I’d always been a good girl, followed the rules, studied for exams, and attended Sunday School regularly. My friends accepted that, but told me I was missing out on fun. When school broke for summer in my 16th year, we made a pact to do something naughty. We all put £10 in a box. We would vote for a winner. They honestly didn’t expect me to participate.
I forgot to mention that along with being a good girl, I am extremely competitive.
“Count me in.”
I had an advantage over my friends because I had never done anything naughty. They all had and would have to ‘up their game’ on what they had previously done. I am also a brilliant A-grade pupil, naturally, with all that studying. I’m a very pretty, blue-eyed blonde with long legs and very well-developed, firm breasts. My friends tend to be flat-chested.
The first day of the holidays dawned with warm sunshine and blue skies. I had successfully secured a part-time summer job at a garden centre on the outskirts of the village where I lived. The owner knew my parents and was a member of the strict Brethren Church we all attended. I never particularly liked him. He and his wife were regular visitors to our home in the village. They were cold, humourless people. Pious and disapproving of the sinful neighbours who did not attend church.
As I cycled into the courtyard that morning, my thoughts were about how lucky I was to get a job outdoors doing something I enjoyed, but also how I was going to win the prize money.
Mr. Smith was waiting for me as I got off my bicycle.
“Good morning, Miriam. You are early. That is to be commended.”
Was I mistaken, or did his eyes linger on my short-clad legs? I had worn them purely to travel; my uniform was in my backpack. I asked where I might change and was shown to a changing room with a few lockers and a shower facility. I donned my dark green bib dungarees and green and black checked shirt. It was not compulsory to have the bib fastened, so I left it undone. It sounds like an awful uniform, but it was quite flattering. The material was of good quality and soft. However, the shirt was quite neat, and the buttons strained to meet.
Mr. Smith was still in the courtyard when I re-emerged. This time, his eyes flicked toward my breasts—only for a moment, but unmistakably.
“You will be working in this area, Miriam. It is one of the hothouses, or greenhouses, where we propagate and repot plants. I will be working alongside you this morning to instruct you.”
Was that another furtive glance? We entered the greenhouse. I loved the hot, steamy atmosphere, the quiet peace, the lush colours, and the various scents. It was very warm. Standing by the potting table, I rolled up my sleeves and started work. I’m a quick learner.
Another slightly longer look from Mr.Smith this time. An idea formed. I’d need to be subtle. I’d play the naive, innocent – actually, that is what I was, but my plan wasn’t, far from it.
“Mr. Smith, it is wonderful in here, just the two of us working, but it is so hot. I need a little air.”
I unbuttoned two buttons. A fair area of my breasts was exposed. I carried on as if nothing was amiss. He was staring now. I pretended not to notice. Another two buttons were open. My white lacy bra was visible. My areola and nipples were also visible beneath the transparent lace. His eyes never left my breasts. I felt my nipples harden with an unfamiliar sensation. I had been naughty. Shortly after I fastened up again, nothing further happened.
I met my friends that night, and we discussed our naughtiness. They were impressed and amazed, but Barbara was in the lead after flashing her bare ass at the postman.
The next day at work, back at the greenhouse with Mr Smith, I asked permission to remove my shirt and just wear the bib for ‘modesty’. I smiled innocently.
“Of course, my dear. There is no one to see you. I don’t count.” You will notice he was not quite as cold. The bib covered very little, and I was thrilled at this man seeing my breasts, but I knew I would need to do more. I wanted to do more.
The following morning, I was in the greenhouse first. I took off my shirt and bra. I placed it on the bench beside me. When Mr. Smith came in, he would see it first, and then he would see my almost naked upper body, partially covered by the bib. Ten minutes later, he arrived.
“Good morning, dear. Very sensible attire. You are a very good little girl. It is so hot in here.”
He had discreetly locked the door behind him. I continued to play the innocent, and he stared quite openly, thinking I was unaware. Then, accidentally, the bib unclipped and fell down to display my firm, round breasts and erect pink nipples. I feigned an apology.
“No need to apologise, my dear; it’s far cooler to work that way. Just leave it undone.”
He licked his lips. If this was being naughty, I was loving it. Wait till I see the girls tonight. The prize money was mine.
Wrong! Barbara had upped her game and flashed her boobs and butt to her neighbour.
Back to the greenhouse early the next day. This time, when Mr. Smith entered, the first thing he would see would be my dungarees on the bench, along with my bra. Again, when he greeted me with a “Good morning, dear,” he locked the door behind him.
I stood at the bench wearing only a checked shirt and a pair of white knickers. The shirt did not cover them. They were lacy and see-through. He was looking at my pubic mound, which was clearly visible. Then his eyes travelled up to my unbuttoned shirt and naked, swinging breasts. I pretended not to notice his lustful stare or bulging denims.
“Good morning, Mr Smith, I hope you do not mind; it is too hot to wear my uniform.”
“Not at all,” came the quick reassurance.
I knew I wanted to go for it. The good girl was gone. I wanted this man to see me naked; I wanted to tease him. I also knew if I let him touch me, I would win the prize. It wasn’t the money that mattered; it was the winning and seeing the admiration on my friends’ faces.
I removed my shirt slowly. His face was red and sweating, his breathing ragged. I stood in only my white lacy knickers.
“My hands are all soiled; could you please help me? These are new, and Mummy will spank me if I get them dirty.”
I fluttered at him innocently. He did not need to be asked twice. He pulled my knickers down slowly, lingering at my wet bush. I stepped out. Now I was naked, with a friend of my parents watching me.
My whole body tingled. Between my legs, a dampness was spreading; my nipples were hard and erect, begging to be groped.
“Could you please help me? My friends say their breasts are better than mine. Please, will you examine them for me?”
His hands were groping, rubbing, massaging, squeezing, and fondling. His face was an expression of lust and desire, his breathing ragged.
“Is my bottom too big?” I turned around and bent over, giving him a good view of my butt and lips. He started to stroke and massage, and his hands moved underneath, as I knew they would. He played with my wet pubic hair, and then his fingers slipped inside my wet folds. Ooh, what a naughty thrill. But I wasn’t going to let him go all the way.
Abruptly, I stood up and gasped, “Oh, Mr.Smith, I have been a naughty girl. I didn’t wear my uniform to work. Mummy and Daddy will be cross with me. They will spank my bare bottom if they find out. Can you keep a secret and not tell them? I know I have to be chastised. Perhaps you could put me over your knee; my knickers are already off and my bottom is bare, and you could spank me instead?”
Unsurprisingly, he agreed, and I received my first spanking, which I enjoyed.
I know he enjoyed it too. With each spank, he fingered my tight, wet, available pussy thoroughly. He assured me that it was how naughty little girls were chastised by someone other than a parent. No need to tell my parents.
I squirmed in ecstasy, so tempted to let him fuck me. Maybe tomorrow?
A short time later, I won the prize and, more importantly, respect from my gobsmacked pals, the handprints on my butt as proof.
The good girl had gone. Naughty but nice from now on. What shall I try next?
