When I was about nine years old, experiencing the first overpowering surges of the sex urge that was to dominate me for the rest of my life, I felt a need to be tied up. I took a couple of feet of coarse string from the kitchen drawer, walked the length of two streets looking for a place that was both safe and dangerous at the same time, and as little drops of moisture soaked into my pink cotton panties I tied my left wrist to a fence. Then I stood by the side of the road looking scared and waiting to see what would happen.

I can still remember my surprise that most of the people who came along the street definitely saw me and definitely didn't try to help me, or do anything else to me, in any way. I got some attention from a couple of men, both middle aged and both in overcoats. One of them spent half a minute feeling my bottom, concentrating upon the cleft and the upper thighs, and five minutes after he'd finished a second man gripped the back of my head in one hand, tilted my face upwards and kissed my lips. I don't know whether that was what I wanted them to do, or not. What I can tell you is that my dad showed up and managed to untie the string. He asked me who tied me up, and I said, "I did."
"You did?" Dad was nonplussed. "Why?"
"I don't know," I said, and I didn't. Some intense physical urge made me do it. Never believe anyone who tells you that little girls don't feel the sex urge. I felt it, but I didn't recognise it until some years later.
"But you might have…" Dad began, "anything could've happened."

Today I would have answered, "Yes, I wish it had. Leave me out here for a while." But at the time, the only reply I could think of was, "Sorry."

Dad walked me home and didn't spank me or even lecture me. He hugged me close for a while. I felt relieved that he didn't tell me to fetch the cane. Once home, I went to my room, settled down in the chair, slipped my panties off, took my dildo from the bedside drawer and masturbated furiously.

Back in the present day, when Timmy and Greg were home from school and it was growing dark outside, I asked them whether they ever felt the urge to be tied up, and whether they would like to spend tonight outdoors, tied up. They said yes. Timmy was keen to try it, and Greg said he'd try it in order that Timmy shouldn't have to do it alone. The boys wanted to do it! ("Are you sure?" "Yes, mom.") I was thrilled. I said I'd be somewhere nearby watching them, but they did realise there was a risk involved, didn't they? ("Yes, but you'll be watching us, so we'll be all right.") We'd go out around ten in the evening and we'd be back by three. I could see the tent poles lifting bulges in their school trousers.

We were ready to go at ten in the evening. I decked the boys out in thick woollen sweaters, red for Timmy and blue for Greg, pink girls' panties with lace edging concealed under loose grey flannel short shorts with button-up flies, patterned knee length socks and shiny brown school shoes.

Brookside Road, a dead-end street a few blocks from our house, seemed ideal. The street was curved, with a half derelict builder's yard on one side and an unmanned electricity sub-station on the other. The substation was fenced off with iron railings. A footpath ran on one side of the substation and the other side of it faced the traffic. There were houses nearby but none directly overlooking the street.

I took the boys out of the car and placed them against the railings on the side I had a couple of plastic straps of the kind used to tie saplings to posts. Timmy was first: I arranged Timmy so that he was standing against the railing and facing the road, and I fastened his Timmy's wrists to the railings as tightly as I could. Then I turned Greg's body so that his back was towards the road and fastened his wrists. I opened the button flies so that the boys' pink panties were on show, and I handled their cocks through the panties enough to straighten their cocks. I told the boys to be silent and say as little as possible if anyone spoke to them, and then I sat myself back in the car, drove into the builder's yard and turned the ignition off. I found a spot where I could stand out of the light and, hidden by the darkness, watch the boys. It was about twenty minutes to eleven.

You hear a lot about the people whose demons drive them to molest little boys, but we were waiting twenty minutes before anything happened. A group of six people, men and women walking home together, came along the footpath and saw the boys, but did nothing and just walked past them. Shortly after that an older man, fifty perhaps, singing drunkenly, came along the footpath, saw the boys and walked around the substation.

"Scuse me, boys, I need a piss."

He unzipped himself and released a jet of piss, soaking Timmyis shirt and dampening Greg's buttocks. The piss lasted for ten or fifteen seconds and then the man spoke again.

