Rosie -

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He hadn't seen one as good as that since the school trip to Amsterdam. ... beauty treatments and the massage ... She found it rather sensual rubbing the liquid ...
Rosie by Joe

Rosie on the Beach

Rosie was grateful to whoever it was had suggested to parents to go on the day trip to Malaga. It meant that she had the whole day to herself.

"After all", she said to herself, "she was virtually seventeen", and if the size of her well developed bosom was anything to go by, very much grown up, no matter what her parents thought.

Her parent's didn't like her to sunbathe on the beach without them - too many predatory men they thought. So she had decided to go for a walk along the coast. It was a baking hot June day and she spotted a small road leading down to a secluded beach. There was a small car park at the bottom of the road, with a couple of dozen cars in it. She looked round and the first thing she saw made her stare a bit - two nude sunbathers lying among the Mediterranean pines that backed onto the beach. Not an unusual thing in those relaxed southern climes on a secluded beach. There are beaches frequented by nudists all over the place in Spain. They're mainly unofficial and not sort of fenced off with big signs or anything. She remembered hearing there was just such a beach hereabouts, not that her parents would ever dream of going to one.

She went and stretched out further along under the shade of the pine trees where she could admire the naked bodies. It was fun, much better than being stuck on some awful sight seeing trip. It was nice and relaxing there, but it was very hot dressed in a shirt and jeans. Her parents had taken her rather demure bathing costume with them. They didn't want her disporting herself on the beach in their absence

As the perspiration poured off her suddenly she was struck by the thought of how nice it would be to take all her clothes off and bathe naked in the sea. She had been brought up modestly and she was a modest girl at heart. She had never even been topless (not with parents like hers), although she was proud of her ample bosoms and thought she had a really sexy figure. But to go bottomless as well, so people could see her... well down there, as she referred to it herself, that would be so embarrassing. But the temptation was strong. It was so hot and the thought of the cool water on her bare skin was so inviting. And anyway, she thought, she'd always heard that once you'd taken your clothes off you didn't feel the least embarrassed, and indeed it was the people who had retained theirs who felt out of place.

Modest as she was, she didn't know why she did it, perhaps it was the excitement of the idea, perhaps it was that she was rebelling against her modest upbringing, but taking a deep breath, she found herself taking off her blouse, her shoes, her socks and even her jeans, but when it came to removing her bra and panties she felt a strange reluctance to do so. So she summoned up her courage, said to herself "Right - No more hesitation. Count to ten and then they're coming straight off, your going to strip naked and your going to walk straight down that beach and into the sea. This is a naturist beach; nobody will even give you a second glance. There's nothing they'll not have seen a million times".

So she did just that. She counted to ten. Eight, nine, ten... she slipped off her bra, and pulled her panties down in one go, hesitated for a moment and then set off down the beach stark naked. The embarrassment didn't go off. She was nude. She was nude in the open air. She was nude in public in the open air. She had never felt so embarrassed in all her life. She said to herself, `Everyone is the same, nobody will even notice you'.

She didn't dare look at anyone. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead and just walked straight across the beach. It was a funny sensation to be out in the open air with absolutely nothing on. With the breeze blowing through her legs and across her bare behind she suddenly felt very very nude.

At last, walking quicker and quicker, she reached the safety of the sea and plunged in; she turned to look at the beach she had just walked down. She had been wrong, everybody was looking at her, and the reason was immediately obvious. They were all normally dressed in respectable bathing costumes. She was the only one in sight who was nude.

The full horror of the situation struck her. It wasn't a naturist beach at all. There had just been a couple of people sunbathing au naturel in a secluded area of pines behind the beach. Indeed it wasn't even a secluded beach as she could see a large modern hotel two hundred yards away. And she'd walked right down the beach past everybody stark naked. She was standing in the water stark naked. The embarrassment of it! She had not however caused a fantastic stir; from their pale skins it was clear that most of the people were English, and the English are very undemonstrative. However not a few people were looking at her expectantly.

The reason why they were looking expectantly suddenly struck her. What had she done! She, modest little Rosie, had walked all the way across the beach, in full view of everyone completely in the nude, and now she was going to have to walk back up the beach past everyone again completely in the nude,. Of course on a beach people face the sea, so in her parade down the beach she had not had to face them, and they had only had a rear view of her. Going back up she would be looking at them and they would be looking at her. And they would be getting the more interesting view! Furthermore, as everybody had seen her go into the water, they would now all be waiting for her to come out

She crouched there, hidden under the water, panic stricken. A dreadful dilemma faced her. Should she swim down the beach and so come out where no-one knew she was naked, in which case she would have further to come back, or should she take the shortest route back through the expectant throng.

She stayed in the water as long as she could, but she was getting cold and her skin was starting to wrinkle. So plucking up her courage she made up her mind and keeping her eyes straight ahead, and not daring to look at anyone she walked straight back up the beach towards her clothes. Horribly aware of her nudity, she felt her heart thumping and her legs shaking. The trouble was she could feel everyone's eyes looking at her and she just couldn't stop her self looking round. It was as she feared - everybody's eyes were magnetically drawn to her naughty bits; and she kept her naughty bits smooth and hairless. Not that her parents would have approved of such a thing - but then her parents were never going to know. And she still had twenty yards to walk. No wonder the men were looking at her with such interest. Their eyes seemed fixed at the point where her legs met, which she was vainly trying to cover with her hands. It seemed an interminable twenty yards.

Finally with relief she climbed over the wall at the back of the beach and there were her clothes - gone. There was no sign of them. It suddenly occurred to her; she'd obviously swum along the beach and come out at a different place. It was a long beach and she didn't even know whether to turn right or left to find her clothes.

She couldn't even walk back behind the wall as the ground was sharp shingle and cut her feet to ribbons. She had to go back on to the main beach and walk along it. Oh no!! She was lost on a public beach in the nude with her naughty bits on display. Panic overtook her and she ran aimlessly along the beach feeling the eyes boring into her as she did so.

