Hi, and welcome to my first ever story!
Housekeeping: Everyone mentioned is over 18. What you will read here is pretty close to what happened, but a few details have been changed. There isn’t any hardcore sex or anything like that in this one. More of a slow build ENF tale, just so you know what you are getting in to. x
This one happened a few years ago…
First, I guess a bit about me would help. Well, I’m Beth (or Bee / Honey Bee to my parents and a few of my older friends). 5’4. Slim but not skinny. Brown hair. At the time of this story I was 19 and still living at home with my parents in a small town in the UK.
I’ve always been a bit of a thrill seeker but I’m also a total wimp. Anything adrenaline-related, from rollercoasters to skydives, and I’ll always be the first of my friends to get excited and sign up. Then I’ll be the first to try and back out when the time comes (although I do end up loving it when I actually go through with these things).
Over the years I’ve tried to come up with ways to counteract my cowardice so that I do get to do the scary fun things that I get so excited about. Telling lots of people what I’m going to do is one way (so that I have to do it or lose face), as is getting a friend I trust to twist my arm if I’m trying to back out (“you can have your phone back AFTER the rollercoaster Bee”).
Anyway, that might help explain some of my actions in this story. It’s a story about thrill seeking, but its a very different thrill to what had been my usual. I’ll start at the very beginning with an event that happened not long before the main story, it probably isn’t worth a full story in it’s own right, but it’s what inspired me to do what I did.
In our family we have a tradition every new year’s day. My dad, elder sister, and I will go for a cold water swim in the sea (mum is adamant she wants no part in it, very wise!). We put on our wetsuits at home so that we can acclimatise somewhat to wearing them in the cold air on the half an hour drive to the beach. Then it’s into the sea for a quick dip and back up to the car to get into lovely warm, dry clothes.
Except this time it didn’t quite go to plan. We ran back up the beach, shivering hard once the soaked wetsuits met the cold air. Arriving back at the car, I danced from foot to foot waiting for dad to unlock it to find… no bag of clothes. In our excitement and general poor planning we’d left it by the front door ready to go in the car, and all assumed the others had picked it up!
We couldn’t drive back in the wet wetsuits, it was just too long a trip to be that cold. In the end dad drove in a short, thin waterproof jacket and a muddy hand towel (that we keep in the car to dry off our spaniel after a wet walk) on his lap covering his modesty. My sister and I rode in the back, naked and huddled together under the slightly smelly dog blanket from the boot.
It wasn’t that dramatic really, we got home no trouble and I don’t think anyone saw anything. But the thought remained in my head; “what if someone saw me? What if someone saw me? What if someone SAW me?!”
It was terrifying. And electric.
Over the next few months I found myself thinking about it more and more. I knew I didn’t particularly want to expose myself, at least at that point, but I found the idea of the risk so exciting. Here it was, a new thrill to chase – but one I’d have to force myself to go through with alone. I couldn’t exactly rely on my friends to push me on this one, or announce to the world that I’d do it.
Summer rolled round and I decided it was time to act. I picked a day when mum and dad had gone to visit my aunt (can’t remember what my sister was up to but she wasn’t around). My parents had gone in dad’s car so mum’s was there for me to borrow (which she’s cool with). I decided to drive the short distance out of town and go for a walk in the woods.
The woods. Not too far away, so I didn’t have to hold my nerve for a long drive. Large enough that I could walk for a few hours if I wanted. Plenty of places to hide if I needed to in a hurry. Perfect.
I knew the outfit I’d wear already. I’d been thinking about it for weeks, waiting for a warm day. And today was warm, hot even.
– Shoes: comfy trainers that I usually hike in when its dry
– Socks: thick and practical to avoid blisters
– Dress: my favourite yellow summer dress, strappy at the top with just thick enough material that most light coloured bras are hidden. Fairly flowy at the bottom coming down to mid-thigh.
– Bra: none
– Panties: none
I looked in the mirror and assessed the outfit. My nipples were just barely visible. You could tell I wasn’t wearing a bra, but you’d have to really be trying to tell. The lower half covered everything fine when I was stood up, I’d just have to be careful about where and when I bend or crouch.
I packed a small backpack with sun cream, a couple of bottles of water as it was a pretty hot day, and some sandwiches. I also put a pair of panties in, just in case. On my way out the door I changed my mind, deciding that if I have them I’d chicken out. So I left the panties with the laundry drying on an airer in the hall. Feeling pretty proud of myself, and trying not to think about all the ways this could backfire, I got into the car and drove.