"Whass your name?" he asked Timmy without looking at him.
"Timmy," said Timmy.
"Thass a nice name."

The man lifted his cock with his hand and, from about a foot away, pissed hard into Timmy's face. After that, having emptied his bladder, he tucked his cock back into his trousers and wandered off uncertainly, singing loudly.

A car drove past slowly with the driver's side window open. There was no-one else in the car. The driver yelled something at the boys and drove straight past them.

Things were quiet for a while. It was getting on for midnight when two young men, one taller and clean shaven and the other shorter with a tangle of beard, appeared at the further end of the street, walking towards the substation, chatting together about beer or football or cars, I wasn't sure. They saw the boys and walked up to them.

I expected these two to speak to the boys, but they found it unnecessary to introduce themselves. Tall grabbed Timmy's shorts by the waistband and Short began to rub Greg's backside vigorously, firstly through the shorts and then on the bare skin, slipping his right hand down the back of Greg's grey flannels.

"You're wet," said Short, "you've pissed yourself. Dirty boy."
"Do these shorts come off easily?" Tall asked Timmy, unclipping the waistband of the shorts and letting them fall to Timmy's ankles. "My, those are pretty panties."

Timmy was fastened by the wrists, so Tall had to clamber over the railings in order to rub his cock against Timmy's backside.

"Here," said Short, giving Tall a tube of something. I guess it was hand cream or similar.

Tall slid Timmy's panties and shorts down to Timmy's ankles, pressed some lotion into Timmy's bum crack with his finger tip, and slid his hard cock into Timmy's rear entrance.

Short took the tube of lotion from his friend Tall, lowered Greg's panties and shorts to mid thigh, and paused to admire Greg's bottom.

"What gorgeous, gorgeous buttocks," he said, really meaning it, as he slid a finger loaded with lotion into the crack, and stroked and slapped Greg's sweet curves. "I am going to love this, I really am." He slipped the tube back into his pocket, put his arm around Greg's hips and pulled Greg's bum towards himself. Greg bent forward instinctively and the cock went in hard, and Greg yelped. "Ow!" Both the men pumped their hips for a while, Timmy relaxed and took it, Greg was obviously uncomfortable and felt occasional pains. The men orgasmed. Tall came first and Short followed a few seconds after. They stood still afterwards as the pleasure flooded them.

Short bent down, keeping his cock in the tight orifice, and kissed Greg hard on the lips. "You're gorgeous. Thank you." Then both men zipped themselves up, Tall saw an open gate and walked out of the substation, and both men walked off, holding hands.

I thought about going over to the boys and asking whether they'd had enough, and if they hadn't, whether they needed their shorts put back into place. I didn't have time to do it. The time was now half past one, and two middle aged women, one in a short maroon coat and the other in a warm yellow coat that came down to her knees, came along the footpath and saw the boys. I guessed they were on their way to a late night party. Or maybe walking from one late party to another. They were wearing phone-box red lipstick and either they were wearing push-up brassieres or both women were massively endowed.

"My," said the maroon coat, noticing the boys and pointing them out to her friend, "look at them."
"Li‘le show offs, aren't we?" the yellow coat said to both boys in the broadest North London accent I ever heard, "wiv our cocks out? I'm Rachel and that's Sharon, we only want sex. Do you like Sharon's legs? You can all but see her knickers in that short coat. Neither of you has any pubic ’air at all. What are your names?"
Timmy nodded "Timmy. He's Greg but everyone calls him Crunchie." Both the boys were fully on show with their underpants and shorts at their ankles.
"You're no‘ a very big boy," she continued to Timmy, "I ’ope you inheri‘ed a good few inches from your farver."
"His dad's big," put in Greg, not entirely truthfully. Peter is 4½ inches. "You'd like his dad. Timmy'll be eight inches before he's sixteen. We worked it out."
"’Ow do you work that out?" asked Sharon. She took hold of Greg's cock and stroked it gently at the tip, coaxing it to harden. "Ju like that?"
"By computer," said Greg, "we worked it out on a computer. I absolutely love that," said Greg, "go on, please don't stop."
"You ever ’eard of the B spot?" Sharon asked.
"Yes," said Greg, whose cock was now firm, straight, and the only thing he could think about.
"I've got something to show you," said Sharon.

