The Naked Goth Girl: The Complete Series Read online

  The Naked Goth Girl: The Complete Series

  A story for Adults

  By E Ashford

  Copyright 2016 by E Ashford

  All Rights Reserved

  Contents

  Part 1: the Naked Goth Girl Goes Camping

  Part 2: The Naked Goth Girl Goes Swimming

  Part 3: The Naked Goth Girl Goes Picnicking

  Part 4: The Naked Goth Girl Gets Even

  Part 1: the Naked Goth Girl Goes Camping

  Lisa had never been so angry. She’d been upset; frustrated; miffed. But at the moment she was fuming. Beyond fuming. She felt she might explode at any minute. As she walked down the empty gravel road, she kicked angrily at rocks, looking around for squirrels that she might aim for.

  Her parents had no right, and she wasn’t going to just roll over and take it this time. She was getting older, and it was time they recognized that she had rights, not to mention thoughts and opinions of her own. It was bad enough they’d decided to take this lame vacation in the first place. They’d never bothered before. She’d always been free in the summers to roam the neighborhood as she pleased, and, when she was older, tear up a little rubber in the family car racing along back roads with the radio going full blast. In other words, the summer was her time to generally stir up mischief. And then to have decided to do it the summer right after she’d scraped up the money for a car. And then, to have chosen of all trips, camping. And not even “RV” camping, or camping in some shitty rustic cabin. Nope: her family had to do it all the hard way. Tents, sleeping bags on rocky ground, food that tasted like charcoal, and all the mosquitoes and flies you could wish for. All something about family bonding, forcing them all, she, her annoying step-brother Jake, and her younger sister Kelli – who seemed to do nothing but follow Lisa around in mindless hero worship – to spend some “quality time” together.

  But what her idiot step-father had decided to do this time was the last straw, the one that had not only broken the camel’s back but left it lying in a spineless heap on the desert floor. She’d only tried to sneak a little actual civilization into this Godforsaken place by bringing her cell phone. And she hadn’t even been calling anyone when he’d caught her. Just a little harmless texting to her friends back home. No reason to take it away from her. Certainly no reason to have sent that rude text telling her friends they were all “pathetic losers.” And beyond question no reason to toss her cell phone, which she’d worked all those weekends at the mall to save up for, into the lake. She would get even, though, one way or another.

  In the meantime, she wasn’t going to hang around that lame campsite one minute longer. Jake, normally ADHD enough to keep the pressure off her at least some of the time, had let her down this time and was out behind the tent chopping down the forest or some such nonsense. Kelli had taken a 30 second break from keeping her nose up her sister’s ass to help their mother unpack the food, and her father – hell, she didn’t know or care where he’d wandered his happy ass off to. He wasn’t keeping tabs on her for that ten seconds and so she’d taken off while the taking was good.

  The trouble was, her boots weren’t really made for this sort of walking, slipping and sliding along the gravel, and she could already feel the beginnings of a blister on her right heel. And of course, they were coated in a layer of white dust now, her fishnets as well. If only her parents weren’t such damn puritans. Always insisting girls didn’t ask boys out on dates; girls didn’t go out with red plaid skirts that barely covered their “behinds”; girls didn’t give guys blowjobs behind the Dairy Queen. Her father’s sermon put to shame those of the effeminate preacher at the corner church they made her attend like every Sunday and Wednesday: “You know God punishes wanton women. He turneth his face away from those who give in to the lusts of the flesh and follow Satan’s path . . .blah, blah, blah, blah.”

  She rounded another corner to find only another dozen empty campsites. As she should have known: no one with any sense would spend two weeks in June in such a hopeless, scrubby spot in the middle of nowhere. It’s a wonder this place could even continue to exist.

  She had to admit though, after close to an hour of aimless angry wandering that she’s wasn’t really cut out for running away in the middle of a forest. Her short dark hair seemed to invite the heat of the sun as did her black top, even if it did hang off one of her pale white shoulders. And if she wasn’t mistaken, her three sets of earrings had begun to heat up and leave impressions on her ear lobes. To tell the truth, she’d have given it up long ago and headed back to her family. She was pretty good at being sullen and letting people know how she felt generally. No need to take off into the wild blue yonder. Except she could still feel that white hot hatred, even more strongly than the heat of the sun, and it kept her feet moving on and on. AND, she really wasn’t quite sure where she was now. She was fairly certain she could find her way back through trial and error, but it was in all likelihood going to take a lot longer to sort out her path back than it had simply to head aimlessly forward.

  Even so, she had nearly decided to turn around when she rounded another corner and spotted a campsite – an actual inhabited-by-humans campsite. No one was immediately in view, but the tent, however ragged, was clean and obviously well-kept, and there was an impressive looking motorcycle parked a few feet from it. Lisa saw herself firmly as “goth,” but she’d seen enough movies to have decided that “biker chick” wasn’t so very different in the larger scheme of things. Outsider was outsider; rebel was rebel; and black leather was black leather.