Then at last she did see something she recognised in the distance. It was her blouse blowing down the beach a hundred yards away carried by the stiff sea breeze. Any minute it was going to be carried out to sea, there was nothing for it but to run back down the beach chasing it stark naked. I don't know if you've ever noticed but as soon as you catch up with something the wind is blowing, it blows away a bit further. And I don't know if you ever seen a naked girl running on hot, soft sand, especially one with a well developed bosom. If not you'll have to imagine it. As Rosie leapt up and down, her feet burning on the fiery sand, her ample boobies bounced up and down rhythmically and the round cheeks of her bottom swayed from side to side So as she raced after the blouse, bouncy bits unsupported, everyone watched fascinated as her bouncy bits bounced and her chubby bits swayed. When she finally got to her blouse, it was in the sea and she couldn't put it on; it was soaking wet and she was soaking wet with going back in the sea to retrieve it...

That was the trouble. she was still soaking wet, and having no towel she had to sort of jump around a bit to get dry, which she tried doing so as to draw as little attention to her self as possible, when she saw two boys languishing with their back to the wall...

Justin and Toby liked the four star hotel just up the coast from Nerja. The view on the beach was fabulous most days. But the view today was even better. They watched the rather pretty little naked girl with the long brown hair and the big bouncy titties as she chased her retreating blouse down into the sea and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Toby grinned. "Nice arse", he said in his upper class English accent. He hadn't seen one as good as that since the school trip to Amsterdam.

"Pity we can't see her twinky", said Justin. In the way of his family he still used the expression that Nanny had used in the nursery for a girl's private bits.

"No probs", replied Toby, "we just need to wait until she comes out the water. Then she'll be walking towards us". They waited expectantly grinning broadly.

But then they lost sight of her, until that is they saw her creeping back up the beach towards them.

They had a good view of her bumpers, as Toby's family called them, but he still fancied a good sight of her twinky.

Rosie approached the boys nervously. She had recognised the stretch of wall that she had undressed behind and she had to walk past them to get back to her clothes.

"Hi", said Toby nonchalantly, "you a model?" he enquired.

Rosie blushed scarlet. Blushed because he was looking at her naked, but also because she had been mistaken for a model.

"No, not at all", she said nervously trying to hide her girly parts behind her hand.

"Well you really could be", pronounced Toby, "it just so happens that I have a few contacts in that area of business. Now if I could just take a couple of pictures, perfectly artistic, perfectly discreet", he went on, "then maybe I could get you a photoshoot"

Rosie gasped: get a chance to be a model. That was just she had always dreamed of. All thoughts of her parent objections went out of her head. She nodded dumbly.

"Well, just sit up there on the wall for us", said Toby, "that's right, now close your eyes and throw your head back. Look sexy. That's right"

Rosie sat herself on the wall enthralled. This was what she had always dreamed of - being photographed as a model. She almost forgot she was naked as she threw her head back and closed her eyes.

"Brilliant, brilliant", said Toby, "as he pointed his camera between her legs, "now just open your legs a little, that's right, just a little further, go on, that's lovely", and Rosie spread her legs wider and wider until Toby got just the picture he wanted.

"Hold it right there", he said, "hold that pose"

Rosie held the pose. She was in dreamland thinking of the future modelling career that lay ahead of her. She was only awakened from her reverie after a few minutes by the sound of tittering in front of her. She opened her eyes and suddenly realised what she was doing. She was sitting on a wall stark naked with her legs wide open displaying her smooth pink... well. Toby walking back to the hotel with Justin, already four hundred yards away, looked back over his shoulder at the gathering crowd

"Nice twinky", he said.

Rosie shrieked as she realised her predicament. Frozen in horror she looked at the faces in front of her and suddenly realised that she was sitting on the wall stark naked with her legs wide open. The full significance of this seemed to take an age to register and she just remained rooted to the spot for several seconds before with another shriek she leapt off the wall and ran for dear life up the road. Pulling on her still wet blouse she could only think to run as fast as she could to get away from the crowd, and she didn't stop for breath until she was half a mile away and back on the main road. Then she stopped to think. And then she realised that she'd run off and left the rest of he clothes behind. What could she do? It was two miles back to her hotel and she only had her blouse to wear. It was just about long enough to cover her bare essentials, if she didn't bend over or put her arms up in the air, but still being wet, and made of white cotton, it clung to her ample bosoms in a very suggestive way giving a clear view of her by now rather stiff nipples underneath. One thing she was certain about. She was not going back to that beach for anything, not with all those people there who had seen her... , her... - she didn't like to say the word even to herself. No way! Not even to rescue the rest of her clothes. There was nothing for it but to walk back to the hotel along the road. Her feet would be sore, and, Rosie was loathe to admit it, but she had (to put it bluntly) rather a big bottom and she would have to keep her blouse pulled down with her hands if it wasn't to ride up and give an interesting view to passing motorists. But what else could she do? So off she set, hobbling along the road as best she could. After half a mile her feet were so painful that she just had to sit down and rest.

Colin was riding along on his motor scooter when he saw the forlorn figure sitting by the side of the road. Colin was not your suave, self-assured young man looking for tottie on the sunny beaches of Spain. Colin was on a sight seeing trip on his motor scooter. His avowed aim was to drive all the way from his home in Slough to Gibraltar. He wasn't quite sure why, it was just his avowed aim. But on seeing the rather attractive girl with big titties in the wet blouse sitting beside the road not surprisingly his avowed aim was put aside for the time being.

Rosie looked up as he stopped. She had determined not to accept a lift from a passing motorist - that would hardly have been wise - not with no panties on. But a scooter - well that was different - it was hardly possible to make advances to her on the back of a scooter.

Colin was very proud to be driving back through town with a girl on the back of his scooter, especially the way everybody seemed to be looking and admiring his entourage. Colin was very proud of his driving skills, with no reason whatsoever. He was in fact an abysmal driver, swerving and stopping all the time for no accountable reason. Rosie had to cling on for dear life, and doing so meant had no way to stop her blouse from riding up - further and further. Colin had no idea that Rosie had no panties on; conversely everybody in the street could see quite clearly. Unfortunately for poor Rosie, Colin was so proud of the attention they were attracting that he decided to go through town the busiest and slowest way.

