Naked at College 01 Pt. 02byCharles Petersunn©
This is Part Two of Naked at College, #1: Chrissie and Michael. There is a bit of introductory material, but I have tried to keep this part brief. You definitely should read Part One before reading this part, as the story will seem even more absurd than it already is without the introduction and prior events. This series is my Litererotica version of the "Naked in School" series, started originally by Karen Wagner. Please note, it again develops slowly, but quite a bit does eventually happen.
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After departing from Nursing 532, Chrissie and Michael quickly headed for the Administrative Building, where they had started this ignominious day. There was to be a special luncheon for them within the boardroom of the Dean of Undergraduate Studies. The administration wanted to provide a clear demonstration of their support for the two students who were blazing the way for the beginning of The Program at Abberville College.
Chrissie and Michael were walking speedily from the Health Sciences Building to the Administrative Building. They were in a hurry in part because they did not want to keep President Rayburn, Dean Worell, or any of the other senior administrators and faculty that might be there waiting. It was quite an honor to be invited to have lunch with the President. It's not something you wanted to be late for.
Besides, the sooner they got there the sooner they would be out of the prying eyes of all of these fellow undergraduates. By now, most everyone at Abberville College was aware that The Program had started. Two fortunate students, or unfortunate, depending upon your perspective, had been selected to spend the day naked on campus. They couldn't cover or hide any parts of their bodies from anyone else. They couldn't be touched, but if asked politely they would have to pose in any manner requested.
Chrissie and Michael were both above the age of eighteen, as were all of the students at Abberville College. Chrissie Pippin was in fact nineteen, and Class President. It seemed only natural to President Rayburn that the leader of the student body would be the first to blaze the way with her own body. It also helped that she was a very attractive young lady. She had wavy blonde hair, pretty green eyes, rosy cheeks, sweet red lips, long shapely legs, and very, very full breasts, which, one could now clearly see, stood up quite well despite their size. What was most striking about Chrissie, though, was her enthusiastic dedication to the success and growth of the college. Students who were jealous of her would call her Elle behind her back, referring to the character in Legally Blonde. But, in fact, those who were her closest friends did so as well to her face. She didn't mind. She took it as a compliment. She liked Elle Woods and found the comparison to be very flattering. Whenever someone referred to her as Elle, she would just gaily respond, "That's totally excellent, like we're both Gemini vegetarians!"
Michael Bates was a more debatable choice. An obvious partner for Chrissie might have been a comparable political leader or perhaps a star athlete. However, others wanted the partner to be someone who complemented Chrissie in a manner that represented an equally, if not more central, component of the college. They did not want The Program to be perceived as simply an excuse to be able to gawk at attractive nude bodies. It was to be a quite serious participatory pedagogical program whose purpose was to learn to treat others in their natural state, to become more comfortable with one's body, to become aware of one's own sexual conflicts and tensions, and to learn to behave in a more mature and morally conscientious manner. Michael was not chosen because he was a hunk, but because he represented well the thinking student, the campus intelligentsia.
Intelligentsia, however, was not on the minds of the students through whom Chrissie and Michael were navigating. The eyes of the boys were fixed on the wiggling and wobbling breasts of Chrissie. They stood up quite well without a bra, but she sorely missed a brassiere to hold them in place. It felt like she had two humongous mounds of jello attached to her chest. They seemed to have a life of their own, jiggling and bobbling with every step.
Once the boys' eyes finished feasting on her breasts, they traveled to her pussy. She had always been quite happy that she didn't have an inordinately thick bush. But, she now would prefer an unattractively dense coverage in favor of the wispy delicacy that now graced her full lipped mound, thanks to the efforts of Mrs. Canfield.
Michael felt equally bad about the exposure of his penis, which was once again limply tucked within its coverlet. The experience in the nursing class, at least the last part of it, had been fantastic. But, the end result was that he was again shriveled up. He wondered how many girls were looking at him, thinking that there was no way they would ever want to go out with that little thing. It certainly couldn't satisfy them. At best it would only amuse or tickle them. A significant function of clothes was to accentuate one's positive features while at the same time hiding one's blemishes and flaws. Michael felt that his weakness as a man was being laid bare. What girl would be attracted to his little wiggling peanut.
