SAILING ADVENTURE  (CHAPTER 6)


Bit by bit, they told me their story, Sarah doing most
of the talking.  Basically, they were here on holiday
from North Carolina in the United States with their
father.  Their parents were divorced and their mother,
with whom they lived, was back home while they
travelled with their father.  They had only been here
three days and had assumed the weather was always
perfect in this part of the Mediterranean at this time
of year – which isn’t quite true.

So they had gone out the previous day with their dad
in a hired motorboat without checking the weather
forecast, and as a result had been caught in the
terrific storm.  It had been a terrifying experience,
obviously, and they had got completely lost, with
their father trying to steer the boat into the storm
so as to avoid being hurled on to the shore of the
mainland.

Instead their boat had been flung on to the rocks of
this island, just on the other side, the girls told
us.  Although badly damaged, it had stuck on the rocks
and, wearing lifejackets, they had survived safely
until the storm blew over.  The boat was still there,
but the bottom had been knocked out and the flares
lost.  They had had to spend a very uncomfortable
night on the island.  In the morning their father,
unwisely I thought, decided that rather than wait for
a search party he would put on a lifejacket and swim
for the shore – we could just see the low hills from
where we were – leaving the girls to wait for him. 
The shore was probably even further away than it
looked.

As I was listening, Lana came and sat down to one side
of us, very reluctantly as if she didn’t want to be
seen.  She had one arm protectively over her chest,
and she sat with her knees tucked tightly up against
her body.  Maggie tried to tell us something about
her, but Lana shut her up very firmly.

“He’s a very good swimmer,” Maggie assured us about
her father, nodding her head seriously.  She didn’t
seem to understand the gravity of the situation with
her father, but the two older girls were clearly very
worried and upset.

“He hasn’t come back yet,” Sarah said in a trembling
voice.  “We’re so worried about him.  We told him to
wait, but he just went.”

I tried to play it down as much as I could.  “I’m sure
he’ll be all right,” I assured them.  “When he didn’t
come back, somebody will have alerted the authorities
and they will probably have found him already.”

“Nobody would know,” pointed out Sarah.  “We’re by
ourselves and he didn’t tell anybody we were just
going for one day.”

I tried another tack.  “Look how peaceful the sea is
now, and he’s wearing a lifejacket,” I said.  “The
only problem is it will take a very long time for him
to get to the shore, unless he gets picked up by a
boat.  He may not be able to get back today, but I’m
sure he’ll be all right.”  I felt I was speaking
truthfully, but unless he managed to attract the
attention of a boat this far out from the main coast,
I was afraid he might be in the water for two or three
days, and in hot weather with nothing to drink, that
would be very serious, although probably not fatal for
two days or so.

“We have flares, so if we fire them off, we should get
rescued today,” Shelley told them brightly.  “And they
can look for your dad as well if he hasn’t got back
yet.”

“So you’ve just been here by yourselves since this
morning,” I asked them gently, seeing they were
looking a bit more cheerful.

“Sure,” Maggie answered brightly.  “Dad told Lana to
look after us but she’s . . .”

“Shut up, Maggie,” Lana said firmly, almost
desperately.  I looked at Lana more carefully.  She
was the fairest of the three girls, and looked just a
year or so younger than I, with golden hair down to
her shoulders at the back, big blue eyes and a clear
open face.  Her clothing did nothing to aid her
beauty, though, as she was just wearing the scruffy
sort of clothes that most American girls seem to wear
for leisure.  She had a dull brown top that left her
midriff showing, but I could see little of it as she
still had a hand pressed protectively against her
chest and her knees tightly up against her body.  I
wondered whether she was very shy or whether there was
another reason.  She was also wearing the same sort of
ugly cut-off jeans that Sarah was wearing.

“Come and see our boat,” said Sarah, standing up and
beckoning us to follow her to the right.  Maggie
bounced up as well, so Shelley and I stood, but Lana
remained on the ground, curled almost into a ball.

I was about to ask if the others on the boat should
join us when Maggie pulled Lana’s arm and said, “Come,
Lana.”

“No, I’ll stay,” insisted Lana firmly.

Maggie giggled.  “Lana doesn’t want to get up because
she tore her top yesterday and you can see her bra,”
she announced.  Lana exclaimed loudly to try to stop
her, but Maggie prattled on, “Then she went to the
bathroom and the zip on her jeans got stuck, so she
doesn’t want anyone to see.”

“Maggie!” Lana shouted at her, angry and seemingly
about to burst into tears.  “What about you?  You had
diarrhoea this morning in your underpants!”

“Hey, that’s enough,” I broke in.  “Look, Lana,
Maggie, that sort of thing doesn’t matter at all to
us.  If you feel bad . . .”

I didn’t have chance to finish, as Lana had had more
than she could take.  She gave a sort of sob, rolled
over, stood up with her back to us and walked off
quickly into the trees, head down and back heaving. 
Left in charge in quite a frightening situation, and
with what was for her the great embarrassment of being
inadequately clothed, she couldn’t handle it any
longer.

Sarah started after her, looking worried, but I said
gently, “Sarah, I think Lana just wants to be on her
own for a while – best leave her.  Shall I tell the
others to come on shore?”

Sarah and Maggie looked thoughtfully over to the boat
where the other six were still watching us carefully. 
Then Sarah decided they should be safe, nodded and
said, “Yes.”

“Marina, any sign of the yobs again?” I called out. 
She replied in the negative, so I called them to join
us.

“Shall we bring our clothes?” called out Danielle.

“Maybe best to leave them to dry, or they’ll get even
more soaked in the sea,” I suggested, which caused
Sarah to stare at me in horror, mouth open.

The two American girls watched in amazement and some
shock as those on the boat began to pull off their
clothes.  Kimberley was first to leave the boat,
pulling off her dress and leaping in ungainly fashion
into the water, naked, bringing a gasp from Sarah.

“She’s naked!” Sarah said, turning accusingly to me.

“I don’t believe it matters, as long as they’re not
rude about it,” I said easily.  “Shelley will tell
you.”

Shelley had enough sense not to lay it on too thick
too soon.  “We know each other and we trust each
other,” she smiled.  “We wouldn’t usually do it if it
bothers you, but all our clothes are a bit wet, and we
don’t want to get them any wetter.”

“It’s just different cultures, different ways of
living,” I continued.  “You must have seen on your
holiday by now that people over here aren’t as scared
of being naked as Americans are.”  All the same, I was
a little relieved to see that most of the others kept
their panties on as they left the boat, still a little
reluctant to be naked in front of strangers, even
girls.

“Americans aren’t scared,” Sarah replied, a little
offended.  “We’re just not rude.”

“Neither are we,” I smiled.  “There’s a big difference
between being rude and being natural.  We like being
natural, but never rude.”  I hoped Kimberley would not
let me down on that one, but I was ready to give her a
mouthful if necessary.

Marina, Danielle and Galina all swam and splashed to
the beach in their panties, although when wet Galina’s
panties tended to slip down a little over her bottom. 
Last out were Scott and Charlotte.  Since Scott had
been wearing only his underpants, which he removed, I
presume he was waiting for her to join him.  She too
was naked now.

As they splashed ashore together, Maggie stared at
Scott, mouth open in amazement.  Possibly she had
never seen a boy naked before.  Scott stared at her
and looked pleased.  She did have similar coloured
eyes to Charlotte.

“You’re a boy!” Maggie challenged him.

Scott paused for thought, and then came out rather
cheekily with, “How do you know?”

Maggie pointed dumbly at his tiny penis, proudly shown
off by its owner, and then said, “You’re naked!”

“I don’t mind if you see my piss.  It’s good fun being
a naturist,” smiled Scott encouragingly.  “Isn’t it,
Charlotte?”

“Yes, it’s fun,” agreed Charlotte, sounding a little
shy, which was unlike her and probably only because
she still wasn’t used to nudity.  Maggie was quite at
a loss for words.

I told the others all about the shipwreck of the
American family, and Marina in particular looked most
concerned, which is always like her.  She began to
talk to Sarah, but I think Sarah was a little put off
at first talking to a stranger wearing only her
panties.  As they were talking, Shelley took her
panties off too, but I thought I had better keep my
shorts on for the present, seeing the reaction of the
Americans.

“Come and be naked with us,” beamed Kimberley
encouragingly at Sarah and Maggie.

They both looked shocked, so I broke in quickly. 
“Kimberley, I think you’ll find that most Americans
are very shy of being naked, so don’t press them about
it,” I told her.  “If they don’t want to join us, we
understand.”

“Well, I want to go for a swim,” declared Kimberley,
splashing into the shallows.  “Who’s coming?”

“And we’re not shy,” insisted Sarah sulkily.

“You coming, Maggie?” Charlotte encouraged her.

Maggie looked uncertain.  “I’ve no swimsuit,” she
whispered, looking longingly at Kimberley splashing
around.  Nearby, Galina was slipping her panties down
and going in to join her.  Scott and Charlotte,
holding hands, ran into the sparkling water.  They
seemed to have forgotten our difficult situation
already.

“We can’t go in naked, Maggie,” Sarah warned her,
looking rather alarmed, as if her entire moral value
system was about to collapse.

“Sarah, we aren’t being rude,” I assured her.  “But we
understand other people who are afraid of it, so
please – you do it your way if you want, and we’ll do
it our way.”

“Okay,” muttered Sarah, but gave Maggie a sharp look.

“May we swim in our underwear?” Maggie asked me.

“It’s not a very good thing really because it makes
them wet, and it’s not good to have wet clothes,
especially in salt water, between your legs,” I
explained.  “But if you’re too shy to be naked, that’s
okay.  But you will need to take them off afterwards,
because if you leave them on when they’re wet it’s bad
for your skin, and you may get a rash or something.”

Sarah pulled a face, as if hearing very bad news.  I
thought things might go better if I was out of the
way, so I said to them all, “I’ll go and check Lana’s
all right now.”

“She won’t want you to see her because her clothes are
torn,” Maggie reminded me helpfully.  “She’s shy if
people see her bra.”

“Maggie, you know Lana doesn’t like you talking like
that,” I said gently, crouching down to put my face
level with hers.  “Now we must respect people who are
shy about their bodies and things like that.  So you
must be kind, and you must not talk about Lana like
that again.  And I would never let anybody say things
that you don’t like either.  We could tease you three
girls about being scared of being naked, but we won’t
do it.  So you mustn’t talk like that either.  Okay?”

Maggie nodded her head vigorously.  “Sure,” she
agreed, looking at me with her big round eyes.

Before I went for Lana, I thought of something.  I
removed my shorts and swam out to the boat, conscious
of the scandalised gaze of Sarah in particular,
although she said nothing.  I fetched my shirt, which
was really little more than a vest, holding it above
my head as I waded through the deeper water, and put
on my dry shorts when I reached the beach.

Shirt in hand, I then went into the woods in search of
Lana, wondering if my subtle psychology with the
American girls would work.  I had noticed the
direction she had taken, but the island was hardly big
enough to lose anybody very easily.  Still, the trees
and bushes were quite thick in the middle, so it might
have taken a while to find her had she chosen to hide
out in a thicket.

When I reached the other side of the island, less than
a hundred metres away, I saw her straight away,
sitting on a rock about thirty metres to my right and
staring out to sea.  Her eyes were red and her face
looked desperately miserable, but she now looked
composed enough, I thought, for me to be able to
approach her.  I walked round the beach towards her,
making sure she saw me coming so I didn’t take her by
surprise.  She looked around and then turned away
quickly, but at least she didn’t try to run away from
me.  She did make sure that her bra and crotch would
not be visible to me, though.

Slowly I approached her, but she didn’t look again.  I
walked over to a smaller rock about three metres away
from her and sat down, but she ignored me.

“Lana, you’ve had a terrible time, I know,” I said
gently.  “You had a terrible time in the storm
yesterday and had to spend the night here.  Then your
dad left you in charge, and you’re worried about him,
and you don’t know what to do, because there’s nothing
you can do, yet you think you ought to.  Then maybe
you thought we had come to rescue you, and then you
found out we couldn’t.  Isn’t that right?”

I could only see the back of her golden head, but she
nodded it vigorously, without turning it at all. 
“Mmm,” she agreed, with a big tremble in the middle of
even that remark.

“And I can understand how you feel, on top of all
that, when you tear your clothes as well,” I went on. 
“I know people in America are very fussy about that,
but I can tell you we’re much easier in this country. 
But I can help you, if you’ll let me.  Will you wear
my shirt, to cover yourself up better?”