"Gosh", he thought (he was fond of expressions like `Gosh'), "I didn't realise that so many people here would be interested in a restored 1968 Lambretta, the guys in the scooter club are really going to be interested be interested when I tell them"

Rosie, her blouse now up to just beneath her bosoms displaying her ample bare posterior to all and sundry, could only close her eyes and hope nobody would recognise her.

At last Colin found her hotel

"Here you are", delivered safe and sound, "he said cheerfully, and watched dismayed as Rosie leapt off the scooter and ran hell for leather for the hotel.

"Humph!" he muttered (he was fond of expressions like `Humph!'), "fancy that - didn't even say Thank You". And with a final wistful look at the retreating behind, only just covered by the blouse, he engaged gear and resumed his avowed aim.

Rosie, pulling her blouse down as best she could, ran for her room; it wasn't until she got there that it dawned on her that she'd left the plastic key card thing in the pocket of her jeans back at the beach. She couldn't get in. With horror she realised she would have to go down to reception to get another.

Trying to look unconcerned, and all the time trying to keep her naked posterior covered, she sidled up to the reception desk. Maria the desk clerk looked at her suspiciously.

"I've locked myself out my room, can I have another key", asked Rosie nervously.

Maria looked at her even more suspiciously. There had been reports of people stealing things from rooms by asking for duplicate keys, she was going to be careful.

"You have identification on you?" she asked

Rosie blushed; she had nowhere to put any identification.

"Er no...", she said

"In that case I ask a few questions. Your name is?"

Rosie blushed even more. Why had her parents given her such a stupid name - with that surname?

"Rosie Btrmm", she mumbled

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Rosie Brrttm", she mumbled again

"You have to say clearly", I can't understand

"Rosie Bottome", she shouted. She heard the sniggers from the queue behind her. People always laughed. It had been the bane of her life.

"Okay, you just sign here", said the receptionist, curious as to why this suspicious looking girl had her hands firmly below the counter holding down the back of her blouse as if hiding her bottom from the people behind her. But Rosie couldn't sign. Leaving go of her blouse and raising her arms to the height of the counter to sign would reveal both her lack of panties and her pink round behind to the people waiting behind. They might know her parents! They might tell her parents! She couldn't risk it.

She panicked. She couldn't do it, and Maria watched open mouthed as the retreating figure ran out of the hotel still holding hard on to the hem of her blouse.

She crept out of the hotel and round to the back where she could see her room from outside. The room was on the first floor, and she had left the door to the balcony open. If she could just climb up to the balcony, she would be in. She could get properly dressed, she could even get back to the beach and try and rescue her clothes. If she could just get up on to the balcony. It wasn't very high and there were a pair of stepladders left by the gardener nearby. Looking round carefully to see if there was anybody there she erected the step ladders and went up them. Stretching up she could just reach the balcony. She grasped hold of the balcony rail, and tried to hoist herself up. It was unfortunate that there was a protruding nail on the wooden rail, doubly unfortunate that it caught on Rosie's blouse, and it was triply unfortunate that Rosie suddenly became aware that her blouse had been hooked up so that she was bare from the waist down on view to any passer-by. Frantically she tried to unhook it with the inevitable result that she lost her grip and fell tumbling back to the ground, taking the step ladders with her but leaving the blouse behind.

She leapt up from the ground, thankfully unhurt from her fall, which had unfortunately ruined a flowerbed, but the flowerbed was the least of her worries. She now had no clothes on at all. She was in the nude, the hotel garden and a state of panic all at the same time. Adopting that pose typical of girls stripped naked and trying to hide their naughty bits, she put her left arm across to hide her nipples, her right hand in front of her... (well she didn't even like to think the word) and crouched slightly as if that hid her from view.

If the appearance of Pablo shocked Rosie, it was a sight that shocked Pablo when he saw it. He had never seen anything like it. He would have to go and tell Antonio his boss; he needed to know about it immediately. Antonio had spent all morning planting that flowerbed and he would be livid when he saw what had happened to it.

Rosie watched the retreating figure of Pablo with horror. He'd gone off to fetch somebody. She'd be exposed to ridicule, as if she wasn't exposed enough already. Hastily she reassembled the ladder and climbing back up she grabbed hold of the balcony rail and tried to pull her self up, kicking with her legs at the ladder to give herself more height. The effect of this was only to kick the ladder over and leave her dangling half over the balcony, her ample and very bare posterior on view to anyone below.

And it was like this that Pablo found her when he came running back.

"I help, I help", he shouted up to the stranded Rosie, and reassembling the ladder he climbed up.

Rosie felt the hands grab her legs from below and try to push. It might have been more effective if Pablo had pushed her bare bottom, but that, he felt, would have been indelicate.

"Oh my God!" thought Rosie (she didn't often take the Lord's name in vain, she had been brought up very properly, but she felt that on this occasion the circumstances warranted it), "he's underneath me, looking up my bottom, what on earth am I showing him!"

She tried to keep her legs together, but scrabbling to get over the railing it wasn't easy. And Pablo did try to avert his gaze, but (as he said to himself later) he really did have to look up to see how she was managing. Well he had to make sure she was safe didn't he? And if in doing so he was forced to get an interesting view, well that was the price he had to pay for rescuing a maiden in distress (as he said to himself later). Finally he gave one last shove and Rosie disappeared, bare arse over tip onto the balcony. She peered over the railing at her rescuer, put her hand over her mouth, gave a little "Eek!" and ran for the shelter of the room. Pablo shrugged; there were times, he thought, when his often mocked habit of always carrying his little camera with him came in useful.

That evening at dinner Rosie's father was grumbling as usual. Grumbling was his favourite pastime, one might say it was his hobby. His only hobby.

"This place is degenerate", he harrumphed to no-one in particular, "do you know what I heard?", he didn't wait for an answer to this question which all present realised was entirely rhetorical, "there was a girl riding round town today on the back of a scooter not wearing any...", he stopped waiting for the moment to impart the full infamy of the situation to his captive audience. Rosie stopped eating dead in her tracks and blushed scarlet. Had somebody recognised her? She could hardly look at her father.