Sharon unbuttoned her coat, then raised her blouse and pulled her brassiere up, out of the way, revealing firm, heavy breasts that had no need of an uplift bra.

"Gorgeous," said Greg.

Sharon leaned forwards and turned so that Greg could suck her nipple. "I hope that gave you the horn," she said quietly, "boys your age are always dreaming of busty girls, aren't you."
"Every night," said Greg. "I dreamed of you last night."
"What was I doing?" Sharon asked him.
"Stripping," said Greg, "in a dark bar off the High Street."
"Really?"
"Really, yes. You came on the floor in a full bridal dress and took everything off. You threw your white panties to me as a finale. My cock was throbbing."
"Gosh, you do have a vivid imagination. Now let's see whether your B spot works," said Sharon, taking a firm hold of Greg's balls.
Rachel cupped Timmy's balls in her hand and scratched the sensitive nerve cross just below his anus, where the scrotum joins the bum crack, with the pink varnished nail of her middle finger. "I adore little boys' balls," she said. "This is the B spot, here."
"Wow — oh, wow!" Timmy gasped with pleasure as the fingernail teased its target, and his cock jumped, inflating to full size with the force and speed of an airbag. It seemed to fill the lady's fingers with solid, pulsating lust. She tightened her grip on his cock a little. "You don't look as though you can pump a load ye‘," she said, affectionately, "but I bet you can come."

"’Ow about you?" Sharon took hold of Greg's scrotum and tickled the underside. "You got a B spot too, I reckon, a big strong one just waiting for me to do this."
Her tickle on the B spot catapulted Greg into orgasm. His face went deep red, he began to gasp for breath and he moaned out loud. "Oh, oh, OH!"
"Sexy boy," said Rachel, continuing to tease Timmy. She knelt on the pavement in front of him, her mouth level with his penis, two or three inches away. "I think you should lose your erection for a while, though," and she gave his balls a tight squeeze. Timmy yelped and went limp. Holding his balls in one hand, Rachel lifted his cock and pointed it towards her mouth.

"Here." Sharon took a small plastic spray bottle from her pocket, leaned across and squirted something into Timmy's mouth. "Party drug," she explained, "it'll make fings easier." Almost immediately Timmy urinated hard into Rachel's open mouth. The piss flowed for half a minute or more, and Rachel swallowed three or four mouthfuls. "Best to pull the little boy's pants up for the next act," she said to Rachel.

Rachel lifted Timmy's underpants from around his ankles and put them back in place. With the flat of her left hand she made warm, circling movements around Timmy's rounded buttocks, concentrating on the ass hole area and murmuring to him, "There. Relax, darling. You can't hold on… oh, there's a good, good boy.

Timmy released a load and soiled his underpants heavily. His new girlfriend continued the circling movements, spreading the soft, warm load all across the buttocks. "Good boy," she said to him. "Is there any more brown in there?"

Timmy wriggled and released a little more.

Oh! Good boy, Timmy."
"Shall I give Crunchie a dose, too?" Sharon asked Rachel.
"Yes!" A quick arm movement towards Greg's cupids-bow lips, and a squirt. Greg grunted, "Oh!" as the liquid went into his mouth. Sharon replaced the bottle in her pocket and pulled out a small pink ball of something.
"It makes your tummy hurt for a second," said Sharon. She reached around Greg and pushed the ball into his ass. "You're nice and tight," she smiled. "That isn't too bad, is it? The suppository makes the laxative work a bit harder. You're going to have what doctors call a sudden bowel movement—"

Greg pissed hard and suddenly. ("Oh! What a hot, wet boy!") The golden rain fell on Sharon's coat. She opened her coat and the daring blouse underneath was drenched in seconds.

