Three shapes take stock

The three of them stood there, blushing in the afternoon sun. Stacy had just removed her top and bra at first, washing herself in the stream while the boys shuffled loose of their boxers. They had all felt a bit silly wearing only half a set of clothes though, so had ditched the rest, avoiding all eye contact until there was nothing left to delay it. Now they were bared completely, still young creatures readjusting to their natural outlooks.

Stacy was a lithe beast, all pale skin and sharp angles. Her womanhood was beginning to bloom though, round, firm breasts swelling out under prominent nipples. Her hips didn’t curve so much as bump, but her round little ass swayed nervously, and her small patch of fur was short and curling. Mark was far more tanned, his stocky, muscled form telling of summers spent with his estranged father: surfing whatever coasts he could get to. The reason he’d been so anxious earlier spoke for itself, even anticipation of this moment had jumped him erect, his swollen member pointing towards Stacy accusingly. Yet now it was out in the open he carried it well, his gaze devouring her every inch as he stood open and unflinching. Peter was another case altogether. The tall, thin young man stood with hands clasped behind his back, standing to attention as if this was some sort of medical exam. His eyes were glued skyward though, not daring to descend yet. While the tool he displayed… left all the impression it needed to. Even flaccid and drooping, it easily matched the size of Mark’s. Stacy had very little to go on by comparison, besides the odd video: educational or less so. Yet even she could declare the dangling shaft a monster. She shuddered at the thought of some poor girl having to… deal with such a thing. She caught Mark tracing her gaze, his eyes widening with similar feats of mental arithmetic. Again all she could do was laugh, a clear and honest peal that echoed across their kingdom.

And with that, the spell was broken. They fell about with the pent up adrenaline of it all, collapsing back down onto the nest of blankets they’d made, giggling manically until they felt comfortable enough to just sit together once again.

“Where the FUCK have you been hiding that thing man?!” Mark demanded of Peter, shaking him by the shoulders. “You’re really making me look bad here!”

“At least he didn’t pop a boner the moment I took my top off, huh? What was that all about eh, Romeo? You got the hots for me?!” Stacy needled him with a grin, which only seemed to revive the original problem once more.

“Hey, that’s on him not me… Any red-blooded man would be primed when faced with such… such supple young assets!”

Stacy was consumed by the giggles once more, rolling backwards and inadvertently giving off another fine show of said ‘assets’. “I think that’s the nearest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me Markey… so err, thank you. My assets appreciate it!”

They settled down properly now, and took a few moments to truly just take each other in. Even Peter seemed to relax and allow himself to admire Stacy for all she was blessed with. The girl felt his gaze dance over her and found herself surreptitiously opening up her stance a little, letting him find all the glimpsed visions he might want to. Mark had not stopped ogling at her for even an instant, the boy seemed afraid to blink in case she suddenly disappeared or, possibly worse, put clothes on again. It was an odd experience, to be so aware of yourself being dedicatedly perused, like being a jar of candy before a couple of kindergarteners who’d just found a dollar in the street. Yet Stacy couldn’t help but admit the excitement she felt with it. A greater condensing of that earlier feeling at her panties being flapped in the wind before untold strangers. Something inside of her was awakening, simply by the brush of other’s glances. She WANTED to be looked at. That was a strange new experience to think on. As her two best friends tried their best to return to their normal pointless chatter, she began to play games of her own. Moving this leg or that arm, bending or stretching. Dragging their stares across her body as if she had them on a string.