"It ought not to be allowed", went on her father, "riding around on the back of a scooter not wearing any crash helmet. Reckless, I call it; you would never see any thing like that in Chipping Sodbury".

No, thought Rosie to herself, she didn't suppose you would.

Rosie in the Alps 1

Rosie hadn't really wanted to go on holiday to Austria with her parents. It was not really her type of holiday - walking up steep hills and admiring alpine flowers - but even at her age, and (she said to herself) she was very nearly seventeen, her parents insisted on taking her with them. But there was one saving grace. There was a wellness spa attached to the hotel, or as the Austrians called it `ein Wellness Spa'. And the boys in the hotel were nice as well, and rather good looking in a Germanic sort of way.

Hans, from Munich, looked at her with his big brown eyes. Rosie felt he was undressing her with those big brown eyes and a little thrill passed through her. Her parents had gone off for the day to climb some boring hill so Rosie had pleaded a sore foot and asked to be left behind.

"Mind you don't do anything we wouldn't do", called her mother as they set off up the valley.

Rosie smiled; doing something they wouldn't do was just what she had in mind. She was going to try the Wellness Spa. She gazed longingly at the beauty treatments and the massage therapies, but she couldn't afford any of them, and she didn't dare put them on the bill.

But the hotel brochure said there was a sauna and plunge pool. That sounded good; that sounded better than trudging up a stupid hill.

The hotel provided a towelling robe so she got undressed in her room, put on her modest one piece bathing costume (well she was a modest girl), donned the towelling robe and went along to the spa.

She was given instructions in halting English by a strapping blonde bearing a name badge pronouncing her to be Helga. Helga did not undress her with her eyes. She would like to see her naked, then she could form a judgment. Not quite up to the mark, was her initial impression. It was her impression of most English girls. Soft, she thought them, she preferred the big strapping Scandinavian girls. She looked at her bathing costume disdainfully and pointed clearly to a big sign in English and German. "Naked Spa. No costumes permitted". Gosh - the Germanic way of doing things!

Rosie blushed, she hadn't realised that you weren't allowed a costume in Germanic saunas. But in a way it gave her a little thrill - how sophisticated to be in a naked spa! So rather self-consciously she went into a changing room, stuffed her modest one-piece costume into the capacious pocket of the towelling robe and hung it on the peg. After all she was determined to be naughty and do exactly what her parents wouldn't do, and prance round a sauna in the nude was exactly what they wouldn't do. Then she stood there naked wondering what to do next. There was a big notice on the wall with diagrams explaining the necessity of showering fully at all times before entering the sauna and after leaving it. They were really into hygiene these Germans. The diagrams showed in particularly detail the importance of soaping and massaging the naughty bits very carefully.

She had some difficulty finding the shower room as all the signs were in German, but eventually she saw a little drawing of a shower head on a door. She opened the door and gasped. It was an open shower room with six shower heads on the walls. She had expected privacy for showering - a private cubicle. That's what you would have had in England. But, well, this wasn't England. She stepped into the shower room. Rather self-consciously she stood under one and turned on the water. She jumped out. It was freezing cold. She tentatively crept back under the shower and soon got used to the cold. Somewhat self-consciously she started soaping herself down. She found it rather sensual rubbing the liquid soap into her cold, wet, bare skin - especially when it came to soaping her girly parts. Well the diagram had clearly shown that they had to be cleaned very carefully indeed. She stood with her legs apart and rubbed rhythmically with the soap. It felt good. She closed her eyes, let the cold water run over her naked body, streaming in rivulets over and between her breasts, making her nipples stand out proud and erect. Yes it felt good soaping down there.

Then a voice spoke to her in German. A loud voice. A man's voice! She opened her eyes and shrieked. Two boys were standing there - dressed in their towelling robes expostulating. She didn't know what they were saying. But legs apart with her hand on her...Rosie blushed at the thought of it - she knew what they were thinking!

"I wasn't..." she blurted out, "I mean I wouldn't... I mean the diagram said..."

The men were still expostulating and pointing to a sign that said `HERRN'. Rosie didn't know what it meant. Was it something to do with hairs? She didn't have any - anywhere - except for on her head of course. She had long, brown, silky hair. The men shrugged and left.

Two minutes later Helga appeared

"You in men's shower room", she said looking disparagingly at Rosie's naked body. She regarded her girly parts with contempt. `Smooth, hairless pumpernickel - typical of degenerate English types', she thought. Real women, Germanic women, should be hairy. She looked at Rosie's ample bosoms, with their erect nipples, with even more contempt. Big breasts, she thought, provokes lascivious thoughts in men. Real women should have slim boyish figures; she thought of her own, so suited to her early morning ten mile run.

So grabbing hold of Rosie's arm she marched her out of the shower, through the changing room and back into the spa lobby. There was apparently no other way into the lady's changing room. Rosie stood there frozen to the spot. She was standing naked in the reception area where anyone might see her, and she had been given no opportunity to pick up her towelling robe. She tried explaining to Helga that her robe was still in the changing room, but Helga wouldn't or couldn't understand.

Helga had no time for stupid English girls. What was she gibbering on about? Well she could just stand there on view while she told her off. It served her right.

"This womans's" she said - pointing to the other door, and she pushed Rosie into the women's changing room.

Rosie passed through the women's changing room and into the women's shower room blushing furiously at her mistake. Only as she made her way to the sauna did she realise that she had lost her robe and had no towel or anything. Never mind, somebody was bound to have left one somewhere.

She followed the sign which said sauna and was a little alarmed to find that it was situated in a separate wooden building in the hotel gardens at the end of a path about ten yards long. Guests usually made their way along the path wrapped in their towel or their robe, but the path was screened off on both sides by a kind of wooden fence stockade, so Rosie, oblivious of the fact that the people on the hotel balconies above could see everything, thought it would be all right.