I thought this would get a response.  She turned her
head round, and I could see her lovely fair hair
sprawling over her swollen red face, and her running
nose, as she obviously had nothing to wipe it with. 
She looked at the shirt I held out to her and reached
out her hand for it.  “Thank you,” she said in a
broken voice.  She turned her head away again, ashamed
of her tear-stained face, and slipped my shirt on over
her head.

I could see it would come down far enough to cover her
broken jeans zip as well.  I was unable to see any of
the damage for myself, she had made sure of that, but
I thought that was a temporary sacrifice I would have
to make in order to win her trust!  But honestly, my
heart went out to her and my main longing at that
moment was to give her the help and comfort she
needed.

“May I lend you a handkerchief as well?” I asked her
gently.  “You’ve had so much bad happen to you that
you just needed to have a good cry for a few minutes,
I know.  But that’s all right.  That’s why I left you
till I thought I might be able to help you.  You’ve
done a great job looking after your sisters, but it’s
been an awful strain for you.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed, turning round and taking the
handkerchief.  She looked me in the eye for the first
time, the quickest of timid glances, as I smiled
tenderly at her.  Then she turned her head away again
and blew her nose several times, then wiped her eyes
and face.

“Just put it in the top pocket of the shirt when
you’ve finished with it,” I told her, and she did.

She still sat with her head turned away from me,
though, still too ashamed or shy – or probably both. 
My loose sleeveless shirt hung low under her
shoulders, and she clearly never imagined that I could
see inside most of what she had been trying so hard to
cover up.  Her brown top was torn almost all the way
down the middle, hanging down now that she was no
longer holding it, to reveal a large expanse of her
white bra underneath it.

Her breasts looked quite well grown, and remembering
Sarah’s development I wondered if the American diet
enabled them to reach puberty earlier than local girls
did.  I personally prefer to see girls taking their
time to develop and bud slowly and naturally.  I still
cannot imagine Marina or Shelley with big bulging
breasts; I find cute little ones so much more
attractive.  Perhaps I have a soft spot for Scott’s
penis for the same reason.

I thought I needed to get our relationship developing
slowly.  “You have such beautiful hair,” I told Lana. 
“What do you do to get it looking so good?”

“Oh, it’s not so good now because it’s all straggly
and it’s been in the sea,” she said, suddenly
interested.  I had correctly guessed the best point of
contact.  She began telling me, with a bit of
hesitation, about how she looked after it and how she
liked it cut and washed, and before she had finished
she was turning round almost to face me, still with a
blotchy red face, and talking in quite a lively way
all about it.

I then went on to ask her questions about her home and
her school, and she was very quick to tell me all
about these things, even beginning to smile once or
twice.  She also earned money part-time modelling.  I
asked her what she modelled, and she told me all about
the fashions and her favourite clothes.

“You know,” I smiled at her, shaking my head in
puzzlement.  “Americans are such strange people.”  I
was teasing her gently.  “So many Americans have such
beautiful bodies, but they’re scared to go naked, and
girls like you, I’m sure, look so beautiful in your
best dresses, but your casual clothes look so ugly.”

“That’s not so,” she argued, but she was also
half-smiling.  “Well, only sometimes.  About our
clothes, I mean.  We dress up swell to go out on a
date, you know, or things like that.”

“Our girls dress beautifully all the time!” I claimed,
still teasing her, and she knew it was all in fun. 
“You wait till our girls get dressed, and you’ll see
how pretty they look even on holiday like this.”

“But – they’re *naked* now,” Lana replied, looking
very confused as it seemed her entire value system was
being destroyed.  “That’s . . .”  She stopped, not
wanting to cause offence.  “Isn’t that rude?”

I repeated what I had said to Sarah about the
difference between being rude and being natural.  “I
think there’s a bit of a mix-up about that in
America,” I told her.  “People are so shy about being
naked, and there’s so little of it.  But don’t you
have a lot of dirty magazines for men with photos of
naked women and all that sort of thing?  And lots of
dirty films as well?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, pulling a face.  “They’re
awful.”  She named a few.

“Do you know why they’re so popular?” I asked her. 
She shook her head.  “I think when they’re young,
American boys and girls aren’t able, or aren’t
allowed, to see each other naked much at all.  So
they’re curious, and of course they get attracted by
anything that’s forbidden.  In this country, it isn’t
such a problem, because people don’t worry about that.
 And for people like us who are naturists, we don’t
worry at all.  We think people are most free and most
beautiful when they’re naked and natural, and we just
don’t have any hang-ups about it.  But we respect
people like you, and we certainly won’t try to force
people like you to be naked when you’re scared of that
sort of thing.”

“Oh, we’re not scared of it . . .” Lana began, and
then stopped, looking away into the trees for a
moment.  I could tell that she had just remembered her
own fear of having us see her torn clothes, and she
went a little red.

“It’s okay, you’re just not used to it,” I told her,
smiling.  “Marina, my girl-friend, was a bit like that
when I first met her.  But she tried it, and once she
got used to it she found it was great.  She felt so
free.  And it’s also a way of trusting each other.  We
feel so much closer to each other by showing trust
like we do when we’re naked together.  But don’t worry
– you’ll never have to try it and you can just stay
the way you like to be.”  I suppose that’s what you
call reverse psychology!  I found it usually works in
the end!

“My dad says . . .” Lana began, and then suddenly
stopped.  She had suddenly thought of her father again
and all her fears flooded back to the surface.  “My
dad . . .” she choked, her eyes filling with tears. 
She bowed her head, put a hand to her face and began
to sob helplessly.

I came closer, but didn’t touch her yet.  “I’m sorry,”
I whispered into her ear.  She didn’t respond but kept
sobbing with a choking sound.  I put my hand gently on
her far shoulder.  “May I do this?” I asked.  She
still didn’t respond, but she didn’t try to turn away
at all, so I took that as a positive sign.  Gently I
put my other arm round her and drew her towards me.

She almost threw herself into my arms, burying her
face in my shoulder and sobbing deeply, her back
heaving with the effort.  Then she let out a thin wail
of despair and cried heartbreakingly into my shoulder.
 I held her tightly but tenderly, stroking the back of
her neck under her golden hair and placing her
forehead, hot and sticky as it felt, against my cheek.
 Soon she was quieter, panting for breath, but she
kept her face buried in my shoulder.

“Lana,” I breathed lovingly into her ear.  “It’s so
hard for you.  I love you.  Let me look after you now.
 You’re so special.”

After a minute or so she came up for air.  She looked
at me with her tear-filled blue eyes and then pressed
her hot wet cheek against mine.  “Thank you,” she
whispered.  “But I’m so . . . I’m so scared for my
dad.  He may have drowned.”  Her voice broke again.

“I’m sure he won’t,” I replied, and I meant it.  “He’s
a strong swimmer, the water is calm and there are lots
of boats around.  It may take a day or two, but he’ll
be back.”

“You think so?” she answered doubtfully, lifting her
head and looking deeply into my eyes.

“I do,” I smiled at her confidently.  “In the
meantime, you don’t worry about a thing.  You know
something?  I’m so glad we got landed on this island,
because if we hadn’t I’d never have met you.  So don’t
worry, because I’ll look after you all.”

“You’re wonderful,” she smiled at me, smiling through
her tears and placing her head lovingly against my
bare chest.  Then she lifted her head, looked at me
and said with some hesitation and embarrassment,
“What’s your name?”  She hadn’t even known!

We talked for a few more minutes, sitting together on
the rock with my arm round her, pressing her gently
against me.  Every so often the tears came for a
moment, but she smiled beautifully through them.  Then
she said, “Won’t your girlfriend – Marina – be
jealous?”

“Not at all,” I smiled.  “Marina’s special to me, and
she knows I can love other girls too in a different
way.  Shelley is my cousin – that’s the girl I first
came ashore with.  Let me think of you as my lovely
sister.”

She laughed through some more tears.  “I’ve always
wondered what it would be like to have a big brother,”
she said, smiling up at me.

“Now you know,” I grinned back.  Very tenderly I
kissed her in the middle of her forehead.  She gasped,
looked startled for a moment, and then smiled.  “Thank
you,” she whispered, and gave me a light kiss on the
cheek.

We sat in silence for a minute or two, both enjoying
the love of each other.  Then Lana breathed deeply and
sat up straight, looking at me with smiling eyes.  “I
feel better now,” she said.

I squeezed her hand.  “You make me feel so happy,” I
told her.

Then she said, “I feel so hot wearing your shirt on
top.  I guess that’s silly of me.  It doesn’t matter
with you.  May I take it off for a while, until we go
back to the others?”  She looked at me nervously,
nervous I’m sure of what she was about to do rather
than of anything I might say.

“That’s fine,” I smiled, and she slipped it off over
her head, handing it back to me.  From the corner of
my eye I could see an expanse of white in her chest
area but I deliberately kept my eyes from it so as to
gain her confidence.  There would be time enough for
that later.

Girls doing this sort of thing for the first time
often talk to cover their embarrassment, and this was
what Lana did.  “There was a big nail sticking out of
the boat,” she told me, slightly flustered and red in
the cheeks.  “We had to get out quickly and I didn’t
see it.  I caught my top on it and it ripped before I
knew it.  It scratched me, too.”  And she pointed to
her chest and looked down, an obvious invitation for
me to see, too.  She did keep one hand half over the
area, though.

I looked, first darting a glance at her jeans while
her eyes were averted.  The broken zip was not gaping
wide, but it was enough to reveal a narrow sliver of
silky white panties inside.  Then I looked to where
she was pointing.  Her brown top was holding together
by only about an inch of material at the bottom. 
Above it gaped open, revealing a white lacy feminine
bra inside, looking quite well filled.  Almost down
the middle was a red scratch, about eight centimetres
long from the top to the point where it disappeared
under her bra.  Fortunately it was almost in the
middle and so had avoided her young breasts.  I
couldn’t quite visualise how this damage had been done
by catching it on a nail, but I didn’t ask.

I made a bit more of a fuss than I suppose was
necessary about the scratch, expressing my sympathy. 
As she looked up at me and I immediately had to lift
my eyes as well, I said, sounding quite concerned,
“That must still be sore.  You can’t have been able to
put any antiseptic on it.”  She shook her head.  “I
think you should rub some spit into it,” I told her. 
“That’s the next best thing.”

She wiped a finger, delicately put some spittle on it
and rubbed it in gently while I watched, enjoying the
view, warming my heart and my loins.  She didn’t
mention her jeans, so I didn’t ask.  Then she said in
a hurt voice, “And Sarah and Maggie laughed at me when
it happened.”

“Would you laugh if anything like that had happened to
them?” I asked her.  “Or to anybody else?”

“Oh, no,” she denied it.

“What would you do, then?” I asked.

“I . . . I . . .”  She paused, as if she was
remembering something with a twinge of guilt.  “Well,
I . . . I suppose I might.”

“Why might you do that?” I asked, smiling gently into
her embarrassed face.

“Well, I . . . I wouldn’t know what else to do,” she
admitted, slightly red in the face again.

“Perhaps don’t be too hard on your sisters,” I said. 
“Although I’d soon stop them if they laughed at you. 
But people so often laugh at others because they don’t
know what else to do, they feel embarrassed and
they’re always afraid something like that might happen
to them.  Don’t you think so?”

“I guess,” she answered, smiling shyly at me.  Then
she kissed me again on the cheek.  “You’re so wise,”
she said.

We spent a few more minutes talking about this and
that.  Then Lana stood up.  “I’d better go back now,”
she said, “and make sure my sisters are all right.”

“Don’t you fuss about that – I’m in charge now,” I
smiled, but stood up as well.  “Let’s do that, then.”

She put her arm through mine, and we strolled gently
back towards the beach where we had left the others,
although we had to unlink arms at times as we pushed
our way through the bushes.  I was still carrying my
shirt, as she had either forgotten about it or decided
she no longer needed to cover herself.  Then Lana
suddenly asked me, “Do I look all right?  My eyes, I
mean?”

I looked at her.  Her eyes were still a little red and
swollen.  “Not so bad,” I said.  “The rest of you is
beautiful.”

She laughed lightly and we walked on, although she did
drop my arm as we could see the beach ahead, through
the trees, in case the others should see her.

(To be continued)



SAILING ADVENTURE  (CHAPTER 7)


Lana and I arrived back at the beach where we had left
the others, to find that most of them were still
swimming.  Marina was sitting in the shade talking to
Danielle, both naked, while the others were in the
sea.  Kimberley was kneeling to dig a hole in the
sand, legs splayed wide and bottom up, with her plump
vagina easily visible from the back, reaching under
her crotch like a zip.

“Maggie!” I heard Lana exclaim in shock.  Following
her horrified gaze, I saw her youngest sister chasing
Scott in the shallows as he splashed away from her,
laughing, with Charlotte tagging on behind.  All three
were naked and having a great time.

