Finding Myself Pt. 01

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“You’re going to stay with Aunty Cathy for a week,” my mum announced.

My heart sank. It wasn’t that I disliked my aunt and uncle – just the opposite – I loved them. They were fun to be around, especially at family events, and I had seen them frequently ever since I was a child. They were caring, sent great gifts at Christmas and on my birthday, and had been really good to my mum when my dad was badly injured in a car accident. It was their lifestyle which worried me.

Over the years, I had learned that they were naturists. They went on naturist holidays, liked to be naked at home and often went to a naturist club close to their home. The idea that they would pursue this lifestyle while my sister and I were around terrified me – worse still, they might expect us to join in.

There’s nothing wrong with naturism, but to a shy eighteen-year-old, even the thought made me feel nauseous. I hate my body. As a child I was fat. I was bullied for it at school, and quickly learned that I needed to keep covered up to avoid vicious comments. Not just cover up, but wear shapeless, baggy clothes, which hid me from anyone who wanted to know my true shape.

When I was thirteen, puberty began, and my hormones helped me to slim – as did my sheer determination to lose weight. I stopped eating sweet things and fatty foods, started exercising, and by the time I was sixteen, had slimmed down to what many would consider an acceptable weight. Once I hit my target weight, I had a lifestyle which would maintain it. I became braver, ditching the baggy hoodies and shapeless jeans for t-shirts and knee length skirts – and on the beach I would even wear a one-piece swimming costume, but that was the limit.

I had attracted some male attention, and had even been invited on dates, but had only ever agreed on one occasion, and that was a disaster. The boy concerned had made it obvious he wanted sex with me, and that was definitely not happening. As soon as he started putting his hands on me, I fled, running until he couldn’t find me, then calling my dad to come and pick me up.

The next day, rumours were spread that I was frigid and not worth the effort. No-one asked me out again, and I spent my evenings in my room, exercising and listening to music, or studying. I had always been shy, but now I simply withdrew. Even at school (and now at College), I sat alone and was the last to have a partner or be in a group.

I made one friend, Brenda – another shy outcast like me – and we became very close, sharing a love of reading and rock music and a dislike of others our age. Together, we spent our time discussing literature, mocking our classmates and fantasising about our crushes.

We began writing stories – some of them got quite raunchy – and even watched porn together. It’s not as if we were unaware of sex, just that it wasn’t something we wanted just yet – a guilty secret that we would never, ever share with anyone else.

So when my parents decided to go on holiday, I was looking forward to sleepovers with Brenda, spending time alone and generally having space and time to myself. It was my sister who blew it. She’s twenty-three, and constantly tells me to ‘enjoy life’. To her, that means going out on dates as often as possible, having sex on a frequent basis and being drunk. When my parents said they were going away, she immediately began arranging a party. They, of course, found out.

Personally, I didn’t care. I would stop at Brenda’s house while she and her ‘friends’ got drunk and fucked the night away – but when one of the ‘friends’ got careless and their parents overheard the plans, they called mum and dad – and my parents did care. So – we were being packed off to my aunt and uncle for a week in the middle of Summer.

I argued and begged them to let me stay on my own, or to let me go to Brenda’s house, but they were adamant.

“Besides,” my mum said, “it’ll be fun. They’ve got a swimming pool, they’re two minutes from the beach. It’s lovely and quiet. And don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll keep their clothes on. Stop fussing.”

I wasn’t convinced, but had no choice. I was relieved that my cousin wouldn’t be there – he was a year older than me and quite good-looking – I had a bit of a crush on him. I know his parent’s nudity embarrassed him, and he did not participate in their ‘lifestyle choice’, but still, having him there would have been difficult for me.

So it was, that three days later, my sister and I were deposited at my aunt and uncle’s house – me with a suitcase full of jeans, t-shirts, hoodies and a single swimming costume (black, one piece, modest), so that I could exercise, along with a towelling robe for the second I left the pool, my sister with a small sports’ bag, containing bikinis, shorts, and crop tops.

We were welcomed with open arms and shown to our rooms, where I unpacked slowly to delay the need to join them by the pool. I was terrified. I agonised over what I should wear, finally slipping on my swimming almanbahis costume, under jeans and a long-sleeved top. I picked up my book and apprehensively left my room, taking a deep breath.