She sat naked in the empty sauna; now she could relax. It was warm. It was comfortable. She felt sleepy. She closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, she was fast asleep.

For Hans and Peter it had been a bit of a surprise to find a naked girl in the men's shower, and here she was again in the sauna - stark naked and asleep - sprawled out on the bench with her legs wide open... well It was nice to sit in the sauna with a pumpernickel to look at, even if it was pink and smooth.

Rosie awoke with a start. The men were sitting opposite her modestly wrapped in their towels and she, modest Rosie, was - oh my Gosh - lying on her back with her legs apart instinctively rubbing her... oh no not again!

"I wasn't... I mean I didn't... It's rather hot in here", she said blushing profusely.

Hans spoke a little English, "Why you not try plunge pool" he said

"Plunge pool" said Rosie

"Yes - cold plunge pool. It out through door", and he pointed to the door opposite the one that Rosie had come in through.

Rosie suddenly thought how good it would be to plunge into the plunge pool. To cool her hot, sweaty, naked body. Anyway anything to escape from her latest embarrassment.

"Oh - right" she said

She jumped down from the bench, opened the door and stepped through. It was in the open air of course, but as she shut the door behind her she found to her horror that there was no protective stockade. Unaware of the fact that guests normally put on their robe to come out of the sauna she found herself stark naked, out in the open air in full, if somewhat distant, view of the guests in the garden. Next to her was what looked like a large tub full of cold water. Quick as a flash she leapt in. The cold water hit her hot naked skin like and electric shock. But she didn't dare leap out - not when there might be people watching. And people kept appearing - in the distance perhaps, but Rosie was a modest girl and she wasn't going to get out again until the coast was completely clear. That took half an hour, then seeing that there was nobody about she jumped out and hared back to the sauna. She pulled on the door. Nothing happened, she pulled again. It was stuck. It was only then that she realised that thee was a little notice - Rosie banged on the door, but the message was quite clear in German and English. 'Sauna closed 13.00 to 14.00'.

She was locked out. She was locked out of the building in the nude. The stupid Helga had just chased the boys out the sauna and left her in the plunge tub. And it was after one o'clock, her parents would be back soon. She couldn't be caught naked outside by her parents, it would be just too embarrassing. But what could she do? She couldn't run round through the garden and back in through the front door of the hotel in the nude, not modest little Rosie. And she couldn't wave to passers-by for help, that would be even more embarrassing. There was only one thing for it; she would have to climb over the stockade fence onto the path from the sauna back into the spa and retrieve her robe. She ran round the sauna, painfully aware that she was out in the open with absolutely nothing on. The fence looked quite high: certainly above her head, but there was no time to think. She leapt up and grabbed the top and hauled herself up, eventually managing to swing one leg over. Then she was stuck. She couldn't work out how to get the other leg over. She was stuck stark naked sitting over the fence, one leg on one side, one leg on the other side and the rough top of the fence digging into her unprotected... well she didn't like to think where it was digging into. She leant forwards to try and swing her leg over but all it did was leave her bottom in the air swinging from side to side.

Hans and Peter looked own at the scene from their balcony above the sauna with interest. They hadn't seen such a fine specimen of female posterior since the last Munich Beer Festival.

Hans looked at Peter, "Leave go of your schwanzl, we go rescue", he said (except in proper German). The two boys ran down the stairs, out the front door and round to where Rosie was still immobile on top of the fence (still rubbing between her legs in a not altogether too unpleasant a manner). Peter hopped over the fence (so easy for an athletic young man). He pulled and Hans pushed and eventually Rosie fell with a loud squeal right on top of him. She squealed even more, and even louder as she ended up tussling with him on the floor. Finally disentangling herself she ran, still squealing, back into the hotel.

Her parents, returned from their stroll to the top of the Hochspitzensteigenberg, were waiting in the garden for her to have lunch.

"You missed a real commotion behind that stockade fence thing a little while ago", grumbled her father. Rosie turned a deep shade of scarlet - what had they seen?

"Runaway pig", said her father

"I'm sure it won't have been a runaway pig dear", said her mother.

"I know the sound of a runaway pig when I hear one", said her father, "and that was a runaway pig. Squealing for all its worth it was. Runaway pig. Definitely. Anyway you could just make out the man wrestling with it through the gaps in the fence. Great big round, fat pink thing it was. Ran away into the hotel. Ought not to be allowed that's what I say. You wouldn't get a runaway pig in Chipping Sodbury"

"You wouldn't get a lot of things in Chipping Sodbury", thought Rosie.

Rosie and the runaway Pig

"You're not going, and that's final!" Rosie's father looked at her sternly. It was the last night of their holiday in Austria and Rosie's father and mother were going out for the evening. They were to have a special night out to celebrate the end of the holiday. They were going to the local whist drive. They had offered to take Rosie with them but she had said that the excitement might be too much and that she'd prefer to go to the disco in the town square. There was no way her father was going to allow that!

"Why - you're only sixteen!" he said, "far too young to go to a bisco"

"I'm as near as makes no difference seventeen", shouted Rosie, "and I don't want to have stupid dinner all by myself in the big dining room", and she wouldn't be mollified until her father made her an offer.

"Well, what about if you get a video thing and then you can order room service, anything you like mind, and eat in your room and watch the video."

Rosie jumped at the chance. It would be so sophisticated, so grown up to order room service; the hotel had the latest Bond movie and she would be able to ogle Daniel Craig in his shorty bathing trunks (a thing she could not do with her parents present).

As soon as her parents left (her mother waving cheerfully from the back of the taxi) Rosie rushed up to her room and rang down to room service.

"Hello", she said," this is room 42 can I have room service please"

"Certainly Madame", a suave voice answered.

Madame! He'd called her Madame; Rosie felt so sophisticated at the appellation.

"Can I have steak and chips please?"

"Certainly Madame, and what wine would you like"

Wine! She'd never had wine before. She wasn't sure her parents would approve. But her father had said she could have anything she liked.

"Do you have anything sparkling", she said, "not too expensive", she added hastily.