“Lana,” I chipped in quietly, smiling at her gently. 
“Aren’t they having great fun?  Rather than being
rude?”

“I guess,” she muttered, but was obviously feeling
confused at the moment, as she was forced to question
the repressive attitude in which she had been brought
up.

Maggie had seen Lana looking at her in shock, and she
fell silent and began splashing reluctantly out of the
water towards us.  Of course, at her age she was quite
flat-chested, and had a lovely curved little vagina,
one of those that is slightly larger at the top of the
opening and looks as if it has a little buttonhole
there.

Maggie was prepared to defend herself.  “It’s such
fun, Lana, and it doesn’t matter,” she began with a
touch of defiance.  “I love playing with Scott – he’s
such fun.  And everyone can see your bra.”

For a moment Lana’s hand flew up to cover the frilly
white of her bra, but then she realised, I think, the
silliness of it all.  “It doesn’t matter,” she said,
and then she suddenly realised that she had said
exactly the same as Maggie and laughed suddenly.  “Oh,
Maggie, you shouldn’t, but – I suppose so.  All
right.”

Maggie looked most surprised at such an easy victory. 
She stood frozen to the spot for a moment, then
suddenly raised her arms in triumph, shouted “Whee!”
and turned round to run back into the sea.  She had
not noticed that Scott had been standing right behind
her and cannoned straight into him.  They fell over on
the sand in a wriggling, laughing heap, Maggie’s bare
bottom lying sprawled over Scott’s chest.

“Maggie, where’s Sarah?” asked Lana urgently, still
taking her responsibility for her sisters very
seriously.

Still giggling, Maggie rolled over and sat up, knees
up and legs open to show completely unselfconsciously
all there was to see of that cute little vagina.  She
pointed to the boat and answered, “She went to look in
the boat.  Sarah!” she called.

A light ginger head with what seemed to me to be a
rather sheepish grin appeared above the deck of the
boat.  “Hi, Lana,” she called.  “Just exploring the
boat.”  I couldn’t see what she was wearing, and my
heart began to beat faster as I speculated.

Just then I realised, through a tugging on my arm,
that Charlotte had all this time been trying to tell
me something.  Marina was standing next to her to back
up her urgency, and I could guess what it was.

“Roy, the flares!” Charlotte insisted.  “You must send
up the flares so that my dad will know where we are
and come to rescue us.  We forgot them.”

I hadn’t actually forgotten them, but I felt there
were more immediate things to do first.  Now was the
time to get on with the urgency of being rescued,
although I would have very much liked to stay longer
on the island with all these lovely girls, most of
whom I had only just begun to know.  Like a few weeks
longer, for example.

“Right, I’ll go out and do that straight away,” I
assured them, to their relief.  I quickly slipped off
my shorts, aware that it was causing Lana some
embarrassment, and splashed out towards the boat.  I
did not want to waste any time, not least for the
reason that I would also be able to discover what
Sarah was wearing, if anything.  I couldn’t imagine
her going naked, especially with Scott around, but I
needed to satisfy my curiosity desperately.  I emptied
some excess from my bladder into the sea on my way.

There was no sign of Sarah as I drew closer to the
boat.  I put my hands on the side and heaved myself up
and over quickly.

There was a squeal and a scramble of arms and legs,
and as I swung my legs over I could see Sarah rolling
over into the far corner.  As I had thought most
likely, she was wearing her underwear.  She had a
little plain white bra on top, not frilly like Lana’s,
but she had not struck me as being quite so feminine. 
She was also wearing a small tight pair of white
panties.  They were wet from the sea and had become a
little transparent.  As she moved, I could make out
the dark marks of her nipples under the bra, and also
a dark line and indentation down under the crotch of
her panties for her vagina.

“Hello, Sarah,” was all I said, smiling at her, taking
everything I could in at the quickest of glances, and
then looking away from her towards the little cupboard
that held the flares and matches.  “I need to send off
some flares so we can be rescued.”

“Hi,” she mumbled, curled almost into a little ball,
trying to hide her underwear from me, like Lana had
been earlier on when she had first decided to come out
and investigate us.  She paused and then added, “I
thought it was Lana.”

“Why, would you be in trouble?” I smiled, looking
around for some way to break into the cupboard.

“Yes, and so would you be if she saw you now,” Sarah
warned me, obviously thinking her older sister hadn’t
seen me yet.  As I squatted on the floor beside the
cupboard, which was only a metre away from her corner,
she knelt next to me and looked to see what I was
doing.  So often I find that if I ignore underwear or
nakedness, girls will immediately lose all shyness and
forget they ever worried about me.

“Do you think I look so rude?” I asked her, turning my
head and laughing into her eyes.

She didn’t know what to say for a moment, then she
said, “I guess we’re just not used to seeing boys . .
.”  She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Haven’t you ever seen a boy naked before?” I smiled
at her.

“Just little ones, babies,” she answered.  “Until you
and Scott today.”  She snatched a quick, embarrassed
glance at my penis.  “Apart from the boy next door.” 
She spoke with a note of disgust but didn’t elaborate
on that one.

“It’s all right, I don’t mind you seeing it,” I
reassured her.  “I know it’s not easy for you when
you’ve been brought up to be shy.”

“Yours is the first proper – er - big one I’ve ever
seen,” Sarah continued, sounding clearly embarrassed
but unable to stop talking with it.  “I didn’t know
boys got hairy too.”  Obviously she was referring to
my pubic hair.  “Scott still has a baby one.”

“Both boys and girls get pubic hair when they reach
puberty,” I told her, wondering if she knew what that
meant.  “When you get older, you’ll find you start
growing hair in that place as well.”  I strongly
suspected, from the way she spoke and her rather
impressive breasts for her age, that she already had
some.

“I’ve got some now,” she answered indignantly.  Then
she realised what she had said, and giggled with
embarrassment.  “But you’re not going to see it,” she
added.

“No, that’s fine,” I answered, trying in vain to force
the door and slopping around in the water that was
still in the bottom of the boat.  “I know you American
girls are shy about that sort of thing, and I’ll
respect your privacy.”

“We’re not shy!” retorted Sarah crossly.  “We just
don’t want to be rude.”

“And besides, you might get into trouble with Lana,” I
grinned sneakily.  “But don’t worry – your hair will
grow when you’re a bit more mature.”

“I do what I like.  I don’t have to obey Lana,”
insisted Sarah.  “And I’ve got hair, whatever you
think.  And I’ve worn a bra for nearly a year.  I
suppose you think that’s padded.”

I smiled as if I was humouring her, but didn’t answer.
 I could tell she was annoyed, and in something of a
dilemma.  She was not about to let me see naked, but
she did want me to appreciate her physical maturity. 
She stood up and moved behind me, obviously forgetting
her fears of Lana seeing her if she stood.  Then she
moved round and stood on my right, leaning her hip
against the side of the boat and then edging closer
until she was as close as she could reasonably get.  I
jerked the door hard, allowing my eyes a quick glimpse
at Sarah.  Somehow the elastic of her panties had
sagged lower, and I could see just a tiny fringe of
golden-gingery tufts of hair peeping out at the top. 
My penis lurched convulsively, but I didn’t show I had
seen anything.

“How are you getting on?” Sarah asked, for something
to say.

“Not very well,” I answered.  “I think I’m going to
have to break this open.”  I stood up and took a
couple of steps back, looking at it and frowning,
thinking hard.  This gave Sarah the opportunity to
stand more in my line of vision.  One hand was
fingering the elastic of her tight white panties as
she too pretended to look at the little door.

“I suppose, being a naturist, you’ve seen lots of
teenage girls naked and you’re used to it,” she said. 
I nodded and grunted.

“What do you think about them?” she asked rather
timidly.

“You know, I really think those girls whose bodies are
just beginning to develop, who are just becoming real
women, are the most beautiful of all,” I told her,
smiling warmly at her.  “You’ll be like that too,
soon, so it’s something to look forward to.”

“I’m nearly thirteen,” objected Sarah crossly.  “I’ve
been growing a long time.”  Again I smiled, trying to
give the impression that I was humouring her and
didn’t really believe her.

I could tell what she was thinking.  One part of her
was longing to prove her physical maturity, but all
her upbringing rebelled against her exposing certain
parts of her body in public.  I could see her fingers
trembling.  Then suddenly a thumb pushed down on the
elastic and I had a quick flash of some strands of
pale ginger fuzz down there.  My penis jerked again,
but I decided to frustrate Sarah a little more. 
Immediately I turned towards the shore, as if I had
seen nothing, and said decisively, “I’ll have to go
and get a stone to break it in, I think.”

“Do you want to see me naked?” she asked, as a
challenge rather than an invitation.

“Not when it will make you feel bad,” I answered,
after some quick thought but trying to sound
completely casual.  “People’s bodies are their own
business, and I would never do anything to hurt those
who feel too afraid, or those who don’t trust me.”

She said nothing for a few seconds while I looked
towards the beach.  Then she said, “I’ll wait here for
you.”

I quickly leapt overboard, went ashore, found a
suitable stone and hurried back to the boat.  I
couldn’t help wondering if she would be naked when I
arrived back, so I was as anxious as possible to be
quick about it.  Sarah was waiting for me as she had
said, sitting inside the boat with her underwear a
little more disarranged and her face flushed,
obviously rather embarrassed but going ahead slowly
anyway.  Her panties were a little further down at the
front, and quite definitely a few wet strands of
golden ginger pubic hair were sticking out over the
elastic.  Her bra also seemed to be a little looser,
giving a view of the side of her little breasts.  But
I pretended not to notice.

“Are you hot in this weather?” she asked me.

“Quite hot, but it’s much cooler without clothes,” I
grinned, hammering selectively at the little cupboard
door and not looking at her.

“My clothes keep sticking to me,” she complained.  I
made no comment, so she went on, “I wish I could take
off my bra inside the boat.  Where nobody can see me.”

“Well, you can if you want,” I said casually, as the
wood around the lock began to splinter.  “I don’t
mind.”  She was half behind me and I deliberately did
not look at her.

There was a moment’s silence, and then there was a
bumping and a scraping noise on the side of the boat. 
Then I heard Scott’s voice.  Turning, I saw him face
peering over the side of the boat and he scrambled on
board.  “Have you done it yet?” he asked.

He had interrupted me just as Sarah might have been
ready to undress further.  I was nearly very rude to
him.  “Don’t come in, I need room to do the job
properly,” I growled, quite untruthfully.

Scott scrambled on board all the same, crawling on to
the bonnet like a dog, on all fours, and looking down
on my work from that position, little penis dangling
down.  In frustration I gave the door a harder bang,
the wood splintered and the door flew open.

“Got it!” grinned Scott.

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed, looking inside.  I could see
the flares, strapped to a shelf in their packet, good
and dry.  On the floor the water had flowed in, and it
was about two or three centimetres deep.  In that
water, loose and having fallen off the shelf, were the
two boxes of matches!

“The matches are soaking wet!” I exclaimed in dismay. 
“We can’t light flares with wet matches!”

The others’ faces fell.  “Are we stuck here, then?”
asked Sarah, tears in her eyes.

“Only for a while,” I said, suddenly thinking that a
few more hours with all these girls wasn’t such a bad
thing after all.  “We’ll have to put these matches in
the sun to dry for a while.  And just hope they still
work then.”

Eyes brimming over with tears, Sarah stood up and
slipped over the side of the boat.  I stood up and
watched as she splashed her way over to Lana in her
underwear, unafraid of rebuke now and ready to cry
over the bad news.

Holding the matches and feeling frustrated that Scott
had come at such an inconvenient time, I began to slip
into the water as well.

“Hey, Roy,” grinned Scott, seemingly unbothered by the
bad news.  “I bet you can’t get Lana and Sarah to go
naked!”

I glared at him.  “Not with you around, I couldn’t,” I
snapped at him, then struck out for the beach.

I arrived back to find that Sarah had told the news
about the matches to the others, who were dismayed. 
“Look, don’t worry,” I told them.  “After an hour or
two in the sun, the matches should work just fine.  We
just need to be patient.”  I spread out the matches on
a rock in the sun, away from sea, to dry.  I wasn’t at
all certain of success, as a lot of the phosphorus had
washed away.

“I’m hungry,” decided Scott.  It was by now early
afternoon, and seemed much later after all that had
happened, but the others had not thought much about
food after the frightening experiences we had all had.
 But I went back to the boat to fetch the lunch, much
of which was soggy.  I put the wet food in the sun to
dry, and we all shared the dry food with the American
girls.  Not many of us wanted to eat very much,
though.  The Americans had found some fruit trees and
bushes and eaten from those, and their father had
shown them how to dig in the sand on the beach for
fresh water – not that I thought it tasted at all
fresh to me – so they had managed for food and drink.