"For a boy who can't come yet," said Sharon, "you can certainly piss hard. Oh! I can feel a hot, soft surprise on the way!"
"And look at what the little one can do!" Timmy's underpants were tightening as Rachel petted his cock. He was pumped up to maybe two inches or a little more, the biggest I had ever seen him achieve. I made a mental note to measure him again when we came home. I measured him last month and he was 1¾″. Maybe Rachel knew a trick that I didn't.

Greg was looking uncomfortable and wriggling, as the cramp in his guts took hold. "Few moments an’ you'll be ready," Sharon cooed to him.
"Kiss me," said Greg. "Gorgeous Sharon&madsh;"

Sharon covered Greg's mouth with her own and kissed him powerfully. ("Oh! Tongues!" she gasped.)

"Does your tummy hurt yet?"
"Yes," Greg moaned.
"A bit longer and then I'll release you."

The pain in Greg's abdomen was worsening and Sharon deliberately hurt him by driving her finger deeper into his backside. ("Oh, God!") Then Sharon took hold of Greg's underpants and pulled them tight over his backside as she removed her finger carefully from his tight backside and let the mess flow onto the panties.

"There," she said, "and now I'll wank you."

She took hold of his cock through the material of the underpants and put pressure expertly on just the right place. Greg gasped ("Oh! Oh, yes!") and I could see his cock jerking and thrusting as Sharon made him orgasm.

"You could be sixteen years old," she said, "having an orgasm like that. It's a pity you don't give any milk yet." She turned to Timmy. "How are you, Timmy, do you need some more cock tickling?"
"Yes," said Timmy.

Rachel put her hand up the leg of Timmy's heavily soiled underpants and lifted his cock. ("Do you like this? You come a lot, don't you, you gorgeous darling. I'll make it start at the base of the cock and spread towards the tip.")

Timmy's cock jolted and he gasped as another orgasm hit it. ("That's your prostate contracting. Again… There!" The cock rose like a telephone pole for a second. "Gaah! Aah! Oh, yes!" "Wasn't that good?")

"If you're still here tomorrow morning," Sharon told the boys, "when we've wanked everyone at the party senseless, we'll give you another session. I'm truly sorry we have to leave you. We both love both of you."
"So do I," said Rachel.
"You are really good at making love," said Greg.

Sharon had forgotten that she was bare chested, and the two ladies walked off to whichever party was fortunate and sensible enough to have invited them.

The boys were in a frightful mess now, so I decided it wouldn't really be cheating to clean them up a bit. I grabbed my accident bag from the car. The accidents for which I kept this bag were not road accidents but messy underpants accidents.

"Are you going to untie us?" Greg asked.
"Do you want me to?"
"No," said Greg, "we like being tied to the fence." He meant it. I got the boys' underpants and shorts off and put them into the bag. What a mess! I had a towel and some liquid hand wash, which was enough to clean the accident off their backsides and high thighs. I put a brightly coloured disposable diaper onto each of them.

"It's four o'clock," I said, "so you can stay here for two hours or so, I guess. Are your wrist straps becoming loose?"
"This one is," said Timmy.

I cut the tie off and bound his wrist to the railings with a fresh plastic tie.

"Is that tighter?"
"Yes, mom."
"Sh!"

I could hear footsteps on the path. I scuttled back into the builders' yard and watched through the wire of the gate as a man of thirty or so noticed the boys and went over to them.

"Little boys in tee shirts and diapers. How sweet and cute."
"Thank you," said Timmy.
"I'm Eugene," he said, "I love to spank. You've been naughty boys, haven't you. Pissing on the carpet, wearing your mommy's panties, kissing each other and wanking."

"Which of you boys feels more pain when your mother spanks you?"
"Him," said Greg.

Timmy was facing towards the railing. Eugene pulled his diaper down and spanked him on the bare buttocks, so hard that I thought the crack of the spanking would attract attention. The cheeks turned deep red. Timmy began to sob quietly.

"Do your mommy's spankings hurt as much as that?"
"No," said Timmy, "your spanking hurts more."
"I shall really burn your buttocks now."

