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



	
	
		
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