THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 1) In my last contribution, called When I was Young, I wrote about some of my adventures and experiences in my early years. There was not enough room, though, to tell the full story of a girl who came into my life when I was ten and had a major effect on me. I first met her in school. I had been sitting next to a good friend of mine called Jimmy, but he left in mid-term with his parents when their work contract was up, a regular occurrence in my life over the years. So it happened that when Saskia came into our class, the empty seat next to me was the only one spare in the class, and our teacher Miss Hilton had no alternative but to seat Saskia there and ask me to look after her. Probably she had no qualms about doing so, really, as I was beginning to build a reputation for myself as being mature, reliable and much better in my dealings with girls than most of the other boys were. My reputation was not altogether well deserved, as I must confess I have rather a cunning streak and knew how to impress. I first saw Saskia when the headmaster brought this pale-looking girl into our class one morning. She looked very uncomfortable, as all new pupils do when thrust in front of their new class with everybody gawking at her at once. She was very pale-skinned, with quite a lot of light-coloured freckles, and had very light fair hair, hanging down her back in plaits, with her hair parted down the middle. She had pale blue eyes and seemed a little plump, although not badly so. She was of course wearing the white blouse and dark blue skirt of the school uniform, although her skirt was rather shorter than the regulation knee length. I was afraid that somebody would very quickly get her to lengthen it, but in fact it seemed that nobody did. Saskia had a Dutch mother and had lived in Holland for a while, so she spoke with a slight accent. I wouldn’t have rated her as very good-looking, but I soon found she made up for her lack of looks with her personality. I don’t think Miss Hilton had been expecting a new pupil, so she looked hastily around for an empty desk and could find only the one next to me. “Roy, we’ll put Saskia next to you for the time being,” she said. “Will you look after her, please, and give her whatever help she needs?” There was a slightly mocking murmur from one or two of the other boys in the class, with whom I had something of a reputation as a ladies’ man. I nodded politely, and smiled at Saskia as she was led over to me. She was looking downwards, but risked a quick glance up at me as she arrived. She gave me a quick, shy, hopeful smile that seemed to say, “I’m interested in you if you’re interested in me,” and sat down, which I think was the last time I ever saw her shy. Having sat, she turned to me again and smiled quite convincingly. Her little snub nose wrinkled up, as did the corners of her eyes, and as we smiled at each other I got the impression straight away that she felt attracted to me and she was no innocent. Things went smoothly at first, as I showed her all the regular class routine things, such as how to set out our work and all the dos and don’ts of class discipline. When we began our work there were a few topics that she hadn’t covered, so I gave her a bit of help with those. I noticed that when I bent over her book to show her anything, she put her head down very close to mine and I could feel a few wisps of her hair brushing against my hair or my face. This did not go unnoticed by some of the others in the class, but I didn’t let it bother me, knowing that the ones who made the most fuss or who teased the most were the ones most jealous of my courage and ability with girls. Saskia giggled a bit too much at times and was very keen to talk to me about everything – as she was a new pupil, Miss Hilton assumed it was all necessary conversation and did not stop her very often. When the bell rang for morning playtime, Saskia turned to me and asked, “Roy, please will you show me around the school at playtime?” I was not too keen, as I wanted to play with the other boys, and I suggested that she got to know the other girls, but she looked at me pleadingly and said, “Please, Roy? Just for five minutes.” Well, the helpless female trick sunk me again, and I told the other boys I would be with them in five minutes, which again caused some comment. I led Saskia outside the building and began to show her the great sights of the school, such as the hall, the playing fields, the office block and the school cat. She knelt down to stroke the cat, talking to me all the while, one knee on the ground and the other raised, revealing her shiny white panties between her legs as she did so. Quite possibly this was deliberate. The more I grew to know her, the more sure I felt. When we had finished our tour, which I tried to rush through fairly quickly, she still had plenty of questions to ask, about games, the headmaster, the teachers, the lunches and everything else she could think of. Then she started to ask questions about me and my family. I couldn’t get away, and it was very difficult even to lead her towards the place where my friends were playing. They were starting to giggle among themselves about my situation, so in the end I told Saskia, “You said five minutes and I’ve taken about fifteen, so I said I’d join my friends. Bye.” I cut her off in mid-question and joined my friends. When I turned round she was stalking away with her head in the air, seemingly insulted. I felt rather ashamed. She