"Perhaps Asti Spumante' suggested the voice on the phone, "that's very reasonable".

"Oh yes. A bottle of that please", said Rosie, having no idea what it was.

How best to start the evening? She wanted to be warm and relaxed for Daniel (even if he was just on video).

So she decided to run a hot scented bath, and lounge in it till the food came. It was a posh hotel (you wouldn't get her father in anything else) and her room had a whirlpool spa bath. She just loved to switch on the whirlpool and feel the bubbles tickling her naked... Well she didn't like to think where she liked to feel it tickle.

She lay lost in reverie until she heard a voice behind her.

"Where shall I put the tray Madame?"

My God! The waiter had come in with her dinner. And she was lying in the bath. She looked round. The waiter was standing in the doorway holding a tray.

Rosie leapt up sending water spraying everywhere and turned to face the voice. Oh my God - she was naked. Instinctively she started to leap out of the bath, but as soon as she got one foot out her feet started to slip from under her. To balance herself she bent over backwards like a contortionist, supporting herself on her hands behind her, one on either side of the bath, until she ended up precariously balanced bent over backwards - one foot in the bath and one foot out, legs wide apart.

"Do not be alarmed", said the waiter smoothly, "I have seen it all before"

"Gosh", thought Rosie, "If he hasn't seen it all before, he's certainly seeing it all now!"

It was a position that she couldn't hold for long. Indeed it was a position that she wasn't sure that she wanted to hold for long, seeing that it provided a perfect view of her...well a perfect view. Her feet slipped from under her and she came crashing down on to the side of the bath. Fortunately it was her amply padded behind that took the blow, rather than her more delicate parts.

The waiter put down the tray.

"Can you make sure to leave it outside the door when you are finished, Madame", he asked in, what Rosie felt a rather snooty voice.

Rosie took her meal and sat in front of the telly to watch the video. No point in getting dressed, she thought, much more fun, much more sophisticated, to sit and watch Daniel while sitting relaxed and naked (no other reason - honestly).

She opened the bottle of fizzy wine and poured out a large glass. It tasted good. She poured out another, by the time she'd finished eating she'd practically polished off the whole bottle. She felt sort of woozy, pleasantly woozy, but nonetheless woozy. What did she have to do again? Oh yes, put the tray outside the door. She stood up and her head went round and round in a pleasant sort of way. Better cover herself up when she put the tray out - it would never do to be seen naked in the corridor. She wrapped a towel round herself and opened the door, and stepping outside she bent over unsteadily to put the tray down. Why did the ground keep moving around like that, she thought? Why was it rushing up to meet her? The next thing she knew she had fallen over and was lying flat on the floor. Oh my God! Her towel had fallen off. She struggled to her feet and looked round. The room door had slammed shut behind her firmly trapping her towel, and leaving her stranded stark naked in the corridor. Oh no! She couldn't wait naked in the corridor for her parents to come back. Let her parents see her naked! Let her mother see that she shaved her... well herself - she couldn't do it. It was unthinkable. She would have to go and get help. She tried to make her befuddled mind work. Yes - help. She would go down to the front desk and get them to let her back in the room. So simple. Why hadn't she thought of it before? The fact that her appearance stark naked in the hotel lobby might cause a stir, didn't occur to her.

She walked along the corridor to the lift and pressed the button. Then she had a thought, riding naked in the hotel lift - not a good idea. Somebody else might get in. They might realise she was drunk. They might tell her parents. It would never do for her parents to know she had drunk to much. Not at her age. Go down the fire escape stairs, that was the thing to do. She crept down the stairs. At the bottom the stairs ended in a large door opened by a panic push bar. There was a lot of writing in funny foreign that she couldn't understand. So she just pushed the door open and stepped through. Three things happened then that brought her to her senses. Firstly the door closed firmly and unopenably behind her, second she found herself not in the hotel lobby, but outside in the cold night air, and finally the hotel fire alarm was going off. The indecipherable words in foreign had been warning her that this was a fire escape door and as such was alarmed, and not to go out of it unless there was a fire.

The cold night air seemed to have a reviving effect on her brain. She suddenly woke up to where she was - stark naked in the grounds outside a hotel where the fire alarm was going off. She looked on horrified as people started filing out of the hotel looking for the fire. She dived behind the nearest bush, a large rhododendron growing thickly enough to conceal her ample form. Just in time, as nearly everyone was now out of the hotel.

What was she to do? She couldn't stay out there all night in the nude and she was already coming out in goose bumps with the cold. Then it dawned on her, everybody else had left the hotel, there wasn't a real fire, what better time was there to sneak back in again. Crawling on her hands and knees and hiding behind a hedge as best she could she made a dash for the now wide open fire exit.

Tomas, the waiter caught a glimpse of a strange round pink object dashing through the fire door in the gathering gloom. Perhaps it was the runaway pig that he had heard so much about! The manager had had all the staff searching the hotel for it all day. He couldn't let the pig be trapped in the fire. He ran for the fire door oblivious to the shouts from the assembled guests. He ran up the fire escape stairs, catching glimpses of the pig just ahead of him. It seemed mighty nimble at getting upstairs for a pig. Finally he heard it going through a door onto the fourth floor landing. The floor where he had had that strange experience earlier in the evening with the girl contortionist.

Quietly he sneaked out onto the landing. He could just make out the pink outline of the pig's posterior as it seemed to be cowering behind a large sofa. Slowly and quietly he crept up on it.

Rosie was crouched out of sight, or so she thought Who on earth had been chasing her up the stairs; she had only had time to hide behind the sofa before he had come bursting on to the landing. Thank heaven he seemed to be walking past.

She was mistaken; Tomas was only pretending to walk past in order to fool the pig. As soon as he was level with the sofa he pounced.

Rosie shrieked as she was squashed flat by the pouncing body. Tomas got to his feet quickly, for the first time in his life totally non-plussed. What was the girl contortionist doing, crouching with no clothes on behind a sofa. Was this part of her act? Had she perhaps been hiding from the pig?

"Excuse me Madame", he stammered, "can I be of assistance".

