Do As The Teacher Says


Jessica sat back on the piano stool and started playing. She genuinely could feel the freedom as her shoulders swayed with the movement of the piece. She felt as if the piano were leading her through the music rather than the other way around, and she was so lost in playing that she forgot that she was sitting in her underwear.

Miss Ashdown let Jessica play all the way through the sonata, and finally Jessica stopped with her fingers resting gently on the keys, her eyes closed, savouring the moment.

“You see what you can do?” she heard Miss Ashdown whisper. Jessica nodded and smiled.

“Now,” Miss Ashdown continued, “We know you can play with more freedom, but you need to play with more passion. I know it’s in you; it must be at your age. Come. I’ll show you something.”

Miss Ashdown took Jessica’s hand and she allowed herself to be led across the room.

“Look at this,” Miss Ashdown said, pointing at a framed black and white photo on the wall. It showed a young woman in a loose but low-cut evening dress with a plunging neckline and a long slit up one side. She was sitting at a piano and playing in front of what must have been hundreds of people inside a concert hall.

“That was me,” Miss Ashdown told her, “when I was only a few years older than you are now.”

Jessica looked at Miss Ashdown. She was used to thinking of her teacher as, well, a teacher. She might have said that she was attractive, if she was asked, but she had never even thought of it before. She looked back at the photo; she could see the passion on the young woman’s face, in the way her body was arched over the piano keys and by the graceful line of her calf as her foot just touched a pedal. It was an incredibly beautiful image, but also somehow an intensely sexual one.

“I was making love to the keys that night,” Miss Ashdown said, momentarily lost in memory, “And there wasn’t a man in the house that didn’t wish he was the one to escort me home to see where my energy would find an outlet next. And maybe a few women there did too.” Jessica looked up at Miss Ashdown who gave her a mischievous wink.

Read the rest of The Pianist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

A New Naked Route


The final step came when, one late afternoon, I walked out to the car in my bikini, wearing my tallest heels and sunglasses to hide my eyes. I caught a sight of my reflection in the door mirror as I walked and it made me stop. I felt like I was the very essence of sex appeal. And then, I realised that I needed to get rid of my safety net. I unclipped my bikini top and untied the bottoms and tossed them back on the porch. I continued the walk to the car naked and climbed in, feeling like a supermodel and wishing that someone was there to see me.

I pressed the starter button and the V8 engine roared into life. I carefully checked the fuel gauge: I had well over half a tank and I was only going to be out for an hour. I was all set.

I pulled out of the driveway, onto the suburban road and cruised slowly past the few houses that dotted the hillside. I had never driven this part naked before and I realised that if anyone happened to look out of a first floor window then they would be looking right down at me, and they would recognise me and the car. I also realised that I didn’t care what they thought, and the risk even turned me on.

Read the rest of Cruising, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

Even The Scrunchy Goes


Suddenly, the tension from her bra released and she shrugged it off her shoulders. Iris’s mouth fell open again as she stared at Selena’s dark nipples. She had the most beautiful breasts despite, or maybe because of, their small size.

Selena dropped her bra beside her and put her hands by her sides. Then, she lifted herself in her seat, and Iris realised what was happening as she rocked forwards and then sat back up twirling a small piece of black lace around her finger. She tossed it onto the rest of her clothes.

Iris leant to one side to look up and down the full length of her friend’s naked body. Selena sat back in her chair, picked up her wine glass and stared back at Iris. She wasn’t even making an effort to cover her breasts.

Iris looked around the room again. Every head was turned towards them, staring at Selena. She looked back at her friend who seemed entirely unconcerned by the attention she was getting. If anything, she was sitting straighter than before, her chest pushed out a little.

Then, as if it had just occurred to her, she reached her hands behind her head. Her breasts lifted, looking even more perfect than before. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled out the scrunchy that was keeping her bun in place. She dropped it onto the table and shook her hair free. It fell in thick, golden locks across her bare shoulders.

Read the rest of One Better, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

A Pale Beauty


I turned around, and found myself, rarely for someone of my small height, even in my two inch heels, looking straight into the eyes of Natasha.

Natasha was petite, she was blonde, and she was smiling and offering me her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Natasha,” she said, her eyes fixed on me all the time.

“I’m Rupa. Pleased to meet you,” I replied, taking her delicate hand in my own and trying to appear confident as I shook it.

“Oooh, I love your English accent,” Natasha said with a smile. I had heard that plenty of times tonight already and I wondered if Americans were taught to say that at school.

“I love your, er,” I said as I looked her up and down, desperate to pay a compliment in return. “I love your tattoos.” Natasha had a magnificent set of multi-coloured tattoos: on her arms, on her shoulders, on the tops of her feet and her ankles, spiralling up her leg and thigh and across her stomach. Oh yes, now I remember the important part of describing Natasha, and why I was surprised, or even shocked, at meeting her. I’m able to describe Natasha’s tattoos in such detail because Natasha was entirely naked.