did have a certain charm about her. She was back to normal when we returned to the classroom, though, but had perhaps learned the lesson that she couldn’t twist me round her little finger like she wanted. Not all the time, anyway. During geography we were sitting at our desks listening to the teacher – or pretending to – and Saskia was sitting there with one foot on the ground and the other up on her chair, resting her chin on her knee. This naturally brought her skirt up and gave me a small glimpse of her panties. I was sure it was done deliberately this time. She was to repeat the performance from time to time during different lessons. Sometimes she would scratch her thigh – always the one on my side – by slipping her hand under her skirt and scratching quite high up, showing me a great deal of white flesh, but not quite as far as her panties, no doubt to tease me. I managed to avoid her at lunchtime – not that I was averse to her company, as she did have a real charm, but I did not want her around me quite all the time. It would have left me too open to mockery. In the afternoon we split up into separate sports for boys and girls and I didn’t see her again that day. Next morning she met me as soon as I arrived at school, sounding quite breathless and desperately anxious to know if she had done her homework correctly. I had a look at it with her and was generally reassuring, just pointing out one or two areas where she had gone astray. She seemed to have done it quite well, and I soon realised she was a clever pupil. “I had such problems with some of these,” Saskia assured me. “Please give me your telephone number, so I can phone you if I need help again.” Against my better judgement I gave it to her, and sure enough she phoned me up regularly on the pretext of asking for help, but more often just to chat to me. This wasn’t as troublesome as trying to take me from my friends, but it did get a nuisance sometimes and more than once I cut her off as politely as I could. In class that morning it was as before, quite difficult to get on with my work for Saskia asking questions or just talking under the pretence of asking questions, and often putting her head dangerously close to mine as she did so. I managed to escape her at playtime as she needed to go to the toilet, and I was able to join my friends immediately. But as the bell rang for lunchtime she looked at me imploringly and said, “Roy, please may I have lunch with you today?” It so happened that on this particular day most of my friends were occupied during the lunch hour with a cultural club exhibition, but I still tried to wriggle out of it, afraid she wanted to take over my life. “You’d be better off getting to know the other girls,” I told her. “They don’t want to get to know me,” Saskia told me sadly. “They say I talk in a funny way. Please help me. Only this once, I promise.” It was the helpless but charming female trick all over again, and so often I am a sucker for it. I did know several other girls in the class who really would look after Saskia well during playtime and lunchtime if I talked to them about it, so I decided that I would help her today and make sure the other girls looked after her in the future. So I said, “Right, once only – you promised.” The system operating for school lunches when the weather was fine was that we should collect it in a packet from the tuckshop and then go out on to the playing fields or into the school hall to eat it. We collected our lunches and Saskia asked me to take her round the field, as she had not been to the far corners of it yet. We strolled around, eating as we went, I being grateful that most of my friends were not there to observe this. We had just about finished our snacks by the time we reached the third corner of the field on our trip round. “What’s that shed there?” asked Saskia as we passed the corner, where there was a fence, an open gate and inside a large, rather dilapidated shed. “That’s the tool shed,” I told her. “I just want to have a look at it,” said Saskia, walking towards the gate. “We’re not allowed in there. It’s out of bounds,” I explained. “I’ll come back in a minute when I’ve looked,” she argued, breaking into a trot. “Wait there for me.” I hesitated, looked round and saw there were no authorities in sight. Annoyed, I thought I had better catch her and tell her that if she didn’t come out immediately, before we got into trouble, I would leave her for the rest of the lunch break. She was just disappearing round the back of the shed, so I put on a spurt. As I rounded the corner, I pulled to a halt. She was standing there with her skirt up at the sides, holding her panties by the elastic of the waist and obviously just about to pull them down. She squealed and giggled as she saw me. “Roy, I really just need a wee,” she excused herself. “Wait for me outside. No peeping.” She looked worried, though, no doubt afraid I might tease her or try to take advantage of her. I smiled and tried to appear relaxed. Naturism at our naturist club didn’t affect me a bit, but a girl at school whom I had not seen naked before excited me as much as it would any other boy. But I had learned that the more fuss boys make about this sort of thing, the more they put girls on the defensive. I was already learning to win the confidence and trust of girls. “That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll wait for you.” I turned round and walked back without looking behind at her, and wondering if perhaps it might have helped to have