WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 9) First of all I must apologise most insincerely for misleading my readers at the end of chapter eight. That last paragraph was untrue, so the suspense is over! Mr Fothergay never did discover what we were up to in that cottage, and neither did anyone else. We had a really memorable time that leaves the most pleasant of memories. After that story, I had two other major influences on my life, and there is so much to say about my bad companions Ernst and Saskia, the two others concerned, that I will write about them in separate stories, which I will call `Mr Sausage Man’ and `The Temptress’. There are some less prominent people and events that still stick in my mind, though. About eighteen months after I first met the Fothergays, I made some other new friends. My Aunt Sue had befriended a couple from our naturist club, Geoff and Adie, whom I did not know too well as their children were older teenagers who wanted nothing to do with naturism. They had friends coming to work in our country with the British Embassy. The couples had first met in Geoff’s university days when they had all been naturists together. This new family had had the misfortune to be employed in Saudi Arabia for the previous few years, where I understand that naturism is illegal. In a country where thieves, I gather, can be punished by having their hands cut off, I shudder to think of a similar punishment for naturists. Who can say what parts would be cut off? That meant that, although the parents still enjoyed being naturists and immediately joined our naturist club with Aunt Sue, their children had not been able to grow up as naturists and did not want to go. Their two older children, that is – they had three. Stuart was about a year older than I and Kirsty a few months younger. Their youngest, Justin, was six, a year older than my cousin Shelley, and he was still too young to worry whether he was naked or not. But the parents had to find someone else to look after Stuart and Kirsty when they joined us at the naturist club. I did not meet Stuart and Kirsty then, until one Sunday when Aunt Sue invited Geoff, Adie and the family around to her house while her husband was playing golf. She invited me as well to entertain the children as Shelley was still very young. Stuart was a little taller than I, slim and fair-haired. Kirsty was a little smaller, with shortish fair hair that curled slightly round her face and a very mischievous smile at times. She seemed to take a bit of a liking to me from the start. Their brother Justin was slim and actually very good-looking, with curly fair hair, the colour running in the family. As Kirsty was the only girl, she was allowed to bring a friend with her. This was a pretty little girl called Becky, who had long light brown hair tied in a ponytail down her back. When I first saw Becky I didn’t take to her as she seemed to be sullen and unfriendly, but I later discovered that she was really rather shy and a worrier, which accounted for her frown in strange situations. Their arrival that afternoon actually took me by surprise. I had gone to Aunt Sue’s for lunch and was playing an exciting game in my bedroom with my cousin Shelley, then aged five. We had taken our clothes off, which Shelley always loved, and had forgotten the time. Suddenly I became aware of voices downstairs and Aunt Sue’s voice calling me. “Coming!” I called, scrambling around for my clothes. Shelley slipped her dress and panties on quickly, while I grabbed my shorts and shirt, but couldn’t find my underpants. So I just slipped on my shorts without them and ran downstairs with Shelley. The four visiting children were waiting for us, Stuart and Kirsty looking rather uncomfortable, Becky frowning nervously and Justin grinning happily because he came to the club and therefore was the only one of the four children who knew us. They were smartly dressed, with Kirsty in a short blue and white dress and Becky looking very pretty in a white blouse and a red skirt with checked patterns in black. Kirsty stared at me for a second or two and then gave a shy smile. We were sent out into the swimming pool area to play. The reason for this was that the grown-ups wanted to relax on our veranda in the nude where our visitors wouldn’t see them, especially Becky. Our swimming pool is hedged around completely so both groups would be quite private. Unfortunately we were not allowed to swim unsupervised, which we thought was unfair. If they thought we needed supervising then we felt they might have taken it in turns to do so. As it was, we were sent there to play but not to swim. My parents did promise us that later on in the afternoon we would all swim together – but in swimming costumes, of course. So rather reluctantly I led the others to our swimming pool enclosure after Aunt Sue had repeated her programme for us to us all. We took my bicycle and some toys with us, but we were all rather annoyed by what we felt was adult selfishness and prepared to be bored. Shelley privately blamed Stuart and Kirsty for our banishment to the pool area, for their rejection of nakedness. She had been told very firmly not to bring up the subject with them at all, and she obeyed, but she very pointedly ignored them and paid attention instead to Justin, whom of course she knew from the naturist club. Nobody was really in the mood for games, so we just became very quickly bored and irritable with each other. Then Shelley decided she would ease her boredom by doing handstands, as she often did. “Catch me, Roy,” she asked me, as again I often did. She raised arms, lifted a knee and swung her legs up for me to catch. Of course, as she did this, her skirt obeyed the law of gravity and flopped down, revealing those glorious white panties that I have always admired so much. Kirsty looked at her rather crossly as she swung herself upright again. “For goodness’ sake, Shelley, tuck your skirt in when you do that,” she instructed her. “Why?” asked Shelley innocently. Shelley has always been completely unselfconscious about her panties or her nudity. “Because you show everybody your panties, you silly,” replied Kirsty, sounding as if she had never heard such naivety. “Girls don’t do that when there are boys around.” Shelley stared back at her as if she had never heard such fussiness. “I don’t mind, and *you’re* silly,” she replied eventually. “Girls don’t do that,” Kirsty instructed her. “So you must tuck your skirt in, like this.” So saying, she tucked her skirt into the elastic of her panties and did a handstand just as Shelley had done. With nobody to catch her, she didn’t even get herself vertical, but at least her skirt stayed in place. Shelley shrugged her shoulders and did another handstand for me to catch her, without tucking her dress in at all. Then Justin came up, grinned at me and said, “Me too.” Soon I was holding their legs up in turn, getting a view of Justin’s underpants, white with pictures of trains on. I don’t think Kirsty thought she knew me well enough to ask me to catch her legs, so she asked her brother Stuart to catch her as she decided handstands were a good idea. We spent quite a few minutes doing this before the handstanders became rather too dizzy to continue. Everybody took part except Becky, who stood silently next to Kirsty. Then Stuart said to me, “Roy, you have a try and I’ll catch you.” I could actually do handstands quite well without any help, but in an effort to be friendly I duly swung my legs up for Stuart to catch my ankles. The second time I did it, I heard Stuart chuckle from above me. Then he said, “Hey, Roy, I can see your balls. You’re not wearing any underpants today!” “I couldn’t find them,” I tried to explain from my upside-down position. “Hey, Kirsty, come and look,” Stuart called. “Roy hasn’t got any underpants on.” >From my position I could see Kirsty’s legs walk over until her feet were only centimetres from my nose. I heard her squeal and give a little giggle. “Ooh, Roy,” she giggled again. “Becky, come and look. You can see Roy’s wee.” I couldn’t see Becky properly but could sense her refusal. Justin, however, squeaked out, “Let me see! I want to see.” I could see his legs trotting over and then felt his fingers pulling at the leg of my shorts, no doubt so he could get a better view, although he had seen me naked before at the club often enough. “It’s upside down,” he observed profoundly. “Shelley, come and look.” “Don’t be silly, Justin,” Shelley reproved him. “I know what Roy looks like. You’re being rude.” Kirsty giggled again, and I could sense her staring down my trouser leg. At this stage of my life, under the influence of my friends Saskia and Ernst (told in forthcoming stories), I had become pretty dirty-minded, I’m afraid, and I was quite happy to let them enjoy themselves a bit. Eventually I became rather dizzy and swung my legs down again, my face no doubt red from the rush of blood. I sat on the ground to clear my head while three of the visitors grinned at me. Becky was standing to one side looking quite embarrassed. “I saw your wee,” beamed Justin, quite unnecessarily. “I don’t mind,” I told him. “You’ve see it before at the club, anyway.” “It looks funnier up your shorts, upside down,” Justin informed me. “Justin doesn’t mind either,” Stuart said. “Come on, Juss, show your willy.” Obediently and with a naughty giggle, Justin lowered his shorts, pulled down the top of his patterned underpants and wiggled his little penis at us all. It was a neat, skinny little thing, convex in shape with its little bulge in the middle and the tiny foreskin tapering off the end. His brother and sister giggled. Becky went red and Shelley stared in mild disbelief at such weird attention to an everyday object. “Show us yours again, Roy,” Kirsty urged me, turning to me with a naughty smile. “Are you going to show me yours?” I asked her in reply. I have never objected to anybody seeing my penis under normal circumstances, and at that stage in my life was quite happy to exhibit it in abnormal circumstances, but only if I got something in return. “No!” exclaimed Kirsty indignantly, but with a naughty giggle, and that was the end of that. There was a sudden squeal and shriek from Justin nearby. Decently dressed again, he had been doing a handstand with Stuart catching his legs and Stuart, showing off his strength, had seized his legs and lifted him a few centimetres off the ground. “Do that to me!” squealed Shelley, deserting me and running over to Stuart. He put Justin down and caught Shelley’s legs as she swung them up, her skirt flopping down to her chest as usual. Then he heaved, with a bit of exertion, and managed to lift her off the ground as well. Suddenly Becky gave a big beaming smile and jumped over to Stuart. It was the first time I had seen her smile. Her whole face lit up, her blue eyes sparkled and she looked very pretty. “I bet you can’t do that to me,” she smiled at him. “I’ll try,” he replied, and Becky quickly began tucking her skirt in. “He won’t be able to,” Kirsty whispered to me. “He’s tried to do that to me and he can’t.” Sure enough, Stuart couldn’t quite lift Becky as she stood on her hands, with a sliver of white visible at the tucks of her skirt. By now Justin and Shelley were clamouring for another turn. Kirsty turned to me, looking at me shyly out of the corner of her eyes and asked, “Will you hold my legs?” I agreed, so she swung her legs up and I caught them just under my chin. I held one against each shoulder, and as I looked down I could see the white gusset of her panties in between the tucks at the front of her skirt and the tucks at the back. I could see her swivelling her head around trying to see up the leg of my shorts, but with her head facing outwards it was an impossibility. When I released her, she smiled naughtily and suggested, “Now see if I can catch you this time.” “You just want to see my penis, don’t you?” I challenged her. She looked shocked at my bluntness but didn’t deny it. “I’ve seen Stuart’s wee,” she told me. “It’s bigger than yours. We still have to have our bath together. I don’t like it because he’s rude these days. He makes it stiff and then wees up the wall. He tries to make me kiss it. He calls it his knob. And he says rude things about me.” My imagination ran riot but I decided it would be counter-productive to press for details. I just said, “If you have your bath with him, why don’t you want to be a naturist?” “I just don’t want other people to see me,” she confessed. “They might say rude things too.” Her face was slightly red from embarrassment and she didn’t meet my eye. “Oh, naturists aren’t rude,” I assured her. “I’m a naturist and I don’t say rude things.” Unfortunately this was at that time of my life no longer strictly true, but I resolved not to say anything rude in Kirsty’s presence as that would ruin my chances with her. Kirsty looked wistful but didn’t comment. “I wish we could swim now,” she said after a brief pause, looking at the pool. “Aunt Sue says we can’t because you and Stuart don’t want to swim naked,” I replied, suddenly realising as I said it that I had disobeyed her instructions not to bring up the subject. “And Becky,” Kirsty added. “She won’t swim naked.” At that moment there were loud squeals and giggles erupting from Justin. Looking round, we saw that he was upside down in the handstand position while Stuart had his legs trapped and was tickling him under the crotch. Howling with laughter, Justin kicked and squirmed until Stuart put him down in a heap on the ground. “You tickled my wee,” giggled Justin unnecessarily, sitting on the ground with his legs apart and clutching the named area. Stuart looked around for his next customer, but Shelley and Becky had both backed off, the latter looking shocked. Shelley wouldn’t have minded my tickling her there but apparently felt differently about a stranger taking liberties with her. “I’m letting Roy catch my legs,” Kirsty told them. “He doesn’t do things like that.” She swung her arms down and her legs up, forgetting that her skirt was now half untucked, and it flopped down her front, revealing her plain white panties and her front well past the navel. She immediately kicked to come down again and I let her. Quickly she smoothed down her skirt, looking ruffled. “We saw your panties,” Justin informed her, a fact of which Kirsty was all too well aware. “Don’t be rude, Justin,” I said quickly, keen to prove myself to Kirsty. “That doesn’t matter.” Kirsty smiled up at me out of the corner of her eyes, still a little too shy at times to face me, as she tucked her skirt in. “Again,” she said, swinging her legs up, and this time all I could see was the gusset of her panties as I had done before. “Now me,” burst out Shelley, coming back to me and holding her arms out. I caught her legs and heaved hard, and was pleased that I was just strong enough to lift her off the ground, even if it was only for a second or two. I looked over to Becky, who was standing on the fringe of my group, smiling nervously, perhaps at me. “You want a turn, Becky?” I encouraged her with a smile. She hesitated, then nodded her head and came forward, still smiling and head on one side, with her arms out. “You tucking your skirt in?” I asked, noticing it had partly come untucked. I was already learning to take the longer view of things, putting aside instant pleasure, although sorely tempted, in the hope of long-term gain. Becky tucked in and then swung her legs up, but not very hard, and I had to reach forward quickly to grab them and pull them upright. Again the gusset of her panties was visible in the middle, white with little blue patterns on them. At the same time there were more shrieks from nearby as Stuart was again tickling Justin, his only customer now, between the legs. “Stuart, you shouldn’t tickle him there,” Kirsty reproved him. “Why not? He likes it,” grinned Stuart. “Don’t you, Juss?” “It’s rude,” Kirsty told him coldly. “Isn’t it, Roy?” “Yes,” I agreed dutifully, but knew it wouldn’t stop Stuart at all – quite the reverse, in fact. “But if Justin likes it, I don’t suppose it matters.” Becky was quite lively now, jumping around and turning cartwheels between her handstands, giving quick flashes of white under her tucked skirt as she did so. Shelley tried to copy her, but did not have the co-ordination at that age, falling flat on the soft grass several times. Soon we were feeling pretty hot. There was not too much shade in the swimming pool area in those days, and even in the shade the foliage was quite thin. “Hey, look at Shelley!” suddenly burst out Justin, pointing. “I told you she did a wee like that.” Shelley was standing with her back to us, facing a bush. Her panties were on the ground next to her, her skirt was up around her waist, and we could see her bare bottom and a stream of urine splashing down into the bush. It was a sight I was very used to, and clearly Justin had seen Shelley urinate like that often enough at the naturist club. “Oh, gross, Shelley,” complained Kirsty in disgust. “Not in front of the boys!” “How can she do it standing up?” asked Becky, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Shelley always does it like that,” I explained. “She hates sitting down for a wee.” Shelley glanced over her shoulder as she finished, quite bemused as to what all the fuss was about. She plucked a leaf to dry her vagina, then pulled her panties up again. “That’s how I wee too,” announced Justin proudly. Pulling down his shorts again, he pulled his thin little penis out from his white underpants and began to urinate into Shelley’s bush. Stuart gave a rude laugh, Kirsty objected as usual and Becky turned away in some confusion. “I’m too hot,” complained Shelley as Justin shook his penis dry. “I’m taking my dress off.” She undid her buttons and began to wriggle out of it. “Shelley!” Kirsty objected mildly, but then shrugged her shoulders. I thought for a moment about stopping her, but Aunt Sue had only told us not to go naked. She had not said anything about running round in panties – not to me, anyway. “I’m hot too,” put in Justin, dragging his shirt off. “Keep your shorts on, Justin,” Kirsty told him, but he took no notice. With delight he pulled his shorts down, half-dragging his underpants down with them, and danced around in his white patterned underpants. Joining in, I removed my shirt and was just beginning to remove my shorts when I remembered that this time I had no underpants on. I pulled them up quickly, but not quickly enough to stop Justin from calling out gleefully, “I saw your bum!” This time Kirsty reproved him. I suspected Stuart was responsible for teaching him to make rude comments, as naturists do not usually behave like that, especially when so young. Shelley, wearing only her lovely soft white panties, was now sitting on the side of the pool, trailing her legs in the water. “We’re not allowed to swim yet, Shelley,” I reminded her. “I’m not going to but I want to cool down,” she replied. She dipped her hands in the water and splashed it on to her bare thighs, and then sprinkled it over her chest and back. “I want to do that,” said Justin, sitting down and doing the same. The rest of us followed suit. Stuart took his shirt off but Kirsty and Becky did nothing with their dresses apart from pulling the skirts up a few centimetres to immerse their shins and sprinkle their thighs. It felt so good and cool, but by the poolside we were sitting in the sun. Shelley stood up and went over to the steps along the side of the pool that led into the shallow end. Carefully she went down, step by step, holding her panties at the crotch in case they got wet and looking for all the world as if she were desperate for the toilet. She stopped with the water lapping a centimetre or two below the material. “Me too,” called out Justin, following her a little less cautiously and getting a few light splashes on his underpants. The rest of us joined them, with Kirsty and Becky hitching up their skirts to keep them out of the order. Becky took such care that her panties were just visible beneath the hem of her skirt as she lifted it clear of the water. “I don’t want to get my shorts wet,” announced Stuart, climbing out and slipping off his shorts to reveal light brown underpants. He returned and, being taller, was able to stand on a lower step than the rest of us without getting them wet. It felt good but naughty to have the water lapping so close to our clothes. Kirsty gave a squeal as a careless wave from Justin splashed against her leg, wetting the hem of her dress and causing her to lift it out of the way, showing her panties beneath. She looked at Becky. “Let’s take our dresses off,” she suggested, rather hesitantly. Becky looked a little startled, but then nodded her head. I thought it advisable to ignore them as they moved back up the steps to take off their outer garments and lay them on the grass. Then they came back to join us as we walked along the steps and back, feeling the water lapping against our legs and occasionally transferring the water to our sweaty bodies. As we were different heights, we were on different steps, so there was enough room for us all. I looked at them covertly. Becky had less to show, but she was the more shy of the two. She kept a hand close to the place where her breasts would be if she had any, but she was still quite flat-chested and the nipples were as small and pale as any boy’s. Kirsty seemed quite uninhibited as her tiny nipples were just beginning to rise from the surface of her chest in two little pink points. She did look at me from the corner of her eye, but I was able to look away before we made eye contact. “Look, Roy, did your aunt say we mustn’t get in the pool, or just that we mustn’t swim?” asked Stuart. “Well, just that we mustn’t swim,” I said defensively, wondering if they really did mean we shouldn’t get in the pool either. We had a shallow end less than a metre deep, so it was easy to get fully into the pool without swimming. I suspected she probably did mean we should not get into the pool at all, and felt mildly disturbed, being half-in already and suspecting I knew where Stuart was leading. “So did our parents,” Stuart said. “They just said we mustn’t swim yet. So it will be all right if we get in properly to cool down but don’t swim.” Being slightly nervous of the older boy, I didn’t reply. “I think they really meant we shouldn’t go in at all?” Kirsty said uncertainly, with a query in her voice. “They didn’t say so,” Stuart responded boldly. “I’m going to get in and cool down, but I’ll do what they said and not swim.” He prepared to plunge in. “But Stuart, Mum and Dad still have our swimming costumes,” protested Kirsty. “I’m swimming – I mean, I’m going in wearing my underpants,” grinned Stuart, again preparing to plunge. “Wait! There’ll be big trouble if you get your underpants wet,” Kirsty reminded him urgently. “They’ll think you’ve been swimming properly and you’ll get punished. And so will we.” “They won’t know they’re wet when they’re under my shorts,” argued Stuart, but he sounded uncertain now. “They’ll wet your shorts as well, you know that,” Kirsty told him. “Remember what happened when we visited the Pearsons.” I never found out what had happened at the Pearsons, but it was certainly enough to halt Stuart in his tracks. Justin had a suggestion, though. “I’m going in bare, like we do at the club,” he announced. He splashed out of the water and slipped off his underpants, his thin little penis bobbing into view. “I want to do that,” cried out Shelley, moving up the steps and taking hold of the waist of her panties ready to remove them. But she was looking at me for approval. “We can’t, Shelley,” I told her with disappointment. “Dad said we mustn’t go naked.” “Was that because of us – Kirsty and me?” asked Stuart. “And Becky,” put in Kirsty firmly. “Well, yes,” I answered, again on the defensive. “Because you’re not naturists and you don’t swim naked.” “But if we both swim naked” (“and Becky,” put in Kirsty) “then it doesn’t matter any more, does it?” was Stuart’s logic. I didn’t know what to say. Stuart turned to Kirsty. “Come on, let’s,” he urged her. “It doesn’t matter here. It’s just like having our bath, isn’t it?” Kirsty looked nervous and stammered something incomprehensible for a moment. Then a cunning gleam came into her eye. “I don’t like it when you say rude things about - bodies,” she told him. “I won’t say any rude things,” Stuart assured her. “Not ever and ever again?” Kirsty pressed him. “In the bath as well.” “Okay, okay, I promise, then,” agreed Stuart reluctantly. “So it’s all right, Roy. We’ll all do it.” “And Becky,” put in Justin, perhaps mimicking Kirsty. Stuart looked disconcerted. “Well, Becky, you don’t mind, do you?” he asked awkwardly. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Kirsty. “If she won’t do it, the promise doesn’t count,” he said. Kirsty turned to Becky. “Please, Becky, say it’s all right, okay?” she pleaded. “Stuart’s promised, and Roy says he won’t say anything rude, either. Don’t you, Roy?” “Yes – I mean, no,” I stammered, still feeling guilty about it. “I never say things like that. See, I’m a naturist and we go to a club for naked people every week.” Becky looked most uncomfortable, but she didn’t seem able to resist this subtle pressure. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and then said, “You can if you want to.” “But we can’t if you don’t join in,” Stuart said persuasively. “Roy’s parents won’t let him because of all of us, which is you as well. So if you won’t join us, none of us can do it.” I fancied I saw him trying to see through her clothes as he said it. It was the first time he had considered her opinion at all, and I suspected an ulterior motive. “It doesn’t matter just this once, Becky,” pleaded Kirsty. “You can trust everybody. And Justin, you mustn’t say anything, or we won’t let you swim – I mean, go in the pool - at all. Wait!” She spoke just as he was about to splash into the water naked. “Come on, Becky, join in or else you’ll spoil the fun for everybody. Because you’re my friend.” Gravely but reluctantly Becky nodded. I knew I should have stopped it at that point, with all the possibilities of trouble, especially perhaps if Becky told her parents anything. But he who hesitates is lost, and the thought of seeing these girls naked was too much for me. Had they been naturists at our club, I would have been almost indifferent to their nudity, but they say many a pickpocket is only tempted by those who try hardest to ensure their money is safe. I only felt excited by those who were reluctant to show their nakedness – and I still do. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 10) Becky turned and whispered into Kirsty’s ear. Kirsty turned to us and said, “Becky says she doesn’t want to change in front of the boys.” I wasn’t sure what to do, but Stuart quickly came up with an answer. “Well, look, you girls can change in the shed,” he said, indicating the shed where the pump and other things concerning the pool were kept. “And we’ll change behind those bushes there. Okay? Then when we’re all undressed, I’ll say go and we all run out and jump in the pool together.” “That sounds all right, doesn’t it, Becky?” Kirsty agreed, turning to her friend and willing a positive response. Looking rather pale, Becky nodded almost imperceptibly. I felt annoyed at having to hide to change in this garden where I was so used to nakedness, but decided I would have to make sacrifices to get what I wanted, especially with the risk involved. Shelley too was impatient to remove her panties and get in the pool, but was persuaded by Kirsty to wait, as she shepherded her and Becky into the shed. “We mustn’t get our hair wet or they’ll know we’ve been in – I mean, they’ll think we’ve been swimming,” Kirsty remembered to tell us as we parted. “And remember, Stuart, you promised never again to say anything rude.” We all really knew that what we were doing would be counted as disobedience, but childish rationalisation took control. I followed Stuart behind the bushes, as he insisted on an unwilling Justin joining us as well. “But I’m bare already,” he grumbled. Behind the bushes I joined Stuart and immediately whipped off my shorts. Stuart stood there grinning in his underpants. “Hey, listen,” he said. “We’ll trick the girls, okay? We’ll keep our underpants on and I’ll yell, `Go!’ Well, you can keep your shorts on, Roy. Then we run out in our underpants and they’re all naked. They’ll scream and they’ll be so cross when we trick them. Come on, Roy, Juss, put them on and get ready.” “We can’t do that! They’ll never trust us then,” I protested. “We’ve got to be honest with them, or they probably won’t swim at all. They may tell tales about us.” “They wouldn’t dare. Come on, it’s just a joke,” Stuart insisted. “We’ll take them off afterwards.” I could see the problems too easily and we had quite an argument. In the end we heard Kirsty’s voice calling, “Aren’t you boys ready yet?” “We’d better go before they change their minds,” I said, still naked, as was Justin, waiting until he heard the outcome of the argument. “All right, then,” scowled Stuart, whipping off his underpants to reveal quite a long, thin penis, a sickly white colour, obviously untanned in the sun, and with a small tuft of golden-brown pubic hair at the top. Trustingly I moved with Justin to the end of the line of bushes, keen to show good faith by being first out. “Go!” I heard Stuart yell, and I went charging out, followed by Justin. Shelley burst out from the shed, naked, squealing in delight and racing us to the pool. Behind them I could see the white, hesitant bodies of Kirsty and Becky in the doorway, hands lowered to shield their nether regions. They were emerging, Kirsty giggling non-stop, but slowly. Then suddenly Kirsty gave a scream of rage, pointed behind me, shouted, “Stuart!” and dived straight back into the shed, followed by Becky. I saw two white bottoms disappearing inside, all the whiter because of the contrast with their suntanned backs and legs. It might have been funny in different circumstances. Shelley and I, both disconcerted, skidded to a halt at the edge of the pool, but Justin leapt right in and started splashing, half-swimming, around. Stuart came thundering behind me and past me, heading towards the shed. He was wearing his underpants. “Stuart, you’re cheating!” accused Shelley loudly, less dumbstruck than I. Stuart fortunately didn’t have the courage to go charging right into the shed, but came to a stop outside, laughing loudly. Angry female voices came from inside the shed. Even Becky was cross. “Stuart, you cheated!” I heard her cry in a shocked voice. Stuart soon stopped laughing as he had to realise that his trick had fallen flat. I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen the girls clearly, as I hadn’t, and I had been looking as keenly as he. Moments later Kirsty and Becky emerged from the shed, wearing their panties again. “I should have known I couldn’t trust you,” Kirsty scolded him, very angry. “We’re not swimming with people we can’t trust.” “Ah, come on, it was just a joke. Can’t you take a joke?” Stuart responded. “Let’s do it again and I promise I’ll take them off next time.” “No, we can’t trust you,” said Kirsty coldly, walking past him with Becky. They headed for the rest of their clothes, picked them up and carried them towards the shed, presumably if inexplicably to put them on again in private. “Stupid Stuart,” snorted Shelley, splashing down the steps into the pool. “Come on, Roy, let’s play.” I didn’t know what else to do, feeling bitterly disappointed. I slowly followed Shelley into the pool, hearing behind me the placating tones of Stuart and the uncompromising replies of the girls. It was obvious they considered the matter closed. The girls disappeared inside the shed. “I’ll take them off now!” Stuart called after them, dragging them off. “All right, they’re gone! You can come and see me!” There was no response. Stuart shook his penis towards the shed. “Come and see it!” he called. “Come and see my big – long - beautiful – hairy – knob! My prick! My piss! My chop! The biggest, greatest knob in the West! Tow metres long and crackling with electricity! Ready to poke you at your pleasure – two at a time! Special rates for twin seating!” Buckling his knees and laughing rudely, he waved it obscenely up and down. “Shut up and go away,” came Kirsty’s annoyed voice from inside the shed. “You promised never to be rude again.” “That was only if you swam – came in the pool with us,” Stuart retorted. “We’re not going to now, because you tried to trick us,” Kirsty snapped back. “Well, you just piss off, then!” Stuart shouted angrily. “Bloody little mongrels!” Still muttering about them and cursing, much to the interest of Justin, he stalked over and joined us in the pool. A couple of minutes later the two girls emerged from the shed, now fully dressed again. Stuart took one glance and ignored them, still angry, although they had more right to be angry than he. The girls sat cross-legged under a tree, with Kirsty’s white panties visible under the fold of her skirt, and watched us. It was difficult to stop Justin from swimming, or trying to, but we were having a great time in the cool water. I could only hope the girls were envious enough to change their minds, but I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut when I didn’t know what to say. After a few minutes Kirsty called out, “Stuart!” He didn’t respond, so she called again. “Shut up!” he snapped at them, turning his back on them. Kirsty tried me next. “Roy,” she called. “Please come.” I climbed out of the pool and walked over to them, my penis dripping water. Becky, blushing at the sight, looked down and started fiddling with the hem of her dress. Kirsty I could see was staring at my penis with interest. “Roy,” she smiled, eventually tearing her eyes from my appendage. “We want to swim, but Stuart cheated on us.” “Well, he just meant it as a joke, but it was silly,” I replied. “He’s naked now, so you can swim – I mean, play in the pool.” “He just wants to see our pussies,” Kirsty continued. “No, because – because if he was, he’d be trying to make you swim now,” I tried to explain. “He’s given up. He doesn’t care.” “We can’t trust him,” said Kirsty. “Can we, Becky?” Face down still, Becky shook her head. “If you come, he’ll have to keep his promise about never being rude again,” I reminded her. There was a short pause, during which Kirsty’s eyes were drawn again to my penis. Then she said, “I don’t like Stuart’s piss. It looks ugly. It’s too big. He slides back the skin at the end and – urggh!” She pulled a face. I presume the implication was that mine was much better looking. I didn’t know what else to say, so I just said, “Well, I’m going back in the pool. You can come if you want.” And I departed. I kept an eye on the girls, though, and after a minute or two saw them whispering together. There was quite a long discussion, and then they rose to their feet, unintentionally giving flashes of their panties, as I was always beginning to notice at that stage in my development, and disappeared into the changing rooms. Stuart just saw them go inside, and asked, “What are they up to?” “I think they may be going to swim – I mean, play here as well,” I replied cautiously. “Please, just don’t say anything if they do, or they may not. Don’t – trick them or be rude to them at all. Just ignore it when they’re naked, like I do.” “No, everything I say is wrong with them,” sneered Stuart and we carried on playing. The girls seemed to take an inordinately long time to pluck up enough courage to emerge from the shed. I saw Kirsty’s head and bare shoulders look around the door a couple of times, but I pretended I had not noticed. Stuart probably noticed as well, but also had the sense to ignore them this time. It was a bit like a pantomime. I saw Kirsty, naked, take a few steps out of the shed while looking with a silly grin in our direction all the time, the top half of Becky appeared in the doorway behind her, and then Kirsty scuttled back inside, giggling with embarrassment. But finally they decided they could do it, if not very well. Kirsty came walking stiffly out of the shed, grinning towards us and giggling non-stop, and then looking back over her shoulder for Becky. Becky slipped out of the door and walked behind Kirsty as Kirsty approached the pool, still with an embarrassed grin on her face. I presume Kirsty was mainly worried about me, as Stuart and no doubt Justin had seen her naked before, while Becky had three boys to think about. Kirsty at least tried to hold her arms naturally by her side as she came, but Becky had one hand held defensively over her groin. I pretended not to look as I splashed with Shelley, who naturally took no notice of them at all, while Stuart was playing with Justin and no doubt looking out of the corner of his eye, as I was. Kirsty smiled shyly at me as she reached the steps and began to lower herself into the pool. She kept her hands by her side and I risked a quick glance at her long, narrow vagina, still smooth and quite hairless. Becky, behind her, was looking at her feet and still had one hand protectively covering her groin, while the other gripped her ponytail, slung over her shoulder, tightly. Her face was rather white and she was clearly finding this an ordeal. I was surprised to find that Justin was in fact ignoring them, as I had been afraid he might make one of his tactless comments, especially about Becky. But perhaps his mind worked a bit like mine, and he was only interested when there was something unusual to see, rather than by uninhibited nudity. It was clear that Becky intended to get down into the pool without revealing anything, much to my disappointment. Fortunately Justin was ignoring her. She was halfway down the steps when I suddenly heard Stuart say, “Look out, Becky, there’s a bee on your hair.” Becky gave a squeal of fright and shook her head violently, instinctively putting up both hands into the air. “Where? Where is it?” she cried. “Is it gone?” Kirsty turned round to look and I stared, unable to see the bee. But I did see Becky’s cute little vagina tucked away between her legs, just peeping out from underneath, white and untouched by the sun. “Stuart, where is it? I can’t see it,” burst out Kirsty, eager to help, as Becky flapped and squealed in fright. “It’s okay, it’s gone now,” said Stuart, pointing over Becky’s shoulder. “I saw it fly away.” None of the rest of us had seen it, and I looked at Stuart. Then I thought I could see a little smirk on his lips, and I suddenly realised what he had done. There had been no bee, but by distracting Becky he had tricked her out of her cover. That was a lesson I learned, and was able to put into practice quite a few times with shy girls during the next few years on different pretexts, I regret to say. Becky, still rather shaken and quite unaware that Stuart had tricked her, splashed into the pool, the water coming up to her stomach. I felt rather sorry for her, but didn’t regret Stuart’s trick. “It’s all right now, Becky,” I smiled at her. “Bees don’t come in our pool, so you’re safe now.” “I hate bees,” she said, still looking very anxious, and with her little flat white chest above the water. “Come on, Becky, let’s play,” Kirsty encouraged her. They started splashing each other gently and then chasing each other through the water. Soon I had an idea, a very impulsive one that I soon regretted. I suddenly thought I might be able to revive the handstands, this time in the water. “Watch this, everybody,” I called out, and immediately plunged my body into the water upside down. I could feel the water on half my body and it helped me balance my other half, sticking high out of the water. I stayed there for perhaps five seconds and then swung myself upright again, only to be met with horror rather than enthusiasm. The first thing I heard when I had the water out of my ears was Kirsty’s voice, scolding me. “Roy, you’re so stupid!” she protested, her face full of shock. “Now you’ve wet your hair, and our parents will know we’ve been swimming!” “We haven’t been swimming, we’ve been playing in the pool,” Shelley corrected her, but was ignored. I had completely forgotten to keep my hair dry, and now it was too late. “Oh, no, I forgot,” I apologised to them all. “I didn’t think of that.” “I saw your dingly-dangly all upside down again,” put in Justin with a huge grin, quite unconcerned about my hair. “Now we’re all going to get into trouble because of you,” scolded Kirsty, really giving me a hard time. “Ah, don’t worry about it,” Stuart broke in. “We can just say you – you dropped your earring in the pool and Roy went in to fetch it.” “That’s a good idea!” burst out Justin. “Me too!” So saying, he plunged head-first in the water and tried unsuccessfully to stand on his hands, his balance being wrong and his breath too short. This brought even more wrath from Kirsty. “Justin, how can you be so stupid?” she stormed when he came up again, spluttering water and probably unable to hear her. “We can say that about Roy, but we can’t make the same excuse for you! Now we’re really in trouble.” Looking at Becky, I thought she was on the verge of tears with anxiety. “I’m getting out,” she said, splashing her way to the steps. A stream of drops ran off her little white bottom as she reached the top and headed for her clothes. We stood around looking worried and guilty. Stuart wasn’t too bothered, though. “We’ll think of something,” he said. “We’ll just say Justin decided to go in after Roy and we couldn’t stop him.” “If he gets into trouble, then he’ll tell about the rest of us,” protested Kirsty. “Well, we’ll say something else – say we were playing a game with him and put his head in the pool for fun or something,” replied Stuart, prepared to lie quite shamelessly. “Can you think of anything better?” We were still discussing things when suddenly we were startled by a voice, “Hey, what’s going on here, then?” We looked around in shock to find the other children’s dad standing by the gate with a towel round his waist, looking at the naked bodies of his older two with bemusement. “I thought you weren’t allowed to swim or strip off!” he exclaimed, but we could tell, to our relief, that he wasn’t angry, but rather surprised. “Oh, we weren’t swimming, we were just – just playing in the shallow end because we were hot,” broke in Kirsty, splashing up the steps and dripping her way hurriedly over to her father, hands together as if in prayer. “We thought you wouldn’t be cross about that.” “And going naked was my idea,” Stuart confessed, trying to make up for his past sins. “You didn’t tell Kirsty and me we couldn’t, and the only reason Roy and Shelley weren’t allowed was because of us. So we thought it would be all right.” “You told us not to come and bother you unless it was an emergency, so we – we had to use our sense, like you always tell us to do,” pleaded Kirsty, although I couldn’t make the connection with `using our sense’. “So please, please, please