When they arrived at the Administrative Building, Chrissie noticed that they would have to climb up a series of stairs to get to the board room. Chrissie really didn't want to walk naked up a flight of stairs. She would at times feel uncomfortable about this even when she was wearing clothes. She knew that the face of a guy right behind her was actually at the same level of her swaying behind. She often felt that he was probably just staring right at her butt, a lecherous smile across his face, imagining that she was doing a Stairmaster just for his pleasure. She felt really uncomfortable being compelled to give him this show. It was particularly bad if she was wearing a tight skirt that accentuated her bottom or a short skirt that he could look up, although skin-tight jeans that molded her bottom could be just as bad. Well, this was going to be much worse. This would be an "up-skirt" angle without the skirt, nor even the panties. She hesitated at the foot of the stairs.
"Mikey," she said softly, taking hold of his hand, circling her thumb in the palm of his hand, her private, secret gesture.
"Yea?" He wondered if she was having second thoughts about going to the luncheon, although he couldn't figure out why she wouldn't want to do that, at least compared to going someplace that would be full of students.
She turned to him, a plaintive expression on her face. "Would you do me a favor?"
He didn't hesitate to answer as he felt her thumb caressing the palm of his hand.. "Well sure."
She looked back up the stairs, biting her lower lip. She turned back to him, squeezing his hand as she continued to role her thumb in his palm. "Mikey, if you wouldn't mind, would you stay right behind me as we walk up the stairs?"
'What an odd request,' he thought. It kind of sounded like she wanted him to appear to be secondary to her. Perhaps to be sure that she entered the Dean's conference room first. However, that would in fact be appropriate. She was, after all, the first participant to be chosen.
Hank Adams, their security guard accompanying them as they walked from class to class, was also confused. If it was protection she wanted, it was his job to provide it
"Well, yea, sure," Michael replied, a little uncertain and certainly confused.
"Oh thank you!" Chrissie gave him, in appreciation, a quick peck on the cheek. She thought it was especially nice of him to not even acknowledge the reason for walking behind her. That was rather gentlemanly of him.
As soon as he got behind her, Michael understood the real reason for her request, or at least he figured what might in fact be the real reason. He now had a most wonderful view of her shapely bottom, her hips going back and forth, the tender, white cheeks tensing and relaxing, lifting and falling with each of her steps. He admired the bottoms of girls he would see exercising on a Stairmaster. Well, this was a hundred times better.
He even got quite a few good looks at her cunnie, at times just inches from his face. He had not yet seen it this close. It was like she was intentionally showing it to him, wanting him to see it up close; after all, she did ask him to walk right behind her. Even if it was not true, it was a nice fantasy.
His cock began to swell with pleasure as they proceeded up the stairs. He was even getting occasional peeks into the crack of her bottom. He remembered the sight of her rosebud when she bent over for him. She has such a pretty fanny. He wanted to grab this bottom in his hands so much!
When they reached the top of the stairs they had only a few feet to go down the hall. Chrissie turned around to take his hand, partly out of appreciation for watching 'her back.' She instantly saw his erection.
She was not, however, upset. This was precisely the effect she knew she would have had on whomever was walking behind her. Somehow it wasn't so bad that it was Michael. It was like when she bent over for him, but this time for quite a bit of time. "Um, do you want to wait for a second?"
He sure did. He certainly didn't want to walk into the presidential luncheon sporting a hard-on. But, he also didn't like the idea of standing naked in the hallway with one. Who knew who would walk by, nor how long it would take to lose it. There was a much better solution. "Um, I need to, uh, anyway, use the rest room."
Hank smiled sympathetically. "Good idea, yes, right, Michael. I'll wait for you here." He could see that a lavatory break was a good idea. The Program rules do allow the participants private usage of restrooms, with the understanding that they would not use the opportunity to hide from a responsibility as a Program participant, nor use the private time to take relief. Michael did use the time though to lose his erection. It was a form of relief, but not the manner in which the rules actually prohibited. He had to go so far though as to apply cold water to his penis to get it down.