shown willingness by urinating myself in her presence. I thought it safer not to. My heart thumped uncomfortably as I imagined what was going on at that moment behind the shed while I was unable to see it. Two minutes later Saskia emerged, giggling in an embarrassed way as if she expected me to tease her about it, but I said nothing and we continued our walk. The next day I found two girls who promised to befriend Saskia and take her off my hands, so I could refuse her now more occasional pleas for my company with a clear conscience. The following week, Saskia tried another approach. “You must come round to my house this weekend,” she told me. “Then you can meet my family.” She had already given me masses of unwanted information about them all, every detail right down to the frilly bras that her 16-year-old sister Katarina liked to wear. Katarina sounded to be crazy about boys, and I presume Saskia had picked up a lot of her flirtatious behaviour from her. I quite liked the idea, as I did feel rather attracted to her and a visit at the weekend wouldn’t interfere with my other activities. Besides, it might lead to other things. “Thanks, but my parents wouldn’t let me go when they don’t know your parents,” I said. “Maybe if they could meet your parents first sometime . . .” Even at the age of ten, I had cunningly worked out that it would be much better if our parents knew each other, as there were less likely to be ructions if Saskia, or anybody else, and I were to be caught in what might be called a compromising situation. “I’ll talk to them,” smiled Saskia brightly. “I’m sure they’d love to meet your family. You’re so sweet.” I wondered what was in store. Her enterprise took me by surprise, although I should have expected it. That evening my parents had a phone call from Saskia’s father. “Your son has been a wonderful help to my little girl in her new school,” he is reported to have said. “We wondered if you and your family would like to come round for dinner on Saturday evening.” So it was all arranged, and we turned up at Saskia’s family home at about six o’clock that Saturday. This included my sister Jenny, now aged about three. Saskia’s dad was a tall balding man with fair hair – what was left of it - while his wife was a rather plain, dumpy Dutch woman who had the very pale skin that had been passed on to both her daughters. Katarina was a tall thin girl even less pretty than Saskia, I thought, with a pasty face and larger darker freckles than her sister. She wore a short tight shiny black miniskirt and a lot of make-up, which didn’t seem to help her looks one bit. I suppose, though, she had quite a nice slim figure and some sort of sex appeal that helped her attract boys. In looks and build she was more like her father, while Saskia resembled her mother. Saskia herself was wearing a rather short pink frilly dress, not quite the right colour for her. As I had come to expect, she giggled with embarrassment on seeing me, but then introduced me to her parents, as she had no doubt been told to do. Her parents were very nice to me, thanking me profusely for all I was doing, and it soon became clear that Saskia was their spoilt darling, or something close to it. Her father especially made a great fuss of her, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear, and she lapped it all up. No doubt this was what gave her the confidence, or the over-confidence, with boys. I was not the only boy she flirted with, by any means, but I was the main one. Soon we were all sitting in the lounge, with our respective parents busy talking to each other. Katarina liked small children and she was soon on the floor playing with Jenny. As she knelt in that tight miniskirt, it was very easily possible to see her white lacy panties in the triangle between her legs and her skirt. I must admit Jenny quickly liked her very much. Saskia and I were seated rather uncomfortably on the sofa next to each other, not knowing what to say in this strange environment. Then Saskia leaned over and whispered in my ear with a little giggle, “Look at Katarina’s panties.” Of course I had already noticed, along with the fact that Katarina’s white blouse was almost transparent and easily showed her bra through the material. She also had a low neckline which made it possible to see that bra and quite a bit of cleavage every time she lowered her shoulders to talk to Jenny. But I turned to Saskia and whispered back the phrase I had already learned to use to put girls at their ease with me, “It doesn’t matter.” Saskia giggled again and was about to reply when her father noticed our embarrassment and said, “Saskia, why don’t you take Roy and show him around?” We thankfully took this opportunity to escape, and Saskia led me out of the lounge. “Come and see my bedroom,” she instructed, taking me by the arm and holding me close. “Did you see Katarina’s panties?” she whispered again. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter,” I told her, anxious to gain her confidence. If I ridiculed Katarina I could ridicule her; if Katarina was safe with me, so would she be. “I don’t worry about things like that,” I added. That was quite true. Nothing worries me less. “Did you think they were pretty?” she asked as we climbed the stairs. “Yes,” I answered, without further comment. We reached the top and Saskia led me into her bedroom. Here it was obvious she had been spoilt. It was much larger than my own room, beautifully set out in pink and white, with expensive furniture and coverings. There was a showcase along one side, full of expensive dolls and fluffy animals, and a thick fitted carpet on the floor. She even had an en-suite bathroom off to one side, and through the big open windows at the opposite end of the room was an outside balcony. “What do you think?” she asked, expecting my approval. “That’s real cool,” I complimented her, quite honestly. I had never seen a child’s bedroom as opulent as this, and I still haven’t. “Come sit next to me on my bed,” instructed Saskia. We sat down together, and she snuggled up next to me so our shoulders were touching and began to talk. She was a world champion at talking, I can tell you, and I cannot for the life of me remember most of what she talked about, most of the time. As a guest, this time I had to be patient and pretend to listen. Most of it at the moment was about her room. After a few minutes she said to me, “Watch what I can do.” So saying, she moved slightly away from me on the bed, slipped her shoes off, put her hands under her hips, leaned back and swung her legs up over her head until they touched the wall behind us. She pushed them as far up the wall as they would go until she was almost standing on her head. Of course, as she did so her dress fell right down, revealing her little pink panties, her skin down to the small of her back and even a garment she was wearing over her chest. I could get an even better view by looking in the huge full-length mirror on the wall opposite, which gave me a complete view from the rear. This improved still further when she spread her legs outwards, as if to do the splits. Then she swung her legs down again, straightened her dress with a giggle, and turned to me, red in the face from being upside down and perhaps from her usual slight embarrassment, which never seemed to put her off doing anything. “I forgot, you could see my panties,” she lied. She hadn’t forgotten. “I don’t care,” I lied right back. “It doesn’t matter.” “Some girls are so silly,” she told me. “If your dress goes up, they say, `I saw your panties,’“ in a silly singsong voice. “And some boys will laugh and mock you and say it.” “I’ll never do that to you or anyone else,” I assured her, shrugging my shoulders as if it was not even worth considering. “You can do what you like with me here.” “Thank you, Roy,” she grinned, with her wide charming smile, squeezing my hand. “I didn’t really mind you seeing my panties. I’ve got all sorts of different kinds. Pretty ones like Katarina’s,” she smiled seductively. And she began telling me about the different kinds of panties she had, even opening a drawer at one stage and pulling out a very sexy pair of almost transparent frills to show me, not much more than a thong. “I’ll wear these ones next time you come if you like,” she offered with a giggle. “I don’t mind,” was all I answered, smiling and lying again. Then she got on to talking about her other clothes. “I’ve got nearly fifty different dresses,” she told me. “Most of them are very expensive. My most expensive dress is my bridesmaid dress. Let me show you.” She went to a wardrobe, one of three, as far as I could see, and opened it. There were dresses of every colour, size and shape inside. She almost disappeared from sight as she went down the far end and came back with a long, beautiful lacy white dress. “You must look beautiful in that,” I said, resorting to some cheap flattery because I didn’t know what else to say. “Shall I put it on for you?” she asked, holding it up against herself in front. “Yes, that would be great,” I said, wondering with a thump of the heart and a twitch of the penis whether she would change in front of me or nip through to her bathroom. “All right, I’ll just take this one off, then,” she said, beginning to undo the buttons at the front. Then she started pulling it off over her head, looking at me and giggling as she did so. “I’ll go outside if you want while you change,” I offered, sensing that this offer would be rejected, but that it would improve my stocks still further with her if I pretended I had no wish to spy on her. “No, it’s all right, you can stay,” she replied, her face disappearing from view for a second or two as she pulled the pink dress off. “I trust you,” and she giggled as if to show it was not quite true. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 2) She was wearing two-piece underwear, with ordinary pink panties at the bottom. There was a short half-vest at the top that left her tummy bare, and it was slightly rounded, but nothing exciting. Most girls in this country do not wear anything underneath at the top most of the year round until they are old enough to need bras, because of the high temperatures. She laughed and looked at me in her underwear. “Do you like it?” she asked. “Yes,” I answered, truthfully this time. “Help me put on my bridesmaid’s dress,” she instructed me, holding it up for me. I had to hold it while she put it over her head and then help slide her into it. This wasn’t easy, as she was now too small for it, and I had to do quite a bit of pulling and pushing. Finally we made it and she admired herself in front of the big mirror, twirling her skirts around and striking any number of poses. Finally satisfied, she said, “Now I’ll show you another one. Help me take this off.” It proved much more difficult to get Saskia out of the dress than it had been to get her into it. She unbuttoned it, but could hardly get it far up enough to get the collar over her head. Following her instructions, I pulled at the sides but couldn’t