“Here she is,” enthused my aunt, “we were wondering where you’d got to. Debbie said you’d be deciding what to wear.”

They were on loungers with their backs to me, and I was unable to see anything, other than my aunt’s face as she turned to look at me.

“Honestly, darling, you’ll roast in those clothes. You must be terribly uncomfortable.”

I paused, not wanting to see what they were wearing. At best, it would be bikinis and swimming trunks for my uncle – at worst … well … at least my sister wouldn’t be naked – I was pretty certain that even she would not feel happy sitting naked with our relatives.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I lied, “I’d rather not risk sunburn.”

My sister gave a sneering laugh and muttered “typical” under her breath, which my uncle instantly seized on.

“What do you mean, ‘typical’, Debbie – I’m sure Jen’s got no problem with her body. She shouldn’t have. Anyway, we don’t care. We see so many bodies, it’s just perfectly natural to us. We really don’t care.”

Debbie gave her mean laugh again. “You don’t know Jen. The only parts of her that ever see the light of day are her hands and her face. I’m surprised she doesn’t wear gloves and a mask. She’s more uptight than an ant’s arsehole.”

“Debbie!” Exclaimed my aunt. “That’s an awful thing to say. Jen might be a little shy, that’s all. I’m sure we can help her to relax. It’s just a matter of being used to it and becoming familiar with the human body. I’m sure she’ll be happy to fit in with us. Come on, Jen, we’ve saved a lounger for you.”

I couldn’t delay any longer, so I walked forward to the seat which she had indicated. Then I stopped.

The first person I saw was my aunt. I knew she and my uncle looked after themselves. Both were in their forties, but had slim, toned bodies. In the past, however, I had only seen them in designer outfits at family gatherings. Now, for the first time, I saw my aunt naked.

For a moment I just stared. She was, indeed, slim, her stomach flat and legs toned. I gazed at her naked breasts. They were firm, and of average size. Her nipples were dark and pointed – larger than mine. I suspected they were erect, and wondered why, if all this were so natural.

My eyes tracked down and I almost gasped as I saw that the region between her legs was totally hairless. I could even see the small cleft at the top of her sexual parts, like a bloodless cut. I was shocked. I thought that, at the very least, she would want some covering for this.

I knew that I could either run or force myself onward, and opted for the latter. If my aunt chose to be naked with two other women, and a man who had obviously seen her naked on many occasions, then it was up to her. Surely my uncle would not be exposing himself to two young women – would he?

As I stepped forward to my chair, he came into view – and, for the first time, I saw his penis.

My stare must have been obvious – in truth, I had never seen one in the flesh – just pictures or on a screen – and I needed to look.

It lay, flaccid, across his thigh. To my inexperienced eye, it looked large, and I couldn’t stop myself wondering what it would look like if it were hard. His sexual parts were also devoid of hair, which maybe made it seem larger. I looked at his testicles – small egg-shaped balls in an ugly, wrinkled bag of skin. The sight rather disgusted me.

I dragged my eyes away, as I realised my apparent interest in the naked bodies was becoming obvious, when my aunt and uncle exchanged a secretive smile. I strode to my seat, allowing my gait to communicate my disapproval, and sat, turning so that I would not have to look at them.

My sister, I was relieved to see, was wearing a bikini. It was little more than three triangles of fabric held together with string, but after my naked aunt and uncle, it was a relief. I tried to catch her eye, to see if I could gauge her feelings, but she stood up and announced:

“I’m going for a swim.”

With that, she pulled the string at the back of her bikini top, removed it and dropped it to the ground, before sliding off the bottoms, leaving me with a vision of her bare buttocks as she ran to the pool and dived in.

“Close your mouth, Jen, it’s very unbecoming,” giggled my aunt. I became aware that she was right. My mouth had fallen open as I watched Debbie strip and had simply stayed there. “Why don’t you go and get rid of those heavy things. If you don’t want to go ‘sky-clad’ just yet, slip on a bikini or something. I’m sure you must have packed one.”

I shook my head. I imagine my aunt must have shrugged.

“OK,” she said, “no pressure. Just want you to be comfortable.”

I think I must have lasted for another ten minutes, staring intently at my book while my mind raced. I didn’t even almanbahis giriş turn the page. Then I stood, head down and muttered that I was going to my room. I almost ran, hearing my sister’s cruel laughter and my aunt telling her to ‘shh’ as I disappeared.

