I

The atmosphere is not a perfume ... it has no taste
of the distillation ... it is odorless,

It is in my mouth forever ... I am in love with it,

I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised
and naked,

I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

— Leaves of Grass

I’d barely been naked all winter. “Barely naked” is redundant though, isn’t it? I guess I mean “hardly naked.” Right after Christmas, Mom and Dad caught me nude for the first time since I was little, and after Mom got over being mad, we had a lot of fun with it. I even got to sit through an entire movie with nothing on — and I mean in a theater. But it got cold in January, before I had a chance to really explore my new freedom, and if it was a choice between showing off my body and not freezing my nips off, I elected to cover up. Even sleeping naked was uncomfortable. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a bad case of chilly-butt, and as much as I hated to do it, I’d get up and put on my flannel nightie. After a couple weeks, the Naked Family Christmas was pretty much forgotten, and I got used to hanging out in sweaters and wooly socks. My parents didn’t say anything, but I’m sure they were relieved — especially Dad. He says it’s “inappropriate” for me to be naked in front of him. Which is another way of saying it makes him hard.

If they thought I was going to be a modest little nun from now on, though, they were sadly mistaken. I guess I was mistaken, too. I really hoped I could get over it. It’s dumb and risky to take my clothes off all the time. It’s gotten me into trouble at school, but risk is half the fun, and when the weather finally got warm again, I couldn’t resist the urge.

Sometimes a girl has got to be naked.

It hit me on a Saturday afternoon near the end of March. Mom was off teaching, and I was helping Dad with spring cleaning, dusting and vacuuming in the living room while he scrubbed the bathroom tile. We’d thrown open every window in the house to air the place out, and a muggy breeze was lapping my face like a big slobbery dog. Suddenly, I wanted to feel it all over. There was no thought behind it, no struggle with my conscience, not even a moment when I told myself, Yeah, do it. It was what my science teacher calls a quantum jump: one second my sweats were on my back, the next they were in a heap on the sofa. The air was so yummy I thought I was going to come right then, but I managed to go on with my vacuuming. (Everything’s more fun nude.) Naturally, between the noise of the vacuum and the throb in my pussy, I didn’t realize Daddy was done in the bathroom until the vacuum suddenly went dead.

I twisted around, and there he was with the plug in his hand.

“Oh dear,” he said, looking at my butt. “This again?”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I shouldn’t be doing chores barefoot.”

This was the moment to settle which one of us was really in charge. If I could get away with being naked in the living room, I could get away with it anyplace, and we wouldn’t have all the drama we had last Christmas.

“Just don’t let the neighbors see you,” he said.

“Afraid they’ll find out your daughter’s a nudist?” I said.

“I don’t know if you’re a nudist or an exhibitionist.”

But his eyes never left my bare bottom. It had been an easy victory. I turned toward the front window and stood with my legs apart, and my hands on my head.

“You should try it,” I said. “The air feels so nice.”

He got quiet. Facing the window, I didn’t know if he was looking at me, if he’d given up and left the room, or what. Then I felt his hands on my shoulders, and his mouth on my neck, and his bare body against my back.

“Does feel as nice as the air?” he asked.

“Better.”

His hands went down my front, gliding over my titties and stomach, and he slipped a finger into my hairless crack.

“Yeah,” I said. “Lots better.”

“Promise me, though,” he said.

“OK ... what?”

“Don’t let anybody see you.”

His finger was far between my legs now, and his penis was growing along my spine.

“Promise me,” he repeated.

“‘K,” said. “I promise ... Do that. Do that more!”

I wasn’t so sure who was in charge now.

I’m proud to say I kept my promise to Daddy for a whole week, which I think was pretty good But finally I had to give in. It was nighttime, though, so I told myself it didn’t count. Mom and Dad had taken me to one of their gigs. They belong to a regional orchestra that plays at the big Jewish center not far from us. They did some Mozart and Haydn and Beethoven’s Fourth. It was really good, but it started late, because the conductor showed up drunk. At least, that’s what Daddy said. We all went right to bed when we got home. Dad and Mom said they were dead tired, but I guess they weren’t too tired to fool around. I could hear them from across the landing. I took off all my clothes and got into bed with the covers down and my door open a crack. I fingered myself listening to them, but I couldn’t put myself over. I couldn’t sleep, either, even after they got quiet. My mouth was dry, and my armpits felt damp. I kept tossing and turning, and thinking about how nice a night it was.

Finally, I looked at my digital clock. It was one-thirty.

“Screw this,” I thought, and all at once my heart was going a mile a minute. I knew what I was going to do. What I had to do.

I got up and, tiptoeing to the top of the stairs, I listened at my parents’ door. One of them was snoring. It sounded like Mom. I thought of going back to my room for my sweatshirt or my nightie — something I could throw on if I got caught. But then I thought, Nah. I had to be far from my clothes, or I wasn’t really naked.

My heart was still racing as I padded downstairs. My chest felt tight and my legs were trembling. I had to lean against the wall and take a couple of deep breaths. It was crazy, but I couldn’t stop, and I didn’t want to. It was like it wasn’t even me doing it. It was my body, or whatever was controlling it, acting on its own.

I went out through the kitchen. The back door made a kind of sucking sound when I opened it. It was quiet, but the way I felt, with my nerves on edge and my senses super-heightened, it seemed awfully loud. My hand shook while I made sure the doorknob would turn from the outside. Then I carefully pushed open the screen door and slipped out, pulling the main door all the way shut behind me.

Going outside naked is like taking off my last piece of clothing. I mean, I go naked inside all the time, but that’s inside. It’s private. It’s like I’m still wearing my house, if you know what I mean. Out on the back steps, I was truly, totally naked.

I stood still for a minute while I got used to the darkness, and to the exposure. I raised my arms, like I did in the living room, and let the night air lick the sweat from my armpits. It was a little chilly out, but just enough to make me more aware of my body. A big half-moon was rising over our garage. It was bright in the clear sky, and it turned my skin a silvery blue. I looked like a ghost with purple nipples. My pussy-groove was nothing but a shadow as thick as my little finger.