“Why, thank you,” she said, looking down at herself. I joined her in staring at the young naked body in front of me and wondered whether I was dreaming. “I’ve been collecting them for years. I started with a few small ones like this.” She twisted around and pointed to an owl tattooed on her shoulder before turning back quickly as I tried to tear my eyes away from the way her tiny breasts wobbled as she spun around. “And this was next,” she said as she twisted her leg outwards and pointed to a small butterfly at the top of her inner thigh, although all I could think of was that I was staring directly at her immaculately shaved vagina. “That one was for an old boyfriend, who wanted something that only he would see.” She shrugged and her breasts wobbled again. “I guess everyone gets to see it now.”

Read the rest of Dressed In Tattoos, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

First Time Seduction


The funny thing was, the more I flirted, and the more I gave her what I thought she wanted, the more shy and embarrassed she became. And the more shy and embarrassed she got, the cuter she got and the easier it was to flirt. It was a vicious, delicious cycle.

I moved my hand away from the back of the sofa and gently stroked her gorgeous red hair. It made her even more uncomfortable, and I smiled half in amusement and half in pleasure. I’d never tried seducing a woman before and it was a whole lot of fun, but boy did it take a lot longer than seducing a guy.

I found myself, as if by accident, leaning much closer to her, and then the mixture of fear and expectation in her eyes drew me into the next logical step and I kept leaning, closing my eyes at the last moment as my lips touched hers.

She didn’t really do much in terms of returning the kiss, but her lips were lovely and soft against mine. That was two women in one day I’d kissed now. It truly was a voyage of discovery.

I pulled my head away a couple of inches and she leant back a little and giggled.

“Oh my god,” she said, “I thought you were straight?”

I shrugged: I am, I thought, or I thought I was.

Her face began to glow. “I’m all embarrassed now,” she said.

“How come?”

“Everyone’s watching us, I’m sure,” she said, “They’ve never seen me with anyone before… and you’re naked. It’s pretty hot.”

Read the rest of Take Pride, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

A Long Walk


“We’re in room 1418,” I told her. “I need to settle the bar tab. You go to the room and wait for me.”

“But…” her eyes went wide, “Like this?” She looked down at herself. I smiled. “Naked?”

I shook my head. “Of course not,” I said, and she relaxed a little, “I’ll let you keep your boots on.”

“No way!” she said.

I shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ll carry your boots too.”

She tensed up again and glared across the table at me. I had a feeling that I had taken things as far as I could. Actually, I was surprised that things had gone this far at all.

“You owe me,” Katherine said, and then suddenly she was sliding herself out of the booth. “Room 1418?” she asked. I nodded.

She stood by the side of the table with the keycard in her hand. I stared at her tall, thin, golden, perfect body. Her nipples stood on end. I couldn’t wait to feel them in my mouth.

She turned and walked towards the elevators. I shuffled to the end of the seat and watched her retreating figure. And then, I looked around, and saw the remaining twenty or so people in the restaurant, and both barmen, all doing the same. Her hips swayed slightly as each boot struck the floor and I marvelled at the presence of mind she had to maintain such a dignified walk.

Read the rest of Hotel Rendezvous, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

Anything You Can Do


“I really hate you right now,” Iris told her as she leant forwards and, reaching behind her, she unfastened her bra. She quickly pulled it off her arms and dropped it onto the rest of her clothes. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of her knickers and slid them down her legs, letting them fall around her feet. She kicked them to one side.

Selena grinned as she stared across at her friend. Iris’s breasts were even smaller than her own, but still beautiful with round, pink nipples. She watched as they rose and fell as Iris inhaled and exhaled.

“So, here we are then,” she said to Iris.

“Yes, here we are.” Iris felt distinctly less comfortable like this than Selena seemed to. She daren’t look around the room. She leant forwards, rested her arm on the table and picked up her wine glass in her other hand. She involuntarily glanced at Selena’s breasts again. For the first time, she wondered what they would feel like; would they would fell the same as her own. Her lips pursed slightly.

“Here we are,” Selena said, “Just two naked girls having a drink.”

Read the rest of One Better, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

A Performance


Her shoulders shrugged beneath the thick coat. “Why not,” she said, “This café has a good selection.”

She looked around the room with her strange manner again. She was like a bird, watchful for predators perhaps, and her eyes seemed to rest on each other customer for a fraction of a second before dismissing them as a threat.

I turned around in my stool to look for a waiter and put my hand in the air to attract his attention. I had lost some of my English reserve during my time as a journalist, but, as was to become apparent, not as much as I thought.