I lay on my bed, reading, but not seeing the words. It was as if a random set of letters had just wandered across the page and started dancing as my mind focused on how I would cope for the next week. They had said there was no pressure on me to be naked – but they simply didn’t understand. I couldn’t sit looking at my aunt’s bare breasts and bald … bits – even less my uncle’s penis – and as for my sister joining them … I decided I was sentenced to a solid week of staring at the four walls of my room.

As I made my decision, there was a tap on the door, and my aunt entered without waiting for a reply. I pretended to focus intently on my book as she walked over and sat on my bed.

“Jen,” she began, “put down your book and let’s talk.”

I ignored her, so she extended a finger and pushed my book down. I was relieved that she had decided to put on a robe, although the fact that she was clearly naked underneath did not help, as her cleavage and pointed nipples were clearly visible. I decided, therefore, to look her straight in the eye, imagining my gaze to be strong and challenging. My aunt laughed, a gentle, kind laugh.

“Oh dear. I know. You’re shy. You always have been. Debbie’s always been so different. We saw more of her when she was younger, so she’s used to our lifestyle. It was a bit a bit cruel of her to do the whole ‘taking off the bikini’ thing in front of you. She’s always been comfortable around us.”

She waited for me to say something, but I didn’t want to. I wanted her to feel uncomfortable, so we sat in silence for a minute before she continued.

“You know, Jen, this is just how we live. It’s not for shock value. The human body is natural, and beautiful, no matter what it looks like. All sorts of people embrace naturism, with all sorts of body types. We have large people, small people, disabled people, people of all races and body types who find acceptance at our club and on the beach. There’s nothing sexual about it – we see each other as a doctor might see us, or as if we’re in the changing rooms after sport.”

She paused again, waiting for a reply, but as she hadn’t actually asked anything, I chose to stay silent. Another uncomfortable pause, though my thoughts deafened me. This time, when she continued, it was with a direct question.

“So what is it about our lifestyle that you find so … immoral, or ‘wrong’? If it’s religion, then Adam and Eve were naked until they sinned – their decision to cover up was a sign of guilt and shame. Their nakedness was innocent. So, is that it? Or something else?”

For the first time, I dropped my eyes, then, encountering the front of her robe which had fallen open, exposing most of her ample breast. Quickly, I looked away, before replying.

“It’s not religion,” I spat, “I’m not religious. Adam and Eve just didn’t know any better. They were stupid. I just think it’s wrong, OK?”

Once again, that gentle smile, not mocking, but almost sad, before my aunt spoke.

“Wrong for you, maybe, but not for us. If this is what we want to do, and we feel comfortable, why should that scare you? This is just natural for us. It’s liberating. Nothing hidden. If you don’t want to be naked, that’s fine, but at least let us lead our lives how we wish. Aren’t you curious about the human body? Haven’t you ever wondered what people look like under their clothes?”

I think my lack of eye contact and the pause before I replied gave away the lie.

“No. I know what bodies look like. I’ve seen them in school in science books. Why would I need more than that?”

Of course I was curious. Brenda and I had watched porn and written what we thought were very sexual stories. I had watched porn alone and masturbated. In fact, I liked to touch myself ‘down there’ regularly. I liked to stroke my clitoris and put fingers inside me until I climaxed. In truth, I did this most days, and I knew I would do later, remembering the bodies I had seen today – my uncle’s penis (cock) – imagining it getting hard, having intercourse with (fucking) my aunt. I felt my privates become damp.

“Are you worried it might excite you?” Asked my aunt, almost as if she read my mind. “Don’t worry. It might a little at first, but it’s all very natural. We don’t do anything ‘sexy’ – we lie by the pool or on the beach, we chat, we knit and read, we play sports. There’s nothing to get turned on for.”

Then she giggled. “Of course, at times people do. I sometimes get a little tingle, some of the men get a bit hard – just like it sometimes happens to you at school, or in the supermarket – but no-one minds. We just carry on as if nothing’s happened – because it hasn’t. It’s still natural, isn’t it?”

I struggled for almanbahis yeni giriş an answer, because in many ways, she was making a good point. Who was I to challenge their lifestyle? Why should nudity be automatically linked to sex? My confusion must have shown, but rather than fill the silence, my aunt waited for me.