could we?” She looked up at him with her irresistible blue eyes. “We were so very hot here and we didn’t think you’d mind.” Thinking about it later, I decided that their father was more pleased than anything, and relieved that his older children had finally decided to cross the family divide and swim naked. “Well, if you’re so willing to swim in your little pink skins when you’re here, why are you so unwilling to come to the club with us?” he asked, his face breaking into a smile. “Well, here it’s with friends, but over there it’s with strangers,” Stuart tried to explain. Then, perhaps reading his father well, he added, “Maybe we can try coming next time, though. This is really fun.” He was now standing in front of his father, his long white penis with its little patch of pubic hair dangling and dripping on the grass. A broad loving grin began to spread itself over their father’s face. He looked fondly at his wet, naked children. Stuart, taking advantage of this, went on to ask, “And Dad, could we just play by ourselves here for a bit longer, without the grown-ups? We promise to stay at the shallow end so we won’t need watching.” His dad thought for a moment and then said, “Well, I’ll talk to the others and see, but that’s fine by me. We’d like to come down for a swim ourselves in half an hour or so, though. Stay in the shallow end, mind.” Stuart and Kirsty gratefully wrapped their arms around him, wetting him quite a bit, while Justin, not wanting to be left out, went behind him and hugged his legs. “And that means you grown-ups won’t need to wear swimming costumes either,” Kirsty added. Just then her dad remembered something. “Well, I don’t know – what about Becky?” he asked. We all looked over to where Becky was still sitting under a tree, with her dress covering her wet bare body. “And Becky,” piped up Justin, for effect. Becky seemed to think for a moment, and then gave a beaming smile. She stood up, casting aside her dress and this time unashamedly giving us a view of her beautiful smooth little body. “It’s all right,” she smiled. “I don’t mind.” As their dad left, we all plunged into the pool with whoops of glee, the threat of trouble behind us. “We can get our hair wet now,” I reminded the others. “Roy, do a handstand, do a handstand!” Justin encouraged me. “I want to see your wee hanging down again.” “Justin, don’t be so rude,” Kirsty scolded him, but I sensed she had an interest in the project as well. For my part I was quite prepared to show off my assets, and I obliged him with another handstand, coming up to find him clapping his hands with glee. The others were now beginning to do handstands in the pool as well, finding it easier when buoyed up by the water. “Me too!” squealed Justin. “Roy, hold my legs.” But there was too much water there, and he found it easier to put his hands on one of the lower steps, where it was shallow enough for him to have his legs out of the water. I held them as he stood on his hands there, although only for a second, getting an overhead view of his little pink scrotum and his thin little penis sticking straight out horizontally. “Did my wee hang down like yours?” he asked as soon as he came up and was ready to speak, moving up a couple of steps so he could examine his penis and wave it up and down. “A bit,” I compromised, to keep him happy. “You didn’t tickle me,” he complained. “Under water?” I asked. “If I did it to you under water, you’d drown!” Shelley was immediately clamouring for similar attention. I held her legs for a couple of seconds on either side of my head and gazed lovingly at her little rounded vagina, still podgy and rounded with infancy, later to flatten under her mound and lengthen into the beautiful sight I know so well today. Kirsty wanted a turn, and she was tall enough to do it on the floor of the pool. She seemed quite unconcerned about my seeing her nakedness now, and must have been down there for about ten seconds before kicking her legs to come up again. She had a long, slim, tight vagina with the sliver of white clitoris just showing at the top, and it all looked to be one long line from the top right underneath to her bottom. Stuart was also advertising his availability for holding legs, but only Justin was interested now. After a few minutes Becky decided to overcome her shyness and come to me for a handstand. I caught her legs as they went over, and held them on either side of my head. She had a little rounded vagina, shorter but wider than Kirsty’s. My fingers itched to fondle the little pink area of loose skin right between her legs, but I knew I would never get the chance. Suddenly there was a splashing and a spluttering and shrieking next to us. Stuart, it seemed, had decided to tickle Justin between the legs, resulting in Justin exploding under water and swallowing a lot of it. He returned to the surface kicking and screaming, and shouting incomprehensibly at Stuart, spluttering water all over the place as he did so. “I thought you wanted me to tickle you,” chuckled Stuart, not a bit sympathetic. “You wanted Roy to tickle you.” Justin’s reply was again incomprehensible, but after that he left Stuart and joined my group. I couldn’t help feeling childishly proud that they all now preferred Stuart to me. After a while, with the grown-ups staying away, we clambered out of the pool for a break and rested in the partial shade of the still small trees. I lay on my back, arms behind my head and my penis flopping limply upwards towards my stomach. Shelley lay next to me, her vagina exposed on her prominent mound. The others were a little more reticent, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward so their private parts were at least half-hidden – the older three, at least. Had we had towels, some of us might have been lying on our stomachs to hide ourselves better. Justin came and sprawled on top of me. I could feel his penis trailing against my side. “Tickle me,” he instructed me. Obediently I dug my fingers into his ribs and he giggled, but said, “No, not there. You know the place.” “What place?” I asked, unable to believe that he was actually wanting me to attack his genitals. “Tickle my willy,” he insisted. “And my goolies. It feels good.” “All right,” I agreed, surprised. He was lying on his front, his chest against mine, so I reached down and pushed my hand between his legs as the only way to reach it. He giggled as I tickled the loose skin between his legs. I suppose I shouldn’t find it surprising that boys and girls are so alike there. The only difference is that girls have that deep valley running down the middle of it, while boys have testes hanging down. Reaching upwards, I could feel Justin’s little testicles wobbling beneath my fingers and he continued to giggle as I juggled with them. Then my hand just reached far enough to grasp his little penis between my fingers. It was cold and limp, so I massaged it. Giggling helplessly, he rolled over on his side and I had to pull my hand out and start again. Entering fully into the spirit of the occasion, I put both my arms around him. My right hand tickled him under the testicles while my left hand jiggled around with his penis. Stuart and Kirsty, watching, were both laughing, and I suddenly felt Justin’s little penis begin to stiffen under my fingers. Suddenly he gave a squeal and I felt my hands sprayed with a warm liquid. Justin sprang to his feet, clutching his penis, which was still spurting urine. “Ooh!” he squealed, still giggling. I shook my wet hands in disgust, finding my left side wet as well. Stuart and Kirsty were now helpless with laughter. “I’ve wee’d all over me!” giggled Justin, displaying his urine-covered genitals to his bother and sister. “Boy, that was good!” “All over me, too,” I complained. I went to the pool and scooped up some water to wash myself clean, and Justin did the same. “That felt so good, Roy,” he grinned as we returned to our places, his siblings still laughing. “You made my wee all stiff. Do it again! I haven’t any more wee left so I can’t wee on you again.” As so often, the same simple word could be used to cover multiple meanings. “That’s enough for right now,” I replied, not trusting him. “Do it to me, Roy,” Shelley pleaded, snuggling up next to me on the grass and lying on her back. “I promise I won’t wee on you.” “All right,” I grinned, putting my arms lovingly around her and massaging her vagina with my fingers. I had actually done this sort of thing with her before. I tickled her gently on her vagina, feeling the soft warm flesh springy beneath my fingers, yet firmer underneath. She giggled quietly and opened her legs, so I could put my fingers between her legs and tickle her gently on that loose skin. When we had finished I saw Kirsty looking at me rather enviously with sparkling eyes, obviously wanting a turn but too shy to ask. Instead she said with a shy smile, “Roy, someday someone will do that to you.” “Maybe, but it won’t be you,” I replied. “Who says?” she grinned, moving up closer to me to sit within touching distance. “I do,” I grinned, whereupon she reached out a hand timidly, put it under my penis and began tickling. I have never found that area particularly ticklish, but I did what I was sure she wanted. I laughed and grabbed hold of her round the shoulders, pulling her against my chest. I ran my left hand over her tiny breasts, feeling the still soft skin around her little nipples and the firmer flesh underneath. My right hand reached down to her pubic area, gently massaging her long vagina, harder and firmer than Shelley’s, and feeling the loose skin under her legs. “Becky, help me!” laughed Kirsty, obviously enjoying it and feeling my penis harden. To my surprise Becky needed little encouragement and, giggling quietly, she knelt down next to me and began to tickle me under the arms, keeping well away from my penis. I moved a hand to her stomach and she didn’t object, so I ran my fingers over her chest, hardly able to feel her tiny nipples. Then I slipped it downwards and, when she giggled gently but didn’t protest, between her legs. She squealed with pleasure as I gently rubbed her vagina, feeling the rounded flesh as soft as putty as it wobbled beneath my fingers. “I’ll save you, Roy,” came Stuart’s voice as he decided to gate-crash the party. He grabbed hold of Becky, pulling her off me as she squealed in protest. I saw his hand reach down towards her vagina, and in desperation she pushed it away as hard as she could. “Don’t! If you touch me there I’ll tell!” she screamed in real panic. Kirsty leapt off me and ran to rescue her friend, pushing Stuart as hard as she could. “Keep out – nobody invited you!” she yelled at him. Stuart, again realising his error too late, backed away. “It’s only fun,” he protested strongly. “Look, you can tickle my knob if you like.” “I wouldn’t want to touch it!” stormed Kirsty. “I don’t even want to see the smelly thing. If I get a knife I’ll cut it off. Just leave us, Stuart. Nobody wants you.” Their argument, conducted at a high rate of decibels, lasted a minute or two, with Stuart mainly on the defensive. Then it was over, as their dad appeared at the gate to see what was going on. His children had shouted so loudly that the adults had heard them up at the house. He didn’t ask any questions but he quietened things down and then told us that the grown-ups would be joining us in a few minutes. Sadly, that was the end of the intimacy, but I had enjoyed more in a few minutes than many a boy has in his whole childhood – pre-puberty, that is. I actually came out of that afternoon rather well. Aunt Sue was rather suspicious of the part she suspected I played in our dip in the shallow end and our nudity, but there was no denying that the acceptance of nudity by Stuart and Kirsty ended a problem and led to a stronger friendship between our families. Over the next few years I was to enjoy many happy hours at the naturist club with Stuart, who behaved more sensibly once he had got used to nudity as a lifestyle, and Kirsty. Sadly I never had any more intimacy with Becky, although I saw her often enough at school and she stayed in the country long enough to wear a bra, which I could only view through the back of her white, slightly transparent school blouse. But I will always remember with warmth her beauty, her smile and that warm secret area that for an uncharacteristic moment she allowed me to fondle. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 11) As I mentioned before, the two greatest childhood influences I had were Saskia and Ernst. Saskia was my girlfriend for two years and Ernst was my best friend for nearly as long. Between them they introduced me to the sexual side of nudity, and there is so much to include about my life with both of them that I have decided to write about them in two separate stories, to appear in the near future: `The Temptress’, about Saskia, and `Mr Sausage Man’, about Ernst. After been influenced by those two, I might easily have grown up a pervert. However, Ernst’s time in this country ended in a great deal of trouble as he made a sexual attack on a girl (you can read all about it later) and the shock of it all brought me to my senses. I resolved that I would never do anything to a girl against her will, and that my role in life should be the traditional romantic male one of the strong, chivalrous, gentle protector of the fair sex. I had grand visions of myself in this role, and this romantic ideal has never really left me. The trouble was that I still had my sexual desires. The naked female body of any age at our naturist club has never really stimulated me, but it has rather become a normal part of everyday life. Outside, however, and especially at our strict, semi-Victorian English school, it was taboo, and that naturally drew me to desire it. I wanted life there to resemble life at the naturist club, and when I saw a pretty girl whose nudity, or even whose underwear, was denied me, I wanted to see it. I wanted the intimacy. The problem now, after Ernst and Saskia, was to find that intimacy without abusing the girl in any way. In other words, my sixth-grade mind told me, I had to make the girl want it too and willingly volunteer it. And to do that I had to persuade her not only to like me but also to trust me. Basically, it’s still my philosophy today. That is a skill that has to be developed. With Ernst and Saskia, I had tended to attract the wrong kind of girls, those with an embryonic prostitute mentality who were prepared to show off their bodies in a lewd or promiscuous way. They are not to be confused with those who sometimes do deliberately reveal their panties or vaginas to boys as an act of love and trust, as many girls will do. There is a big difference. After the life-shattering horror of that final incident involving Ernst, I realised that I didn’t respect this sort of girl and she didn’t respect me either. Unfortunately the type of girl I liked, and still like, unless she is a naturist, is unwilling to give me that intimacy until she has developed a strong liking for me and knows I can be trusted not to do or say anything that will hurt her. This is where the skill comes in. I knew, as I went into my final year at junior school, that if I wanted the right kind of girls in my life, I would have to learn the art of seduction. I would have to lead the girl to my way of thinking without her being aware of it and, even more difficult, without her feeling guilty about it at the time or afterwards. Despite my secret life with Ernst and Saskia, I was well thought of at the school as, outwardly at least, I always spoke and behaved in a sensible, responsible way and showed some leadership qualities – although I admit I followed Ernst and Saskia all too readily. So I was made a prefect, and might well have been head boy had there not been one or two lurking suspicions, completely unproven, about what I had really got up to with those two. This gave me added weight in my experiments, as I might call them, to develop the skill of seduction. My sixth-grade mind decided on one simple plan. I would invite girls I fancied to my house during the long lunch hour and the heat of the day, when my family were all out, and trick them into swimming naked with me. That was my ultimate aim at that stage of my life, and I had to work out a way to persuade the girls concerned to co-operate. I had some failures at first. I think I was too eager and put too much pressure on them to come for lunch at my house. I had some outright refusals, one or two simply because it was against the school rules and they would get into trouble if caught. So I had to learn how to persuade them to take that risk. Then I had four who did come to my house at different times. One brought her swimming costume with her and insisted on wearing it. A second quietly refused to swim without a swimming costume, even when I went in naked myself and she had to watch me while feeling hot and sweaty. Another similarly refused, and was so uptight about nudity that she began to get upset when I stripped off myself. The fourth readily agreed to swim naked, but was very silly about it and quickly put me off her. I considered that a failure as well. After a month of the first term of my sixth-grade year, I had still had no success and had run out of girls in my own class that I fancied. I began to look around at girls in other classes. In our English-speaking expatriate society, there is always a rapid turnover of families as so many parents come on work contracts lasting usually between one and three years, and then leave, as had been the case with Ernst and Saskia. So every term there were quite a few new girls for me to look at. One morning during school hours I was running an errand for a teacher when I saw a new girl standing alone at the end of a classroom block, looking completely lost. I had seen her before and had been interested enough to discover that her name was Kerry, but hadn’t yet plucked up the courage to approach her in a friendly fashion. Now, however, I saw my chance to make a business contact. Kerry was in the other of the two sixth-grade classes from myself. She was actually quite mature-looking, with long light-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, blue eyes and cute freckles round her nose. It was the way she carried herself somehow that made her look older than her years, although I soon saw that emotionally she was very vulnerable. That to me meant immediate attraction. I walked over to her, and she regarded me with some alarm. As a prefect I always wanted to present a strong image, and looking back I can see that I sometimes had almost a bullying approach. But that was part of my plan, and once I had got a bit of fear out of my victim, I reverted to kindness in an effort to show them what a great guy I was. “Roy is such a tough guy, but he was so kind to me,” I fondly imagined them saying. And the one characteristic of a girl that I have always found most attractive is vulnerability. It brings out my most chivalrous side, and I want very much to look after her, protect her, shower her with kindness – and enjoy intimacy with her in the nude. “What are you doing here out of class?” I asked her sternly, without a smile. “I’m sorry, Roy, I – I just got lost,” she stammered, and burst into tears. She obviously knew my name but was in some fear of me. “I don’t know where to go,” she sobbed. I waited and said nothing, wondering whether I could plunge straight in with my kind side. I decided to wait until she spoke again. “I’m supposed to be going to sewing with my class and it’s in a new place,” she gulped as the tears ran down her face and she mopped them with a tiny handkerchief. “I had to go to the toilet. I asked another girl to wait for me, but when I came out she had gone. And I don’t know what to do.” “Don’t cry, for a start. There’s one thing you should do,” I told her, still without a smile. She stopped mopping for a moment and stared at me. “What?” she asked, quite perplexed. “You should ask me for help, Kerry,” I told her, smiling at last and enjoying my benevolence. “I can show you where to go.” She stared at me in surprise. “How – how do you know my name?” she asked me. “I know all the prettiest girls,” I smiled at her, laying it on a bit quicker and thicker than I would nowadays. Fortunately Kerry was still very naïve and childlike, so she took me at complete face value and blushed. “I was going to talk to you sometime and now I’ve got a good chance. I want to be friends with you.” I was later to learn that this is far too fast for most girls over the age of about eight or nine, and many of them will back off if I come at them as quickly as this. But this delightful naïve trusting Kerry had not yet learned the hard, sad facts of life and was willing to trust anybody who was kind to her. “Oh, Roy, I’d love to be your friend,” she replied, blushing charmingly, twisting her hands together and smiling at me as two more tears, this time of happiness or relief, ran down her cheeks. “I’ve been here four weeks and I still haven’t been able to find a proper friend. Thank you.” “I’d do anything to help you,” I boasted, taking her hand and squeezing it as we appeared to be in private. She squeezed back before I reluctantly released her. “Come with me.” “I’ll be in trouble for being late,” she said as she followed me, tears welling up again. Emotionally she still seemed to be at about seven-year-old level, but in other ways she was as mature, if not more so, than any other sixth-grader. “No, you won’t,” I reassured her, laying it on thick again. “I’ll look after you. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Mrs Hangover you just got lost.” Kerry giggled. “Ooh, Roy, it’s Mrs Handover, that’s her name,” she laughed. “Not Mrs Hangover!” The girls’ sewing classes were usually held in her home classroom while the boys did craft in my home classroom. But if for any reason either classroom was unable to be used for this purpose, for example if there was a display of some sort, the children would go instead to a prefabricated classroom standing by itself in a far corner of the school. This was where the sewing girls had gone on this particular day, and I had a couple of minutes to talk to Kerry before we arrived there. Kerry’s home was in Norfolk, in the east of England, and she had two younger brothers. She lived on a farm and had attended a tiny village school that sounded so perfect that she had obviously been protected from all the vices of city life – in fact, before her father had signed a three-year contract to teach agriculture at the university here she had hardly seen a city at all. It was all so overwhelming to her that she felt she couldn’t cope and had withdrawn instead of trying to get to know her classmates. She started crying again as she told me about it all, and we had to stop behind a hedge while she composed herself enough to enter the classroom. “I feel so lonely,” she whispered as the tears flowed. “Kerry, I’ll look after you,” I promised her. Impulsively, I wrapped my arms round her and hugged her. Then I gave her a kiss on the cheek. A split second later I remembered that this could get me into trouble. I was still learning that this was a most unwise thing to do to girls older than about six without being sure it was wanted. I stood in trepidation for another second, but in this case it turned out to be exactly the right thing to do. Suddenly Kerry’s face broke into a beaming smile. She didn’t hug or kiss me in return that time, but she just beamed with delight. Filled with relief, I decided I had better get her into the classroom as quickly as possible, which I did, explaining to the teacher as I had promised. I turned to smile at her on my way out, but she had turned all shy again and was looking down at her desk. Incidentally, in my enthusiasm to play the great romantic hero, I failed to recognise that kisses have to be used with care, and for a while I tended to kiss not wisely but too well and too soon. Before the end of term I was to appear before the headmaster after being reported for kissing a girl who did not want to be kissed. Fortunately I managed to talk my way out of it by expressing remorse, explaining that I came from an effusive family and just forgot myself on the spur of the moment when comforting a girl who had hurt her ankle, and I was just doing it as a joke to cheer her up and make her laugh. For the next couple of days I found Kerry taking me at my word as far as being a friend was concerned, and coming to chat to me, which she did very quietly and intimately, whenever she saw me. Then suddenly she stopped, and seemed embarrassed to see me. When I managed to see her privately and asked her what was wrong, she told me that some of the girls in her class had been teasing her with claims that I was her boyfriend. I sighed at the stupidity of it all, in my vanity assigning it entirely to jealousy on their part. “Just tell them that I’m a family friend,” I urged her. “So your dad has asked me to look after you at school.” She immediately looked very shocked. “But, Roy – it isn’t true – is it?” she blurted out. “I can’t say that if – if . . .” If I had been more mature then, I would have made it true. I would have found a way to meet Kerry’s family and introduce them to my family so we could have built our friendship more openly. But I hadn’t yet reached the stage of working out this method, so I had to change my approach. After the failures of my previous attempts with girls, I had been reluctant to ask Kerry to come home with me at lunchtime. Now, I thought, might be the time. “Well, I’ve an idea,” I told her. “If we can’t act as friends to each other at school, we’ll have to go somewhere outside. So at our lunch break today, just go out of the school gates and down to that corner.” I pointed. “We’ll meet there and we can go and have our lunch at my house, just by ourselves. All right?” Kerry looked shocked. “But – we’re not allowed!” she exclaimed. “The headmaster said especially at the start of term that we must stay in the school grounds at lunchtime unless our parents are collecting us, or we’ll be in very serious trouble.” In vain did I try to convince her that she could come with me because I was a prefect, or that if there was any trouble I would take all the blame. She was just too afraid of breaking the school rules to agree. So for the next week or so the only times we could meet were at a secret rendezvous where none of Kerry’s nasty little classmates could see us – hopefully. In fact we did manage to meet each time without detection, but it was only occasionally. I could tell Kerry was most unhappy about it, and she sometimes cried. I think of all the girls I have ever met, she was the most open and honest and vulnerable, along with my present girlfriend Marina, familiar to readers of my previous stories. I grew to love Kerry very quickly, and I longed for intimacy with her. I had to give up hope of her coming to my house during lunchtime, though, and I was sure with her fear of doing wrong – or what she thought to be wrong – she would never want to swim naked anyway. The following Tuesday I made another friend, though, who took my mind off Kerry a bit. Strangely enough, she was in the same class as Kerry. Next to each block of classrooms there are within an alcove two deep washbasins, which the children often used to wash out equipment after art or science or any other messy lessons, and also to wash their hands after being on the playing field. Again I was on an errand for a teacher – I got one most days, being one of the fastest workers, if careless at times – when I heard the smash of breaking glass and a squeal of dismay coming from the washbasins. I looked inside the alcove, to find a small girl crouching on the floor trying to sweep up the glass of a broken jar on to a piece of paper. Her knees were up and beneath her blue school skirt I could see her soft white panties. With the long school dresses, which must by decree be at least knee-length, it is a rare treat to get a proper view of a girl’s panties, especially an older girl. I knew her name was Dominique. She was a new girl, of whom I had been well aware at the start of term, but I hadn’t noticed her around recently. I hadn’t spoken to her before, so I put on my gruff voice and stern face as she looked guiltily up at me. “What’s this?” I asked severely. “I’m sorry, Roy, it was an accident,” she whispered. “I was washing the other jar and I accidentally knocked this one with my elbow. Please, I’m trying to sweep it up.” “It’s not very sensible to try and do it with your hands,” I told her. “Get a brush and a dustpan and use that.” She rose to her feet, face red, cutting off my view of her panties. “Where do I get them?” she asked. “I’m sorry, I’m new here and I’ve just come out of hospital and I don’t know where things are.” She looked ready to cry. She was a very small girl for her age, and I had been surprised to find that she was in sixth grade. She had blonde hair down to her shoulders and big blue eyes. She looked quite timid and vulnerable most of the time but, as I was to discover, she had a lovely little crooked smile and appeared very mischievous, almost like a naughty pixie, when she used it. I took a step forward and bent my head down to talk gently to her, but she misunderstood my intentions and stepped backwards in a hurry. She kicked another jar as she did so, and it went over with a clatter, but fortunately didn’t break. It did have the effect of frightening her more, though. “Dominique, don’t worry. I’ll help you when you need it,” I smiled at her. After my success with Kerry, I was tempted to kiss her, but fortunately was wise enough to decide it was much too early. She looked startled. “How do you know my name?” she asked. I repeated the lines I had used with Kerry. “I know all the prettiest girls. I was going to talk to you sometime and now I’ve got a good chance. I want to be friends with you.” She looked rather embarrassed, and did not trust me immediately as Kerry did. But at least she accepted what I said. After a few negative reactions later on from girls who thought me an insincere flatterer, I learned to tone them down or wait longer before using them, but at least Dominique was prepared to accept them. “Thank you,” she muttered, looking a bit stunned, and quickly changed the subject. “Where are the brushes and the dustpans?” I showed her a nearby cupboard and placed myself so I could see her panties again as she swept up the broken glass. As she did so, I said to her, “I didn’t know you had been in hospital? What was wrong?” “I had my appendix out,” she told me. “Hey, I had mine out last year,” I told her, able to establish an immediate bond of interest. “How is yours coming along? Have you still got the bandage on?” “Yes, but it’s coming off this afternoon,” she answered, looking up and giving me a cute half-smile. “The doctor says I can play sports again then, as long as I’m careful.” This sounded like good progress, and I congratulated her as we talked, sharing our experiences. She was always a little shy, but since I became a prefect I often found children were more shy of me than usual. There were some pretty harsh prefects at the school, and the sight of that prefect badge tended to make children quite wary. Dominique threw the broken glass into the dustbin and then put the brush and dustpan away as we talked. She had come from Preston in the north of England and spoke with a rather mild Lancashire accent. I wondered if I should invite her round to my house, since Kerry wouldn’t come, but decided to wait for next time. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 12) During the next week I saw Dominique occasionally, but not to talk to any more than simply saying hello. I began to wish I had taken my opportunity, as I rarely saw Kerry to speak to and I was rather taken with little Dominique. Then, by good fortune, the following Tuesday I was given another errand at about the same time as before. Even though it was in a different direction, I decided to take a cut past the washbasins just in case Dominique was busy there again, as presumably they had art lessons at the same time each Tuesday. She wasn’t, but I was so eager to see her again that I made the return journey the other way. To my disappointment she still wasn’t there. I wandered into the alcove to wash my hands, although they didn’t need it, visualising as I did so the little girl on the floor with her bottom hanging down between her legs. I was just turning to depart when I heard footsteps, and Dominique walked in carrying two dirty jars. “Roy, what – I didn’t know you’d be here!” she said in surprise. “I was waiting for you,” I grinned as she put the jars into the basin to wash. “I saw you playing tennis yesterday afternoon. So you’ve got your bandage off, then? What does it look like underneath?” “Oh, there’s quite a big scar but it’s all closed up now,” said Dominique. My heart jumped as she lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled the waist of her panties down a few centimetres to show me. I caught a quick glimpse of a reddish-purple scar and a depression nearby that was her groin, and then suddenly she let go and pulled her skirt down sharply over it. “Ooh, I forgot – you’re a boy,” she mumbled, with an embarrassed giggle, her face bright red. “That’s all right,” I told her. “I don’t mind you seeing my scar.” It was a bit more difficult for me to unfasten the top buttons of my old-fashioned school shorts to pull them down enough, along with my underpants, to show her the dull purple scar that I still had. Dominique shot me a quick glance and gave her mischievous grin. “We mustn’t let a teacher see us, or she’ll think we’re being rude,” she giggled. I laughed. “Dominique, you’re good fun,” I told her, deciding to take the plunge. “But I don’t get much chance to talk to you at school. Come home and have lunch with me during lunchtime today. I’d like that.” Dominique’s face registered a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. “It – we’re not allowed, though,” she said. “We’ll get into trouble.” “No, we won’t,” I assured her falsely. “I’m a prefect, and you’re all right if you come with me. You’ll have my permission.” “Well, can Esther come too, then?” she asked. “I said I’d have lunch with her today.” I knew Esther, a pleasant but very plain girl who had a reputation as a bit of a chatterbox. I was afraid that Esther would not be able to keep a secret, so I said, “Well, really I’d like it just to be you and I, and nobody else. Could you have lunch with her another day?” She thought and then asked, “May I come on Thursday? Then we’ll have a longer time.” That Thursday would be a unique day in the English school’s history. Friday was a half-term holiday. On the Thursday school would officially close at one o’clock, afternoon activities being cancelled, but there would be a famous gymnastics troupe visiting at three o’clock. Attendance was optional, but almost all of us wanted to see them. This type of event in itself was not unusual. What was unique was that for the first time the prim and proper English school was holding a `plain clothes day’. It was not without its minor drawback, as it was in fact a fund-raising day to help pay for the new tennis courts and we all had to pay a hefty fine for the privilege of wearing civilian clothes instead of our school uniforms. Or else we could wear our uniforms, pay nothing and feel most embarrassed. It was an easy choice to make. “You can wear whatever you like on Thursday,” our teacher told us. “But remember your money to pay your fines.” I immediately thought that if Shelley and I were to wear what we liked – our bare skins - there would never be another plain clothes day at that school! It so happened that there has never been another since, anyway. The school forgot that certain clothes might seem `unsuitable’, and it was so prim and proper that, according to my mother as she told me a year or two later, the miniskirts that many of the girls had worn had so outraged some of the teachers that they decided never to hold such a day again! Anyway, Dominique was referring to the extended lunchtime break, and it certainly did mean that there would be so many children going to and fro through the school gates at one o’clock that we would be almost certain to get out without any questions asked. So we made it a date. My mind was now mainly on Dominique, with few thoughts for Kerry. But, on the Thursday during the morning break, Kerry walked past me on the playing fields, heading for the classrooms. It being the famous `plain clothes day’, she was wearing a summer dress with a floral pattern, mostly in dark blue and pink. She said, “I’m going to wash my hands,” a signal we had arranged so we could talk. I nodded my head as if I was giving permission, waited a minute, and then ambled after her in the direction of the classrooms. I found her in the nearest alcove where, being the honest girl she was, she was washing her hands. She smiled sweetly at me. “Roy,” she asked. “You remember you invited me to have lunch at your house sometime?” I nodded, as she finished washing her hands and reached for the towel. It wasn’t there. She looked nonplussed, and then said with a smile, “I’ll have to wipe them on my dress today. It’ll soon dry.” So saying, she lifted the hem of her dress to dry her hands, revealing a small area of slightly baggy white panties, edged with lace, underneath. Again I was amazed at her delightful lack of inhibition and naivety. “Would it be all right for me to come today, please?” she asked rather nervously, dropping her skirt again. “I asked my teacher this morning if I could go to a friend’s house at lunchtime instead of staying at school and she said yes.” I was sure Kerry was being quite honest in her assessment of the situation, but I knew very well that her teacher had meant, even if she didn’t say so, with the permission of her parents, and no doubt had assumed it to be a female friend. But this lovely naïve girl hadn’t appreciated that and thought she was being given permission to go, alone she thought, to the empty house of a boy. The headmaster would have a fit if he found out, I thought. I hesitated a moment, and then decided I would risk taking two. With her fear of trouble, Kerry would not want to swim naked, I was sure, but I hoped that if I could gently lead Dominique to do so, Kerry might just join in. But it was the only chance I had with Kerry, and apart from anything else I wanted her company. So I agreed, but told her Dominique would be coming. Kerry seemed rather disappointed that she would not have me to herself but she did say, “I think Dominique’s quite nice,” so that was half of my visitors reasonably happy. I then had to tell Dominique, who was wearing a yellow dress with a broad skirt. I told her a half-truth, telling her that I had invited Kerry a long time before, and this was the only day she could come, and that I hadn’t thought of Kerry when I agreed that Dominique should come on Thursday. Dominique also seemed quite happy and didn’t query why Esther shouldn’t have been allowed to come on Tuesday. I outlined a plan to both of them. They should both leave the school by the main gate, among the crowd, and make their way to the corner of the road round the back of the school, where nobody else from the school was likely to see them. My excuse for this to Kerry was that then nobody from her class would see her going with me and tease her about it. Then, when I had finished my duties, I would join them and lead them to my house. It all went smoothly. About twenty minutes after the lunchtime bell rang, the three of us were walking down the side streets to my house. Although it was now really autumn, the weather was still hot and we had over a kilometre to walk – I usually cycled but had left my bicycle in the shed at school so as to walk with them. The girls were looking hot and tired by the time we reached my house. I opened the gate with my key to let us in, and then locked it behind us. There was our security guard outside, but he would stay there and we would be completely private. I began to work out my cunning plan, my heart thumping and my loins warming in anticipation. “Let’s eat our lunch in the swimming pool area,” I suggested, as we had all brought our packed lunches. “It’s nice and shady there.” My dad had grown trees to provide shade and a bar and covered veranda at the top end. “Swimming pool?” echoed Dominique, as I had hoped. “Aw, I wish we could swim. I feel so hot.” “Well, that’s all right, we can swim,” I told her cheerfully, leading the way round to the back of the house. “But we didn’t bring our swimming costumes,” protested Dominique, as I had expected. “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” I replied. “In our family we just swim without swimming costumes, so it’s quite all right.” I sneakily and untruthfully included my parents in this. “You mean you swim *naked*?” exclaimed Dominique, as if she couldn’t believe her ears. My conversations with the other girls I had enticed to my house had gone just the same way. “I’m not going to swim naked!” With previous girls I had then argued with them, trying to persuade them that there was nothing wrong with swimming naked, that it was great fun and so on. It hadn’t worked. So this time I decided to wait and see if the heat and the lure of the pool would change their minds for me. So I just said, “Well, I’m sorry about that,” and left it at that. I noticed Kerry had not contributed to this conversation and was looking most uncomfortable. I presumed again it was her conscience troubling her about the supposed `wrong’ of nude swimming. “Come over to the bar and we’ll get something to drink out of the fridge,” I suggested, leading the way towards the covered veranda with the bar at the back. I led them behind the counter and opened the fridge. “What would you like?” I asked. “A lemonade, please,” asked Dominique. Kerry didn’t answer. I noticed she was looking at the photos we had on the shelf beside the bar. I had made a couple of additions early that morning to the usual display, without my parents’ knowledge. Dominique went over to see what Kerry was staring at. Then she exclaimed, “Roy! These photos – they’re rude!” “No, they’re not!” I exclaimed, perhaps a little too indignantly, because she immediately looked cowed. More gently I tried to explain, “Rude photos are when people are acting rude. These ones are just natural.” “That’s you, Roy!” exclaimed Kerry, pointing in surprise at one of the photos. “Yes, that’s a family photo,” I explained. “Well, nearly. That’s my Aunt Sue at the back, and that’s my sister Jenny and my cousin Shelley.” Dominique was staring with her mouth open at another photo. “That one’s of my cousin Shelley and me,” I told her. “Shelley’s in first grade.” It showed the two of us just emerging from the pool with our arms round each other, soaking wet and dripping water. My penis, with the testicles hanging down behind, came out very clearly. Dominique gaped at me