The butterflies in my stomach got stronger and stronger as I pulled up in the car park where my walk would start. It was quiet thankfully, and I was able to take a few moments to compose myself before getting out of the car and heading up the track.
It was a fairly still day, but feeling the slight breeze up my short dress against my bare, freshly shaved vagina for the first time was something that I’ll never forget.
The first hour or so passed without incident. Maybe some people clocked that I was braless, but that’s not even that uncommon anyway I think. I walked past a few people and was careful to check my dress hadn’t risen up before they got too close. I don’t think anyone was any the wiser that there was zero barrier between my most intimate area and the world at large, but I was, and I loved it and was scared shitless in equal parts. I know it sounds pretty lame by the standards of this site, but walking around like that was a pretty big thrill.
The only slight issue I encountered that morning was stiles. For my non-UK readers, a stile is basically a step to get over a fence when there is no gate, so people can cross but animals can’t. Typically they are made of one plank of wood pushed through about half way up the fence. Or if its a taller fence two planks that crisscross. I hope I’ve explained that well enough – but if not do a quick image search! Some stiles can have quite a gap, and as not the tallest person I often have to lift my legs pretty high to get over the fence. You always end up bent double at the top while you try to work out the best way to swing a leg over and get down the other side too!
Anyway, there were quite a few stiles on the route, and while crossing them I knew that there was no way I was hiding anything. My dress would even ride up and sometimes get caught under my backpack too, so I’d have to readjust when I was down the other side.
This wasn’t a major issue, I’d just make sure nobody was around when I crossed them. Once or twice this meant dawdling on one side and waiting for people to pass me and get out of sight. But I could just pretend to be taking a rest or looking at my phone. No trouble.
I did have a close call when I didn’t realise how fast a couple of cyclists were approaching. But they were still pretty far away and if they noticed anything would probably have assumed I was wearing skin-coloured panties. Probably. I hoped (or did I?).
Shortly after the cyclist incident I decided to stop for lunch. I cut off the path towards a promising looking clearing I could see through the trees (taking a fairly circuitous route to avoid the tall stinging nettles, because that doesn’t bare thinking about!). I found myself in a grassy, sunlit clearing far enough from the path that I knew I wouldn’t be seen, and sat down cross-legged on the ground.
My dress rode up a bit, and I felt the cool grass on my bare bum, really hammering home what I was doing and causing the panic to start. But with no options (and no panties in my backpack) I pushed it down and tried to relax and eat my sandwiches. Glancing down to see my naked (and pretty wet at this point) pussy uncovered and open to the elements was quite something too. “Oh my god I’m basically bottomless in public” I thought. It was a strange thought. Part “What the hell am I doing!?” and part “Why the hell didn’t I do this sooner?”.
I very briefly considered going further, maybe seeing if I could get myself off sat there, or taking the dress off completely for a moment. But it wasn’t part of my plan and I figured that I’d had enough excitement for one day. So after lunch I worked my way back to the main path to complete the circular route back to the car.
As I neared the last stage of the walk, the path narrowed between two high hedges. Almost becoming an alleyway. At the end of the section stood a fence with a particularly tall and wobbly looking stile. after which the alley/path turned sharply.
Shit.
There was no way I’d be able to tell if someone was coming from the other way until I was half way over the stile. I stood nervously by it for a moment, trying to think what to do. Finally I thought “fuck it, what are the chances of someone being there right this moment?” and began to climb.
It was a steep and wobbly stile, but the fence posts were low. So to hold on at the top I was pretty much bent double. Ass and pussy out in the open behind me as I leant forward to check that nobody was coming. Phew. Coast clear.
That’s when I heard it.
“Well that’s one way to keep cool I suppose.”
Oh crap. I’d been so worried about what was ahead around the corner that I had forgotten to check if anybody was approaching from behind me!
My fight/flight/freeze instinct had a brief tussle with itself. Freeze won the first round and for what felt like an eternity (but was probably only a second or two) I stayed stock still and fully on display. Then I shot bolt upright, nearly losing my footing on the top of the stile as I twisted round to see who had caught me.
Standing a few feet away was a lady, maybe in her mid 50s, with short blonde hair and slightly overweight. An elderly looking labrador was slowly catching up with her up the path. Thankfully she was nobody I recognised.