Chrissie, in the meantime, visited the ladies room, for a couple of reasons. One was simply the natural purpose of a ladies room. The other though was to check her hair. She would naturally check her hair before meeting one of the college's administrators, and she certainly wanted to look her best for a formal luncheon that would be attended by quite a few important persons. However, it seemed a bit odd to be working on her hair and make-up while her tits jiggled out so openly. She wondered if anyone would in fact even notice if her hair was disheveled, which made her think about her other hair. Given that she was alone in the ladies room, she could not resist the temptation to see for herself the fruits of Mrs. Canfield's labor.
She looked at herself in the mirror, down there, and she had to smile. It did now look much prettier. She had never paid much attention to her cunnie hair before, as nobody but herself ever saw it. But, as her mother had always warned her to wear good underwear in case she was in an accident, you never knew when your underwear might also be pulled down. She vowed to take good care of her coiffure in the future. She looked at herself from various angles: from the side, facing forward, legs spread, thighs pressed together. She even tried to get a sense of what she looked like from behind, bent over, but whenever she bent over her head was too low to see her cunnie in the mirror. Nevertheless, she had to smile at how pretty she now looked, down there. She was ready to face the President.
She popped a Notoid in her mouth and returned to the hallway, where Michael and Hank were waiting, a smile on their faces. Chrissie blushed, thinking that their minds were also on the sight of her prettified pussy, but it was actually because Michael's penis was now all relaxed.
"Okay, Michael," she said, grabbing his hand and taking a deep breath, her full breasts rising up even higher, "Let's do it."
"Have fun, kids," Hank said.
"Aren't you coming in?" Chrissie asked, feeling bad for him, as it was time for lunch. However, the security guard never attended any functions of the participants. "Don't worry, Chrissie, Mrs. Edwards [President Rayburn's Administrative Assistant] has a lunch ready for me."
"Well, alright then."
"See you later," he said, although quickly feeling a little sheepish at the unintended meaning of that cliche.
President Rayburn greeted them at the door. He was a driving force behind The Program and he wanted to demonstrate his enthusiastic support for the groundbreaking effort of these two young participants. "Do come in, you two. We're so pleased to have you with us for lunch. And, don't you both look so wonderful! I imagine that it has been quite a day so far. We're quite excited to hear about it."
Michael wasn't so sure that President Rayburn would want to hear about his cumming all over the face of Bethany Evans. "Yes sir," he carefully replied.
"Absolutely," President Rayburn affirmed as he shook Michael's hand. He then turned to Chrissie. "Chrissie, I say, you got your hair cut."
"Sir?" Chrissie was confused.
"I see you trimmed your hair," he replied, gesturing to her private spot, which was now quite a public spot. "What a wonderful idea. I have always wondered myself why women will spend so much time making their hair, the hair on their head, mind you, look so attractive, so appealing, yet neglect entirely the hair that dresses the most feminine, the most appealing, part of a woman's body. My goodness, my wife will at times take an hour before she's ready to go out."
Chrissie was speechless, but that did not deter President Rayburn.
"I suppose they don't because only one man will presumably see that part of her body, but don't you think the fact that if he is such a very special person she would be especially concerned about how it looked?"
Chrissie had looked forward to the day when she would be engaging in an intellectual dialogue with a leading figure of the college. She had never thought that it would concern the appearance of a woman's feminine bush. "Yes sir, I see your point."
President Rayburn thought of saying, 'Yes, and with your careful trimming and grooming, I can now see much more of your lips,' but he wondered if that might be too personal. "Well, in any case, I applaud your effort. I think it looks very nice."
"Um, yes, thank you sir?" She hadn't really wanted to phrase her gratitude in terms of a question, but she really was at a loss for how best to respond.
"I think it's wonderful that you have taken to this experience with so much enthusiasm. Dean Worell said that you would go the extra mile, and I can see that you certainly did."
Chrissie decided not to inform him that the trim and shaping were entirely the decision and effort of Mrs. Canfield. Whenever a teacher, or any superior, gave you a compliment, it was perhaps best to just accept it. "Oh yes sir, I just thought that if everyone is going to see it, it might as well look its best."