again. “Don’t you *mind* us seeing your – seeing you – naked?” she asked in astonishment. “Why should I mind?” I smiled at her. “I know I can trust you. We’re friends, and good friends don’t have anything to hide from each other.” There was a strong hint there, of course, that she might in turn have nothing to hide from me. It wasn’t very subtle, and as I matured I learned to tone it down more for greater success. But it didn’t seem to meet with a negative reaction from these two. Dominique stared at the photos again, with a degree of horrified fascination, while Kerry was choosing her drink. Then I suggested we sit under the trees to eat our lunch. I took a tray for each of us from the bar and went to the thickest trees, which now gave excellent shade. There were some little benches in a circle there where Jenny and her friends used to play, but no table. I sat down on one and took off my shoes and socks, as did the girls. Then I spread my legs wide and put the tray down between my feet before opening my lunch on to the tray. The others did the same, and it was an added pleasure for me to see their panties as they spread their legs. Dominique’s were a pale orange colour on this occasion, while Kerry’s were a delicate white. With the excitement and anticipation, I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat much and only had a token meal. We talked about insignificant things while we ate, and all the time, less than five metres away, was the cool, blue, sparkling water of the pool, with a constant light splashing in the background from a little waterfall in one corner. Even had I been alone, I would have been dying for a swim and I don’t know how any of the girls I had enticed to my house could resist the temptation. When we had finished, I waited, having learned not to make any further suggestions myself. I could see Kerry looking sideways at Dominique but Dominique did not bring up the subject in the half-minute that was all I could wait for. With maturity, I learned that it was often better to keep waiting. Impatiently I decided that, even though I wasn’t going to suggest anything, there was nothing wrong with a hint. So I stood up and said, “My feet are still boiling. I’m just going to soak them in the pool.” So saying, I walked over, sat down with my back to them and dangled my legs over the side into the water. It felt wonderful. As I anticipated, they joined me almost immediately. Kerry sat down next to me and put her feet in the water, and Dominique sat on the other side of her to do the same. I splashed water idly with my feet and then sprinkled it over my face, all strong visual hints. I was wondering whether I should go further and take off my shirt and sprinkle my chest when things finally began to move. “Roy,” said Kerry hesitantly. “Do you think we might – swim, please?” “Yeah, sure,” I agreed, showing my pleasure too quickly. “I’m longing for a swim.” I immediately started unbuttoning my shirt, another action I later learned was sometimes better delayed. “I don’t want to swim naked,” said Dominique, sounding more nervous than defiant. Again, with previous girls I had tried to reason with her, but I had learned that did not work. My new plan was again to wait and let events take their course, and see if their course was the one I longed for. So I answered, “That’s all right, if you’re too scared.” Experience also taught me that this was often too confrontational. “I’m not scared – I just don’t want to,” replied Dominique. Kerry was looking very uncomfortable, but I couldn’t read her thoughts like I might have done with more maturity and experience. I had my shirt off now and paused, wondering what would be the best thing to do now. I shouldn’t have started undressing, I realised. But now I had started, should I stop or carry on? I decided to compromise, and reached down to sprinkle some cold water on my bare back and chest. Kerry helped me out. “Dominique, would you rather swim in your panties?” she asked her. I noticed that she used `you’ rather than `we’. Dominique hesitated, and then decided the lure of the pool was greater than the prospect of embarrassment. Then she asked, “Roy, could we – swim in our panties, do you think?” This was a suggestion I had anticipated. With previous girls I had said bluntly and untruthfully that my parents did not allow that in our pool, but bitter experience had taught me to use a gentler approach. “Well, could you take them off afterwards?” I asked her, sounding thoughtful. “Or you’d have to go home with them wet.” “No, I – I can’t go back to school without any panties on,” she answered, looking alarmed at the thought. “Well, the trouble is my parents made a rule that nobody can swim in their underwear unless they take it off afterwards,” I lied. “You see, people can get bad skin diseases from wearing wet panties. My dad did it once when he was a boy, and his skin turned all red like a nappy rash. It was very itchy and he had to go to the doctor and have cream rubbed in every day. So they won’t allow anybody else to do it.” These lies had the desired effect, but I learned later that not all girls were as naïve as these two. Dominique dropped the subject and stared thoughtfully into the pool. I decided it would be best to wait for the next step. Dominique’s next suggestion was, “Roy, do you have any other swimming costumes or shorts we could borrow, please?” She looked at me pleadingly, and I began to feel ashamed for treating them like this. “Well, the swimming costumes aren’t clean,” I answered, trying to feel my way round a problem I hadn’t anticipated. “The shorts would be fine, but they don’t have tops for girls.” “We could borrow some of your shirts,” suggested Dominique, to which I replied uncomfortably, “They’re all in the wash today.” I was very much afraid I was reaching the point of losing credibility. “We can just use your shorts, then,” put in Kerry. “It doesn’t matter if there are no tops.” I hesitated. I didn’t feel I dared risk another objection. “All right then, I’ll – get some shorts for you,” I said, rising unwillingly to my feet. “And you must wear your swimming costume,” added Dominique. On the way to the house, my mind was in turmoil. What else could I have said? I couldn’t very well make the shorts unavailable now, after I had mistakenly suggested it would be all right to wear them. I thought, too late, I could have said that I didn’t have my house key with me and couldn’t get inside. I almost went back to make that excuse, but then I risked losing my credibility altogether. I would have to go ahead with it, and hope for the best. I quickly ran to my drawer and took out my two pairs of jogging shorts, the smallest and loosest I could find. My heart throbbing with a mixture of anticipation and guilt, I pulled out the drawstrings. How to get them back in afterwards would be a problem that could wait. I knew from experience that they would hold up all right under normal circumstances, but if I started to run in them without tying the drawstring they would start to slip down. Maybe the same thing would happen with swimming. I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered that Dominique had told me to wear my swimming costume as well. I suddenly had what I considered to be a brainwave. I still had, from my association with Ernst, what we referred to as my exploding swimming costume. Beaming with naughtiness, I dug it out of my bottom drawer. I went back to the pool with them. As I reached the gate I heard voices. Dominique was saying, “No, Kerry, put it on. Roy will see you when you change.” “I don’t mind,” came Kerry’s voice. “It’s not polite,” I heard Dominique reply. “You can change under your dress. I’ll show you.” Could it be that after all Kerry was not averse to nude swimming, or was it just that she didn’t mind me seeing her changing? Eager to find out what she had to put on, I walked briskly through the gate. I saw Kerry’s bare back, with the waistline of her panties just visible at the bottom, as she was slipping back into her dress, which she had obviously pulled down. I pretended not to notice as I handed the girls the jogging shorts. “Is that all right now?” I asked. “Yes, that’s fine, thank you,” answered Kerry. Dominique’s face showed she was not at all happy with hers, but with Kerry answering in the affirmative she murmured some form of assent. “Right, let’s swim, then,” I said enthusiastically, pulling down my elastic shorts and my white underpants and putting on my exploding swimming costume with the care that was necessary to prevent it from exploding too soon. “This is my oldest swimming costume,” I told them, using it as an excuse to glance at them. Dominique was staring at my penis with a mixture of curiosity and distaste, while Kerry was taking no notice, waiting for Dominique to show her how to change. I then realised that I had done things too quickly, and I could not risk their suspicion by remaining with them while they changed unless I had an excuse. So I said, “Oh, I forgot to bring towels. Never mind, there are two in the bar.” I ran quickly over to the bar, resisting the temptation to look over my shoulder, grabbed them and then walked slowly back with them. Kerry had her back to me, and Dominique was hiding from my view, I suspected, behind Kerry. They were changing by means of pulling down their panties under their dresses and then putting on the shorts by the same method. Kerry was quite uninhibited about it, flapping her skirt up carelessly so I had a glimpse of her rather fleshy white bottom as she did so. “Here they are,” I announced, arriving at exactly the right moment as the girls slipped their dresses off and stood clad only in my jogging shorts. Dominique, looking shy, held her dress protectively over what looked like a pretty flat chest. Kerry, a glance told me, was developing and quite unconcerned about it. She was so naïve and vulnerable that I had never thought of her developing breasts at all, so I was taken by surprise and automatically whipped my eyes away from her when I could well have let them linger a moment longer without being noticed. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 13) I dropped the towels on the chairs and said, “Race you into the pool.” Then came my party trick. I hurtled towards the pool and took a long dive in. As my body hit the water, I felt the swimming costume explode and come flying off, exactly as I had planned. I surfaced at the far side of the pool, and as soon as the water was out of my ears I heard the sound of almost hysterical female laughter. I turned round, to see the remains of my swimming costume, split all the way from top to bottom, floating on the water and the two girls standing by the side of the pool, helpless with laughter. Grinning, I swam back and gathered my swimming costume. It would take five minutes’ work to put it together ready for the next time I wanted to use it – if I ever did. With Ernst we had used it to shock others and show off, and I had determined to put that way of life behind me. However, it had served its purpose on this occasion. Then I swam over to the girls, deliberately holding on to the side of the pool immediately below them. Then I looked up at them and at the loose jogging shorts they were wearing. Inside Kerry’s shorts I could see a large patch of white flesh. She was not fat but was well padded below the belt, as I had already seen with her bottom. Down the middle of this flesh was a deep crevice, with soft-looking rounded edges, hairless and beautiful. She was quite oblivious to my gaze, as she was still laughing with a hand stuffed in her mouth and her blue eyes crinkled up in hilarity. Her upper body looked rather like that of a muscular boy, with a rounded chest but the nipples were still small. I ran my eyes down her body, and suddenly felt my penis, under water, grow beautifully warm and almost electric, swell, pump and explode. Something was pumping out of it into the water and I couldn’t help it. I had been so overcome as to urinate in the water before, as I mentioned in a previous chapter, but this was different. My penis was actually pumping up and down, and I could feel it spurt, stop and spurt again several times over. It was the first time it had ever happened to me. Glancing down, I saw something cloudy floating in the water next to my penis. I was so relieved it was invisible to the two girls at that moment. It was such a thrill to see Kerry’s lovely vagina, but that to me was only half of it with her. I was just as eager to have her willingly trust me enough to let me see it, without the need for secrecy on my part. And there was Dominique. I looked at her, but she was almost bent double with laughter and the shorts were sticking out at the back but pressed against her legs at the front. “Oh, Roy, I’m so sorry, but it just looked so funny,” Kerry blurted out, almost crying with laughter still. I dumped the swimming costume on the side of the pool, knowing it was unlikely they would look at it too closely. No girl had done so before. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’m going to have to swim naked after all,” I grinned at them. My unruly member was now shrinking back to respectability in the cool water. “It’s all right,” whispered Kerry, trying not to laugh again. Dominique was still laughing so much she couldn’t yet speak. Part of it, I know now, was obviously the sort of transferred embarrassment at seeing something happen to somebody else that one dreads happening to oneself. I could still see very clearly up the leg of Kerry’s shorts and I feasted my eyes on her hidden beauty. Dominique sat down on the side of the pool. Briefly her shorts went up at the front and I saw white skin inside, but nothing more. “I hope these shorts don’t do that,” she said, suddenly sober as the fear struck her. “Roy, I – I didn’t want to laugh but I couldn’t help it.” “That’s all right, I know,” I told her. “Boys don’t seem to worry as much as girls about that sort of thing. It doesn’t bother me. And I promise I’d never laugh at you if anything like that happened to you.” “I don’t like these shorts,” Dominique said, looking worried. “They don’t have a string in them and they might come off.” I suddenly wondered if my trick might backfire on me by worrying the girls out of swimming at the possibility of it happening to them. “Well, just get in the water carefully, Dominique,” suggested Kerry. “Roy dived, and that’s when . . .” She broke into helpless giggles again, and suddenly clutched herself between the legs. “I’m sorry, Roy, I . . .” She spluttered again for a few seconds. “I think I need to go to the toilet before I get in the pool.” That was a bit annoying, I thought, as I began to pull myself out of the pool. “Well, I’ll have to get the key and let you into the house, then,” I said. “No, it’s all right,” Kerry said, just as my bottom emerged from the water. “I can just go behind the bushes – it’ll be all right.” As Dominique murmured, “Kerry!” in a typical female expression of mild reproof, she turned and trotted over to some nearby bushes. I could just see the top of her head and shoulders behind them for a moment, and then they disappeared as she squatted. Still with my bottom half out of the water but my genitals still below the overhang at the side of the pool, I turned my attention to Dominique, who was obviously still worried about the jogging shorts she was wearing. I could see her flat little chest, smooth and soft-looking, with its tiny pink nipples. Puberty hadn’t touched her yet. “Look, I’ll turn my back while you get in and try it,” I offered. “All right,” she agreed rather reluctantly. I stared ahead, my eyes trying in vain to penetrate the bushes, while she slipped into the water. I heard a few splashes and ripples as she tried a couple of strokes. “Is it all right?” I asked as the splashing stopped. “It – it stays on but the water goes right in at the front when I swim,” she said. I wondered whether to hint she might take it off, but thought I had better play safe. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything better,” I said, still staring into the bushes but ready to avert my eyes when Kerry emerged. “But at least you can keep cool now.” Perhaps she might lose some of her inhibitions later. Suddenly Kerry came out from the bushes and I averted my eyes to avoid being suspected of watching, only to refocus them immediately without intending to. She was naked, carrying the shorts in one hand! I felt my penis expressing its pleasure and half-slipped into the water again before it spurted again. With my back to Dominique I quickly seized the end of it to stop the emission, not knowing what might happen. Kerry seemed quite unconcerned about my seeing her body, and I drank my fill of that burgeoning bosom and that long deep vagina between those soft rounded lips. “Roy, I really don’t want to swim in these shorts,” she said to me apologetically. “If you’re swimming naked – may I as well?” “Kerry!” came from Dominique behind me at such an outrageously shocking and immoral suggestion. “You can’t!” “Yes, sure,” I agreed, smiling at Kerry. She dropped the shorts on the grass, walked to the pool and jumped in with a splash and a squeal at the sudden cold. “Kerry, how can you swim naked with a – a boy?” asked Dominique in a hushed whisper that I was not meant to hear, quite amazed. Kerry looked abashed and upset, as she so easily did. “But it doesn’t matter with your family and friends,” she protested, her eyes moistening. “Kerry, you must have done this on your farm in England, I think,” I broke in to help her. She looked at me and smiled, with her expanding chest just above the water level. “Yes, we often did,” she answered. “Just our family – and sometimes friends, if we knew them well. I think you must do it a lot, Roy, because – you’re brown all over from the sun.” She paused. “I – I thought I knew you well enough and nobody would mind.” “That’s what I think,” I agreed. “Dominique’s just . . .” I was wondering whether to say scared or shy or fussy or something slightly derogatory like that, but wisely stopped myself just in time. “Well, I don’t think Dominique’s used to it, that’s all,” I finally said. Encouraged by my words, Kerry turned to Dominique and said, “Come on, Dominique, just try it, it’s such fun and you see we can trust Roy.” Looking for support, she reverted to me, “Shouldn’t she, Roy?” My mind buzzed quickly and I splashed some water on my face to give me time to assess what would be the right answer. Should I pressure Dominique or – thinking back, I remembered immediately that pressure had always proved counter-productive. So I said, hoping I was not throwing away my chances, “Well, I think Dominique has to make up her own mind.” Seeing Dominique still looking at me with a rather strained expression, I added, “If you don’t want to, Dominique, that’s all right.” “No,” replied Dominique, shaking her head, and I was afraid I had made the wrong choice. My next plan, I decided, would be to increase the pressure on Dominique to strip off without her being aware of it. If I led the way in activities that Dominique dared not join in because of the shorts she was wearing . . . “Come on, let’s race across the pool,” I suggested, going to one end. Kerry happily swam after me and we waited for Dominique as she splashed her way towards us, trying to swim with one hand and hold on to her shorts with the other. After a few ungainly metres, she said, “I don’t want to race,” and moved with relief to the side of the pool. So I raced with Kerry, holding back at first as I didn’t want to embarrass her, and then finding she was so quick she beat me across the pool. “Wow, you’re quick!” I exclaimed. “Let’s try again!” This time I pulled out all the stops and just beat her. Laughing, I pulled myself out and stood on the side of the pool. I held out a hand to Kerry and she came out after me, the two of us happily naked and Dominique looking rather left out still in the pool. “You must come on the slide,” I suggested, and we did. I turned on the little tap so a trickle of water was running down the slide, and we took turns to slide and land with a great splash in the pool. “Come on, Dominique!” Kerry encouraged her. “I don’t want to,” replied Dominique wistfully, doing nothing more than cool herself at the side of the pool. After a few turns Kerry said to me, “Let’s go down together this time.” As I sat on the slide, she sat down behind me and wrapped her arms round my waist. I could feel her cool, soft, wet body pressed against my back, with the bulkier part of her, the chest, against my shoulders. She spread out her legs and wrapped them around mine, and I took off immediately before she saw what my penis was doing. We landed with a great splash in the water, laughing and falling on top of each other. As we surfaced, I wrapped my arms round Kerry and she fell into them willingly, still laughing. I turned to Dominique as we clambered out of the pool for a repeat performance. “You all right?” I asked her gently. She nodded, but obviously felt very left out. Kerry and I did it again, with great hilarity, and then Dominique had had enough. She pulled herself out of the pool carefully and walked nervously over to the slide. “Are you coming, Dominique?” asked Kerry in welcome. Dominique nodded again. I stayed in the pool, aware of what might happen. As Dominique climbed to the top of the slide and sat down, with her wet shorts annoyingly clinging to her thighs, I called out, “Do you want me to catch you?” “No,” she