The younger girls especially were looking very tired
and became rather weepy.  Charlotte was most unhappy,
with her father’s boat so badly damaged as well, and I
held her closely to comfort her, kissing her gently on
the side of her forehead.  Maggie looked at me with a
mournful face and I smiled at her, but she seemed a
bit shy of me and looked away again.

After lunch I suggested we all lay in the shade and
rested for a while.  Not even Scott argued with this,
so we found a large shady area of sand under the trees
at the rear of the beach and lay down together.  I did
not want to lie down myself, so I sat up against a
tree while the others lay down.  Galina was looking
very frightened, so I paid special attention to this
little girl, who curled up right next to me on one
side.

On my other side was Marina.  Slowly she had been
gaining in confidence with regard to nudity, and it
was wonderful, in more ways than one, to see her lying
on her back quite naked and unselfconscious, her
lovely white vagina, with just a few long threads of
brown hair growing between her legs, pointing at the
sky.

Within a few minutes most of the others were asleep. 
The Americans were dressed, or undressed, as they
were.  Maggie was curled up naked nearby, her little
round white bottom quite beautiful.  Sarah had
disappeared for a few minutes into the undergrowth to
put on her jeans and shirt, and she returned to put
her bra and panties on a rock some distance away to
dry.  Lana was still clothed, or mostly, lying on her
back with the gash in her jeans evident and her bra
very visible.  It didn’t seem to worry her any longer.

Not far away, Scott and Charlotte were lying on their
sides facing each other and talking, with Scott quite
clearly drinking in the beauty of her naked body
whenever she wasn’t looking directly at him.  Shelley
and Danielle were lying side by side, eyes closed. 
Kimberley was lying in a hollow, lying on her back,
knees up and gently masturbating from time to time,
stroking and gently pulling her vagina every now and
then.

After a few minutes Lana stood up and tiptoed over to
me.  “Will you come with me?” she whispered.  “I want
to show you round the island.”

“Yes, sure,” I agreed.  I looked over to Marina, whose
eyes were open now.  “Marina, Lana wants to show me
round the island,” I told her.  “You want to come?”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m so tired,” she smiled. 
“I’ll stay.”

I pulled a face.  “You’re not frightened Lana’s going
to run off with me?” I asked her.

Marina looked smilingly up at me with her big brown
eyes.  “I should be so lucky,” she teased me
mischievously.

That is just like Marina – so confident in an
unassuming way that she can always trust me, that
we’ll always be special to each other.  She is always
so trusting and lacking in jealousy.  But I couldn’t
let her comment pass.  I knelt down and tickled her,
feeling the warm smoothness of her skin and the
firmness of her ribs beneath my fingers.  She squealed
quietly and pushed me away.  “Too tired,” she excused
herself.  “You can leave a bookmark and come back to
finish off later.”

I stood up to follow Lana.  “Roy, please put your
shorts on,” she asked me, rather embarrassed.

“Aw, shucks,” I grumbled in best American fashion, and
looked around for them.  Galina, fast asleep, was
using my clothes as a pillow.  “Sorry,” I shrugged
with a smile.  “Can you find me some fig leaves
instead?”

Lana giggled, still embarrassed.  “I – I guess I’ll
just have to get used to it,” she said, looking to one
side, as she often seemed to do when I was naked.

Lana led me off our beach to one side, so we would
circle the little island in an anti-clockwise
direction.  At times we had to scramble over rocks or
among the trees for part of the journey, but it was
not too difficult.  As we went, we talked, mainly
about the other girls who had come with me, as Lana
was interested in knowing all about them.  We soon
arrived at the place where their boat had landed on
the rocks, and could see the remains a few metres out
from the shore.

Looking at Lana, I saw tears running down her cheeks
again as she looked at the boat, and I knew she was
thinking about that terrifying experience and was also
worrying about her father.  “I’m sorry, Lana,” I
whispered, putting one arm round her back and my other
hand on the back of her head, drawing her gently
towards me.  She buried her face in my shoulder,
flooding it with tears as she sobbed quietly.  I held
her close, taking care to keep my penis from coming in
contact with her and embarrassing her.

Eventually she looked up at me, trying to smile
through her tears.  “It’s all right, I understand,” I
whispered to her.  “Things are just awful for you at
the moment.  But don’t you worry, I’m handling
everything for you now.”

She cried again with the relief of being understood,
while I rubbed the back of her neck, under her hair
gently.  Then she looked up, tried to smile at me
again and said, “There is one good thing about it all.
 I’ve found my big brother.”

I smiled lovingly back down at her.  “I’m glad of
that,” I whispered, ruffling her thick golden hair at
the neck gently.  I was glad also that she didn’t seem
to think of me as a possible boyfriend, as this might
have caused me a problem since I already had Marina,
but perhaps in her time of need she thought of me as
too much older than herself than that – even though
she was only a year younger than I.

As we continued our walk, we were both feeling the
heat, even when we were walking in the shade of the
trees.  I must confess that, as usual, I was trying to
think of ways to encourage Lana to strip off and join
me in nudity.  I would never abuse her or any other
girl, but the intimacy of being naked together with
those for whom I feel affection is a very strong
desire in me.  But I always try to bring the other to
the point where she wants that as well.  It would only
cause hurt, and probably serious trouble as well, if I
persuaded a girl to strip off when she doesn’t really
want to.

As we continued our walk round the island, Lana
suddenly said to me, “I have to go to the bathroom?” 
She made it sound like a question, as I’ve found
Americans often do when they are uncertain of
themselves.  She disengaged herself from my arm, which
had been around her still.

I was tempted to reply to that stupid American
euphemism that she wouldn’t find any baths around
there, but it wouldn’t have been helpful.  “Okay, I’ll
wait for you,” I said.

“Please don’t look?” she pleaded, almost looking at me
with embarrassment out of the corner of her eye.

“I won’t, I promise,” I smiled at her.  “I’ll keep
looking out to sea until you come back.”

She moved off, and I faced the sea.  It was very
frustrating, but I forced myself to keep my promise -
it might have been a test.  Everything comes to him
who waits, I thought - softly softly catchee monkey. 
Anything too soon might ruin everything.  I walked
closer to the sea, my bladder aching with frustration
and excitement.  I relieved the pressure, and it burst
out of me in a stream into the shallows.

It took about five frustrating minutes for Lana to
return.  Then I heard her gentle American accent
behind me, again sounding like she was asking a
question.  “It’s okay, Roy, I’m back?”

I turned round with a smile.  The smile grew bigger
and my heart lurched as I saw her.  She had removed
her outer clothes, which she was carrying in her
hands, and was standing there in her frilly bra and
delicate smooth white panties.  She was looking at me
with a nervous smile, as if uncertain how I would
react.

“I felt so hot?” she tried to explain.  “Is this – all
right?”

I smiled again tenderly, trying not to show my
excitement.  “Yes, that’s fine,” I assured her.  I
gazed deeply into her eyes.  “That’s lovely.  You
know, I feel so happy you can trust me like this.  I
know how hard it is for you.”

She smiled, looking away as she did so.  It really had
been difficult for her.  Then I said, “I was thinking
of going for a swim to cool off myself.  Can you wait
a minute for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” she answered.

“That looks a good rock for diving from,” I said,
pointing to one about twenty metres away that stood
high and about ten metres out into the sea.  “I’ll try
that.”

We walked over to it together and I climbed up on to
it, then stood at the far side, studying the water
carefully to make sure it was deep enough for a dive. 
I was really hoping that she would say something.

She did.  “Roy?” she said, hesitatingly.  “Would it –
be all right for me to swim as well?  In my
underwear?”

“Yes, of course,” I answered.  Then I frowned, as if I
had thought of something.  “The only problem is you’ve
only got torn clothes to change into afterwards.”

“Well, I – I guess it wouldn’t really matter just for
once if I walked around in wet panties for a while?”
she said.  “Would it?”

I couldn’t very well disagree without pushing things
too far.  So I just said, “Well, I suppose not.”  Then
I bent down and dived in.

I dived in, the depth being about a metre and a half,
and swum far.  Then I surfaced, looking out to sea,
before slowly turning back to see what Lana’s reaction
was.  I nearly left it too late.  I saw her standing
for a moment on the edge of the rock, quite naked. 
Her young breasts swelled out from her body and there
was a lovely patch of deep golden hair on her loins. 
I just thought I had the quickest glimpse of the lips
of her vagina down between her legs when she dived in.

She came up about two metres from me, laughing and
spluttering.  The water was just deep enough for her
to stand in, which no doubt had helped to persuade her
to come in.  It covered her whole body from the neck
down, and she did not feel as exposed as she would
have done had she had to wade in through the shallows.

“Hey, that’s great!” I exclaimed in delight.  “Hey, I
bet you feel better for that now.”

“Yes,” she admitted, smiling but still sounding
uncertain.  “Roy, I – I know I can trust you.”  She
seemed about to say more, but then put her head down
and swam out towards the open sea, overarm crawl.  Her
slim white bottom splashed through the waves.

I splashed around by myself, feeling I should still
wait for her to take the initiative in any further
contact between us, now that she was naked.  Sure
enough, she came swimming back in a couple of minutes.

“That’s lovely,” she smiled in a rather high-pitched
voice as she came to a stop and stood on the seabed
just over a metre from me.  “I should have done that
before?”

“Well, it wasn’t easy for you,” I said.  “It’s really
taken a lot of courage and trust for you to do this. 
And I love you for it.”  Smiling at her, I held out my
arm towards her, an invitation, but I was ready to
withdraw it if she wasn’t ready for it and didn’t
respond quickly.

She did respond.  Kicking off with her feet, she swam
into my arms, reaching up her own arms and wrapping
them around my neck.  I almost gasped as I could feel
her strong firm breasts pressing against my chest.  My
penis throbbed, and I could feel it push up against
her hip, but she didn’t seem to notice.  Then my heart
lurched, as I could feel her soft public hair tickling
the end of my penis.  Fortunately the cold of the
water prevented it from going properly hard and I
managed to keep under control.

(To be continued)



SAILING ADVENTURE  (CHAPTER 8)


We stood there a while, the water just shallow enough
for me to stand, but Lana had to keep her arms around
my neck to stay up comfortably.  I had no objection to
that at all!  We just enjoyed the cool water massaging
our bodies, and I enjoyed the feel of her own lovely
soft flesh against mine, especially those maturing
breasts.  I had seen little, though, and I wanted to
feast my eyes.  So after a few minutes I said to her,
“That’ll do for me, I think.  I’m getting out now.”

“That was – just so good?” she said nervously as we
disentangled ourselves and I led the way round the
rocks, paddling through the shallows up to the beach,
having more sense than to turn round and look at her
and embarrass her.  I wondered if she would follow me
or dive straight for her clothes.  Anyway, I wanted to
be fairly close to whatever happened, so I walked up
close to the rock where she had left her clothes.  I
chose a sloping rock on a sloping area of sand and
sank down next to it, turning round as I did so and
wiping my hair away from my face and rubbing my eyes
so as not to be seen staring at her open-faced.

She kept coming towards me, despite faltering for a
moment, smiling nervously, a naked beauty.  Her
breasts stood out perhaps a little further than I like
in a girl.  She was so lovely and slender, her waist
tapering in then spreading out at her hips, with
costume lines on her skin very clear.  It was quite
obvious that she usually wore a one-piece costume, but
occasionally a bikini.  And down below her navel was a
thin tangle of lovely golden hair, with a clear vagina
at the bottom, slightly open and pink in the middle. 
She had one hand very close to it, her embarrassment
clear, but did not actually cover it.

I smiled at her, looking her in the eyes, and held out
an arm to her again.  Nervously she turned round,
giving a glimpse of her smooth white fleshy bottom,
and then sank down between my knees, back to me,
wrapping her arms around them as she did so.  Then she
looked back at me over her shoulder, smiling
red-cheeked.  “This is – just so good?” she blurted
out.

“It’s lovely with you,” I assured her.  Then I said,
“You know, I promise you that I will never ever do
anything to you that you don’t want me to do.  Okay?”

She smiled and nodded.  “So tell me to stop if you’re
not happy about anything,” I said.  I reached out my
hands and put them gently round the stomach, taking
great care not to touch either her breasts or her
pubic hair, which wasn’t very easy since she was
rather crouched and leaning forward.  I pulled gently
and whispered to her, “May I do this?”

Again she nodded, but I felt her tense.  Gently I
pulled her back until she was leaning on me, as Marina
and Shelley so often do, her back against my chest and
my penis pushed between my own skin and her bottom. 
She leaned back, smiling, and rested the back of her
head on my shoulder.  I kept my hands on her stomach,
massaging her skin gently.

