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When I was at university, one of the highspots of the
year was “rag week” when we raised money for charity. A lot of students
were involved in doing all manner of silly things in order to raise funds.
One of the regular items was the production of the joke book which meant
collecting a large number of jokes, many of dubious quality, getting some
of them illustrated, making arrangements for the printing of the book and
then organising the sales.
There were six of us on the rag joke book committee, three boys, Michael,
Alex and Eddie and three girls, my best friend, Melinda and her friend
Tiffany and I. When we met for the fist time, we were glad we’d
volunteered; they were great guys: good looking, hunky and with a great
sense of humour and adventure.
We decided that we would all ask our friends, both on and off campus, if
they could let us have some jokes and in six or seven weeks we had
collected quite a good selection. We then pressed into service all our
artistic friends and relations in an effort to get some illustrations.
At the end of two months we were ready to decide what would be going into
the joke book. All this involved a lot of work and we had quite a number
of meetings, usually in one of our rooms. Reading out all the jokes was
hilarious and we had a fine time. The meetings tended to be very
lighthearted and we got on well with the boys and really fancied them;
they were really attractive and responded well.
After lectures one day, I happened to bump into Eddie and he said, “Hi,
Mel. We’d better have a meeting to decide who is going to print the rag
book and how many we shall need.”
I thought that was a good idea so we fixed a date and I invited them all
to my room for the meeting. We each decided to take a paste-up of the book
and visit different printers in the town to see where we could get the
best price for 5,000 books.
At a very short meeting a week later we decided on our printer and Eddie
said he would see to all the details. Three weeks later we were the proud
possessors of 5,000 rag week joke books.
They looked rather a lot to sell so we decided to get as many salesmen as
possible amongst students and anyone else who might help.
Melinda came to my room one evening in a state of great excitement. Her
father owned five newsagents shops in the area and had agreed to put the
books on sale in all of them.
“Oh, well done Melinda,” I said. “We should sell hundreds in your dad’s
shops.”
“Well, he’s agreed to take 200 in each shop,so that will be 1,000
accounted for if they all sell.”
“Great!” I replied.
When I went home and mentioned the matter to my mother, she agreed to sell
the books in her hairdressing salon, so things started to look bright.
At our next meeting we went to Tiffany’s room. Melinda and I arrived a bit
early so the boys weren’t there. We started talking about them in real
girlie fashion and said how much we enjoyed working with them and how sexy
they were and so on. Then Melinda suddenly came up with an idea.
“Hey,” she said. “You know the main committee are looking for some
students to volunteer to do a naked streak along the common to raise funds
for rag week. What if we divide all the books into two lots of 2,500 and
suggest that the boys sell one half and we sell the other half. Whoever
sells the least number of books must volunteer to do the streak. I’d love
to see Eddie, Alex and Michael running along the length of the common in
the nude. I bet they’d look terrific. Mmmmm!”
We all laughed and thought the idea was great. “Splendid thought!” I
enthused. “After all with Melinda’s dad helping and my mum we should
easily sell our half.”
“OK Mel,” said Tiffany. When the boys arrive, you can suggest it.”
“Alright, I will,” I said. “But we’ll find out first whether they will be
able to sell many books. We want to make sure that we win.”
When the boys arrived, we checked the number of books and then I said,
“Tiffany, Melinda and I are willing to sell half the books. Are you three
willing to sell the others?”
The three guys looked at one another and it was obvious that my idea was
something of a surprise to them.
“Have you got many people who will sell them for you?” asked Melinda.
“Well, at the moment we haven’t given it much thought,” replied Eddie.
It seemed obvious to me that they weren’t going to sell many so I made my
challenge.
“You know that the Rag Committee are asking for volunteers to do a naked
streak down the common to raise money for rag week. Let’s decide that if
we three girls sell less we’ll volunteer to streak, but if you boys sell
less, you’ll volunteer.”
At first they seemed taken aback and I thought they might not agree. Then
Alex said, “Well, I’m game if you two are. How about it?”