“I’ll think about it,” I snapped, “I’m not going to go naked, but I’ll see.”

“That’s all I ask,” my aunt purred, “think about it – but – if you decide to come outside, for goodness sake don’t wear something more appropriate for a cold January day in Scotland, put on a swimming costume – at least then you won’t dehydrate.”

She left, leaving my breathing more heavily than usual, and with the crevice between my legs decidedly moist. I smiled – Brenda and I liked the term ‘moist crevice’. It made us giggle.

I slipped my hand down the front of my jeans and into the leg of my swimming costume, feeling the soft, swollen flesh beneath my neat bush of pubic hair (I trimmed it regularly), and slipping over the lubricated lips to touch my clitoris.

It was electric. I must have been more excited than I realised. My clit felt swollen, desperate for my fingers, and I realised that I desperately needed to stroke it. I dashed to the bathroom and locked the door, before slipping off my jeans and top and wriggling out of my swimsuit. As I stripped, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked OK. Good even, but now was not the time to reflect on that, so I lay on the floor with my legs wide.

I began to stroke myself, feeling my fingers move slowly and easily over my sensitive parts, occasionally catching hair and making me wince. I closed my eyes, rubbing harder, faster, fingers sliding to my body’s opening and back as I approached a very rapid orgasm. Then I came, gasping, thrusting my hips upwards and allowing my fingers to enter me, touching the soft, spongy flesh about an inch or so inside my vagina.

I removed my hand and relaxed. I had watched women masturbate on porn sites, and knew that what I was doing was hardly the best way to do it, but it worked. When I got older, I might move on to vibrators and dildos and other ‘sex toys’, but for now this was ok. I had inserted things inside me – hairbrushes, a carrot, a cucumber (a slim one) – I even tried a courgette once, but was worried it was too short and might get stuck. There had been a little blood at first (my hymen breaking, I assumed), but I liked the sensations.

On the side, by the sink, was a shaving mirror – one of those which magnifies – probably intended for men who slept in the guest room. A sudden urge took me, and I placed the mirror on the floor and squatted above it, so I could see my private parts three times larger than they really were.

I could see moisture on the hairs and the fleshy lips beneath. They looked like some exotic fruit, fully ripe, soft and juicy, covered with morning dew. I reached down and separated the lips of my ‘peach’, exposing the interior – deeper pink folds. There, in the middle, was that bit that was so nice to touch – my clit. I touched it again, making my body shiver.

Below was another set of lips – smaller, surrounding the ultimate opening. Just next to that was my back passage – brown and dark – considering what comes for there, that had to be horrible – though some of the movies I had seen showed people actually enjoying having touched – played with – penetrated – kissed even. As I examined it, I hardly felt that it was something I could like.

As I replaced the mirror, I became aware of my wet fingers, and brought them to my nose. The scent of my juices was not unpleasant – in fact, I rather liked it. Tentatively, I put out my tongue, tasting that which had poured from my privates. I expected to be disgusted, but in fact, it wasn’t too bad. I licked more – once, twice. Not bad. I wondered if Brenda tasted the same – or Debbie – or Aunt Cathy. Or mum.

I shuddered and felt my face heat as I blushed. Too much – and yet, as my aunt said, it was all natural – just something from our bodies – but then again, so was pee. That was waste though – and this wasn’t. I was confused.

Suddenly, I took a decision. No way was I going to be naked with them, and no way was I going to look at them, but if they wanted to wander around naked, it wasn’t going to stop me enjoying the warm weather and swimming (which I enjoy). I would wear my black, one-piece swimming costume to swim, and my robe when sitting around (it’s cool and lightweight, with a dragon on, but covers to my knees). I have to admit, though, I was curious and a bit turned on.

First, though, a quick wash in the shower – not my hair – just to get rid of the scent of my sex – and a quick trim round my bikini line. I worried that if I did get a little turned on, my wetness might show (or smell) – however, I had a spare, black swimsuit – if I got wet, I could swim, and nothing would show against the black.

I showered, trimmed (maybe a little more than usual), dried and slipped into my costume. I looked in the mirror, for the first time feeling that I actually didn’t look too bad – breasts firm and perky (I love that word), bum toned and … well … perky, legs slim, stomach flat. Not too shabby.

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