answered. “No, thanks.” So saying, she slid. Just as she reached the bottom I ducked my head under the water, to see her body plunge in with a cloud of bubbles. Just as I had hoped, I saw the shorts slip down and in a flurry of arms and legs she scrambled to pull them up again. I caught a glimpse of a soft white bottom but could make out no further details. I came up again quickly so that she wouldn’t guess I had been spying underwater and then scrambled down to the far end of the pool, afraid my penis might explode again. Dominique slipped me a glance, no doubt hoping I hadn’t been aware of her slipping shorts, and I smiled and said, “That was good, wasn’t it?” I was learning in awkward situations involving nakedness to cover up by saying something diverting, as opposed to something stupid as children often do. Dominique nodded and scrambled out of the pool. Feeling that my penis was now in order again, I did the same, but just as I did so a crisis occurred – for Dominique, at least. No doubt relieved that I had not been aware of her slipping shorts, she forgot the next danger, and as she pulled herself rather quickly from the pool her shorts slipped again and revealed most of her little white bottom. Her face was bright red as she frantically pulled them up again and then shot me a look of horror. Fortunately I was almost exactly on time with another diverting comment, and said, “I’m going to jump off the diving board.” “Can you do a bomb?” asked Kerry, now very gay and animated. “Watch me,” I grinned, mounting the board. I cupped my hand round my genitals and explained, “I have to do this because it hurts my testicles when I do a bomb.” I duly `bombed’, to applause all round. As I went for another jump, I saw Dominique give the waist of her shorts a little tug, no doubt because they were sticking to her. I had a split-second glimpse of a little vagina inside as the material pulled upwards, and my heart and penis almost felt like exploding at the same time. “Just going to the toilet quickly,” I called out and dashed off to the bushes, hoping my backside would hide the sight of a stiff penis bobbing up and down. I just made it behind the bushes in time, where I was fascinated to watch my throbbing penis sending several spurts of sticky white stuff on to the leaves. It was a completely new phenomenon to me that day. Of course I had heard about it before, but that was all in the abstract, and I found it a thrilling experience to participate for the first time. By the way, however excited I felt for the rest of the afternoon, my penis did not get properly stiff again. I worked it out that, having removed all the fluid I contained at that time, my still rather small organ felt it had performed its task and could now retire from active duty for the rest of the day. In my immaturity I found for the next couple of years my penis would get overexcited at times, but if I was able to anticipate these times and `jack off’, as they call it, beforehand, it wouldn’t happen. Nowadays, with greater maturity, I just feel a warm benevolence when enjoying the nudity of a girl I find attractive and it takes something special to affect my penis unduly. With a sense of wonderment I wiped some of the white stuff from the end of my penis and then returned to the pool. As I approached, Kerry called out to me happily, “Roy, Dominique’s taken her shorts off now.” My eyes quickly took in a pair of shorts dumped by the side of the pool and the girl in question standing half-hidden in the water with a red face and an anxious expression on her face as she looked at me. “Good,” I acknowledged. “Now we can all play.” It took a while for Dominique to be drawn out of the water and she wouldn’t join us on the slide or the diving board for a while. I used both quite a lot, deliberately going under water, and the first few times I did so she would half-turn away and keep a hand protectively over her groin. After a few turns, though, she didn’t bother any longer, and I could vaguely see a tiny slit through the water. Suddenly I remembered the time. My waterproof watch told me we had forty minutes left to get back to school, about twenty of which would be needed for walking. “I’m going to dry off a bit,” I announced. I climbed out of the pool and went over to the towels. I spread one out on the ground and sat down on it, my back against a tree trunk and my legs spread apart. My penis drooped limply between my legs, enjoying a well-earned rest, while my testicles clung tightly to my body after being in the cold water. Kerry took the other towel and sat cross-legged on it, facing me. The full glory of her vagina was exposed to my view. It stretched I don’t know how many centimetres from her groin down to the loose skin between her legs. The lips were smooth and so delightfully rounded, but a few long hairs hung down between her legs, two with drips of water still on them. At the top of her vagina I could see a thin strip of whiteness inside. It looked so beautifully soft and smooth, but I realised I could never violate such a tender, gentle girl by touching them. Above I could feast my eyes on those gently rounded bulges just beginning to grow into breasts. Dominique joined us, with a smaller vagina tucked between her legs. She was small for her age and still had what I thought of as a little girl’s vagina, a `button-hole’ vagina that looks slightly rounded and open at the top. She looked around to find the towels had all gone. I was just lifting my bottom to offer her my towel when she suddenly flashed me a daring, crooked smile that seemed to say, “I like you and I’m going to do something a bit naughty that I hope will please you.” She took a step so that she was astride my legs and then sat down in the middle, planting her bottom on the ground between my shins, facing me and then putting her legs, one by one, outside mine, feet pressing against my bare sides. I was so glad my penis had retired for the day, as if it had not shot all its ammunition into the bushes earlier it would surely have done so here in full view of the girls. As it was, I thought I could feel it lift its head for a moment to view the scenery and then flop back limply, utterly exhausted. My face must have been quite red, too, as I faced Dominique beaming into my eyes, and did not dare look down at her spread vagina. As it was, Kerry unwittingly came to my aid. “Dominique, you have a leaf stuck to your bottom,” she pointed out. Dominique immediately looked down and round behind her, guided by Kerry, and I could feast my eyes greedily on the gates of paradise. Dominique’s little vagina was open, and I could see one or two layers of dark pink flash inside, moist and glistening in the bright sunlight. My penis may have been out for the count, but my stomach wasn’t, and I almost retched and vomited up my lunch. My heart was overactive, too, and I had an almost overwhelming desire to sweep this delightful, suddenly trusting little innocent girl into my arms and squeeze her against me. I almost did. She turned round, having removed the leaf, and looked at me again with her slightly flushed face and innocent inquiring eyes that seemed to say, “Have I pleased you?” I beamed with delight at her and reached my arms out for her neck. She leaned forward, snuggled up to me, closed her eyes and put her head against my shoulder. I kissed her gently on the temple. Our bodies moved closer together and I could feel her side pressing against mine, and my penis brushed her somewhere down below where I couldn’t see, fortunately without waking from its stupor. A shadow crossed my line of vision, and I could see Kerry’s face close by, looking imploringly at me as if to say, “What about me?” I reached out an arm for her, and in a moment the three of us were a rolling, laughing heap of love on the ground. Kerry and Dominique have both long since left the country now, but my heart still warms as I remember them – Kerry so trusting, so soft and gentle, so utterly vulnerable, and Dominique, also vulnerable, a girl who learned to trust me so much in the space of one short hour. This was by no means the only visit they paid to my house, but my mind is still flooded by the memories of that first, most precious time, and especially their smooth, soft, wet bodies pressed against mine as we cuddled and kissed under the trees. For some, sex is the ultimate experience, but at junior school age a naked body is the most a girl – a decent girl - has to offer and to trust a boy with. To break beyond that and violate such a girl would to me be the ultimate betrayal. Nothing for me can beat the almost ethereal beauty of those moments with two precious, vulnerable girls who loved me and trusted me with all they had. I also see that afternoon as a turning point in my life – or rather, the latter half of a turning point. When I broke from Ernst I resolved never again to indulge in squalid sexual talk or behaviour, and instead to satisfy my desires and the desires of my partner by seducing her gently along the path she is best able to tread until it culminates in the love and intimacy I have tried to describe. Kerry and Dominique that afternoon were my first real successes, and all the more precious for that. Since then, I pressed forward with confidence. I still made mistakes at times, I still had failures and rejections at times. I remain very grateful that I have managed to avoid trouble with those who believe nudity wrong or who think I have immoral designs on these young girls. I have learned to choose my words with more care as the years go by, so as not to embarrass or pressurise. But, more important, I have learned that even more important than what I say is what I am in the eyes of those girls. If they love and trust me enough, they will do anything for me – and I will never betray that trust. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 14) On the road behind our house, only a couple of hundred metres away, is a sports club. It was founded by the English-speaking community in the city, who are probably in the majority in our suburb. Many of them make this their main meeting-place, especially during the weekends, and when we are not actually at the club we can often hear them from our house. As a family we usually spend some time there every weekend, and sometimes evenings during the week as well. It is more to meet friends than to play sport, although there is quite a bit of social tennis and squash played. For the teenagers and younger adults, there is football and rugby, and even occasionally cricket on the big field. I have never been a great one for sports, but now that I am older I do join in the football quite often, without being much good at it. Like most other children there, I preferred the swimming pool, even though we were required to wear costumes. One Saturday afternoon, when I was 12 and in my first year at the English high school, I was there with my family. We had lunch there with some friends, and then the adults decided to spend the hot afternoon watching an English league football match on television. This left Jenny and me to our own devices. She quickly found some of her friends to play with, and I soon found I was not particularly wanted. Still, there was quite a lot to do at the club, as there were so many people around. My favourite place, when Ernst and I had been friends, had been underneath the large stand by the tennis courts. There were about ten rows of seats on this stand, with the top ones being most popular. It was not a modern stand, consisting of broad wooden planks nailed up the framework like a series of steps, and people sat on these. The only back to these seats was the row behind. This left a big space, so that when we sat underneath we could see the sky very easily through the seats. We could also see up the skirts of any females who climbed the stand to the top. Few of them, even the adults, realized just what could be seen from beneath. Ernst and I used to sit quietly there, pretending to read, while all the time watching above us. If they were wearing tennis dresses, the view was all the more rewarding. When a woman in a skirt takes a big step upwards, as is necessary to climb from one row of seats to the next, her legs are unavoidably wide apart with the front one raised, knee up, and the view from below is stunning. There were few people using the tennis courts on this hot day, and in any case I had, to a limited extent, grown out of my excitement at spying in this way and used it only for special occasions. I had a swim and then dried off before returning to the main part of the club to look for friends. It was then that I saw two girls who, it seemed, had just arrived with their parents. I couldn’t remember seeing them before. The family was standing on the veranda, still with quite a few people there after lunch, looking rather lost. I wandered closer to investigate. The older girl looked about nine or ten. She was wearing a little black dress with thin white shoulder straps and looked really pretty. She had lemon-coloured hair brushed neatly down to her shoulders, big blue eyes and a cute little snub nose. Something about her suddenly tugged at me inside. Her younger sister, about seven, did not look so attractive to me, her hair being more straw-coloured and her face quite freckled. She was wearing a sky-blue sun dress. Led by my interest in the older girl, I wandered over and sat on an empty table about seven or eight metres away, close enough to learn what was going on, but not so close as to be conspicuous. At that moment, another adult, whom I knew to be my dad’s boss at work, came out of the clubhouse with his wife and greeted them. There was a lot of handshaking and introductions, including the children. I noticed that my black-dressed girl gave a lovely shy smile as the man spoke to her, and I felt my heart churn with attraction. I felt I would like to know her better. My dad’s boss encouraged the girls’ parents to sit down at a table with them and have a drink. The girls, though, were eager to explore. “May we take our shoes and socks off?” I heard the older one asked. Given a positive response, they sat down on a bench facing outwards, which was towards me, to do just that. The younger one, as yet unversed in the ways of the world, did as virtually all girls of her age do and lifted her legs, one at a time, to tear off her shoes and socks. I had a clear view of her white print panties, with little pink and blue patterns on them. `My girl’, as I was already thinking of her, was more suspicious. As she lifted one leg, she pushed her black skirt firmly down between her legs so as to shield her panties from the sight of the infidels as she removed her shoes and socks. Then she glanced furtively in my direction to check whether I was watching. I had already shifted my gaze and was looking towards the tennis courts well to one side of her. This seemed to satisfy her. She put one bare leg down and lifted the other, this time not bothering to push down her skirt as it was quite clear that nobody was watching her. Her soft sky-blue panties were very visible to my eager eyes as she took off her shoes and socks. They gave their shoes and socks to their mother and then sped off to explore. Nowadays I would quickly have found an excuse to befriend them and show them round, but I was then less confident with girls than I am now, younger ones especially. I just stayed where I was for a minute or two so nobody would realize I was following them, and then wandered after them, wondering what their names were. The way they gazed around them showed that they had never been here before. Most of the children at this time of day were at the swimming pool, and their noise came through loud and clear, so this was where they headed first. Afraid that somebody else might discover my interest, I waited until they had disappeared inside the gate over to the right of the clubhouse. Then I wandered over to the tennis court, where a foursome was playing, before suddenly appearing to change my mind and head for the pool. The pool area was quite crowded, but I soon saw them, looking longingly at the happy throng in the pool and obviously wishing they had their costumes. I have had the same problem myself at times, and still think it is shameful that nude bathing is still disallowed in this modern world that has still not shed it hang-ups. I quickly looked around for other boys I knew and soon found some sunbathing. I went over to join them, so that anybody watching me would not suspect my interest in the girls. I didn’t mind it so much with girls my own age, but I was still afraid of mockery, such as I had at school at times, if I showed an interest in younger girls. They were friendly and talkative, sharing some sweets with me, and when I turned round to look for the girls, they had gone. I could not reasonably make my escape for two or three minutes, but as soon as I could I left the pool area again, quite entranced by `my girl’ in the black dress. I stared around for what seemed an age, but failed to see them. Perhaps they had returned to the clubhouse. The other main possibility was that they had gone to the children’s playground on the far side of the tennis courts. If so, they might well have met Jenny and her friend Lisa, as they were not in the pool area and the playground was another favourite haunt of theirs. I decided to wander over to the playground and see if Jenny was doing all right. Quite often they liked me to push them on the swings, so I had an excuse. Also quite possibly, if `my girl’ was there, they might well be playing together, although there was a difference in ages. Part of my wish came true, anyway. I entered the hedged-in playground – there were always several mothers in attendance, by the way – to see about fifteen children playing there, and `my girl’ and her sister were playing on the swings. I stood there watching them, trying to work out an excuse to make contact with them, when I heard Jenny’s voice calling me. “Roy, come and look at our sandcastles!” she called. She and Lisa were playing in the sandpit, which was some distance from the swings. Lisa was a small girl with a creamy complexion and honey-coloured hair, wearing a red and white dress. I wandered over towards them, noticing with disappointment from the corner of my eye that `my girl’ did not appear to have noticed me as she swung and laughed. I put up with their chatter for a while, manoeuvring myself to keep an eye on `my girl’. They finished playing on the swings and ran over to the slide. I hoped they would come over to the sandpit, but realized that they were probably a little old for sand. Before long, Jenny and Lisa wanted me to push them on the swings, and I was only disappointed that `my girl’ had already finished on there. I did get to watch her and her sister have a brief turn on the climbing frames, both giving regular flashes of panties as they did so. I could still not get close enough or think of a good enough excuse to make them aware of my presence. Then suddenly they left, without appearing to notice me. Once again, the chase was on. I told Jenny I wanted to meet some friends, and followed them out, as far behind as I could and still be sure I wouldn’t lose sight of them. This time they hadn’t gone far. They had gone straight over to the tennis courts and were scrambling up and down the stand, enjoying themselves. Some new people had arrived to play tennis, and there were three boys, aged between about eight and ten, having their own game on the junior court and two other girls already on the benches. I knew the girls, but not well. The larger one was called Michelle and she was a year behind me at junior school, which meant she would now be in the sixth grade, but probably not a prefect. She was not really prefect material. I had the impression, from the little I knew of her, that she was pleasant enough but very easy-going - lazy, even. I did not find her attractive, so I had never taken much notice of her. She was stocky rather than fat, tall enough for her age to be the same height as me, with brown hair with a tinge of ginger cut at neck level. She was leaning back easily on the bottom row of seats, watching rather than participating. She had one leg crossed over the other and her off-white skirt came down almost to her knees. With her sturdy thighs I was not going to see anything in a hurry, but I didn’t really care as I didn’t find her attractive. I wouldn’t have taken any notice of her had it not been for her friend and `my girl’. Her friend I thought I had recognized at the junior school and thought her name was Kelly, which was soon confirmed when her mother called to her from the tennis court and told her to put her hat on. Kelly was wearing a red T-shirt and a short dark blue skirt – rather too short, as every time she leaned forward to climb to the next row as she played, she showed her pale green panties at the back. I tried to think of an excuse to join them, but failed. I didn’t know the adults on the court well enough to join them for anything, so I just stood and pretended to watch the smaller boys playing, while I was really keeping an eye on the girls in the background. In a couple of minutes I watched the makings of a friendship. To start with, `my girl’ and her sister were scrambling up and down at some distance from the other two girls. I heard `my girl’ call out to her sister, using the name Suzy, so I now knew the names of three of the four girls, the exception ironically being `my girl’. Kelly it seemed wanted to be