In our new position, I could now see over her shoulder
down the length of her body, which perhaps she didn’t
realise.  Her breasts stood out almost like inverted
teacups, swelling out at the sides but rounded on top,
with a bright pink nipple standing up a little in the
middle.  My hands itched to massage them, but I knew I
had better wait my time.  Beneath those breasts I
couldn’t see my own hands, still massaging, but I
could see that layer of straggly golden hair, with the
dark wide slit of her vagina emerging beneath to
disappear between her legs, with a touch of pink
inside.

“This is – lovely,” she declared.  “Please don’t
stop.”  Then she said, “I’m glad you’re so different
from the guys at my school.  Some of them just want to
see my body all the time, but you don’t.  I had one
jerk who wanted to feel me, too.  But you’re
different.”

“That’s just lust,” I told her.  “There’s a world of
difference between love and lust.  My feeling for you
– is love.”  This, I must admit here, is a half-truth.
 The lust to see and to feel is alive and well in me,
but the secret is not to let the girl know until she
wants it.  I had been very successful with Lana.

“I hate wearing a bikini in public, you know?” Lana
went on.  “I feel some of the guys are just watching
me, hoping to – to see inside.  And I know they talk
about girls sometimes when they watch us, but I don’t
know what they’re saying.  But you’re not like that.”

“It’s wonderful to me that you trust me so much – my
little sister,” I smiled at her, kissing her gently on
the ear.

“Mmm,” she murmured in pleasure, turning her head so
that her cheek rested on my neck, just under my chin. 
“I like it when you rub me,” she murmured.

I realised that I had stopped, without realising it,
so I resumed rubbing her stomach.  “Massage service
resumed, ma’am,” I said.

She didn’t invite me to massage any of her more
private areas, so I just kept on gently kneading her
soft but firm skin, moving imperceptibly down inside
her hip, rubbing the thin smooth skin of her loins but
without touching her pubic hair or vagina.  The water
on our bodies evaporated and I began to feel hot
again.  So clearly did Lana, as after a few minutes
she said, “I feel like a swim again.”

“You feel like a girl to me,” I joked, still rubbing. 
Then I said, “Let’s do that.”

We climbed off the rock and jumped in together,
holding hands.  It was a wonderful feeling, the fresh
cool water against our hot skins, and ourselves
against each other.  After a brief swim we stood in
the water in each other’s arms again, myself facing
the shore and Lana facing the sea.  We held each other
gently and talked.

After a couple of minutes, a movement in the trees
behind the beach caught my eye.  I saw something of a
light ginger colour disappear behind a bush, and I was
sure it could only have been Sarah’s head.  No doubt
she had come to find us.  Sure enough, her head popped
out again from behind another bush, and I could tell
she had seen us.  I half-closed my eyes, trying to
pretend I had not seen her and wondering what she
would do, especially when she saw Lana was now naked.

Slowly Sarah moved round towards the big rock that was
to our left, not aware that I had seen her.  She was
still wearing her white shirt and cut-off jeans. 
Lana, of course, had her back to Sarah and could not
see her, and her hair was half-covering my eyes so
probably Sarah could not see my face properly.  No
doubt she expected me to move or call out if I saw
her, but I kept quiet and still, wondering what she
would do, and listening all the time to Lana telling
me about her family, school and friends.

Sarah was quite still for about three or four minutes,
crouched behind a bush watching us.  As I expected,
she got bored in the end and crept out.  She waved a
hand in the air, probably to check whether I had seen
her.  But I kept my eyes half-closed, pretending I had
seen nothing.  I learned later that she was a little
short-sighted and did not realise that I would be able
to see her more clearly than she could see me.

For another minute or so Sarah kept still, crouched on
the ground, twice wiping sweat off her face.  I could
feel my heart pounding harder as I guessed she wanted
to swim with us and cool off.  Eventually the desire
overpowered the fear.  She waved again vigorously, but
I took no notice.

She seemed to decide that I couldn’t see her and it
was safe.  Slowly her hands went up to her shoulders. 
I gave a shudder as I anticipated with excitement what
was about to happen.  Lana stopped her story to ask if
I was all right, and I replied that I was, but could
hardly believe how lucky I was to be holding her in my
arms.  She hugged me tighter at that, but I was
distracted.

I watched Sarah pulling off her shirt, in one swift
movement once she had decided to do it.  She had not
put on her bra again.  I caught no more than a glimpse
of little pointed breasts before she covered them up
with her hands and froze to the spot, no doubt
terrified by what she had done.  It was another half
minute, I suppose, before she slowly lowered her hands
and even more slowly rose to her feet, standing in a
crouch, looking at us.  I could see her growing
breasts, unlike Lana’s, were cone-shaped, with her
pink nipples forming the point at the top.

Then her hands were at her waist and she swiftly
dragged off her jeans, just as quickly clutching them
up in her hands to cover her groin.  I had only a
quick glimpse of a patch of light gingery pubic hair. 
For a few seconds she stood there, bent double with
her ugly faded blue cut-off jeans clutched to her
loins, before she found her next batch of courage. 
She dropped the jeans to the ground, again giving me
the quickest of glimpses of a little oblong patch of
her pubic hair, and then scampered like lightning over
to the rock on our left and out of my line of direct
vision.

Moments later there was a great splash about a metre
away from us, a scream of fright from Lana, and a
scream of joy and fun from Sarah.  Like some girls do
when somewhat embarrassed by nakedness, Sarah wanted,
I am sure, to draw attention away from it with noisy
excited behaviour.  As Lana, quite startled, let go of
me, I felt Sarah grab hold of me round my neck and try
to duck me, and could feel her knees pressed up
against my body, laughing loudly all the time.

I had expected Sarah to jump in but I hadn’t expected
to be attacked, in fun.  I pretended to be completely
taken by surprise and wrestled with her, shouting for
help.  I forced her over on her back and turned her
round, pushing her right over.  I pushed one hand
between her legs, feeling my fingers brushing hard
against her pubic hair.  She was squealing and
wrestling all the time, so I kept wrestling with her,
pretending I was trying to capture her but unable to
get a grip on her.  As I rolled her again, I felt a
breast under my hand, firm and pointed, and for a
moment held it in my fingers, pressing the soft flesh
and feeling the nipple at the end.

Then I heard Lana shout from behind me, “Sarah!  Roy,
it’s only Sarah!”  I grasped her firmly and pressed
her back to mine, holding her by the chest and feeling
her half-grown breasts under my fingers again.  She
squealed and fought.

“Roy, it’s all right, it’s only Sarah!” I heard Lana
shouting at me, pulling at my shoulder, afraid I would
hurt her sister.  I released Sarah and she swam away
to shallower water in a hurry.  Then she turned round
and looked at me, a rather shocked expression on her
face.  She obviously hadn’t expected me to resist her.

“Sarah!” I exclaimed, trying to sound amazed.  “I was
wondering if it was those thugs come back!  Sarah, I
hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Sarah looked quite indignant.  “You hurt my boobs,”
she protested, her hands pressed over her breasts,
which were under water so I could not see them clearly
anyway.  “And you touched me – privately.”

“It wasn’t Roy’s fault, Sarah,” Lana burst out in my
support.  “You gave him a fright.  He didn’t know it
was you.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I just felt somebody attacking me
and trying to push me under the water,” I apologised,
sounding really concerned.  “I might have hit you or
something.  I’m so sorry I hurt you.”  This is the
only time I have ever deliberately touched a girl in
her private places without knowing she wanted it, but
these were different circumstances.  I had only been
defending myself much as anybody else would, wasn’t I?
 But certainly I hadn’t been aware of doing any
violence to her breasts, and I wondered if this was
not just an excuse to cover her embarrassment – even
if it didn’t cover anything else!

“I think I’ve got bruises,” muttered Sarah, still
talking about her breasts.  “They’re sore.  You hurt
them.”

“Let me look, Sarah,” said Lana, propelling herself
through the water towards her sister, looking most
concerned.  Sarah turned her back to me and waded
through to shallower water.  Lana followed her and
turned round to examine Sarah’s breasts, at the same
time giving me my first full frontal view of her own
breasts.  They were beautifully white and smooth, with
moderate-sized pink nipples, the rounded shape, like
an inverted teacup, being very clear.

I couldn’t see what they were doing, as Sarah
intended, but Lana quickly said, “That looks fine,
Sarah – no marks or bruises.”

“It feels all right now,” admitted Sarah.  She turned
round and looked at me, then she turned back and put a
hand over Lana’s breasts, to cover them.  “Lana, he
can see you,” she warned.

“I don’t mind, I trust him,” replied Lana, smiling a
little nervously in my direction.  “He’s a naturist -
he’s seen hundreds of girls.”  The word `naked’, I
gathered, was implied.

“I don’t look if people are shy,” I assured Sarah
casually.

“Do you think Lana has a beautiful body?” Sarah asked
pertly, turning and propelling herself through the
water towards me, using her arms.  For a few seconds
the top part of her breasts was visible above the
water and I had a better view of those little pointed
cones.

“Very,” I answered, smiling at Lana.  “But naturists
don’t worry about that.  We accept each other’s
bodies, whether they are beautiful or not.”

“Mine isn’t beautiful, so you won’t want to see that,”
denied Sarah.

“Trust him, Sarah,” Lana urged.  “I do.”

“Duck him, more likely!” laughed Sarah, reaching out
for me.  “Come on, Lana, let’s duck him!”

Lana suddenly laughed too, and surged towards me. 
“Wait, wait!” I cried out. Holding up my hands,
urgently enough to stop them.  “If you’re going to
jump on me, Sarah, I can’t help it if I touch you
privately!”

“Yes, you can!” laughed Sarah, surging towards me
again.  Lana came with her.  They reached out to grasp
me, obviously not caring what I touched.  I
counter-attacked, pushing my way through the water
towards them with an arm outstretched to each.  They
grabbed my arms and the romp began.  I certainly had
my hands full.  As we wrestled, the most prominent
part of their bodies seemed to be their breasts. 
Wherever I pushed or pulled, it seemed impossible to
avoid them.

As the girls tried to pile on top of me, the
undersides of their breasts were forever pushing
against my arms.  As I grabbed them and pulled them, I
always seemed to be wrapping my arms round their
breasts.  I kept my arms up and made sure I kept them
away from their vaginas.  Twice I felt Sarah’s leg
brushing against my penis under water, and felt rather
afraid I might get kicked accidentally in the
testicles.

It was for fear of hurting their delicate breasts that
I lost the fight.  I dared not hold or push too hard
when, with two attacking me at once, I could not be
careful enough where I put my hands.  Slowly I felt
them pushing me under the water, laughing with
delight.  I took a deep breath and sank, keeping my
eyes open to try to see under water, but there was too
much turbulence.  As soon as I was underneath, they
let go of me.  I opened my eyes, hoping to be able to
see them under the water, but the salt water stung my
eyes and the water was too unsettled.  I floated to
the top, to see them laughing at me.

Still laughing, we splashed our way together over to
the shallows towards the beach.  Lana splashed
alongside me this time, but Sarah kept behind and out
of my line of vision.

Just as I was about ankle-deep in the water, Sarah
gave another loud scream and leapt on my back.  I
could feel her arms wrapped around my neck and her
knees around my waist.  I gave a roar and reached back
round her waist, ripping her off me.  She gave a
startled squeal, not expecting me to be so strong. 
Laughing, I pushed her down on her back in the
shallows, kicking wildly.  My eyes had a glorious
second-long view of a long vagina, reaching down
between her legs, but with the top end obscured by a
thin line of golden-ginger pubic hair fluffing up the
middle of her loins.  I so longed to get my hands down
there and fondle and massage, but I could never do
that uninvited.  Under normal circumstances!

I only had a moment to enjoy the view, as Lana grabbed
me round the neck, coming playfully to the defence of
her sister.  I wrapped an arm round her waist, feeling
her breasts under my armpit, and staggered out of the
water to find somewhere dry to continue.  Then I
collapsed deliberately on the sand, pulling Lana down
with me.  We rolled over together, myself on top, and
I began to tickle her in the ribs gently.  She
squealed and laughed, wriggling and kicking.  Again I
had a breath-taking view of her loins, her vagina
wider and pinker inside than Sarah’s, but not so
visible because of the thicker mass of
lighter-coloured pubic hair at the top.

Sarah now leapt on top of me, shouting and laughing. 
I could feel her cool, smooth, wet skin on my back,
and the soft swelling of her breasts.  “Wait, stop!” I
shouted at her.  She stopped, startled, and let go. 
“We’d better stop this,” I said to them both, but
especially to Sarah.  “I’m afraid I’ll touch you
privately by accident, and then you won’t like it
again.”