"Can you just help me back to my room", said Rosie.

"Certainly Madame", replied Tomas, regaining a bit of his composure. And brandishing his master key he let Rosie back in the room (and took away the tray).

Next day when they were waiting for the taxi to take them back to the airport Rosie's father was grumbling again.

"You'd think they'd have knocked something off the bill for having a wild pig running loose in the hotel. I hear it was at it again last night".

His eyes ran down the items listed.

"What's this!" he expostulated. "Steak and chips! Asti Spumante! My God girl, what were you thinking of! Don't you realise it's only red wine with steak! If the chaps at the Chipping Sodbury Golf Club ever find out what you did last night they'd have a heart attack".

"Yes", thought Rosie, "they probably would"

Rosie and the Mattress Museum

Rosie looked at her room with a mixture of horror and resignation. When her parents had told her they were taking her on holiday to France she had imagined Paris, the Champs Elysée, the shops, the fashions. She had not imagined some god forsaken hole in Provence where there wasn't a shop where you could buy anything more fashionable than an extra large baguette - and her room! This was supposed to be the best single room in the Chateau Chatte de la Rose, it looked like the attic set aside for the lowliest servant, with no window except in the shower room, so that some bizarre Frenchman had decided that the only way to get light in the room was to put a glass door on the shower room (no bath tub, just a shower). Not a frosted glass door mind, just a plain see-through glass door so situated that anybody coming into the room had a first class view of whoever was in the shower. But even more peculiar, the toilet wasn't even in the bathroom; it was in the corner of the bedroom, only hidden by a curtain. Stranger still the room was up a narrow staircase to the mansarde and fire regulations apparently decreed that there must be an alternative route of escape through the shower room window. This turned out to be a strange harness contraption that buckled under your arms and was attached to a rope and a pulley, so that when you jumped out of the window wearing the harness the pulley slowly lowered you to the ground. Rosie was shown how to use the contraption.

"I'm not having that room!" she exclaimed to her father.

"Stop complaining young lady", he replied, "most girls of your age would jump at the chance of a holiday in France, and it's the best single room in the hotel".

Girls of her age! Rosie fumed. She was sixteen (seventeen as near as made no difference), and she didn't know any girl of her age who would sit on a toilet in the corner of the bedroom, or shower in a room with a glass door, or have to escape strapped in a harness!

"It's not as if there's anyone else in the room", exclaimed her father, exasperated by her recalcitrance.

Rosie flounced off. She had only been persuaded to go to Provence by the promise of a day's shopping on the Rue de Rivoli and she had bought a pair of high heeled shoes, very high heels, in quite the modern fashion. She was dying to try them on.

"Get yourself unpacked", said her father and meet us downstairs.

Rosie stuck her tongue out at his departing figure as she started flinging her clothes out of the suitcase. She wasn't running downstairs at his beck and call. She would have a shower first, then she would try on her shoes. But what to do about the glass door. She didn't want just anybody just barging in and seeing her in the shower. There was a big bath towel in the shower room. She would hang that over the glass door like a curtain, and that would protect her from view. It had to hang on the outside or it would have got wet.

So, carefully putting the towel over the door, she took her clothes off and stepped naked into the shower. Well there was one good thing - it was one of those power showers which pulses water at you from all directions. Rosie loved those. She loved the pulsing hot water bouncing off her bare skin. She looked down admiringly at her breasts - she didn't know many girls of her age who were so well developed. She wasn't quite so sure about her bum though, maybe too well developed! Carefully she aimed one jet at her right tittie and one at her left, and turned the water on. She gasped as the hot jets struck her and made her nipples go stiff. She just loved it when her nipples went erect. She was carefully aiming a third jet at her... well at the other place she liked to aim the jet at and which she carefully shaved every day, when a dreadful thing happened. She heard the door to the room start to open. Quickly she turned off the shower. She didn't want anyone to know she was in there. Unfortunately, Marie, the chambermaid had been delegated to change the towels in all the rooms. She came in. What a silly place to leave a towel - hanging over the shower door. Quickly she marched over and snatched it down - and shrieked. The sight of the naked girl cowering inside gave her such a fright. She frowned at her, wagged her finger and marched out.

Rosie crept out of the shower and started to dry herself down with the clean towel, silly woman! Well, she'd make sure she had the towel well and truly jammed in the next time. She rubbed herself well with the towel till she was nice and pink, and then spotted her new shoes that she'd just unpacked. She would just have to try them on. She took them out the box and looked at them admiringly. They would nicely show off her shapely legs, probably help her bum not to look quite so big, well perhaps they would. She'd have to try them on now just to see. She sat down on the only available place for sitting on, which happened to be the toilet in the corner of the room, and put the first shoe on. It looked good. She put the second shoe on - it looked even better. She lifted her leg up and turned her knee out so she could admire it from the side, when suddenly the door burst open and somebody dashed into the room. A boy! A young lad a bit older than herself with curly blonde hair.

"Ooh la la!" he said (did French people really say that), "sorry, perhaps I have the wrong room, I did not know you were er... I mean on the er..."

Rosie blushed scarlet. She realised she was still in the same position, holding her leg up, displaying everything to this strange youth.

"Oh, I'm not... I mean I wasn't... I mean I haven't been... I mean I was just trying my shoes on", she blustered.

She stood up to try and go and retrieve her towel but she wasn't accustomed to really high heels. The youth looked on spellbound as she tottered a few steps, lost her balance and fell, ample arse over big tits, backwards onto the bed waving her legs in the air and displaying absolutely everything to his astonished gaze. He backed out of the room, slammed the door shut and ran off. Rosie pulled herself up and went over to the door. There didn't seem to be any bloody way of locking it!

That evening at diner her father had an announcement: "Rosie, tomorrow your mother and I are going into Nice to visit some old friends. I'm sorry but we can't take you with us".

Rosie breathed a sigh of relief; a whole day to herself. Thank God she'd be spared the old friends, but disappointment was to come.