“OK,” said Eddie. “I’d like to see these three girls running along the
common stark naked.” Everyone laughed.
“So, do we all agree then?” I asked. Everyone did. “OK. So I’ll tell the
Chairman of the Committee that he can rely on us to provide the
streakers.”
We set a deadline three days before rag week began as our meeting to find
out who had sold most books and to pay the money in.
Things went very well in the newsagents shops and within two weeks they
were sold out. That was 1,000 books sold, so we arranged with Melinda’s
dad to supply him with more copies. My mother sold a dozen or so in her
salon, but she said that some of her customers didn’t have much of a sense
of humour and some thought the jokes were dirty, so sales were slow.
I saw Eddie going to lectures one morning and casually asked how their
books were going. “Oh, quite well,” he replied. “We’ve asked a few of our
friends to help out and so far we’ve sold about 450.”
I inwardly rejoiced. With only two more weeks to go we had already sold
more than twice their number. When I met Tiffany and Melinda and told them
the good news, Melinda said, “I hope the weather is nice and sunny for the
naked streak. I want to get some really good pictures of the boys.”
“My dad bought an 8mm film camera a few weeks ago,” I told them. “Perhaps
I might be able to borrow it. It’s got a terrific telephoto lens. I should
be able to catch every detail. My dad’s a really generous guy. I’m sure
he’ll agree.”
Three days before our final meeting to add up the results of our sales, we
had sold slightly over 2,000 books; there were less than 500 left. I
wanted to be absolutely certain we would win the sales competition so I
decided to wait outside Eddie’s lecture room until he came out. Then I
casually pretended to see him. “Oh, hi Eddie! How are the joke books
going?”
“Oh, really well,” he replied. “We’ve asked quite a few of the guys to
help to sell them and, at the last count we’d sold about 1,200. How are
yours going?”
I didn’t want to say we’d sold almost double their number so I said,
“Well, my mum hasn’t sold many in her salon but Melinda’s dad has sold
quite a few in his shops.”
“We’re having our final meeting on Saturday remember,” I said.
“Yes, we haven’t forgotten,” he replied. “Let’s meet in my room about
7.30.”
I agreed and said I’d tell the girls. I decided to go home and ask my dad
if I could borrow his new 8mm film camera.
On the evening of the meeting I collected my money together and called for
Melinda and Tiffany. We found that we had sold a total of just over 2,200
books; we were over the moon.
When we arrived at Eddie’s room, Michael and Alex were already there and
were totalling up a pile of money in bags. We all sat aroiund the table
and I could not wait to tell them how successful we’d been.
“OK girls,” said Alex. “How many books have you sold?”
“Exactly 2,280,” I replied with some pride.
The boys’ eyes opened wide with surprise. “Wow!” said Michael.
“Congratulations!”
I couldn’t wait any longer. “And how many have you three sold?”
Eddie looked rather casual and said, “We’ve sold the lot.”
We three girls sat bolt upright with surprise. “What? You told me three
days ago, Eddie, that you’d only sold about half of them.”
“That’s right,” he replied.
“Well, how did you manage to sell all the others so fast?”
“Oh, it was easy really,” joined in Alex. “We asked all the guys we know
to take a pile each to the pubs they usually visit and, when it was
getting fairly late and most of the crowd in the pub had had plenty to
drink, the joke books sold like hot cakes.”
“Several of my mates said they could have sold a lot more,” said Eddie.
He then smiled meaningfully at Tiffany, Melinda and me and gave a short
cough. “Which, of course, brings us to the question of the naked streak
and the fact that you three will be volunteering to do it.”
The three of us looked at each other with horror on our faces.
“Don’t worry about it girls,” said Eddie casually. “I told the Chairman of
the main committee that we six would not only provide the three streakers
but would organise the whole affair also. I’ll give him a ring now to tell
him that you three are the volunteers.”
He picked up the phone. “Hello Jim. You’ll remember our conversation about
the rag streakers. I said I’d let you know who the volunteers would be.
Well, I’m happy to say it will be Melanie, Melinda and Tiffany. Yes,
that’s correct. Don’t worry about that... We’ll organise the whole thing.
Just tell me what time you want it. Two in the afternoon? That’s fine. No
problem. We’ve been promised fine sunny weather so I’m sure there’ll be a
good crowd to watch. We’ll arrange for the people to rattle the collecting
tins and we’ll probably sell the rest of the joke books as well. No need
to thank us. It will be our pleasure. Bye!”
“You said it will be our pleasure,” I gasped.
“It won’t be my pleasure,” moaned Tiffany.
“Oh, must we do this boys?” pleaded Melinda. “Running naked all the way
down the common in front of hundreds of students and a lot of other
people! We’ll never live it down.”
“Now come on girls,” chided Eddie. “After all, it was your idea wasn’t it?
There is no way you can get out of it now.”
“Yes,” added Michael. “You lost the challenge fair and square, so now
you’ve got to come up with the goods.”
Alex rubbed his hands together gleefully. “And I can’t wait to see the
goods!”
As the three of us walked home we were shrouded in gloom. Our route took
us past the end of the common. We stopped to survey it in the dusky light.
“Just think, in three days’ time we three will be running naked all along
that stretch of grass,” I said mournfully.
“I can just imagine all the boys commenting about the two “poached eggs”
on my chest,” commented Tiffany.
“What about me?” chimed in Melinda. “My big boobs will be flopping all
over the place. I can hear the boys in my year shouting, ‘Hold ‘em still,
Melinda!’”
Then a sudden horrific thought occurred to me. “Oh no!” I said. “It’s
going to be a fine and sunny day. We’ve all got shaved pussies! Just
imagine all those cameras clicking away and recording every detail. Oh
no!” The three of us went to our rooms with sighs of resignation.
As forecast, the day of our total humiliation dawned bright and sunny. But
for us it was overcast and gloomy. The time of our humiliating launch was
to be 2 p.m. just when everyone was up and about.
The three of us met in Tiffany’s room in the morning to console each
other. We weren’t very successful, so we thought we’d go out for a stroll
to try to take our minds off the inevitable fate about to befall us.
Unfortunately it was not a good decision. Everywhere we went we saw
students, and it was obvious that the news had spread far and wide.
Three lads from Tiffany’s group greeted us with broad smiles. “Hi girls!
See you later—see ALL of you later.” They burst into huge guffaws.
Another group of boys and girls greeted us with, “Here come the three Lady
Godivas.”
“Yeah, and their hair’s not as long as hers.”
“And they don’t have a horse either. They’ve got to do it on foot.” It was
all most discouraging. But things got worse as we turned the corner and
approached the end of the common. The grass had been newly cut and our
route marked out with short posts and ropes. We thought we would just have
to run straight down the common—about 300 yards. But the course marked out
twisted and turned so that we would have to run about a quarter of a mile;
and in some places the ropes were so close it meant that the spectators
would be only a few feet away from us.
Then we noticed the university van parked nearby. Someone had painted a
sign and fixed it to the back door: ‘Here come the streakers’. As we got
nearer, Eddie jumped out from the driver’s seat.
“Oh, hello girls,” he greeted us in his most cheerful manner. “As you can
see, the boys have marked out the route and we’ll be using the van to
travel in.”
We made arrangements for the boys to pick us up at my room at 1.45p.m.
They’d back the van onto the starting line. We’d strip inside. Then they
would open the doors for us to jump out and start the run. Every
humiliating detail was clearly explained to us by the smiling triumphant
lads, right down to the loud speaker perched on top of the van to make the
announcement.
A group of girls from our year approached us. “Are you REALLY going to do
it?” they asked incredulously.
“We’ve got no choice,” we moaned. “The whole idea was ours. We thought
we’d easily win.”
“Ah well,” said one. “Just make the best of a bad job eh?”
Alex, Michael and Eddie were bang on time. They looked very sexy and
handsome in white trousers and the rag T-shirts. We’d decided to wear
track suits, trainers, bras and knickers. The quicker we could get our
clothes back on, the better.
The boys squeezed into the front of the van leaving us to sit
disconsolately on a bench in the back. As the van approached the common we
could hear cheers, whistles and hoots. Melinda stood up to peep through
the small window.
“Oh no!” she said. “There must be a thousand people out there. The
common’s packed.” Tiffany and I peeped out too, and our worst fears were
justified.
The engine of the van stopped and the boys came into the back throiugh the
small side door. Their faces were positively beaming.
“OK girls. This is it,” announced Michael.
Alex produced a small case. “Let’s have your kit then. I’ll take it down
to the finishing line.”
It was humiliating enough having to strip in front of the three boys
without thinking of what was going to happen when the van doors were
opened.
We hesitatingly kicked off our trainers, took off our track suits and just
stood there in our bras and knickers feeling awfully exposed.
“Don’t be shy girls,” said Eddie in his cheerful voice. “Let’s have your
bras and panties.” We obeyed and stood there completely naked and feeling
one hundred percent vulnerable.
Then Tiffany said, “Must we REALLY do this boys? Can’t you let us off?
We’ll do anything not to do it.”
The three laughed. “Oh come on now,” chided Eddie. “This was your idea
remember. You can’t chicken out at this late stage. There are hundreds out
there all waiting to see you.”
“Yes,” I replied mournfully. “That’s the trouble.”
“Well, can we just wear our trainers?” pleaded Melinda. “It’ll be hard on
our feet otherwise.”
The three boys looked at each other considering her request. Then Eddie
spoke: “OK. On one condition. You must run naturally with your hands by
your sides and not try to cover anything up.”
The three of us groaned. They’d thought of everything. But we agreed to
their condition.
“Just line up across the door here,” said Michael. “Then, after Alex has
made the announcement, I’ll open the door and you can all jump out
together.”
The three of us, shaking with fright, did exactly as he ordered, while
Alex picked up the microphone at the front of the van.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is the moment you have all been
waiting for—the streakers’ run. Melinda, Melanie and Tiffany have agreed
to do this to raise funds for our charities, so I hope you will be
generous as the collectors pass along the route. This is it. You are about
to see things you’ve never seen before—at least, as far as we know.” There
were hoots and catcalls at this last remark as all three of us broke out
in a cold sweat. Michael put his hand on the handle of the back door.
“Here they come ladies and gentlemen. We proudly present the three
streakers!”
The door was flung open, the sun blazed into the dark van and we jumped
out to a huge roar of clapping, cheering, catcalling and wolf-whistling.
It was easily the most humiliating moment of my life. All those hundreds
and hundreds of eyes staring at us running stark naked over the grass. We
ran as fast as we could but every time we came to a bend in the track we
had to slow down to get around it. And where the track was very narrow we
bumped into each other.
There must have been hundreds of cameras and even some film cameras in
use, and I could mentally see the inevitable results which would be passed
around the university for everyone to see. After just a few yards, it was
more than we could bear. We forgot our promise about keeping our hands at
our sides and started to try to cover up our pussies and breasts as best
we could with our hands—not that we were very successful with everything
bouncing around because of the uneven ground.
Every yard seemed more like a mile. Every grinning face I saw seemed to be
someone I knew. Some were leaning right over the ropes to get a better
view with their cameras. By the time we were about half way we were
sweating furiously as the sun beat down and the humiliation rose up.
But eventually there was only about twenty yards to run. The three of us
were puffing and panting and stumbling along the rough ground. We could
see Alex at the finishing line with his suitcase containing our clothes.
He was flanked by a dozen or more cameras.
We ran up to Alex expecting him to quickly give us our clothes to put on,
so we were very surprised to see him wagging his finger at us in a
menacing sort of way.
“You all forgot your promise didn’t you? Keeping your hands by your sides
and no attempt at covering up. Well, because you’ve been naughty, you’ll
have to run back to the van. And remember, keep your hands by your sides
this time.”
“Oh no!” we all blurted out. “Not again. Oh Alex, pleeeeze. Give us our
clothes.”
But it was no use. He was already starting to run back along the track in
front of us holding high the suitcase. We ran after him making grasping
movements at the case but he kept just out of our reach.
When the crowd realised we were running back again the cheering and
shouting reached a crescendo. The catcalls were worse.
“Oh, just look they’re showing everything this time!”
“Boy, this will be some film.”
“This will make a terrific close-up”
Poor Melinda could do nothing to stop her big boobs bouncing every which
way as she ran.
Then Alex took our bras and knickers out of the suitcase and started to
wave them around in front of us, teasing us to try to grab them. The crowd
went wild as they saw this further humiliation. A few of the girls looked
embarrassed but most just joined in the fun.
At one point, Alex started running backwards, but even so he was far
faster than us. As we turned a corner I managed to get fairly close and
made a grasp at our undies. It was a very bad move. I tripped and fell,
rolled over onto my back and ended up with my feet above my head and my
legs spread wide open, much to the delight of several nearby photographers
who made the most of the opportunity to take a very intimate shot of my
pussy.
Seeing my predicament, three young men standing nearby ducked under the
ropes and lifted me to my feet enquiring whether I was alright. I assured
them that I was, but that did not stop them assiduously brushing off every
bit of loose grass from my naked body—back, butt and boobs. One removed
several blades of grass from my pussy saying that it looked as though I’d
dyed my pubes green. Everyone nearby gave them all sorts of encouragement
and just fell about laughing at this final remark.
We struggled on, our naked bodies shiny with sweat, as we got slower and
slower, but not daring to cover anything with our hands. We had to run
completely exposed to all those hundreds of eyes and the cameras. We
didn’t want to risk having a third run.
Eventually we saw the welcome sight of Eddie holding open the door of the
van and Alex unloading our clothes inside. Then suddenly, some joker in
the crowd, armed with a large water gun, sprayed the three of us. “This’ll
help to cool you down girls!” he yelled as he thoroughly soaked the three
of us from head to toe.
We almost threw ourselves into the van and slid along the floor, three
wet, naked and thoroughly exhausted girls. As we staggered to our feet the
boys produced three towels and started to wipe us down as we just stood
there panting.
“Can’t put your clothes on when you’re this wet,” said Alex.
“Sit down, Mel,” said Eddie taking off my trainers and wiping my feet.
“Just relax and take it easy.” As I looked at him I realised just how sexy
he looked. I rather enjoyed Eddie drying my legs.
For the next few weeks there must have been hundreds of photographs of our
naked bodies shown around the college fraternity. The intimate detail of
the ones showing me falling over I simply cannot describe. There was even
some 8mm film footage which was generally described as ‘great’!
Eventually things died down and we only heard the odd remark such as one
from a guy who said to me one day, “Oh, hello Mel. I didn’t recognise you
with your clothes on.”
When all the financial details had been completed, all the students who
helped with the rag week were asked to attend a meeting to hear the
results. It was acclaimed a great success, with thousands of pounds going
to our charities, so all-in-all we thought it had been worthwhile.
As we walked back home after the meeting, we were discussing how the three
boys had made the most of our losing the challenge we’d made and we
started talking about how we could get our own back. After discussing all
sorts of improbable ideas, one sure-fire winner suddenly occurred to me.
“I’ve got it!” I cried. “Lets challenge the three boys to a game of strip
poker.”
“What?” cried Melinda. “I’m not much good at poker. We’d probably lose
again.”
“Not if we play at my place,” I said. “You see, I’ve got a pack of marked
cards. All we have to do is use those and we can’t lose.”
“Real cool!” exclaimed Tiffany. “Let’s do it.”
“Let’s go to my room now,” I suggested. “I’ll show you the pack and you
can see how easy it is to use them.” They agreed, and for the next hour we
planned how to get our own back on Eddie, Alex and Michael. But that’s
another story and I’ll tell you about it some other time. |
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