I must have been looking away from Mia for no more than two or three seconds but by the time I turned back the fur coat was gone and I was suddenly in the presence of Mia the performance artist. Or, more precisely, Mia the naked performance artist.

I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, so I said nothing. I was incapable of saying anything as she sat there, seemingly oblivious to her nudity, not even paying attention to how I reacted.

I had seen plenty of photos and videos during my research for this interview but, in the flesh, it was obvious what a truly beautiful woman Mia was. Her skin was a delightful soft cream colour and appeared flawless, although I was trying hard not to stare. There was barely an inch of fat on her and, as she sat with her legs crossed, I wondered if I was just imagining the whole thing.

I looked around the café. It was obvious from some other reactions that I wasn’t dreaming, but although there were glances in her direction, and comments between groups at tables, it wasn’t quite the seismic reaction that I would have expected.

The waiter arrived and I watched his eyes lock onto Mia’s breasts for a second before he gained enough self-control to address her face.

Read the rest of Interview With An Artist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

Intense Arousal



Then she stood, hooked her fingers into her waistband, and quickly pulled her underwear down her thighs, over her stockings, stepped out of the small piece of fabric and dropped it to one side. She sat firmly in her chair with her legs crossed but her hands on the armrest. She stared at me defiantly, but I knew it was largely a defensive response.

“And were you right?” I asked her, “About this being a nine?”

Melissa nodded but said nothing.

“And on the scale of one to ten… is ten an orgasm?” She nodded again. “And have you ever had an orgasm without being touched before.” She nodded again. I paused. “Is this common for you.” She thought for a second, and then nodded again. I noted it down and her breathing became more rapid.

“Now do you mind,” I asked her, “If I take your pulse?”

She shook her head: of all the things I’ve asked of her so far, this was quite a small request. I stood up and walked over to her and put my fingers on her delicate wrist and started to count on my watch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her breasts rising and falling with each breath. After thirty seconds I had a good enough estimate and wrote it down.

“Ninety six,” I told Melissa.

“Is that high?”

I shrugged. “You’d usually be maybe sixty-something, or seventy if you’re not relaxed.” I smiled. “But there are extenuating circumstances, and ninety six is nothing to be worried about.”

She smiled weakly again, but I could see her mind is elsewhere.

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few more questions,” I told her, “And I’d like you to respond on a scale of one to five this time, okay?” Melissa nodded. “Okay. Again, this is about how much extra arousal you might feel.”

Her chest kept rising and falling and her pupils didn’t appear to be focussing on me.

“So, first. If someone came into the room.”

“Five,” she said instantly.

“If I unlocked the door.”

“Still five.”

“If I told you there was a camera filming us now?”

“Five,” and her eyes darted around the room.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t one,” I reassured her. Her eyes closed in relief for a second.

“And if I photographed you now?” I continued.

“Four,” she said. At least the scale has some variation: not everything was a “five”.

“If I threw your clothes out of the window?”

“Five.” Another instant response, which she then corrected. “No, six.” I smiled to myself: I might have to adjust the scale of her responses later.

Read the rest of A Study in Exhibitionism, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

A Warm Engine


I gulped and then opened the door, swung both legs out and stood, closing the door behind me. I saw their heads move up and down as they took in the sight of a tall naked woman stepping out of a sports car. I was glad their eyes were behind sunglasses too. “Wooo-eeh,” I heard one of them say quietly.

“Step to the front of the vehicle and put your hands on the hood,” the officer instructed.

I had never been pulled over before, but I had seen enough of this on television. I stood by the side of the car bonnet and placed my palms flat on it. The low car and my high heels meant I had to bend at the waist to reach. Through my hands I could feel the warmth of the engine.

I heard one of the officers walk over, his feet crunching in the gravel and dust and, I thought this was unnecessary, he gave my shiny stilettos a gentle tap with his boots to indicate I was to spread my legs wider. I had no choice but to comply as I looked down at my dust-covered shoes.

I heard the car that had been chasing me reversing and the road block was cleared. Then I heard another, lower sound. It was the truck I’d overtaken catching up with us. He slowed right down to pass us, enjoying his view of my legs apart and my rear end pointing out towards the road. As he passed he sounded his horn, just to remove any doubt as to whether he had seen what was going on.

“Erm, I’m not sure I need to check for a concealed weapon, are you?” the officer nearest to me asked his partner, who laughed.

“Well, ya gotta follow procedure,” he encouraged.

I felt the officer’s hands around my left ankle and then run slowly up my leg, and then do the same with the right. I have to confess, all feelings of arousal had disappeared as soon as I had seen that first flashing light, but as his hand slid up the inside of my thigh I felt the same stirring again. It made me question my sanity.

Read the rest of Cruising, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF