Lady Godiva

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I've always been somewhat of an exhibitionist, and for as long as I can remember, I wanted to re-enact the ride of Lady Godiva. For those of you who don't know, another term for the exhibitionism is the Lady Godiva Syndrome. I don't know when or how it started, but I've been told of my behavior as a two year old. After taking a bath, and being wrapped in a towel, I would greet visiting guest in the living room, drop my towel and go running out of the room, squealing with glee. I do vaguely remember re-enacting the scene when I was five or six and being told that was inappropriate for a girl my age.

I don't think that most of my exhibitionism revolves around nudity, but it certainly involves a strong desire for attention. I like being the center of attention. I will do or say outrageous things just to be there. It has gotten me in a fair amount of trouble, but that is really just another sort of attention. It isn't that I have to do it to get ahead, I just like it. I'm practically a straight A student, with only an occasional B. I've managed this without being "geeky" in any way. I'm now fifteen and if you must know, I could still wear white at my wedding.

I'm guessing that growing up around the horses on my father's farm had something to do with my secret desire to reenact the ride of Godiva. It certainly made pulling it off much easier than having to steal a horse. The town where I lived was large enough that it didn't make sense to try and ride naked through the entire municipality. Seeing movies where the horse ran through the shallows of the water made a visual impression on me. I knew that actually running a horse through shallow water on shifting sand, was an invitation to laming it. I truly love animals and especially horses, so I wouldn't dream of doing something that might hurt them. As a compromise, I decided that riding a horse naked with the beach as a backdrop would have to suffice for my secret ride.

Since I didn't expect to repeat the ride any time soon, I decided that I must have the experience documented. It wasn't that I wanted to post it on the Internet or anything, but I did want proof that I had done it. I decided that my compatriot in crime would be the school photographer. I wanted someone competent enough that we wouldn't have any "retakes", but malleable enough that I could control him completely. The photographer's name was Tom, which seemed like kismet. Another point of trivia is that the term "peeping tom" when it refers to a voyeur harkens back to the legend of Lady Godiva. Supposedly, there was a tailor by the name of Tom, who bore a hole in his shutters, so he could see her as she rode by. In the legend he was stuck blind.

Tom was enough of a geek, that he stumbled over his words around pretty girls. He was almost speechless around me. I was sure that given the opportunity to not only see, but videograph me nude would allow me to set whatever conditions I chose. I was right, and he agreed that I would leave the beach with the only copy of the video. He also pointed out the fact we needed enough light for him to get good images. So we set the date for the dastardly deed on the next full moon.

The night arrived and horse in hand we met at the agreed upon location. I had the wig with hair long enough to cover what little assets my fifteen year old body had, with lots of hair left over. I'm sure that Tom was hoping for more of a production or viewing at least, but I put on the hair before slipping out of my clothes. He might have gotten a flash of my butt visually, but the filming wasn't set to start until I was fully on the horses back.

As I slid on to his bare back and wrapped my legs around his side, he reared up on his hind legs. I grabbed on to his mane and held on for dear life. I was hoping two things in the seconds that the horse reared up. One was that I didn't fall off, and the other was that Tom was filming this. As the horse landed, I acted nonplussed as if I had planned it all along and started the horse on a slow trot. Tom was in his car along side of us, and filming as he drove.

It was late evening, and what few couples were on the beach, only seemed amused by nocturnal ride. I had planned on riding for ten or fifteen minutes, but was shocked to see a car turn on to the beach. It was far too late for the beach patrol, so it could only be the city police. In making my plans for the ride, I knew that the horse could go places no police car could follow. I immediately turned toward the dunes and rode over them to the street along the beach. I had not planned on riding through the city proper in nothing but a wig, which was now blowing back behind me because of the speed. Other than a car almost crashing at the sight of my reenactment, I managed to get back to the farm without incident. I was still nude, but was lucky enough to find a scratchy old pair of overalls in the barn. I shinnied up the tree as I had many times before, and got into my bedroom without incident.

The next day at school, Tom gave me the tape from the video camera. He told me that he had gotten a ticket for driving on the beach after hours, but said the cost of the ticket was worth the experience. He swore that he didn't make a copy of the tape for himself, but I have my doubts.



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