idea of allowing a big natural smile to come over her face as she allowed the sun to warm her. Gentle warm waves flowed through her and it felt nice. This was her vacation, and she was going to fully enjoy it. She was going to be like those women she admired, enjoying a free and sensual lifestyle. It was exciting and daring, and she was going to go right ahead and enjoy.

There was something very sensual about the entire town. She got the sense from the European vibe that if anybody had known that she was sunbathing nude, it would be perfectly understood and respected as normal when you have your own private pool. Some people are like that in America, but many American women would wear a full bathing suit even when they were alone in a fully private pool.

At this point, she thought that sounded silly and sheltered, as she felt the sun and the gentle breeze caressing the entirety of her skin. It felt absolutely delicious. And she imagined then, so would a swim be. She was delaying going into the pool for the sole reason that she was letting herself build up the excitement. She wondered how she would go in. Would she dive in and experience flying in nude head first? Would she go in slowly walking as the picture of relaxed carefree luxury? Or, would she do a silly dance for the 12 feet or so between the lounge where she was and the stone pool steps, letting go of qualms about being silly while nude? Oh, how to enjoy it, she pondered. The question seemed to have endless possibilities, each more delightful than the next.

There was a time when she didn't think she would dare swim nude in a pool for risk of being caught. There was a time when she didn't think she would dare sunbathe nude. What if somebody came in the middle of the night! What if there was a fire alarm or an emergency! The risk of being caught was too scary. However, over time, she became curious about what actually would happen in such a scenario. Submersed in the European experience, she was able to step out of such concerns. Then, as she slowly considered her fear of such happening but did it anyway, her conquests actually turned into a feeling of elation.

She felt like, if she were ever caught unexpectedly at the pool by her aunt, she would just give a pre-prepared excuse like, "I didn't think there would be anyone here, and my bathing suit was uncomfortable." Eventually, she wondered whether even saying anything at all would be necessary, as she eventually came around to the view that a mature French woman would certainly understand a young lady's choice to sunbathe and swim in a private pool with nothing on.

As the breeze stroked her blonde hair, and she became aware of having a nice coat of sweat on her body, she decided that she would go in for a dip. She ended up walking to the pool in a silly little effeminate hop from one leg to another while waving her arms above her head, making art out of her body's experience. It was the playful, silly choice that finally won out by being the most thoughtless one. It was only twelve feet or so to the pool steps, and she enjoyed the little trek immensely. Going in, to her own surprise, she let out a soft coo as the lukewarm water enveloped her legs, thighs, torso and chest. She eased in and leaned into a soft breaststroke, smiling. And that was genuine.

There was something empowering and exciting about what she was doing. She enjoyed her gentle dip in the sun-warmed pool and her blissful breaststroke across, gently gliding through the water which caressed her all over. She swam to the far edge of the pool, and back again enjoying every stroke through the warm water. One lap was enough for a quick dip, she then reasoned, and relaxed by the step for a moment, taking a deep breath.

She calmly walked up the steps and slowly walked back and laid back down on the lounge. It was the absolute perfect day, she thought, as a stream of pool-water from a strand of her hair ran down her cheek and neck. She wondered what she was going to do today besides this, if anything. She looked up at the beautiful sky and the way the sunlight came through the trees, and she was in complete, relaxed bliss. This first year of college had been challenging, but she had managed to stay away from the bad elements of partying, drinking, the wrong type of boys, and so on. She didn't have much interest in that, preferring to read, look at art, go to museums, and otherwise enjoy more refined and subdued aspects of life.

As the sun and warm breeze caressed her now even more sensitive body air-drying in the complete open, she wondered who was nearby in the neighborhood and what was going on in town.

She looked over at the side wall of the house, where there was a yellow country bicycle with a front basket leaning against it that she had ridden around the property the other day. When she first arrived, she thought the bike looked corny. It wasn't a cool, modern mountain bike, but an old-style bike with no gears, like one that someone in the last century would have ridden. As she enjoyed laying there, she began to let go of such judgments and began to fantasize about how amazing it would feel to ride the bike, with the breeze all over her body. Maybe the fact that it was a dorky bike would be even more exciting. She would have to brave that dorkiness and rise above it. She wondered if she could do so confidently.

She couldn't help but think about trying to ride the bike nude and what that would feel like. Or perhaps, riding almost nude with just that light summer dress on. She fantasized about riding it around the block, around the neighborhood, or even to town about half a mile away. She fantasized about going to the store and laughed to herself. The thoughts teased her until the idea was thrilling and soon irresistible. She decided she would get up, and try riding the bike and see how it felt.

She threw her airy, light pink dress over her barely dry body, slipped into a pair of minimalist black flip-flops by the door, and hopped onto the bike. She grabbed the handlebars, pushed down on the forward pedal, and started rolling along the lawn slowly, down the rocky dirt road, and toward the front gate of the property.

As soon as she started moving, the breeze gently blew across her face, her arms, her shoulders, her feet, her legs, and her thighs, feeling amazing. Her eyes widened. The most exciting part was the breeze blowing upward under her dress, separating her dress from her otherwise nude body. In the most delightful surprise, the dress was very large and loose for her size, and it was so light that, as she rode the bike, the gentle breeze indeed fully raised it off her skin, leaving several inches of freedom between her and the dress.

While the bottom of the hem stayed almost down by her knees, the rest was separate from her body, puffed up and fully inflated with air.

She strode a couple of pedal-lengths with the bike, taking immediate interest in the curious phenomenon. Upon looking downward as she rode, she could clearly see inside the wide dress neckline to her own breasts, her abdomen, her thighs, and her entire body from chest to her toes in all its naked splendor. Essentially, she was riding the bike completely nude, and the dress was merely floating around her, keeping a significant distance away from her nude body.

She stopped again as she was getting closer to the road, and said "wait a minute" to herself. She wondered if she could ride near the gate like that, as there might be someone at the road. She wondered if other people could see what she is experiencing. Her thoughts were a blend of fear, worry, excitement, and wanting to ensure she would appear decent.

She rode another a few pedal-lengths, and again, the dress came away from her body, whenever she sat on the seat or stood up on the pedals and pedaled forward some more. It was the same phenomenon. When she stood on the pedals, the movement freed her back, thighs, and buttocks completely, as the dress was completely free-floating. Whether she sat or stood up, riding the bike, even at a slow speed, completely inflated her dress and lifted it off her body. It felt absolutely delectable!

"Can other people see?" she wondered. The dress was super light, airy, very thin, and completely at the mercy of the wind. A couple of times, with stronger gusts of wind, she wondered whether it would actually lift upward over body or even over her head, but the hem line was very good at staying around her knees. The rest of the silky material floated around her the way a weightless paper-thin plastic bag might float on air.