Gardening in the sunshine... in the backyard, of course!

It's a nice day. If I'm baring all this skin, why not soak up some sun?

… because I never bare my skin and soak up sun?

Well, it's time to strip myself for the world, and the world is mostly skin and plants and dirt and, well, you know. I've got all that stuff in the backyard...

I could move that azalea we've been planning to move!

… yes, this is clearly the ideal outfit for grungy manual labor...

I'm sure the azaleas will appreciate seeing me in it, though. They won't have anything judge-y to say about the bits of skin I happen to be baring...

Baby steps.

I feel my breath shudder slightly as I step out into the back yard. I'm really doing it. I'm outside in nothing but this ridiculous make-shift outfit! The tall privacy fence around our small backyard will block all prying eyes, unless someone is looking out an upstairs window...

I glance around. It's hard to tell. Someone might be seeing me right now. In these clothes. Certainly makes it a lot easier to fight the urge to pull this scarf up and slide a hand down imagining them laughing at me up there.

I frown, my heart fluttering. This is stupid. I can't do this. Why am I doing this?

"Strip myself to the world..." I whisper, and nod, stepping my bare feet across the soft lawn, and opening up the tool shed. I pull on some gloves, grab a trowel and a little shovel, and decide to toss on my mom's wide-brimmed gardening hat for good measure. No sense burning!

Stepping back into the sunlight, I think for a moment that now I just look like anyone gardening, a normal human in their back yard, maybe soaking in the sun in a bikini on a nice summer day, not a crazy girl wearing nothing but a scarf and a belt.

"No, I still look like a weirdo..." I say to myself, blushing at the wacky thought that I could look normal, even in a bikini.

"Strip myself to the world..." I push down the bad thoughts and step over to the azalea. This bush, still relatively small, needed to move. It was in too much shade by the house, and we wanted to put it over in the corner of the yard by the other two. Making that happen today was my task.

Well, task number two. A sub task? Whatever, my real task was just, like, normalizing myself. Showing a little skin to the world at large like it's no big deal. It was healthy. I needed it.

I decided to begin with the azalea. Clear out around it, dig out the roots. Get it ready to move.

I step on the shovel, trying to push it in around the bush, and immediately regret it. Not a job for bare feet! Plug, I don't think skinny-little-girl weight is quite enough to be effective this way. I sigh, crouch down, and start digging at it with the trowel.

It's slow going and kinda hard, and I quickly begin to appreciate the scant outfit. After a while, I've dug most of the way around one side, and wipe a light sweat off my forehead, rolling back onto my knees to appreciate my handy work.

I've made it maybe a quarter of the way around? And that won't even get it out of the hole. I sigh, and it occurs to me that out here, alone in the garden, I've actually kinda gotten comfortable "stripping to the world," at least a little bit.

With a little piece of genuine happiness fluttering in my heart, I lean back in, working around to start digging behind the bush. As I crab-walk around in the dirt, the scarf finally tugs loose and slips off my light frame, leaving me bottomless on my hands and knees.

I blush at the sudden exposure of... nothing? To nobody? I bite my lip, glancing around the empty yard, and then pluck up the scarf and toss it behind me. It lands a few feet off in the grass.

No sense in me mushing it down in the dirt, after all.

I try to focus back on digging, but all I can think of is someone glancing out their window and spotting me here. "Look at that scrawny bitch," they'd say, "You can see her furry little snatch poking out between her legs! No one wants to see that!"

I shake my head, my heart beating at the sense of humiliation my stupid brain is forcing on me.

"Strip myself to the world..." I mutter under my breath, pulling a hand out of a glove and wiping a few beads of sweat running down the underside of my breast. I bite my lip, my hand pausing at the belt buckle between my tightly-bound tits.

"Strip myself." I say more firmly than I feel, awkwardly tugging at the buckle. A squeeze as I pry it open, and then the belt slips off in my hand. I toss it off with the scarf, naked now except for my gloves and my mother's hat, and the dirt on my knees.

I dig a bit more, my breath never quite catching up, my mind too preoccupied to be effective even at this simple task. What if someone looks out their window? What if someone looks over the fence? What if someone comes into the back yard to, just, find me? To take pictures, and post them online, of the dorky naked girl gardening in her back yard without any clothes on...

I pull a hand out of my glove, and slip it between my thighs, pressing it into my fuzzy, soft, hot, achingly wet lips.

"Mmmmngh…" I gasp. Why am I so turned on right now...

I press my fingers in, and it feels so good...

Is this part of it? Stripping myself to the world? Laying myself bare? Not just showing my skin, but showing off... this? What would they have to say about this?

"Mmmmngh…" My hips press down around my hand as I crouch there awkwardly on my hands and knees, half-wrapped around a half-dug-up azalea.

Then I heard it.