“I don’t care,” snorted Sarah, and jumped on me again.
 I rolled over and pinned her down on her back,
tickling her ribs gently.  Her little pointed breasts
heaved as she laughed and giggled.  She drew back her
legs and tried to kick me off her.  I grabbed her and
held her round her ankles, but she still kicked.  I
tucked her shins under my armpits while she heaved and
kicked.  Beneath me was the glorious sight of her
vagina gaping between her legs, with those long
strands of ginger hair right down between her legs and
the shorter strands, stuck together with seawater,
spreading their tendrils across the top of her vagina
but without obscuring that secret place very much yet.

Lana was pushing at me and I rolled over, dragging her
down on top of me.  I could feel her soft but firm
breasts wobbling under my hands as she struggled, and
her leg pressed down on my penis.  Sarah pushed in and
sat on my chest.  I put my hands on her shoulders and
pushed.  She rolled back against Lana, kicking her
legs up as I swung myself upright again.  For a second
her lovely developing vagina was right under my eyes,
almost close enough for me to reach out and kiss.  I
had a glimpse of the black slit inside the lips, the
strands of pale ginger hair adorning the top and below
the curve under between her legs and the loose darker
pink skin underneath.  I almost choked with the
delight of it all.

But this was enough for the girls.  They collapsed on
the sand, laughing and panting for breath, breasts
heaving and legs spread apart to reveal those
magnificent maturing vaginas that they had been so
anxious to keep hidden such a short time earlier.  I
found a rock and leaned against it, tired as well and
trying not to make my admiration of their charms too
obvious.

“Sarah, this is how I sat with Roy before you came,”
Lana said proudly, standing up and coming over to sit
between my legs again, leaning back.  I dutifully
massaged her tummy gently.

Sarah watched in envy, and then said, “Let me have a
turn.”  Kindly Lana rolled out of the way and Sarah
sat down between my legs, brushing my penis gently
with her hand as she did so – deliberately, I
suspected, but mainly I think just through curiosity
as to what it felt like.  I kept my hands to myself
unless invited.

“Massage me,” ordered Sarah, bumping back against me
to get me moving.

I held up my hands on either side of her.  “Where?” I
asked.

“On her butt,” giggled Lana.

“Here,” retorted Sarah, taking my hands and slapping
them down on her breasts.  My heart thudded as I began
to rub.

“No, I didn’t mean there!” scolded Sarah with a
giggle.  But she didn’t move them, so she obviously
had meant `there’!  “Oh, all right then,” she
consented, with a typically false feminine show of
reluctance, as I went on massaging.  I could feel her
firm little nipples under my fingers and the little
smooth breasts wobbling under my hands.  There was a
murmur from Lana, supposedly of disapproval but
really, I’m sure, of jealousy.

“Now it’s me again, Sarah,” said Lana, hardly able to
contain herself more than about ten seconds.

“Oh, I’ve room for you both,” I assured her, taking a
hand off Sarah and holding it out to Lana.  “Come and
lie on my side.”  She sat down, leaning her head back
against my shoulder and placing my hand on the side of
her breast.  I indulged myself, rubbing gently,
feeling the softness, the roundness, stroking the
contours, rubbing the hard knobbly nipple very
tenderly.  I hoped Sarah could not feel my penis
struggling under her back to cope with the strain.

“Enough,” said Sarah after a couple of minutes.  “Now
my tummy.”  She picked up my hand and slapped it down
on her tummy.  Only it wasn’t quite her tummy.  I
could feel the groove as her loins joined her leg and
I could feel strands of light, damp, downy hair under
my fingers.  Trying to control my breathing, I rubbed
gently, feeling just the top of the little groove that
was her vagina.

“Lana’s very ticklish between her legs, you know,”
suggested Sarah mischievously.

“Oh, Sarah, so are you,” Lana counter-accused.

“No, I’m not,” Sarah denied.  “You can try me if you
like, Roy.”

“I could never tickle you there,” I protested.

This seemed to strengthen Sarah’s resolve, as I had
hoped.  “Try it,” she giggled, taking my hand and
placing it between her legs.

Trying to hide my excitement, I reached out my hand
and rubbed, feeling the loose skin, feeling the long
strands of hair, feeling that little opening beneath
my fingers.  Then Sarah squealed and wriggled, pushing
my hand away.  It did seem a bit much for Lana to
handle, though, and she didn’t make any further
suggestions about what I could do with my hands.

“My friend Nancy would be so jealous if she could see
me,” giggled Sarah.  “She likes to boast about what
she does with her boyfriend.”

“I don’t think it’s true,” said Lana scathingly. 
“She’s just showing off.  But I know some girls in my
class aren’t virgins any more.  They ask me if I’ve
ever seen a boy naked – an older boy, I mean, like you
– and I tell them yes, but really I haven’t – or not
until today.”

“Except for Chuck Schuller,” put in Sarah in disgust.
“He’s the boy next door,” she explained to me.  “He’s
disgusting.”

“He’s only eleven, though,” said Lana.  “He doesn’t
have a grown-up - thing.”

“You know what he does?” Sarah continued.  “He pulls
down his pants and sticks his butt out at us.”

“His bedroom window is opposite mine,” Lana told me. 
“And he takes his clothes off and dances around naked
inside, when he knows we’re watching.  He even waves
at us.  We can see his – his thing.”

“And he opens his window and pees out of it,” put in
Sarah, looking disgusted.  “It all goes in the
flowerbed underneath.”

“Sometimes he gets it stiff and it all goes up first,”
Lana contributed, referring presumably to the stream
of urine now.  “We tell him to stop but he does it all
the more.  He just laughs.”

“Perhaps you should laugh at him, like Kimberley
would,” I chuckled.  Then I had to tell them both
about Kimberley and the yobs in the other boat.  Lana
and Sarah were disgusted at that behaviour.

“But it’s good being naked when it’s in the right
place,” said Sarah, whose ideas of what constituted a
right place had changed radically during the last
hour.  “I’m glad we met you.”

“Is that the only reason?” I grinned, as Lana
signalled to Sarah that it was her turn to be massaged
by me again.  Sarah reluctantly got to her feet,
raised her hands in the air and did a handstand.  The
breasts almost flattened themselves as her chest
stretched, and her long legs stuck up gracefully in
front of me, her elegant light-ginger-coated vagina
curving up between her legs.

She could not stay upside down for long, so I said,
“You really need to do it against a tree or get
someone to hold you when you do that.”

“Will you hold me, please?” she asked.  Despite
jealous protests from Lana, I stood up to help her. 
This was an invitation I could not refuse.  She did
her handstand towards me and I caught her legs as she
swung them up.  I held her legs a little apart, one
against each shoulder, and below me I could see those
lovely deep pink folds of skin between her legs,
creased and lined with her downy hair at the top.  I
feasted my eyes, talking to her all the time lest Lana
should suspect me, before gently pushing her down
again.

Of course after a few turns Lana wanted to try it, and
that was even more a sight for sore eyes.  Being
older, her vagina area was more developed, more
fleshy, more pink, more open at the bottom and more
hairy, although not in an ugly way like so many older
girls’ are.  Or perhaps I am just biased.  This was
bliss, the wonderful trusting intimacy of two girls
who had never trusted even their underwear to any boy
before.

(To be continued)



SAILING ADVENTURE  (CHAPTER 9)


After a few more minutes of intimacy, Lana’s natural
sense of responsibility returned to her.  “The others
are alone,” she said.  “I think I’d better be getting
back to them.”

“I suppose so,” I groaned reluctantly.  “But remember,
they’re my responsibility now, not yours.”

Lana put her arms around me and we kissed gently,
which of course made Sarah jealous.  So I took Sarah
in my arms next, feeling her pointed cone-shaped
little breasts against my chest.  She looked up at me
with her light ginger hair, still wet, straggling
across her forehead, a hopeful smile on her face and
her snub nose raised.  Gently I kissed her on her soft
damp cheek.  She giggled, and kissed me on my jaw
rather wetly.

“Now it’s our turn,” I heard a pert voice say.

Turning round, I saw Shelley and Galina coming up just
behind me, hand in hand.  Galina, with her little
round glasses, her timid demeanour and her thin, bony
little naked body, looked so vulnerable and miserable,
but Shelley was as confident as ever.  “Galina was
upset because she woke up and was missing you, so we
came to find you,” she explained, wrapping her arms
round my neck.  She gave me a kiss and then jumped
straight into the sea.  She hadn’t seemed at all
surprised to see the American girls naked.

Gently I knelt down to put my arms round the
miserable-looking little Galina.  I was rewarded with
her thin white arms around my neck.  I rubbed my cheek
against her cold little cheek and then kissed her
gently.  “You all right, darling?” I whispered in her
ear.

“Yes,” she breathed.  Then she said in some surprise,
“Nobody ever talked to me like that before.”

“That’s because you haven’t found a good boyfriend
yet,” I teased her with a smile, running my fingers up
and down her flat, thin chest and tummy.

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” she answered.  “I just
want you.”

“And I want you, you lovely little thing,” I smiled at
her, rubbing her cheeks.  Nobody could call her
pretty, but she was so timid, so vulnerable, so
helpless and now so trusting that I only wanted to
build her up and protect her.  I stood up with her
arms around my neck and held her like a baby, astride
my hip, with her thin little vagina tucked in against
my side.

“Is Maggie all right?” Lana called out to Shelley, who
was still splashing around in the water.

“She’s fine,” called back Shelley.  “Building a
sandcastle last time I saw her.”

“I guess we’d better get back to her, though,” said
Lana, going over to her clothes and picking them up,
ready to put them on.

Sarah joined her.  “Yuch!  They’re a bit wet,” she
complained.

“No need to worry about Maggie,” I assured Lana. 
“Marina’s with them, and she’s brilliant at looking
after younger ones.”

“She may have gone off to look for us,” Lana replied,
starting to drag on her damp panties.

“No, Marina’s not like that,” I assured her.  “I
promise you, she’ll look after Maggie well.”

“Lana, I reckon we should just leave our clothes off
for now,” Sarah suggested.  “They’re too wet and – we
really don’t need them here.”  She giggled, then
added, “Besides, yours aren’t working too well,
anyway!”

“I guess you’re right,” said Lana doubtfully.  “Nobody
else is wearing them.”  Then she straightened up and
asked me, “What about that little boy – Scott?  Will
he – what will he do if we go there without any
clothes?”

“He won’t do anything,” I assured her, hoping that
Scott had also reached the stage of maturity when he
wouldn’t say anything either.  “He might stare a bit
at first, but that’s because he was sure you’d be too
scared to take them off.”

“Oh, that’s silly, we’re not scared,” Sarah tried to
assure me crossly.  “We’re just not used to it.  But I
like it now.  It doesn’t really matter.  But, Lana,
we’d better not tell Mum and Dad.  And we’d better
tell Maggie to keep quiet about it as well.”

“I do hope Dad’s all right,” worried Lana, tears
coming into her eyes again.  Then she suddenly looked
worried.  “What if he’s come back already – and sees
us like this?”

“If he was back already, we’d hear him calling you,” I
assured her.  “You’ll have plenty of time to get
dressed before he sees you.”

“Still, we’d better hurry,” decided Sarah, picking up
her clothes and setting off into the trees.  Lana
hurried after her.  I followed, holding Galina by the
hand, and Shelley, grumbling a bit, came out of the
sea and joined us.

“Why do you two wear such awful clothes?” she asked
charmingly of Lana and Sarah.

They looked at her in surprise.  “They’re not awful!”
exclaimed Sarah indignantly.

“What’s awful about them?” demanded Lana.

“They’re not proper *girls’* clothes!” Shelley
informed them.  “They’re – just weird.  Like untidy
boys’ clothes.  How can you look good in clothes like
that?”

“What do *you* think we should wear, then?” Sarah
challenged crossly.

“Dresses, skirts, blouses, like we do,” pointed out
Shelley.  “In our country girls like to look pretty. 
We certainly don’t want to dress like boys.”

“Shelley, remember people live in different ways in
different countries,” I put in cunningly.  “Girls may
like to be real girls in this country, but in America
so often they want to behave more like boys, so they
dress that way.  They’re not interested so much in
what they look like.”

“That’s not true, so!” shouted Sarah.  “We do care!”

“But not really about clothes,” I replied gently.  “I
think you really wear clothes like these mostly
because your friends do – don’t you!”  I smiled at
them.

“It’s the fashion,” argued Sarah.  “What’s wrong with
the fashion?”