  Somehow, walking right up to the site didn’t feel quite right. She suddenly felt awkward, shy, and oddly young. Exposed was the word. Out here in the middle of the road, in mid-afternoon June sunlight – not even really knowing who might be living here. After all, the only other people who had been willing to put up a tent and lay on the ground were her own parents, and if she ran into someone even remotely like them she thought she might just slit her own wrists. But that was assuming whoever this was wasn’t just some angry drifter who’d decided to hang out in a campground because the woods made an excellent spot for burying unsuspecting serial-killer victims.

  Her skittishness made her head for the cover of the trees beside the road, approaching the site at an angle rather than barging ahead. She had no illusions that she was stealthy, but it felt right to creep up, to be cautious, to scope things out. Not necessarily her strong suit, but she’d just have to do the best she could.

  As she maneuvered closer, she could make out more details about the site itself. Things seemed particularly tidy. A pack sat on the picnic table, but it was done up tightly and there was no food or any other sort of sign that someone might have had meals here. There were the remnants of a campfire in a neat little circle of stones, but the ashes were clearly cold. A pile of fresh wood was set to the side, though, neatly stacked. There was also a single, solitary chair sitting beside the circle of stones – only one person here.

  She circled the site slowly, keeping to the shade but allowing herself a view of the tent’s entryway. She had the impression it had been recently swept – no dirt, no leaves, no pine straw. And sitting beside the zipper opening were a pair of riding boots, black and well-kept, if slightly worn.

  In the shade it felt cooler now, and she could feel a soft breeze for the first time. There was something instinctual inside her that had no wish to return to the hot gravel road. Instead, she found herself moving closer to the tent itself, creeping low, bent at the knees, her eyes alert. Maybe there was no one here at all. An interesting adventure to spy out someone else’s camp site. It seemed so . . . forbidden. And she was in such a mood for breaking rules. It
was almost as if her rotten step-father were there wagging his finger at her, telling her young ladies didn’t sneak up on strangers’ campsites.

  She couldn’t detect any movement; or at least, she couldn’t quite explain what she saw and felt. But she knew inside herself that someone was in this tent. It didn’t move really, and there was no sound, but there was life in it somehow. And she knew too that the person inside was a man. It wasn’t just the boots she had seen. She could just sense man. Not boy. Not guy. Man. And though that should have sent a warning impulse through her nervous system – and maybe it did – the most powerful thing she felt was the urge to see him, to know who was in this solitary, isolated spot.

  It took her five minutes to move close enough to the tent to touch it, and she found herself walking on tiptoes as she did, without even knowing why. Was she afraid of what would happen to her if she was caught? Or was it more about spying on someone who didn’t know she was there? Or was it simply the quiet of the woods that induced her to be quiet as well.

  She knelt beside the tent then, the toe of her boot actually touching it. Her breathing was fast, but she tried to keep it quiet. In the side of the tent was a mesh screen, what passed for windows in a tent, and she could tell from where she knelt that it was open and low enough to look in on whoever might be inside. Ever so slowly, she began to raise up, terrified at every moment that she would encounter a face in the window staring back at her accusingly, and readying herself to run when she did.

  There was no face in the window, but once she was high enough to look in she could see a form lying in the tent’s shadow. She couldn’t make out a face, only the outline of a body. She could smell him though – a musky, spicy, tough odor. She could hear him breathing as well, slowly in and out. He was asleep on his back, his hands crossed behind his head.

  She wasn’t sure what drew her on, but some force surely did. She felt herself creeping again, in tiny half steps now, but slowly and surely towards the front of the tent. The rising and falling chest she had seen seemed to be matched by her own heartbeat now -- slow, gentle, but firm and steady. She could feel herself now walking again on tip-toe in her boots, an inch at a time. When she reached the corner she stopped for a moment, wondering at her own brazenness. What was she doing, after all, stealing into some random stranger’s tent while he slept? What was it she was even after? There was nothing to take, nothing to achieve. But having given time to that thought and taken a final breath, she moved on once again, sliding the final few feet from the corner to the zippered opening of the tent.

  There were flaps to either side that could be let down to close the tent from view, but they were tied neatly to the side. Standing where she was on the center of the doorstep, she could see through the gauzy mesh of the tent’s screened opening to the sleeping form inside. The sun shone through the window she had stood at only moments before, creating a bright square across his belly. She could see from where she stood now the dust on his jeans that led down to his bare feet. Above, he wore a plaid shirt, but it was unbuttoned and she could see rough brown skin covered in a mass of curly dark hair. She’d never really seen so much hair on a man before. She’d seen her step-brother Jake shirtless plenty of times, but he barely seemed to have any hair at all. And even her step-father, who despite his prudery would occasionally lounge around the house on Saturday afternoons in just a pair of shorts, only had a few sparse patches in the middle of his chest, nothing at all like this dark full growth.

  Without thinking, Lisa reached down to the bottom of the tent’s opening, grabbed the zipper and slowly began to pull it up. She moved incrementally, a single track at a time, hoping to get it open without waking the man within. She had just managed to reach the top, only two or three inches from the end of the zipper, when he gave a sharp grunt and half sat up.

  “Who’s there?” he said gruffly. In the square of light that his face now occupied, she could make out his features, the shaggy dark hair, the sharply defined nose, dark brows and a week’s worth of beard growth. He looked at her with eyes that were angry and dark, that seemed to threaten violence if she were to make even the slightest move.