Eugene looked around for something to spank Timmy with, but didn't find anything. He was wearing a brown leather belt around his waist, so he removed it and doubled it up. He took a couple of steps back and swung the belt, whacking Timmy hard across the butt.

"Ow!" Timmy's buttocks turned a deep, sore pink instantly.
"Bend a bit more so your buttocks curve towards the belt.
SMACK! "Ow!"
"Bend deeper."
SMACK! "Yow!"

A deep red mark formed in the centre of Timmy's left butt cheek.

SMACK! "Yow, ow!" Eugene smashed the belt across the full width of Timmy's buttocks, leaving marks on both cheeks. He caressed Timmy's bare bum with his hands, feeling how hot the marks were.

"Now," said Eugene, "time to punish your big brother. What have you been doing, boy?"

Greg's wrists were fixed to the railings and Greg was facing him.

"Pissing on the carpet," said Timmy, "he does that a lot. He pisses on me any time my mom isn't looking, straight in the face. And he looks at pictures of naked women. And he wanks me and his mommy wanks him."
"You need to be taught a lesson, don't you, diaper boy."
"Yes," said Greg, "and I wank my friends off at school too."
"Do you piss in that plastic diaper?" Eugene asked.
"Sometimes but usually I can stay dry during the— Oow!"

Eugene smacked Greg's upper thighs four times in succession, making the ten year old jump with the sudden sting.

Eugene slipped a finger into the crotch of the diaper, feeling for wetness, letting his finger tips stray over the tip of Greg's stiffening penis.

"Nice cock," he said.

Eugene stood a yard or so in front of Greg. He slapped Greg's upper thighs again, hard, six times on each leg. Then he lashed the boy across the upper thighs hard as nails with the belt, raising welts on both legs.

"Yow!" It hurt.
Eugene belted Greg again, with stunning force. SMACK! "Oow! Oh, that hurts."
"You are a naughty little boy," said Eugene, "and you need a lesson burned into your soft, yielding legs."
SMAAACK! "Oh! Oh God, I've pissed in my diaper."

Greg's legs were now a dark pink with bruise marks and welts where the belt had lashed them. From my viewpoint Greg looked sexier than a boy has any right to. Eugene suddenly hung the belt over the railing and put his right hand around Greg's blond head, tilting his face upwards, and then he gave Greg a full on, open mouthed kiss.

"I love you, boy," he said, and he gave Greg another slow kiss. His left hand found Greg's diaper and two fingers slid inside ("Oh, my, you're soaking, you're a wet little boy") and gently aroused Greg's cock, making it swell so that it tightened the fabric raised a visible lump in the diaper. "I love you, wet boy, I want to fuck your backside so hard that you can't walk afterwards."

"Meet me after school, then, you can do whatever you want with us," said Greg.
"Can I take you home with me and fuck the asses off both of you?"
"Yes," said Greg.
"Because your cock is big, beautiful and perfect."
"Thanks."
"Will you," Eugene began, with hesitation, "suck me off?"
"Love to," said Greg.

Eugene unzipped and produced his stiff cock. It was four inches or so, straight with a prominent ridge, and clean, thank God. Greg opened his mouth and received it full length. My hubby had taught Greg the advanced course in oral sex and Greg's tongue was soon working the length of Eugene's penis, ("Where did a young boy like you learn to give a sucking as good as that? Oh, my God, I'm coming") so that a minute later Eugene was discharging a load of milk and gasping in orgasm as Greg quietly kept him pumping for as long as he could and, silently, drank all the milk.

Eugene zipped up. He was overcome with remorse, as men often are. ("I'm sorry, I should never have done that to you."

"Don't be sorry," said Greg. "I loved it. My thighs are still burning. You are good at it."
"Meet us after school," said Timmy. "They've got canes at school. We can steal one for you."
"You could really sting our bottoms with a cane, before you fucked our backsides," Greg added.
"Bring a friend," said Timmy, "with a big cock."

Eugene kissed both boys on the lips, and went off without another word.

The sun was rising and there was no-one about, so I came out of hiding and released both boys, cutting through their wrist straps with a pair of scissors.