“Nothing, if that’s what you really want,” I answered.
 “I love to see girls looking beautiful, like Shelley
and Galina do in their lovely dresses, but it’s for
you to decide what you wear.”

“We do have beautiful dresses,” put in Lana, who was
taking this discussion more thoughtfully.  “We just
wear them when we go somewhere special, though.  Not
when we’re going out on a yacht because we’ll get them
dirty.”

“That’s all right – it’s just a pity,” I smiled at
her.  “You two would look so beautiful if you dressed
well.”

“I don’t care,” snorted Sarah.  Shelley snorted too,
but I didn’t argue.  I thought I had made my point,
and they looked thoughtful as we made our way back
across the island.

In a few minutes we were back at the beach where we
had first arrived.  On the way I did see, through the
bushes some distance away, a little white bottom
squatting near the ground.  Judging by the tanned
legs, I guessed it was Danielle, finding somewhere
private to defecate.

Back on the beach Marina, as I expected, was watching
over the others very responsibly.  Charlotte had
buried Scott in the sand and was just finishing the
job.  Kimberley and Maggie were building a sandcastle,
Kimberley sitting there with her legs wide open and
her plump vagina looking ready to spill its contents
as usual.  Maggie was squatting with her knees up, the
loose skin at the bottom of her vagina clearly dark
pink and visible next to her heels.

Maggie jumped to her feet, mouth open with
astonishment as she gazed at her sisters.  “You –
you’re naked!” she gasped in surprise.

“Who cares?” snorted Sarah, who had cared very much
until about half an hour earlier.

“Our clothes got wet,” Lana excused herself, spreading
them out on the rocks to dry.  “But Maggie, don’t tell
Mum or Dad, okay?  Then I won’t tell them about you
either.”

Scott came up, also looking astonished as well as very
sandy.  Fortunately he remembered not to stare too
much at the girls.  He sidled up to me with a bemused
grin and whispered, “Roy, you’re a genius!  How did
you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked him, pretending not to understand.

“Get them naked,” he answered, pointing back over his
shoulder at the girls with his thumb.  Fortunately
they were still talking to Maggie and so did not see
the gesture.

“It wasn’t difficult without you there,” I smiled down
at him, as he shook his penis about to get the rest of
the sand off, and out of it.  “Tell you later if
you’re sensible.”

I left Scott pulling back his foreskin to seek and
destroy any grains of sand that might have dared to
invade the privacy of his little pink prepuce.  Maggie
was watching him with an expression of utter
fascination, but he didn’t appear to notice.

“Roy, are you going to try those flares again?” Lana
asked me.

“I’ll try the matches,” I agreed, going over to them. 
I did, but could get no more than a little spark from
them.  The wet matchsticks broke very easily.

I was just giving it up again when I heard some sounds
of dissatisfaction behind me.  Turning round, I could
see Scott shouting angrily at Maggie, who was running
away.  She stopped and turned just as I thought she
was going to disappear into the trees.

“What’s going on?” I asked, while Lana was asking the
same question to Maggie.

“Maggie pulled my piss,” complained Scott crossly,
stretching out his penis as if to show me the damage.

“She did it like this,” explained Charlotte, reaching
out her open hand, palm downwards, about ten
centimetres above Scott’s penis and then closing the
fingers into a fist and pulling her hand away, but
without touching him.  “It wasn’t hard.  I don’t know
why she did it because he didn’t do anything to her.”

“Maggie, how *could* you?” demanded Lana, looking very
shocked.  Maggie just stood there near the trees, her
cute button-hole vagina clear on her little mound,
looking very guilty and unhappy.  She didn’t answer.

“Lana, don’t worry – remember, I’m handling things,” I
smiled at her quietly.  “Let me talk to Maggie about
it.”

“Come a minute, Maggie,” I told her quietly, leading
her kindly over into the trees.  At that moment
Danielle slunk out of the undergrowth, looking a
little embarrassed.  I had forgotten about her.  She
joined the others, who were watching us.  But Marina
as usual handled the situation well.  I couldn’t hear
what she was saying, but she started a conversation of
some sorts that took attention right away from Maggie
and myself.

A few metres into the bushes I stopped and squatted in
front of Maggie, at the same level as she.  “Maggie,
what did you do?” I asked.

She swallowed hard and looked very frightened, with
big staring eyes and red cheeks.  “Maggie, I’m not
cross with you,” I said gently.  “But what did you
do?”

“I – I pulled it,” she whispered.  “His – his thing.”

“Why did you pull it?” I asked her quietly.

“I – I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at the
ground and speaking so quietly I could hardly hear
her.  “He – he was pulling it.”

I could understand what she meant, because Scott has a
habit of idly pulling at or fidgeting with his penis
in relaxed moments.  Maybe he thinks that will make it
grow, especially after my teasing him in the bedroom. 
“So why did *you* pull it, then?” I asked gently.

Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes as she looked hard at
the ground.  “I don’t know,” she whispered in the end.

I thought I could guess.  “Did you just wonder what it
felt like?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, eyes wide in surprise, and slowly
she nodded.  Her face crumpled as she prepared to cry.

“I understand that,” I told her, smiling at her.  “I
know you just did it without thinking.  But do you
think it’s a good thing to touch people in their
private places?  Would you let Scott touch your
vagina?”

I immediately realised that Maggie was not familiar
with that word, but she looked down at herself and
realised what it was.  Then she suddenly brightened up
and said, “Kimberley calls it her pussy.  Or her
twinkle.  Or her cunt.  She says it can be called lots
of things.”  She sounded very proud of her new store
of knowledge.

“Kimberley uses a lot of rude words that I would never
use,” I told her.  Then I got back to the issue.  “But
would you want Scott to touch your vagina?”

Maggie looked serious again.  Slowly she shook her
head.  “I won’t do it again,” she whispered.

“Do you need to say anything to Scott?” I asked.

She nodded.  “Sorry,” she muttered, so I could hardly
hear her.

“I’m sure Scott will forgive you,” I assured her. 
“It’s all right – you know now not to do it again. 
Okay?”  I smiled at her and held out my arms.

In relief as much as anything, she flung herself into
them, her hot little bare body pressed against mine. 
She gave out a wail and sobbed loudly, the tears
flowing on to my shoulder.  I could see the others
looking towards us to see what was happening, but
Marina stopped them from doing more than stare.

Maggie soon got over it.  She quietened down, then
turned her head to look at me, her mouth pulled down. 
I smiled into her eyes and kissed her gently on her
hot wet cheek.  “It’s all right,” I assured her. 
“Just tell Scott.”

I let her go and she walked uncertainly over to where
Scott was standing, looking uncertain himself.  All
the others were now watching, and it was beyond the
power of Marina or anybody else to distract them.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” Maggie whispered to him as he
stood there, unconsciously holding the end of his
penis with his fingers.  Then she stepped forward and
kissed him on the cheek.

Scott looked quite taken aback.  He recovered himself
enough to say awkwardly, “It’s all right, Maggie.”

Kimberley gave a rude snort of laughter, but
fortunately she looked at me, and I was able to shoot
her a warning glance before she added some rude words.

Charlotte burst in with, “What about the matches, Roy?
 Won’t they work?”

“Not yet,” I answered, feeling very much as if they
would never work.  Locally made matches are not very
well made and spending some time in water had probably
finished them off.  “But don’t worry – they’re sure to
find us today or tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” exclaimed Charlotte in dismay, her eyes
filling with tears.

“What about our dad?” wailed Lana, sounding almost
like a plaintive little girl.  “If they don’t find him
soon, he’ll die!”

“No, with his life jacket he’ll be fine for two or
three days,” I assured her, knowing that logically I
was correct but just hoping it would prove to be the
truth.  “But there are so many boats between here and
the shore he’s certain to be picked up soon, if he
hasn’t already.”

It was just after four o’clock now, although it had
seemed like an age since we first landed on the
island.  If it seemed like that to me, it must have
seemed an eternity to the younger ones, who were
beginning to look unhappy.

We carried on playing on the beach or in the sea, but
with less enthusiasm now.  Danielle was beginning to
get weepy, especially as some of the white areas
usually hidden under her costume were beginning to
grow red from the sun.  I used some more of our sun
cream on her, rubbing it in for her, and sat on the
beach, holding her gently.  Her silky black hair
flowed over my shoulder as she leaned her head against
it, seeking comfort.

I looked down at her lovely slim two-tone body and
rubbed her cheek gently.  Looking down, I smiled
warmly as I saw her two little nipples just emerging
from her chest, and could just see her lovely little
vagina slipping down between her legs, with her brown
birthmark just in view.  It had felt just like a tiny,
very slightly raised bump when I had rubbed cream on
it, as she had asked me to.  She had not seemed shy
about it since we landed on the island.

As the sun began to go down, I tried again with the
matches, but still without success.  All the others
were getting weepy now, except for Shelley, Marina and
Scott who were quite confident with me, but the rest
were missing their parents.  Lana and Sarah were
worried about their father, while Charlotte was still
very shocked and worried about the damage to her
father’s boat.

The sun set, but fortunately the moon was almost full
and gave enough light for us to see where we were, and
the stars were brilliant.  It was still scorchingly
hot.  We found some berries to eat and dug for more
water in the sand. The best way to keep cool, I
suggested, was to lie in the shallow water of the sea.
 There is little tide in the Mediterranean, and the
waves were no more than ripples on this little island,
so it was very pleasant to do that. 
We each scooped up some sand, although it was likely
to slide away very easily, on which to rest our heads
and lay down side by side in the water.

I had Galina on one side of me and Scott on the other,
both close enough to be touching me and resting their
heads on my shoulder rather than the slithery sand.  I
could see Scott watching fascinated as his little
penis bobbed about gently in the water as it rippled. 
Well, mine was doing much the same thing.

We talked, and Marina and I told stories to try to
keep everybody interested.  Having had a nap in the
middle of the day, it was a couple of hours before the
younger ones began to feel tired.  We dragged
ourselves out of the water and set to work digging
beds for ourselves on the beach.

“May I sleep next to you, Scott?” I heard Kimberley
ask plaintively.

“No, I’ve got Charlotte,” he answered firmly.  “And –
and Roy.”  Even though he was nowhere near me this
time.  Scott’s interest in Kimberley obviously began
and ended with anatomy.  It was clear from his voice
that he disliked her.

Kimberley sidled up to me.  “Roy,” she whined quietly,
trying to keep anybody else from hearing.  “Please may
I sleep next to you?  I’m missing my mum and dad so
much.”

This time Danielle was settling down on one side of me
but nobody else had yet showed an interest in the
other side, except Scott, who was still talking to
Charlotte a couple of metres away.  I did not really
fancy the idea and did not really believe she was
missing her parents very much, but I thought it might
be a way of building a bridge with Kimberley and
perhaps influencing her for good, so I agreed.  My
good deed for the day.

We all settled down, the others rather belatedly
showing an interest in sleeping next to me, but that
had already been settled.  Everybody seemed to want a
good-night hug and kiss from me, so I obliged all
round.  There was a lot of hugging and kissing among
the others, too, especially between Scott and
Charlotte.

We settled down, with Danielle holding one of my
hands.  I was next to Kimberley, but I deliberately
kept the other hand by my side.  It was no use,
though, as she grabbed it and wrapped it around her
neck, nestling the back of my head against her
shoulder.  I hoped I would not be expected to stay
like that all night, but I was trying to show some
friendliness to the girl, however difficult that was.

“Roy, massage me,” she murmured.  Stifling a groan, I
rubbed her tummy gently.

“All over,” she instructed after a few seconds, taking
my hand and moving it upwards.  I found myself rubbing
her flabby chest, with those bulging wobbly things
that passed, at the moment, for breasts.  The nipples
were very floppy under my fingers and beneath it felt
more like fat than anything else.

“Now down again,” she whispered after a minute, moving
my hand down sharply.  I could feel a depression under
my fingers and some little folds of flesh.  It was, of
course, her vagina.  I could feel the flabby folds
wobbling under my fingers, which felt as if they could
just slide into the large slit in the middle.  “Ooh,
that’s too far,” she giggled, but did not move my
hand.  I pulled a face, which she could not see, of
course, and continued to rub gently, telling myself
that would be as far as I would go.

Suddenly I felt a fistful of fingers slowly wrapping
itself around my penis.  At the same moment there was
a dirty giggle.  I thrust her away angrily.  “What do
you think you’re doing?” I hissed indignantly, trying
not to disturb the others.

“My dad lets me do that to him,” she replied, sounding
hurt.  “He tells me to make it stiff for him.  He says
it feels good.  Then we play sex together.  When his
chop is hard, he opens my twinkle and puts it inside. 
He bounces up and down and we have fun.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.  I knew
there is such a thing as incest between fathers and
daughters, but never expected to come across it.  I
was disgusted.  “And what does your mother think of
all this?” I asked coldly.