  She moved without thinking, only instinctually hoping to turn away wrath. With both hands, she reached to the bottom of her blouse, and in one swift motion raised blouse and black bra to her neck. Her B cup breasts fell loose and hung naked for him to see. She could not remember the last time she had been naked in front of anyone; she supposed somewhere far back in her childhood she’d played naked in the sprinklers, or taken baths with Jake, but these memories were buried beneath years of hard work to make sure no one was privy to how her body had developed. Now she felt completely exposed, the skin of her belly going all goose-pimply and her small pink nipples beginning to stand completely erect. And yet she made no move to cover herself, feeling somehow proud of her own body and her courage to show it to these strange eyes.

  There was silence in the tent for thirty seconds. Lisa could see little from the shirt and bra bunched up under her chin, but she could hear the stillness, feel his breathing, and sense his eyes on her bare torso. Then, abruptly, she heard him lie back down. He said nothing, and once settled back down on top of the sleeping bag, didn’t move.

  Well, he wasn’t going to kill her; at least, not yet. She lowered her hands slowly, tucking her breasts back into the cups of her bra and smoothing her blouse down over her stomach. She could look him full in the face now, but his face seemed to have no expression. He seemed completely at peace, his eyes blinking slowly, his breathing almost the heavy even pace it was when he was sleeping. And yet he watched her with what she felt was intensity. It was clearly her move, if she cared to make one.

  She thought for several moments about turning around and fleeing the campsite. He seemed in no hurry to chase her down, and what had she been thinking in the first place, showing this man her tits? Still, she felt rooted to the spot, stuck there as though the tent opening were a locked door through which there would be no escape.

  She walked to him then, slowly, her feet almost gliding across the tent floor. His eyes followed her as she stepped up so that her feet were next to his head. Then, again in one quick movement, not allowing herself time to think, she moved her hands under her skirt, grabbed the sides of her black panties in each hand, and pulled them down. She knelt a little so she could slide them down her thighs and over her stockings, and then lightly stepped out of them. She knew it was too dark for him to see what lay beneath the skirt, that though he could look straight up, the shadows hid her. And yet she felt exposed once again. Suddenly her ass felt the cool of the summer afternoon and she was startled by the way her breath quickened.

  She lowered herself to her knees then beside him. He still made no movement, other than to look into her own eyes with his. Her movements were deliberate. She raised one knee and placed it on the other side of his head, so that she was straddling his face and then moved herself so that her pussy met his lips. She could feel the stubble burn against her skin, and she was still for a moment, letting him feel that she was completely shaved, bare. Her skirt hid his face, which was underneath her at any rate, so she had no idea of his expression, but she could feel the warm breath from his nose against her clit. She’d never done this before, never allowed anyone to eat her out, but she knew what she wanted, and she wanted it now.

  He lay still beneath her for a few seconds, and she began to wonder if she’d made a mistake. What if he had no interest in her? What if he was grossed out by her bare cunt? What if he were to suddenly throw her off and order her away? And yet the anticipation of what might happen overwhelmed her. She could feel herself wet and warm inside, gooey with desire.

  And then it happened. In a flash, his tongue shot out and deep, deep inside her. The warm wetness of it met her own wetness and seemed to drink it in. Startled, her body reflexively shuddered and she drove her pussy even harder into his mouth. His tongue continued to burrow deep inside her, twisting and turning into every cre
vice. She bucked back then, and his tongue pulled away, only to spread itself flat over the whole of her lips. Slowly, he licked her from the opening up, the taste buds of his tongue rough on her bare labia, until the center of his tongue engulfed her clit. She ground her hips then, working his tongue over her.

  She raised up on her knees away from his face, and reaching down used one hand on each side to spread her lips wide. Her clit sprung out between her fingers, and as she lowered herself gently back on to him, his mouth was all around her, sucking, kissing, and flicking everywhere.

  They settled then into a rhythm. Using her right hand, she began to work her clit with two fingers, making counterclockwise motions with the tips. At the same time, he moved his tongue inside her and began to work it in and out. He seemed hungry for her, and she thought, he’s “eating me out,” and understood it in a new way, as a giving of herself physically to someone else. She felt her muscles tighten and relax as she fucked this stranger’s face. She thought of how intimate it all was, his face buried beneath her skirt, in the darkness of her most private parts, and this only urged her on more. His tongue worked faster now, her fingers moved more rapidly, and her hips ground themselves over and over into him. And then it was on her, a wave of orgasm unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She’d done her share of masturbating, even in her step-father’s rigid household, but nothing compared to knowing that a man’s tongue was inside her, feeling her quiver. It drove her ecstasy even higher, and she screamed out breathlessly over and over again, “Oh, oh, oh, oh . . . Shit . . . Oh my God . . .Lick my pussy . . . Ahhhhh!!!”

  Eventually, with a final gasping moan, she rolled off of his face and collapsed in a fetal heap beside him trying desperately to catch her breath. Still he made no move, either to hold her or to push her away. He lay still, his hands behind his head, his eyes opening and closing gently.