“I’m so sorry, I..” I started to mumble, feeling my face going from ghostly pale to bright red.
“No, I’m sorry” she cut me off gently. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I thought I’d better check to see if you are in any trouble, but I was trying to keep it light.” She smiled sympathetically “Are you in trouble?”
I felt the tears start to prick my eyes. For some reason I was still at the top of the stile. “No I’m ok, I was just…” I started as my brain rattled through possible excuses.
“I see” she interrupted, “you were just getting your kicks then?”
I didn’t know my face could get any redder, but somehow it did. “I’m so sorry you had to see that” I stuttered.
“Oh relax, I’ve seen a vagina before, don’t worry. I’ve even got one too.” The stranger continued “If anything I wish I was as brave as you back when I had the body for it.”
I stayed silent fighting back tears. She smiled again kindly. “I’ll let you get on your way. Do you want me to turn around while you get yourself back over that stile?”
“No it’s fine I’ll just do it.” Why the hell did I say that? Am I so pathologically unable to let myself inconvenience people that I won’t even ask them to turn around to save my dignity?
Her smile broadened. “Oh OK, well in that case do you mind if I take a few pictures? My husband will never believe me otherwise, and it’ll make the dirty old bastard’s whole week… Only if you don’t mind of course…” Her phone was already in her hand.
I froze again. My heart was in my mouth. From somewhere I heard a voice, MY voice, say “that’s fine, just don’t get my face.”
Why the hell did I say THAT!? All I’d wanted was a quick thrill from taking a risk. Now I’d agreed to let a stranger take pictures of my most intimate parts. I felt sick. I felt scared. But more than anything I felt ALIVE.
Silently I bent back over at the top of the stile. I heard the fake shutter sound of her camera phone click a few times. Each click sent a wave a humiliation through me. And with each click I felt my pussy get wetter. She took a few steps closer, her phone was just inches from my naked vagina.
“Wow you are sooo wet” she laughed. “I just took a video and you can actually see it getting wetter by the second”. I shuddered and almost let out a moan at this. “Stand up straight, I want a few shots from the front”.
Face burning, I did as I was told, standing to my full height and turning back towards her. “Good girl, now lift up that dress”. I pulled it up over my hips, exposing myself once more. She took a few more snaps and then paused. Gesturing to the steps of the stile, she had me keep one foot on the top, and place the other on the bottom rung, meaning my left knee was bent high and my legs were spread wide for the hungry lense of her camera phone.
“Wow my husband will love this” she said as she continued to document the most humiliating, the most exciting, moment of my life (so far). “Now I just need the proof that it really happened to me.”
With that she stepped right up next to me and turned the camera on herself. My knees buckled slightly as I felt her arm wrap round my naked hips and the side of her face press against my outer thigh. She was taking selfies! Her arm round my hips held on like you would to someone’s shoulders, her face and my vagina next to each other as if they were old friends reunited.
My humiliation complete, I was left standing red faced and shaking from excitement at the top of that stile. Now I know some stories would turn into hot lesbian sex here, or the protagonist would orgasm from the situation alone. But neither of those things happened. I was pretty turned on – and probably would have come quite quickly if I’d tried. But that wasn’t what happened.
After the selfies she awkwardly thanked me and helped me across the stile. We walked together and had some stilted conversation on our way back to the car park. She offered to give me her number or take mine if I wanted copies of the pictures. But I was coming back down off my humiliation high by then and turned her down.
We went our separate ways in the car park. I drove home still in near shock from what happened. Fighting against the thought of “oh god what will she do with those pictures”. By the time I got home I’d come to terms with the idea of them being out there. I knew they didn’t show my face (she’d shown me them all on the way back to the car) so I started to get into the idea of my pussy being out there in the world. As soon as I got into my bedroom I was naked and touching myself, I came 3 times in that session, something I’d never done before.
I masturbated to the memory of that day frequently for weeks, and still revisit it on occasion (although now I have other memories to choose from too – stories for another day!).
The lady in the woods did come back into my life at a later date, by pure coincidence. I’ll tell you about that some time too.
She did put the photos of me online (none of the ones with her face though). I was pretty pissed off when I first found them. But it’s another thing I’ve masturbated too pretty regularly. I guess I’m a sucker for humiliation. The site I found them on went under a while ago and I’ve not found them again. But it does still give me a buzz of fear and excitement to think that they might still be out there somewhere.
Thanks for reading.
Beth x