Kimberley gave her famous dirty giggle.  “She doesn’t
know,” she said.  “Daddy says it’s our private game. 
We do it on Wednesday nights when my mum is out
playing bridge.  The first time he did it, I didn’t
like it, because it hurt so much and made me bleed. 
But my dad said it would get more fun next time we did
it and he’d buy me a bicycle, so we did it again.  And
he was right, because it’s so much fun now.  You
should hear what funny noises he makes when we play. 
So that’s why I want to play it with you, because I
like you.  Do you know how to play?”

“I am not going to play it with you and it’s not a
game,” I whispered to her angrily.  “So keep your
hands off me and go to sleep.”

“Aw, please, Roy,” she whined, nagging at me and
tugging my arm.

I pushed her off.  “Keep your hands off and go to
sleep, or else I’ll make you move somewhere else,” I
ordered her.

“I’ll go, then.  See if I care,” she snorted, standing
up and stamping her foot.  I glared at her as hard as
I could in the light of the moon, then turned away. 
She stood there for a moment, then I heard her
stamping away to the outskirts of the group, trying to
get as far from me as possible.  I heard mutterings
from some of the other girls whom she was disturbing.

Maggie gave a little murmur and sneaked into the place
Kimberley had vacated, just beating Galina to it.  She
snuggled up closely to me, sprawling over my side and
chest, and promptly went to sleep.  I think I did too,
very quickly.

(To be continued)



SAILING ADVENTURE  (CHAPTER 10)


Things happened quickly the following morning.  All
the parents of those in my original group had of
course raised the alarm when we didn’t return home,
but there had only been time for a search close to
shore that night before night fell, although they did
continue to try.

Thanks to that search they picked up the Americans’
father from the sea at about nine o’clock at night,
not in a very good state but not needing to go to
hospital.  So they had his girls to look for the
following morning as well as us, and were able to come
almost straight to the island as their dad knew more
or less where it was.  They were very relieved to find
us all together.

They arrived almost at first light.  We were just
getting up slowly after a rather disturbed night when
we heard the buzzing of two helicopters in the
distance.  We had just enough time to throw on our
clothes before they arrived, and we were airlifted
out.

The parents were all waiting for us, worried and
bleary-eyed.  Lara, whose new confidence did not
extend beyond the island yet, borrowed my shirt to
cover herself in front of the adults.  They were very
relieved to see us, but very angry to hear what the
yobs had done, especially Charlotte’s dad, who would
be held responsible for the loss of the boat or any
damage to it.  The police got to work, and within an
hour had picked up the three yobs by the harbour, as I
identified them.

Of course they denied they had ever seen us before and
refused to pay the damages the boat hire company was
demanding of Charlotte’s dad.  We were all at the
police station, and I asked the police if I could
speak to the leader of the yobs in private.  They
rather reluctantly agreed, putting us in an empty room
together but ready to rush in if there was any
violence.

I told the yob leader straight away, speaking in his
own language, that Charlotte’s dad was furious and he
was determined to take the matter to court if the yobs
were not prepared to settle outside court.  He just
laughed mockingly.

“We have proof it was you,” I told him, playing my
trump card.  “We have one little girl who would be
absolutely delighted to stand up in court and describe
to the whole world and the newspapers exactly what
your penis looks like.  She will think it is very
funny.”

After that, it was easy.  He did not even seem to
consider the possibility of having plastic surgery on
that part of his anatomy, or of doing a private mutual
exchange of organs with Scott.  He very quickly
persuaded his friends that the game was up, and
Charlotte’s dad was virtually able to dictate terms to
them.  We didn’t have any more problems in that
direction.

Later that day we had another problem, though.  I was
in our flat with Charlotte, Marina, Scott and Shelley
when a large car screeched to a stop outside and
Kimberley’s father hammered on our door.  Kimberley
had told him about our proposed visit to a naturist
beach and about how we were all naked on the island,
as well as a few lies about how I was supposed to have
seduced her.  Being a man of such high moral standing,
he was outraged.  He told me he was going to take me
to court.

I went cold inside at the thought.  But I did have a
trump card to play here as well.  “There is one
problem about a court case, sir,” I told him,
successfully putting on an act to appear bold and
confident in front of the others.  “If we go to court
about this, other things will come out as well. 
Kimberley told me quite a few things that you do with
her at home sometimes.”

“I don’t know what rubbish you’re talking about,” he
blustered at me.  “If you think you can threaten me,
it will be far worse for you.”

I gave him some news he did not want to hear.  “About
Wednesday nights?” I suggested.  “`Oh, good, no babies
in there’?”

I thought he was going to strangle me.  He went purple
in the face and started shouting at me, almost out of
control.  He didn’t even let me speak again, but left
shaking his fist and swearing that I would hear more
of this.

I had a few very tense days, dreading the possibility
of his carrying out his threat, although I was sure he
knew very well that he could not possibly take the
matter any further now.  Sure enough, I never heard
anything more from him.  The others with me all
thought I had handled him wonderfully well, without
knowing the cold fear within me.  They did of course
ask exactly what I meant with those two phrases I had
thrown at the man, but I did not enlighten them.

I also got to know the American family very well. 
Their father was a noisy, friendly, talkative and
impulsive man, but he seemed rather irresponsible to
me, as he had been when he swam off and left his
daughters alone on the island.  He took to me very
enthusiastically, and in a couple of days I got the
impression he wanted to use me to take care of his
daughters while he went off and enjoyed himself in
other ways.  I was very happy to do this, but I did
think his girls deserved more commitment from their
father.

I was sorry that I never managed to persuade the girls
to go to a naturist beach.  I think the American fear
of nudity had been too deeply instilled in them and
they were never willing to go naked in public.  In
fact, the only time I saw them naked again was when
they changed in our flat in preparation for a visit to
an ordinary, textile beach.  They showed embarrassment
at first, in completely different surroundings from
the island, but then rather self-consciously changed
as we did.

We did have some good times together, though, the
first of these being just two days after we returned
from the island.  We went to the amusements together,
and their father dropped them off in the morning.

I was amazed and delighted to see how beautifully they
were dressed, clearly as a result of the conversation
on the beach and their desire to win my approval. 
Lana wore a beautiful light-weight yellow dress, with
quite a narrow skirt a few inches above the knees. 
Sarah wore a white blouse, through which her bra was
clearly visible, and a black skirt, quite short and
tight.  Maggie wore an orange shirt and a knee-length
fawn-coloured skirt held at the waist by elastic.

“Hey, you lot look so gorgeous,” I exclaimed, beaming.
 “I think this is what American girls really should
dress like!”

“We thought you’d like it,” smiled Lana shyly.  My
girls as usual were wearing pretty dresses, with
Charlotte as well.  I saw Danielle and Galina again on
a couple of occasions, but they were not with us this
time.  I did not see Kimberley again, nor did any of
us really want to, even Charlotte.  She told me that
now she had found out what Kimberley was really like,
she did not want her as a friend any longer.  That was
sad, as Kimberley needed good friends, but she had
only herself to blame – and her father.

Perhaps I should have reported her father’s sexual
habits anyway, but I was afraid this might cause more
trouble than I could handle, especially as Kimberley
had apparently been telling lies about me.  Even the
truth could have been a problem, but the other girls
had the sense to keep quiet.

In spite of what people may think, I do not enjoy
girls in pretty dresses just so I might have a better
chance of seeing their panties, although it does help.
 I’m a great admirer of beauty, and I feel strongly
that pretty dresses bring out all the best in a girl’s
shape and gracefulness.  I am quite capable of
admiring a girl in an ankle-length skirt, but don’t
think much of shorts, even if they are revealing. 
Worst of all are the jeans or trousers, which to me
take away all a girl’s femininity.

It was a while before I had the chance to enjoy the
American girls’ underwear this time.  I had of course
seen it before on the island, but not under a skirt. 
As we sat together on the bus I admired the beauty of
their well-shaped bodies under their dresses and
lusted after a sight of their panties, a glimpse of
visual intimacy.

The three of them had all been given a certain amount
of money to spend, and were rather careful how they
spent it.  When we first arrived, Maggie was eager to
go on the trampolines, as were Scott and Charlotte. 
The others decided to wait a while before spending
their money, so we stood and watched them.  Every time
she bounced up and down, Charlotte’s little blue skirt
flew up and down, revealing her delicate white
panties.

“Tuck your skirt in, Charlotte,” Sarah called out, but
she didn’t hear.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” I said casually, as I so
often did.  “People in this country aren’t as fussy as
Americans.  Why make Charlotte feel bad when she’s
obviously not worried about it?”

“Ooh, look at Maggie,” gasped Lana, with her hand to
her mouth.

The elastic at Maggie’s waist was clearly a bit too
loose.  As she bounced up and down, her skirt began to
slide down, revealing her light pink panties
underneath.  After another big bounce, the skirt slid
down to her knees.  Now aware of what was happening,
Maggie tried to pull it up again, but only succeeded
in tripping over the hem, which was now down to her
ankles, and landing on her bottom.

We all had a good laugh, with even Lana and Sarah
unable to help themselves, but we were laughing with
her, so she didn’t take offence and laughed happily
herself.  Pulling in up, she started bouncing again,
only for it to keep sliding down.  Enjoying the fun,
she showed off a little, letting it slide down over
her bottom each time before pulling it back up.

When she had finished, Lana said to her, “You know,
Maggie, it’s not so good that people see your
underwear like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” piped up Scott.  “I don’t mind
people seeing my underpants.”  He pulled up the leg of
his shorts to reveal his light blue pair, to prove his
point.

“That’s one reason why we don’t wear dresses often,”
Sarah told me.  “People can see your underpants
sometimes.”

She was taking a bit of a risk, I thought, with a
short skirt like hers, then.  But I just answered,
“Well, it’s like being naked, as we talked about on
the island.  The freest people are those who don’t let
it bother them.  I don’t let worry spoil my freedom.”

My best chance came on the big dipper, where the eight
of us squeezed together into one carriage.  I sat on
one side with Marina, Shelley and Maggie, while Scott
and Charlotte sat opposite us with Lana and Sarah.

Some girls have the shape of legs and lap that tend to
cover the view up their skirt when they sit, while
some don’t.  I was delighted to see straight away that
Lana doesn’t.  Her skirt was down almost to her knees,
but it let light through very easily, and I found I
could enjoy a view of the gusset of her white panties
as she sat there, with a whole lot more visible for a
brief moment as she moved along the seat to make room
for Sarah.

Sarah’s skirt was shorter, and she had no hope of
concealing her panties unless she crossed her legs or
kept her hands over the opening.  Sitting directly
opposite me, I was disappointed to see her do both at
first.  But we had to hold on to the bar in front of
us once the train got in motion, although she still
kept her legs crossed at first.

As we reached the top and began to shoot downwards,
the pressure building up, though, she soon forgot
about that and leaned forward, screaming with delight,
unfolding her legs but keeping her knees together.  I
could just see a small patch of light orange panties
up her skirt.  Then, as the pressure forced her
forward and we shot downhill at terrifying speed, she
forgot everything else as she screamed with delight. 
Her knees were spread as wide apart as her tight skirt
would allow, revealing a large area of smooth orange
underwear inside her black skirt.  Looking at Lara, I
was similarly thrilled to see her legs open and white
panties visible, stretched tightly across that
precious vagina I had been honoured and privileged to
see on the island.

We were all panting for breath and with exhilaration
when we finished.  “I nearly did a wee in my panties,”
Maggie told us gleefully.

“So did I,” boasted Scott, pulling at his penis
through his usual loose shorts to make his point.  “I
did really,” he giggled, looking down and revealing a
small wet patch on the front of his shorts.

“Better wear a nappy next time,” I smiled.  “Diaper,”
I explained a moment later, seeing the Americans
looking puzzled.

“If my piss was as long as that horrible man on the
boat’s I could tie a knot in it,” Scott smiled
brightly.  He giggled as the thought took hold of his
mind.

Yes, it was a great day and a great adventure.  Parts
of that adventure were not pleasant when they
happened, but they were worth it in the end for what I
think we all got out of it – the love and intimacy of
each other’s company.  I can still remember so clearly
the soft warmth of those girls’ bodies pressed against
my own, the warmth of their love and admiration, and
the feeling of gratification that I had, however
temporarily, wiped away the fear of nakedness from
three lovely American girls.  How sad that they will
not be going back to spread nudity throughout their
country.   But, if I need cheering up, I can always
remember Scott and his wine bottle . . .

The End



	
	
		
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