"Now, Rosie, I don't want you just wasting your time. You're here to improve your mind as well as enjoy yourself". Rosie didn't like the sound of that. "Tomorrow I want you to visit the Matisse exhibition at the museum, and study the exhibits there. You must tell me all about it when we come back. I'd be very interested to hear about it. And if you tell me all about the Matisses then we can stop in Paris on the way back and you can go shopping for a handbag to match your shoes".

Rosie gulped, how much time would she have to sped in the stupid Mattress Museum before she could escape back to the swimming pool and still go shopping for a handbag. A handbag - how she longed to go shopping in Paris for a handbag. Oh well! She'd been told to do it so she'd better make the best of it.

Come the morning however the weather was so nice, and the pool so inviting that once her parents had gone she just had to take a dip. After all there'd be plenty of time to see the mattresses later.

She swam lazily, then she sunbathed, then she swam again, then she looked at her watch and shrieked. It was nearly eleven o'clock. She'd have to get a move on if she was to see the mattresses before her parents got back in time for lunch.

She hared back to her room. She'd have to have a shower before she could set off for the museum. The bloody maids were going round doing the rooms. Well she wasn't going to have them seeing her naked in the shower again. She took the towel and wedged it hard in the door so that it hung outside the door acting as a curtain as she shut it. They'd never get that out!

She stood under the shower again enjoying the powerful jets of water playing on her... on her... well everywhere. Then reluctantly she switched it off and pulled on the shower room door to open it. It wouldn't open! She pulled harder, but the harder she pulled, the more the towel just jammed it. Finally she put her feet against the wall and pulled with all her might. The door handle came off in her hand. In horror she realised that she was trapped naked in the shower room. The hope of a shopping expedition to Paris started to fade. She shouted and shouted but nobody came. She had known all along there was only one way to get out. Only one way to get to the mattress exhibition in time. Only one way to save her shopping expedition to Paris. She would have to escape using the escape harness. The thought of being lowered slowly down the side of a building suspended on the end of a rope stark naked didn't exactly appeal to her, she was after all a modest girl, but it was the only way she was going to get her handbag.

She looked out the window. There was no-one about. She fastened herself in the harness as she had been shown. It wasn't too comfortable naked, but it fitted comfortably enough under her big bosoms, making them stand out proud in front of her. She looked down. It seemed a long way to go down naked, but she would do anything for that handbag. She launched herself off the window. It was easy really. The pulley unwound slowly, and she was lowered gently towards the ground. She looked round nervously. She couldn't see anybody. If only she could get down without being seen!

Only five feet to go, four feet, three feet! There was a sudden clanking noise and the rope stopped unwinding. Rosie, horrified, found herself suspended stark naked three feet above the ground, arms and legs kicking wildly. It looked like she was stuck there until someone came. Perhaps her parents! What would they think if they found their daughter dangling in the hotel grounds and the nude for all to see!

Jean-Luc was sitting in his room looking out the window contemplating the embarrassment of his encounter with the naked girl in the high heels the day before. How could he have mistaken that room for his parent's room! He was on the ground floor, his parents were on the next floor up and the girl had been in the mansarde. What must she think of him! Some sort of kinky voyeur, bursting in on girls sitting on the.... Oh mon Dieu! He didn't like to think about it! She did have fine tétés though! He wished he could get another look at them. Then suddenly his wish was granted in the strangest way. The girl suddenly appeared stark naked outside his window hanging from the end of some sort of rope. He stared open mouthed as the rope suddenly tautened and she was left dangling in mid-air waving her arms frantically and spinning round slowly, Giving him alternate views of her fine bosoms, with their hard erect nipples, rounded chubby derriere and oh merde - sa petite chatte chauve. It took him a few seconds before he realised she was gesticulating for his help. He ran outside. She seemed to be dangling from some sort of pulley mechanism which had jammed. How had she got there? What was a young girl doing dangling in the open air without a stitch on! Anyone coming along could see her. He had to act quickly. The quickest way to release her seemed to be to grab hold of her legs and pull her down. He went to grab hold of her. Foutre! His nose was on a level with the chubby derriere, but as he took hold she spun round and he found his nose pressed into her... Oh no!

Rosie shrieked, "you've got your nose up my....".

Oh my God! She said the word. The word she didn't even like to say to herself. The word her parents probably didn't think she knew. The word that modestly brought up young ladies of sixteen shouldn't know!

Fortunately he was foreign and it had come out more like 'ghghunndt!!!', so much was she shrieking.

Even if he hadn't understood the word the import was quite clear. He backed off, spun her round and this time with his nose in her bum pulled her down until she could reach the ground.

She took one look at Jean-Luc, shrieked again and ran off to her room, where she buried her burning face in her hands, all thoughts of the mattress museum forgotten. She'd said the word! She'd actually said it out loud! Oh the shame of it. Somehow it was more shameful to have said the word than to have had it on display.

Her parents came back, and she knew nothing about the mattresses. Glumly she joined them for lunch.

"Sorry about the Matisse museum", said her father, "I didn't realise it was closed Mondays. Anyway I'm sure you found plenty to amuse yourself"

Rosie perked up a bit.

"Does that mean I get the handbag?" she asked

"Well I have some news for you", said her father, "our friends in Nice have invited you to spend the rest of the holidays with them. They have a daughter of your age called Sylvie, so that will be nice for you. And it will be a good opportunity to improve your French"

Rosie was enchanted with the thought. A holiday away from her stuffy family, and with a girl of her own age!

"But what about the handbag", she asked.

"Oh, they have good shops in Nice, and you'll need some more clothes anyway, so I'll let you have some money to do some shopping"

Shopping! On her own! Without stuffy parents! What better holiday could there be. Things were looking up!

"Ah, here's Jean-Luc", said her father, "he's Sylvie's cousin, staying here with his parents"

Rosie looked up alarmed to see her saviour of the morning.

"Jean-Luc this is my daughter Rosie", said her father.

"We've met already", said Jean-Luc, "in fact I've seen an awful lot of Rosie since I got here".

"A lot more than we get to see of her in Chipping Sodbury I'll warrant", said her father.

I should hope so too thought Rosie!