do much better. In the end she said, “Put your hands inside and push it up.” My heart thumping fiercely, I obeyed. I knelt down and put my arms under her skirt. I felt my hands brush against her soft warm thighs and then her soft smooth panties. I put my hands under the waist of her dress, where the trouble was, and could feel her soft tummy under my fingers. Then I caught hold of the inside of the waist and pulled upwards, as I was instructed. All the time she was, of course, giggling on and off. Slowly the dress began to shift as she wriggled, and I could feel my hands trapped between the tight-fitting dress and her heaving body. There was a brief pause when she giggled, “Stop! You’re pulling my bra off!” and I had to readjust. Then at last it was off over her head and she stood there panting in her underwear once more. “I’ll show you some more,” she said, going back into her wardrobe and coming out with another dress, a very expensive-looking dark blue one. After a session with this one, completed without my help, she returned and came out with two more. She handed me a tan-coloured one and said, “I think you’ll look nice in this. Put it on, then we can play at being girls together.” “I don’t want to wear a dress!” I exploded. “I’m not a girl!” “Well, girls wear jeans and shorts sometimes,” Saskia told me. “So why can’t you wear a dress sometimes? Don’t be a spoilsport, Roy.” I refused again, and gradually she changed her tack and began pleading most charmingly. “Oh, please, Roy, do it for me,” she begged, looking at me out of her big sorrowful blue eyes. “I do so much want to play being girls with you.” I began to weaken, but didn’t feel I could just give up weakly. “What do I get in return, then?” I asked. She looked at me with big, soulful eyes. “I’ll give you a kiss,” she said. I almost refused, and then suddenly felt it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. I was on friendly terms with a lot of girls, but a kiss was very rare at the age of ten. And nobody need know about it. I hummed and hawed, and then said, “All right.” She gave me a big wet one on my right cheek, and then burst into giggles. “All right, now you must put on the dress,” she told me. We both changed together, but I noticed she was keeping quite an eye on watching me change, mostly from sheer curiosity I should think, as she had no brothers and must have been unused to seeing boys undress – unless she was more promiscuous than I thought. I was wearing long trousers that evening, which were pretty hot, but my parents had felt I should dress smartly the first time I met some new people. I slipped off my shoes, undid my zip and started to remove my trousers. I could sense Saskia watching me closely as my white underpants came into view. “I like your underpants,” she told me. “They’re very smart.” “I’m glad you don’t want me to wear some of your panties as well,” I told her. That turned out to be a foolish thing to say. Her face lit up and she said, “Oh, yes, Roy, you must! Please!” She pulled open her drawer and took out a pile of several pairs, holding them out to me and giggling. “Choose which you want.” “If I wear one of those pairs, you must wear my underpants, then,” I insisted. Suddenly that took away her enthusiasm. She was now the one who refused, giggling, and since we could come to no agreement this time the subject was dropped, to my relief. I did not offer to kiss her. Still, I had to put on her dress, a tan one with quite a tight skirt that came halfway down to my knees and would have no doubt looked nice on a girl. Saskia was wearing a light green one now. “Now come and sit next to me and I’ll teach you how girls talk,” she said. I sat down next to her on the bed and she wriggled up closely to me again. I glanced in the mirror opposite, and noted that even if I sat with my knees together it was just possible to see my underpants up the dress. I crossed my legs, like a girl, and they disappeared. Saskia’s skirt was looser and her panties were not visible. “Now we put our arms round each other and we talk,” she instructed, putting an arm round my neck. “This is how girls do it.” I put my arm round hers and, fooling around, pulled gently backwards. She deliberately leaned back and we both sprawled over backwards on the bed, Saskia kicking her legs in the air and cackling with laughter. I caught a glimpse in the mirror of two bottoms in underwear, one white and one pink. We tried talking ‘like girls’ for a couple of minutes, but I’m sure it was more Saskia’s idea of like lovers than anything else, with our arms round each other and heads together, looking into each other’s eyes all the time. In the end, she let go and stood up, thinking aloud, “Now what else shall we do?” I stood up, relieved suddenly to be given a bit of breathing space. Suddenly Saskia turned round, grabbed the hem of the skirt I was wearing at the front and pulled it up, revealing my underpants. She laughed loudly. “That’s a game girls play sometimes,” she told me. I had become aware of that already and found it good spectator sport. She stood there looking at me with a big smile, expecting me I’m sure to do the same to her. “I think it’s a silly game,” I said, lying again. “I’d never do that to you.” “It’s all right when it’s a game,” she grinned. “Let’s play it.” She promptly whipped up my skirt again and then backed away, giggling, holding down her own skirt and wrapping it around her legs. I reached out a hand, but without intending to do any more than reach. She squealed and let