"Wonderful, wonderful," he replied, taking her by the arm. "Let's show Dean Worell. I imagine she will be most pleased."
"Um, right, yes, of course, sir," Chrissie replied, hoping that he would at least not take her around the entire room to show each administrator her prettily trimmed pussy.
Michael was left on his own. He was feeling quite awkward. Many of the guests were men; well dressed men. And, he was standing there before them, wearing only his black socks and black dress shoes. He shook the hand of Mr. Stumpf, a psychology professor. "Tell me son, tell me the first thing that is on your mind. What is it that you are thinking right now."
"Sir?" What he was thinking right now was that this was a rather odd way to greet someone. "Well, actually, it's kind of odd."
"It's only odd, son, until it's successfully analyzed. Please, go ahead. Don't delay further."
"Well, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to mention that I won the Abberville Quantum Award."
Professor Stumpf's expression did not change. He just nodded his head knowingly, puffing on his pipe. "Yes, yes, that is quite understandable."
"Certainly, young man. You feel exposed, rather literally I might say. And, you're feeling inadequate. I imagine that you're wishing to compensate for what is so well, well, so obviously inadequate."
"Excuse me, let me introduce myself." A strikingly attractive woman appeared at his side. "I'm Professor Billingsley, Michael. Why don't you come with me to the table to find our seats. You'll be sitting next to me." The professor took him by the arm and led him away. As they walked to the table, she said, "Don't let him bother you, Michael. He is like that with everyone."
"I suppose," he said.
"Have you heard of the concept of 'projection', Michael?"
"Yea, that's when you say something that the other person was going to say."
Ms. Billingsley smiled. He clearly had not yet taken psychology. "That's close, Michael. But, actually, it's more like when persons accuse you of something that is actually more true for themselves, in part because they can't face the truth about themselves. I think you just witnessed an instance of 'projection'."
Michael smiled. He felt better, but there was nevertheless quite a bit of truth in what Professor Stumpf had said.
"Do you know who I am, Michael?"
He knew that he probably should, but he didn't. "Um, yeah, sure, Ms. Billingsley."
She laughed. "Oh don't be such a liar, Michael. You know, a naked boy doesn't have much to hide."
"Yes, ma'am," he bashfully replied, not appreciating that she had just reminded him of that fact.
She stopped to turn toward him. "Michael, does it really bother you that you're naked?"
Wow, that seemed like an incredibly dumb question, and from a professor at that. He stated the obvious. "Yea, Ms. Billingsley, it does."
She directed him to continue their walk to their chairs. "Well, that is a shame. A real shame. Frankly, I envy you."
He looked at her incredulously. "You do?"
"Of course, Michael. You're such a brave young man, and you're just so out there, free in the world, showing how comfortable you are with your body. I wonder if someday the faculty will be allowed to participate in The Program."
Faculty members being naked?! He then realized who he was talking to. It was Ms. Billingsley, one of the founding fathers, well, founding mother, of The Program. She had even been a close personal friend of Mr. Peters, a rather scandalous professor who used quite provocative pedagogical techniques. He was pretty innovative in his approaches to student discipline, and the college was very sorry to have lost him to Templeton, as he was gaining considerable recognition within pedagogical science (see The Lessons, Chapters 1, 4, and 17). "Golly, Ms. Billingsley, I never imagined, uh, I really hadn't looked at it that way."
They were now standing behind their chairs. "Michael, could I please touch your bottom?"
"Ms. Billingsley!" he whispered. "I don't think touching is allowed." Touching a participant was forbidden, although it was allowed under the guidance or instruction of a faculty member, as had occurred with Mrs. Canfield and Ms. Henderson. And, Ms. Billingsley was certainly a member of the faculty.
"Just consider it as an educational experience, Michael."
Standing behind their chairs at the dining table, their backs were to the wall. Ms. Billingsley placed her hand, lightly, on his naked bottom. She could feel his muscles tighten in response, but he did not ask her to take her hand away. It was in fact nice to feel her reassurance, her support, as she warmly caressed the soft curves of his young, masculine butt.