friendly, so she moved over closer to `my girl’ and her sister and raced them as they clattered down the stands. She arrived at the bottom at the same time as `my girl’, with Suzy a little behind, and they all laughed together and began to talk. Kelly led them over to meet Michelle, and then bent down to take something out of her bag on the ground. Again her green panties were exposed, and even more so as Michelle teasingly gave the back of her skirt a tug upwards, causing Kelly to move away and pull it down again sharply. They sat together on the bench and began to talk, although Suzy was soon scrambling up and down again. I could stay no longer. I needed to go to the toilet. Usually I just went behind the stand and lubricated one of the metal poles supporting it, but the girls might have turned round, and I didn’t think they would consider that to be an attractive first view of me, knowing how fussy girls can be about that sort of thing, especially first impressions. So I had to go back to the clubhouse. I emerged from the toilet to find my parents, to my amazement, talking to `my girl’s’ parents at the door of the television room. I felt immediately shy and headed back towards the veranda. Then I suddenly felt it was too good an opportunity to miss, and I turned back. Nerves got the better of me for a moment as I dithered, but finally crept over to my parents, heart pounding, on the pretext of asking for money, although I already had some. “This is our son Roy,” my father introduced me immediately. “He’s at the high school, and our daughter Jenny is in preschool. Roy, these are Mr and Mrs Conway. Mr Conway’s new to our firm, just come over from England.” I greeted them politely, with a wide smile and probably a flushed face, desperate to make a good impression so that they would consider me a suitable friend for their daughter. They seemed pleased to meet me. “We’ve just got two girls, so I don’t know whether Roy would be interested,” Mrs Conway told my mother. “They’re still at junior school, so he won’t know them.” “Roy’s very interested – very good with girls, actually,” my mother replied, correcting her slip of the tongue. Not long before I had taken care to correct my mother’s choice of words when discussing my relationships with the opposite sex. “The younger ones, that is. He looks after them very well.” “What are your girls’ names?” I blurted out, trying not to blush. “I mean – I might know them.” “I’m sure you won’t have met them,” the mother replied. “Lavender is ten and Suzanne is seven.” Lavender – so that was the name of `my girl’! It seemed an age since I had first seen that cute girl, and only now did I know what to call her. I couldn’t remember ever having met anybody called Lavender before. It sounded rather old-fashioned. This startling revelation left me quite tongue-tied. “I sent them to play outside,” Mrs Conway continued. “Actually I forgot to give them their hats to wear. I suppose they could get burned in this hot weather.” An idea flooded into my mind. “Yes, it – it’s quite dangerous in the sun, especially for new people out from England,” I ventured. I paused to control my voice, and then began, “I can . . .” “I had better go and fetch their hats from the car, and then look for them,” said Mrs Conway. “I suppose they are on the field somewhere.” “Well – I can go and look for them if you like,” I put in, trying to sound as casual as I could. “What do they look like?” “Oh, thank you very much,” smiled Mrs Conway, thankfully not putting up the argument I often hear about not wanting to put me to any trouble. “They have fair hair,” she demonstrated their heights, “and Lavender is wearing black and Suzanne blue.” “I think I remember seeing them, because I knew they were new here,” I told her, and dashed off, heart still throbbing. I could see the girls still playing together on the stand, apart from Michelle, who was too lazy to shift. I walked over to the stand and looked up at the girls as they scrambled down, racing again. They stared with curiosity to find me waiting for them at the bottom. I looked at `my girl’, tried hard to smile warmly, hoped I wasn’t blushing and found my voice sticking in my throat as I blurted out, “Are you Lavender?” She nodded, looking puzzled. Suzy, behind her, burst out, “You can call her Lav for short.” Michelle gave a hoot of glee. “Lav!” she repeated. “Lav! That sounds like a toilet. Lav!” Lavender’s pretty face creased into a frown. “Stop it,” she snapped at Suzy. “Don’t call me that. My name’s Lavender,” she insisted, turning away from them back to me. Suzy just stood there laughing at the response she got, while Michelle repeated, “Why do they call you Lav?” “Lav is just for short, isn’t it?” asked Kelly, not as unkindly as the other two. “Short for lavatory!” hooted Michelle. “I don’t like it,” retorted Lavender crossly. “Don’t call her names she doesn’t like,” I told the others, trying to sound like a prefect again, but without much success. “Lavender, your mum wants you and Suzy to come and get hats.” “Oh, blow,” replied Lavender, who didn’t seem quite as sweet and gentle as I had imagined her. “Come, Suzy.” She began to follow me, and then turned to say, “Kelly, come with us.” Kelly uncertainly turned to seek approval from her older friend, and for once Michelle shifted herself from her seat. “Let’s go,” she said. “I need to go to the loo – I mean, the lav.” She laughed in a silly way. Determined to make a good impression with `my girl’, I turned sharply to Michelle. “Stop that, Michelle, Lavender doesn’t like it,” I ordered her. Michelle looked slightly abashed and muttered, “You’re not a prefect any more,” but she at least shut up for a while. We returned to the clubhouse, while I took the opportunity to ask Lavender where she came from and how she liked the country and the school, and so on. Still shy of me, she was not very forthcoming and didn’t look at me, and I actually got more information from the talkative Suzy. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 15) We arrived almost at the same time as Mrs Conway, with the hats. Michelle departed for the toilet, while Kelly dithered and then meekly followed her. Lavender gave the same lovely shy smile when introduced to my mother, the two fathers having departed for the television lounge. “Mum, please may I have an ice cream!” squealed Suzy. “Mum, you should have brought our swimming costumes,” complained Lavender. “It’s so hot and we can’t swim.” “I’m sorry, dear, but we didn’t think of it,” Mrs Conway replied. “We’ll remember next time.” “Please may I swim in my knickers?” piped up Suzy, gathering her dress together at the front as if ready to take it off instantly. I noticed Lavender pulled a face, indicating that she was not keen on the idea. “I don’t think so, dear,” their mother replied. “Just wait till next time.” They both pulled faces, but I decided to throw my hat into the ring. “Well – if they like, they can come to our house,” I suggested, again trying not to blush. “They can swim in our pool and we have some – some costumes they could use. We live only just behind the club.” This was only just true, as the only swimming costumes we had were mine and Jenny’s, and one of Shelley’s for those times when she forgot hers. Shelley was nearly as tall as Suzy, but the other girls were a bit bigger and fitting might be difficult. “Yes, yes! Please, Mummy!” burst out Suzy, pulling hard on her mother’s arm. “Well, I don’t really think we can bother Roy’s family with that,” her mother protested mildly. “That’s quite all right, but I don’t know if we can find the right kind of costume . . .” began my mother. She knew Jenny’s costumes would not fit Lavender and was no doubt thinking that one of mine would – and girls in this country usually wear topless costumes until they reach the age of about ten. “I can swim in my knickers, then!” squealed Suzy, quite excited. Mrs Conway looked doubtful, but she turned to Lavender and asked, “Do you want to go, Lavender?” Lavender shot a furtive glance at me, while I smiled encouragingly at her. She thought and then answered, “Well, just for a few minutes.” Mrs Conway sought confirmation from my mother that this was in order, and then thanked me warmly. “Don’t be too long and do what Roy tells you,” she called out in adult-speak, as a precaution. I was just leading the girls out through the clubhouse entrance when Michelle and Kelly emerged from the toilets and chased after us. “Hey, where are you going?” Michelle demanded of Lavender. “We’re going to his house,” Lavender replied, indicating me but still too shy to use my name. “We’re going to swim!” shouted out Suzy. “Come with us.” “All right, we’ll just fetch our costumes,” agreed Michelle instantly, grabbing the pliant Kelly by the arm and dragging her off in the direction of the tennis courts. “You’ll need your parents’ permission,” I called after them, but they probably didn’t hear. I did not think their parents would too readily allow them to go off to my house when I wasn’t sure they even knew me by name. “Let’s go,” Suzy urged me impatiently, tugging at my arm. I was inclined to agree, keen to get `my girl’ on her own as far as I could, but Lavender looked uncertain. “I don’t like Michelle much,” she said. “But Kelly seems nice. Shall we wait a short while?” “Maybe just one minute,” I compromised, sure the girls wouldn’t be able to get there and back as well as obtaining permission in that time. I felt just the same as Lavender did about the other two girls. “I’m sure their parents won’t agree because they don’t know me.” We waited that minute, Suzy very impatient, and then I thought we would go. Lavender didn’t argue. We had just reached the gate at the end of the drive, about fifty metres along, when we heard Michelle’s voice calling us. We turned to find them chasing after us, carrying a basket. I had never seen Michelle exert herself much before, so that surprised me, as did the fact that they apparently had permission. “Did your parents say you could come with me?” I asked them. “Oh, we didn’t tell them we were going with you, we just asked if we could go to the shops,” asserted Michelle brazenly. “My mum even gave us some money.” She waved a note under my nose. Nowadays, being a bit wiser, I would not have allowed that to pass, for my own safety, but at that age I decided to keep quiet, against my better judgement. So we left the club grounds and headed for my house. “What are you going to swim in, Lav?” asked Michelle. “Don’t call me that,” she retorted crossly, and didn’t answer the question. “Roy can lend us some costumes or we can swim in our knickers,” Suzy informed her. “In your knickers, with Roy there?” scoffed Michelle. “Don’t be silly.” We progressed along the roadside with pleasant chat like this. I enjoyed watching Lavender walking along, with her little black skirt swinging around her thighs and the low back at the top showing at the bottom a white strip of skin that was usually hidden under a swimming costume. I wondered how she would feel about wearing a topless costume like most girls up to her age in this country. Suzy skipped along happily while Kelly walked meekly beside Michelle. I noticed that it was possible to see the colour and shape of Michelle’s panties through her white skirt. “Carry me!” suddenly ordered Suzy, slipping behind me, reaching up to put her hands on top of my shoulders and jumping up and down. I was used to carrying Shelley and Jenny, and was very proud of my ability to pick them up and put them on my shoulders. “Turn round,” I told Suzy. She did so, and I put my arms under her shoulders and lifted her up in the air. She was a little older than Shelley and I struggled, but just managed to get her above my head height. Just before my strength gave out, I swung her back, getting a quick view of her rump clad in print panties before I dropped her on my shoulders. The front of her skirt did not clear my head and draped over my eyes. “Ooh, Suzy!” I heard Michelle’s mocking voice, telling me that her panties were visible. Suzy gave a squeal and a giggle, and with some difficulty forced her skirt back over the top of my head and pushed it down between her legs. “Did you see my knickers?” she asked me. “How can I see anything when you’re sitting behind me and your dress is over my eyes?” I complained in a funny voice, and that seemed to satisfy her, as she gave another giggle. Walking towards us on the far side of the road was a group of four of the local inhabitants, who are known rudely as `locos’ by many of the English-speaking community. Teenaged boys, they took no notice of us, and when they were about twenty yards away, one of them stopped by a lamp-post and undid the zip on his trousers. It is a common enough occurrence in this country, and his friends took no notice but carried on walking, talking in their loud voices. “Oh, gross!” exclaimed Michelle with contempt, but without surprise, as the boy pulled out his penis and ejected a stream of yellow urine on to the lamp-post. His penis, not unduly long but bulging in the middle, was clearly visible, as was his black mass of pubic hair. A lot of the local boys seem to think it macho to go without underpants. “You see, Lav, that’s the sort of disgusting behaviour you have to put up with from locos in this country,” Michelle informed her. Lavender’s big blue eyes were even bigger as she stared at what for her was a sight totally beyond her experience or imagination, and I have never seen a face register disgust more clearly. Kelly’s face was expressionless. No doubt, like Michelle, she had been in this country for long enough not to be shocked by it. It was clearly an exciting experience for Suzy. Her weight shifted uncomfortably on my shoulders as she leaned forward in excitement. “Oh, look, Lav, doesn’t he have a big winkie?” she called out in a high, piercing voice. The culprit was calling out to his friends to wait as he shook his penis dry, so he can’t have heard what Suzy said, even if he understood English. “That’s not a winkie, that’s a stinky!” was Michelle’s sarcastic opinion. “Cheer up, Lav, you get used to things like that,” laughed Michelle, with a tone of superiority. “Haven’t you ever seen one of those before?” Lavender shook her head, looking stunned, as the boy ran to catch up with his friends. “We saw two the other day,” Suzy volunteered excitedly. “But they were weeing on the wall, so we couldn’t see their winkies.” “All the boys in this country do that,” Michelle continued, a gross exaggeration. “You soon get to know what they look like.” “It’s big!” came Suzy’s thrilled voice. “It looked like a big fat sausage.” “I’ve seen much bigger ones than that,” boasted Michelle scornfully. “Do girls do – it too?” Lavender blurted out at last. “Of course not, only the boys, because boys have no culture,” Michelle replied dismissively. “Do you do it, Roy?” Suzy squeaked. “Well – just sometimes if I need to,” I answered hesitantly. “Because there are no public toilets if you need to go. But I always find somewhere private so I don’t bother anybody else,” I added hastily, as Lavender started to look at me incredulously. This last part wasn’t strictly true. It was also not quite true for Michelle to say that it was only boys who urinate publicly. The smaller girls have no problem with squatting on the ground beside the road, but after the age of about nine or ten (less with the English-speakers) they will generally find some bushes or some sort of cover if they are caught short. Rarely does a female beyond the age of about ten allow herself to be seen urinating in public. But among the locals, even grown men do it occasionally, although usually only when they have had a few beers or bottles of wine. I can vividly remember an incident when I was about ten and a passenger in my father’s car. We rounded a corner and I saw two teenage local girls in black skirts standing there in a most unusual posture. They were leaning back with their bottoms resting against the wall of a garden, while the top halves of their bodies were leaning forward. Their legs were apart, their hands were up their skirts at the front and they were laughing together. I stared at them from the car window, wondering why they were behaving so strangely. Then, at the last moment as we passed them, I saw two streams of liquid streaming to the ground from between their legs. I whipped my head round to watch them out of the back window, but I could no longer see properly. I felt deeply excited and frustrated, unable to believe for a while in my naivety that I had actually seen two older girls urinating. But I hadn’t even been able to see their panties. I wrestled with the question for the next 24 hours, until finally I was free to get on my bicycle and go to the spot where I had seen them. I scrutinized the place where I thought they had been carefully, even going down on my hands and knees, until a passer-by asked me if I had lost something. There was no trace of urine, or even a smell, but it would have long since evaporated in the hot weather. It wasn’t until weeks later that I was finally able to accept what I had actually seen. “Suzy, don’t tell mum we saw that – horrible thing,” Lavender warned her sister. “Or she may not let us go out again.” “It was so funny,” Suzy burst out, laughing and rocking back and forth painfully on my shoulders. “I saw his winkie. It looked just like a big fat sausage! And he wee’d all over the lamp-post. I wish I could see it again.” “Probably trying to make the lamp-post grow,” chortled Michelle. “Roy, what was that black stuff next to his winkie?” Suzy asked me. “It looked like hair.” “Oh, Suzy, shut up, we don’t want to hear any more about it!” Lavender burst out angrily. For once Suzy did so, saving me from having to answer her question. Still only 12 years old, I found carrying Suzy quite a weight and was relieved when we reached the gate of our house. I let us in with my key and we headed for the back garden where our swimming pool is. On arrival, I reached up, caught Suzy by the shoulders and leaned forward, tumbling her over my head so she turned a somersault, with squeals and giggles, displaying her panties again as she finished on her back on the grass. “Gee, you’re strong,” I heard Lavender breathe in awe, which made my chest swell with pleasure as I treasured her admiration. “Now, what about our swimming costumes?” demanded Suzy, as Michelle and Kelly began to open their bag. “I’ll go and get them from the house,” I assured her, starting to head in that direction quickly. My heart was thumping as I fantasized about the possibility of Michelle and Kelly changing in the open while I watched them through a window, hidden inside the house. “Hey!” I heard Michelle exclaim in dismay. “This is the wrong bag!” I turned to see her holding up indignantly some large items of clothing. “These are our parents’ clothes for after the tennis.” “Our costumes must be back at the tennis courts still,” said Kelly in her soft voice. My heart thumped harder. “It’ll take too long to go back,” I told them. “I’ll try and find some costumes for you as well.” “I don’t want anybody else’s costume, I’m going back,” Michelle said decisively. “Come on, Kelly.” She started back. “We can’t, Michelle, because our mums think we’ve gone to the shops,” pleaded Kelly. “They’ll see us with the bags and we won’t be allowed to come back.” “Oh, bother,” snorted Michelle. “Okay, Roy, well, get us some costumes too.” She waved a hand in my direction as if ordering a servant. I could see behind them Suzy was slipping her dress off over her head. “I’ll have a look at what I’ve got,” I told Michelle, stalling for time and hoping Suzy would strip off completely. Do all 12-year-olds fantasize about the impossible? From my experience, most probably. But she simply called out, “I’m tired of waiting, so I’m swimming in my knickers. Come, Lav!” And she leapt into the pool. I heard Lavender reprove her, but it was now too late. With the other girls watching Suzy as she thrashed around joyfully in the water, I headed for the house. As soon as I was inside, I dashed up the stairs at full speed and into my bedroom, looking straight out of the window to see what was happening by the pool, hoping that in my absence the older girls might follow Suzy’s example. I could see the three older girls standing and talking by the side of the pool. I kept watching in the hope that they might become impatient and decide, like Suzy, to swim in their panties – or less. I could tell they were getting impatient waiting for me. Finally, I saw Michelle turn and head for the open door of the house, obviously coming to see what had happened to me. The other two followed her. Frantically I grabbed two of my swimming costumes from my drawer and skittered across into Jenny’s room as I heard Michelle calling me impatiently from below. “Just coming!” I called back, grabbing a couple of Jenny’s costumes, a school one with a top and a simple bikini bottom, such as most girls wear in this country until the age of about ten. Then a thought occurred to me. I dashed back into my own room and grabbed my famous exploding swimming costume. I didn’t think any of the girls would want to try that one, old and tatty as it was, but there was no harm in trying. I tried to stop panting for breath and appear calm as I descended the stairs, to find the three of them waiting for me at the bottom. “What’s taking so long?” Michelle demanded bossily. “I couldn’t find Jenny’s costumes,” I told them. “Here we are.” I held them out, and they took them and examined them, but without giving the exploding costume more than a disdainful glance. “This is far too small!” exploded Michelle, tossing Jenny’s school costume aside. “How old is your sister, anyway?” “Five,” I answered, to be met with a snort of disgust. “There are no tops to them!” protested Lavender, looking alarmed. “These two are boys’ costumes!” Michelle accused me. “We can’t wear those!” “It doesn’t matter,” I assured them, feeling very defensive. “Girls in this country usually wear just the bottoms until they – get older,” I told Lavender. “Well, we don’t in England,” she retorted. “She doesn’t want you seeing her little boobies,” scoffed Michelle. Kelly, who had been holding Jenny’s bikini bottom against herself to try it for size, put it aside. It was clearly too small for her. “Well, I’m just going to swim in my panties,” she declared, heading for the door. I blessed her for that. “Oh, don’t be silly, Kelly,” snorted Michelle. “You can’t swim in your panties with a boy here. He’ll see your boobs as well.” Kelly stopped at the door and looked uncertain. “Don’t be so fussy,” I retorted, deciding to assert myself. “We don’t worry about that here. We even swim naked here. We’re used to everything.” “Swim naked!” exclaimed Michelle in exaggerated shock. “Gross!” “It’s great fun,” I smiled at them all. “We love doing it. We can all do that if you like.” I was less subtle in those younger days, which sometimes counted against me. They squealed, the tones ranging from mild shock in the cases of Lavender and Kelly to affected outrage in the case of Michelle. “*I’m* never going to swim naked in front of *you*,” Michelle snorted indignantly. “And I bet you wouldn’t do it in front of us, either.” “I don’t mind,” I told her. “I’ll show you if you want.” “No, I – I don’t think that’s good,” broke in Lavender hastily. “Haven’t you any more swimming costumes?” “Only my parents’, and they’d be too big for you,” I answered. “Bring them down,” Michelle commanded. “They may fit me all right.” I headed up the stairs again, trying to concoct a plan. (To be continued) WHEN I WAS YOUNG (CHAPTER 16) I came down again with two of my mother’s swimming costumes, the bikini she usually wore – my parents were not completely puritanical – and the only full one-piece swimming costume she had. I knew they would be too large for the girls, even Michelle. Michelle investigated them carefully, but the other two didn’t even try, seeing immediately that they were too big for them. In fact, Kelly said, “They’re too big for you, Michelle.” This seemed to be enough to persuade Michelle that they were not. “I’ll try them both,” she said confidently. “Where do we change?” “I’m just going to change by the pool,” I told her, less cunningly than I would do nowadays. “*I* am going to change in private, thank you very much,” she retorted snootily. “Where are the changing rooms?” I had a quick think. The changing rooms were locked and I considered being unable to find the key. But I knew then that Michelle would demand to change inside the house, so it would be pointless to be awkward there. “I’ll fetch the key from the kitchen,” I said. I opened the changing room for Michelle, who went inside, followed by Kelly, who hadn’t taken one of the costumes at all. “Come, Lavender,” she urged `my girl’, who hesitated and then followed. Michelle shot the door firmly behind them. “Come and play!” called out Suzy, who was enjoying the slide. “I’ll wait for the others to come out,” I told her. I changed into my exploding costume, causing Suzy to stare at the sight of me naked, but she didn’t comment. I had quite a long wait for the girls and I was impatient to see what they would be wearing, but afraid they might decide not to swim at all. Finally the changing room door opened and Michelle emerged, followed by the other two, who were still fully dressed. “Lav, Roy changed out here,” Suzy called out excitedly. “ I saw his winkie.” Michelle was wearing my mother’s large one-piece costume, and it was immediately obvious that she still had her bra on underneath. The costume was very loose on her and the open sides under my mother’s armpits hung down almost to her waist. Had she not worn her bra, she would have given quite a view of her chest. I soon discovered that she also had her panties underneath, and again had she not it would often have been possible to see up the loose legs of the costume. Suzy gave a cackle of laughter at the sight, and Michelle glared at her. “Michelle tried the bikini first,” Kelly told me. “But it kept falling down, so she had to use the big one.” “Shut up, Kelly,” Michelle glared at her, walking to the edge of the pool. “You’re wearing that old swimming costume,” Lavender observed. “Yes, it’s very old, but it’s my favourite,” I told her. “Watch this.” I went over to the diving board, climbed up, raced along it and took a flying leap. As usual, as soon as I hit the water, the costume exploded. I surfaced to shrieks of laughter, with Kelly almost bent double at the hilarity of it all. “Oh, no, there goes my best swimming costume,” I grinned as I retrieved the material and climbed out of the pool. The laughter turned to squeals as I emerged naked from the pool. “Roy, you’re naked!” squeaked Suzy, as if I didn’t know. “I can see your winkie again. It’s not as big as that other boy’s.” “I don’t mind, it’s fun being naked,” I said. “I think I’ll stay this way.” “I’m not swimming if you do,” Michelle retorted. “I’m not swimming with naked boys. We can all see your piss.” “I don’t mind,” I assured her, hoping the girls would reciprocate and feel it was safe for them to do the same. “I’m not swimming,” repeated Michelle, turning and heading back to the changing room. This was not what I wanted. “All right, I’ll put something on if you want,” I assured her. I thought quickly. The other costumes were back in the house. “I’m too wet to go back inside, so I’ll just swim in my underpants like Suzy,” I said, grabbing them and putting them on. Michelle turned back at that, no doubt eager to see what kind of underpants I was wearing - plain white as usual. I waited a moment to see if she still objected, but she said nothing more, so I dived in again, while Suzy cheered. Michelle advanced cautiously to the edge of the pool. Lavender stood behind her looking perplexed, while I saw Kelly start slipping her T-shirt off over her head, revealing a flat bony little chest underneath. “Kelly’s going to swim!” cheered Suzy. “Come on, Lav, come and swim as well.” Lavender, hands to mouth, shook her head, while Michelle turned round to see Kelly slipping her skirt down, revealing again her greenish-coloured panties. “Kelly, you can’t swim in your panties here!” Michelle exclaimed, the last two words in a suddenly quieter voice as she realized I would hear. Kelly looked abashed and stopped, with her skirt still around her knees. Acting the prefect, I called out, “Michelle, this is my house and you’ve no right to tell anybody else what to do here. Kelly, it’s all right – come and play with us! You can do what you like here.” Michelle grunted and turned her back on Kelly, who hesitated again before guiltily stepping out of her skirt. Michelle squatted by the side of the pool to test the water, revealing quite an area of white panties through the loose legs of the costume, and then slipped into the water. Kelly, with a muffled and self-conscious squeal of pleasure, jumped daintily into the water a few metres away from her dominating friend. “Kelly, Kelly!” squealed Suzy, thrashing her way over to her. “Come on, Lav, don’t be a spoilsport,” she pleaded with her sister. “Lav has more sense than to expose herself here, haven’t you, Lav?” came Michelle’s cutting voice. I had already suspected that Lavender had a rather awkward streak, and this interference from Michelle finally caused her to rebel. “I’ll decide for myself, *Michelle*,” she hissed, eyes flashing and the name emphasized with contempt, as she was presumably unable to think of an insulting version of it to counter the hated `Lav’. She backed away and headed for the changing room. I thought I had better disguise my interest as well as possible, so I tore my eyes away from her and swam over to the far side of the pool, where I would have an excuse for looking in her general direction. I turned at the far wall to catch a glimpse of Lavender, inside the changing room but with the door open, slipping off that cute little black dress over her head before disappearing behind it. Moments later she emerged, looking slightly flushed and with one hand placed delicately in front of those little blue panties I had so admired earlier. She had a pale flattish chest but with two little pink buttons on it. I splashed my way over to the diving board again, trying to prove that I wasn’t interested in Lavender’s body. She soon adjusted, playing and laughing as enthusiastically as her sister, and was quickly convinced I had no interest in her physical attributes. Even Michelle forgot her stuffiness and joined in, with my mother’s costume on her body frequently floating aside or hanging to reveal the white bra and panties beneath, which caused Suzy to comment once, but warily so that the grand duchess herself did not hear. The older girls stayed in the pool, keeping even their chests under water as much as possible. I started off playing with Suzy, who enjoyed it when I chased her and caught her, feeling her little cotton panties as I bounced her up and down. As I had hoped, Lavender grew a little jealous and joined in, although it was a while before she allowed herself to be caught. Kelly came, and allowed herself to be caught immediately, which brought Lavender in, and my hand brushed against the little button on her chest as I pretended to duck her. As I expected, Michelle considered herself too old to join in, but she was having problems with my mother’s costume. She tried crossing the straps over and tying them, not easy when she was wearing it, but it didn’t work properly. Whenever she tried to swim or climb out of the pool, it would slip right down, often revealing most of her bra. Lavender and Suzy thought this quite funny, and Michelle didn’t appreciate their laughter. In the end, as she almost left her costume behind climbing out of the pool, she turned to me and asked, “Roy, would it be all right for me to take this costume off?” I didn’t know why she was asking me this, when all the rest of us were in our underwear, but perhaps it was a small way to take the burden of the decision off herself as much as possible when she had earlier said she would never do that. Nowadays I would have been subtler, but then I just blurted out, “Yes, you can swim in nothing if you want.” “Just the costume, I’m talking about,” she said crossly, slipping back into the water and slipping down the shoulder straps, keeping her body below the neck under water. “If you give it to me, I’ll put it back inside,” I offered, much too eagerly, climbing out and running to the side of the pool near her, eager for the excuse of getting a clearer view as she stripped. It was a mistake. “I’ll do it,” she snorted, turning her back on me and dragging herself awkwardly to the far side of the pool. With her back to me, she took off the costume under water and slung it out of the pool. I could see the whiteness of her bra and panties under the water, but no detail. We enjoyed ourselves for perhaps ten minutes, with Michelle staying in the water all the time. I had to swim underwater so as to get the best view I could of her underwear, which seemed well padded underneath. I became resigned to the fact that I was not likely to see any more of these girls’ bodies and I might as well enjoy what I had. I did have plans to suggest when we had finished swimming, though, that they dried their panties off on our heater inside, which would have left them in skirts but with nothing underneath. I might well have been able to see something extra then, unknown to them. Then I heard a voice calling my name. My sister Jenny was standing by the side of the pool with her friend Lisa. They had returned from the club, but without my parents. I presumed somebody had seen them across the road and they had just carried on home round the block. “We want to swim,” Jenny told me, flinging off her clothes, as did Lisa. “They make us wear swimming costumes over there.” She and Lisa often swam naked with me in our pool, and I suddenly thought that their presence might well prove a blessing for me. “You swim naked here?” exclaimed Lavender in amazement. “Yes, I told you we did,” I replied. “Why are you swimming in your underpants?” Jenny asked me, as if it was the stupidest thing anybody could ever do. I had hoisted myself up to sit on the edge of the pool. “These girls are too frightened to swim naked,” I told her. “And they won’t let me do it, either.” “We’re not frightened,” retorted Michelle scornfully, as the two small naked girls leapt into the pool. Distracted, she stood upright for the first time and her rounded bra emerged from the water, plain and white. Then she realized what she had done and ducked down again, while I pretended not to notice. “We just don’t believe in exposing ourselves, especially to *boys*,” she added, in a superior tone. “You must let my brother swim naked if he wants to,” Jenny told her. “All right, he can if he wants to,” agreed Michelle, but added with a giggle, “I bet he won’t really do it when we’re watching him. He’ll be *too scared*!” “Not at all,” I assured her, standing up and stripping off my underpants while still facing them. I heard Lavender give a gasp and Michelle draw in her breath sharply. I paused for a second on the side of the pool, allowing them to see what they wanted, and then dived in. “Look at me!” I heard Suzy call out gleefully as I surfaced. She was standing in the shallow end, bouncing up and down with the water up to her hips, and brandishing her panties above her head. “I’m doing it too!” “Suzy, put those on at once!” came Lavender’s shocked voice. “You can’t swim naked!” “The other girls are doing it,” sang out Suzy happily. “We’re the brave ones. We’re not scared like you big girls.” “We’re not scared,” Lavender insisted. “We’re just . . .” She ground to a halt, uncertain what to say next. Jenny and Lisa headed for the diving board, calling out to Suzy to join them. Quite unconcerned, she climbed out of the pool, the sunlight gleaming off her little white wet bottom, and headed for the board, a tight little freckled vagina between her legs. She stood waiting for her turn to jump, proudly patting her little tummy with her hands. The three older girls looked rather unhappy about things. Kelly was standing upright, showing her flat little chest, while the others preferred to keep theirs under water. “Come, Lav!” Suzy called. Her sister shook her head. Suzy jumped in and splashed her way over to the older girls. “It’s fun,” she insisted. Then suddenly, with a giggle, she reached out and pulled Lavender’s panties down. My heart lurched with frustration, as I could see nothing under the water. With hindsight, though, it was probably no further than to uncover her bottom. Lavender squealed and pulled them up again while Suzy scrambled out of the pool, still laughing. Furious, Lavender so forgot herself as to climb out of the pool after her sister, chasing her with intent to harm. I enjoyed looking at those sky-blue panties as she chased, and Suzy ran round the side of the pool and jumped in next to me. “Roy, save me!” she laughed, wrapping her arms round my neck. I slipped an arm round her bottom, under the water, feeling the soft smooth flesh. Lavender was still shy enough of me not to attack her sister while she was under my protection, so she contented herself by standing on the side of the pool, shouting, “Suzy, don’t do that! It’s rude!” Then she began to stride away, but suddenly hesitated. I think she realized at this point that she was out of the water clad in only her panties, and the world hadn’t come to an end. Then she turned and headed for the diving board to have her first turn. “Gee, this is great!” she exclaimed after her neat dive, reaching under the water to pull up her panties, which had presumably slipped a little on impact. “Kelly, come and have a go.” Kelly began to climb out of the pool. I could see clearly the dark of the crack in her bottom through her wet panties. Then Michelle said, “Kelly, leave her.” “I just want one turn on the board,” she responded, running over. Michelle grunted and turned away. Then suddenly, she too splashed her way to the side of the pool and scrambled out. I saw her broad bottom, clad in plain white panties, and the back of her bra. But she seemed to have decided now that it didn’t matter. She didn’t even glance at me as she pulled at the bottom of her panties where they were sticking to her skin and followed Kelly to the board. Within a minute we were all taking turns happily, four of us naked and three in underwear. Then, as I swam ashore after my turn, I saw Suzy, standing behind Michelle in the queue, naughtily reach out and pull down her panties at the back. Now I could easily see Michelle’s broad white bottom for a moment until she pulled them up again with a yell and grabbed at Suzy, who danced away, giggling. Michelle was too lazy to chase her, but she was clearly angry. I saw a gleam in Lavender’s eye as she stood on the other side of Michelle, and then she too reached out a cunning hand and pulled at Michelle’s panties. There was still aggravation between the two, and it was too much for Michelle. She ran after Lavender, who ran towards me as I emerged from the pool. “Quick, Roy, pull Michelle’s knickers down!” she shouted to me as they both careered towards me. Michelle veered away from me, afraid that I would do so, and almost ran into Suzy, who tugged at them, and then tried to do the same with Lavender. I had a quick decision to make, as I could see that if I allowed such anarchy to prevail, it would only make the older girls more protective of themselves. “Hey, cut it out!” I yelled, and they all stopped, or slowed. “Suzy, you’re being rude, so stop it!” I told her. “Listen, everybody, we’re not having any pulling panties. Those who don’t want to wear anything, that’s fine, but you must leave alone those who are scared.” “Michelle’s scared,” piped up Lisa. “She doesn’t want to take off her panties.” “Or her bra,” added Suzy. “Who cares about that?” snorted Michelle. Then, to my amazement, she took her panties by the waist and pulled them down. Now we could clearly see her solid white bottom, and when she turned her vagina. It was hardly visible between her legs, but there was a large but thin patch of light-brown hair above it. Then she reached up and pulled off her bra. Her chest was swollen, with two large dull pink nipples that sagged a bit. “See, I’m not scared,” she said defiantly, throwing her wet underwear at the changing room and heading for the board. Kelly and Lavender looked stunned. Then Kelly, ever the eager follower, pulled off her panties, revealing a long thin clear vagina between her rather thin legs. She trotted after her friend. Lavender looked at me uncertainly. “Do I – have to take my knickers off?” she asked. I wanted to scream out, “Yes,” but I had more sense. I grudgingly shook my head. “You don’t have to,” I blurted out through gritted teeth, turning away to watch Michelle’s sturdy and naked figure bouncing up and down on the board, nipples wobbling around as well. “I never thought Michelle would be brave enough,” I added as an afterthought. Then I heard Lavender say, “I think I will.” I turned to see her panties around her knees and, as she stepped out of them, the cutest little vagina, smooth and round, nestling between her legs. She looked up, catching me unawares before I could look away. She gave me an embarrassed smile and just stood there, doing nothing, naked and holding her wet panties in one hand. Something told me it was useless to pretend. We stood looking at each other for a moment, then I said, “Now we’re all the same.” With a boy’s whoop, I grabbed her round the waist and pulled her into the pool with me. She laughed and squealed. As we surfaced she kicked out, still joining in the fun, and I caught her leg. We enjoyed a delightful rough-and-tumble there, with myself contriving to get as frequent a view of that long-hidden object of my desire as possible. I have often found that girls for some reason will allow liberties underwater that they will not allow above it. Kelly came to join in, and as I wrestled with those two delightful girls I loved the feel of their soft smooth bare bodies under my arms and my fingers. As I threw them playfully backwards I enjoyed the sight of those secret vaginas hidden away between their legs. I never touched them there, but more than once I felt the smooth thin touch of Lavender’s loins with my hands as we played and wrestled. I can still remember, during a lull in the play, holding Lavender in my arms as she was partly buoyed up by the water. She lay on her back like a baby, eyes half-closed, but smiling up at me with that lovely special smile that had so attracted me at first. I had one hand under her back and the other under her thighs as she lay there so trustingly. It was heaven on earth to play as if in the Garden of Eden, and enjoy finally the trust of these lovely girls. The End ___________________________________________________________ Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping" your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html