go of her skirt, so I would have had no resistance had I decided to lift it. “Come on, Roy, play properly,” she giggled, grabbing again at the skirt I was wearing. As she did so, I grabbed hers and pulled it up, revealing her pink panties. She laughed loud and long. We spent a few minutes playing this ‘game’ and I became quite caught up in the sexual excitement of it. If I was careful I could brush my hand against her panties without making it seem obvious. This was the first time I realised that some girls enjoy being `abused’ to some extent, as long as it’s by somebody they love and trust. Now I’m older I’ve learned about bondage and spanking and things like that, but I can never imagine myself doing it. The game came to an end when I got overexcited, lifted up Saskia’s dress from behind, slipped my hand underneath and began to tickle her ribs. She was enormously ticklish, or pretended to be, at least. She collapsed on to the floor, kicking her legs in the air, revealing her panties shamelessly, and howled with laughter. I stopped pretty quickly in case one of the adults came up to see what it was all about. Then Saskia went back to dresses, and every time she changed hers she insisted I changed mine as well. Then she said, “I’ve got a new swimming costume. Would you like me to show you?” “Yes, if you like,” I answered casually, but my stomach gave a vicious jolt and my heart and penis reacted immediately. Would she actually change into it? If so, would she change in front of me? She wasn’t quite ready for that yet. She opened a cupboard and took something off a shelf to show me. It was a very tiny little bikini, an attractive red and light blue colour, what material there was of it. I acted very enthusiastic. “That looks great,” I said. “I bet you look lovely in it. The colours will just suit you. You must let me see you wearing it sometime.” I was less than subtle, I agree, but it seemed to be what Saskia wanted. “Would you like me to put it on for you now?” she asked, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Well, that would be great if – if you don’t mind me being here,” I said, feeling my penis straining at my underpants under the skirt I was still wearing. She hesitated, as if trying to pluck up the courage, and then found she couldn’t. “It’s all right, I’ll change in the bathroom,” she said. Damn! I had forgotten about that! She disappeared into her bathroom to change, but left the door open. I had a tremendous battle with self-control. I told myself that she did that deliberately, that if I tried to spy she would make sure I didn’t see anything, and she was doing it to test me. I tried to manoeuvre myself so I could see her in the reflection of the mirror on the wall opposite the bathroom door, hopefully without her seeing me, but she was changing behind the door. I did get a very quick glimpse of panties coming off a very white bottom, but then she moved further round and I could see nothing. Thinking about it now, I suspect she would be trying to watch me through the crack in the door by the hinges, to see if I could be trusted, but fortunately in the position I was I was out of sight of that crack. My penis throbbing and my heart pounding, I quickly decided to change out of the dress back into my own clothes. I was just pulling up my trousers again when Saskia emerged from the bathroom with her usual giggle, wearing only that tiny bikini. It was held by strings at the sides, top and bottom, with just about enough material to cover the business areas and little else. It revealed patches on her body as white as lard which other bikinis in the past had kept covered. I could even see the tops of her groin at each side above the line of her bikini bottom. “Do you like it?” she giggled. “That looks great,” I gasped, trying to pull up my zip without getting my stiff penis caught in it. I hope I did not look too red in the face. I added, as an uncertain joke, “If it falls off when you jump in, I promise I won’t laugh.” Saskia giggled. “I know *you* won’t,” she said. As before she struck a few poses in front of the mirror before moving backwards, accidentally on purpose, and bumping her thigh against my knee as I sat on the bed. I quickly reached out and tickled her bare ribs, but only for a moment because of the noise factor. As expected, she howled with laughter. Then she seemed to decide that she had exposed herself enough and went back into the bathroom to change. Frustrated, I waited for her, still unable to see any reflection in the mirror. She came out beaming and said, “Now let me show you my photograph albums.” Blow me if there was not a whole row of them on the bottom shelf of her large bookcase, all no doubt taken by her doting parents. The first volume all seemed to be of the first year of her life, literally hundreds of them. Some of them showed her quite naked, so I thought that if her parents weren’t actually naturists at least they didn’t seem to have any old-fashioned hang-ups about it. But naked babies have never interested me. Whenever we came to one that showed her baby vagina all too clearly, she would giggle and put her hand over it, saying, “You can’t see that one!” I didn’t protest, as I always did get a glimpse of it, as she no doubt intended. It seemed to me that she was moving slowly towards very close intimacy with me. All the time we sat on the bed together, with heads very close. Her wisps of loose hair kept tickling the side of my face and I could feel her breath on me, especially when she turned to talk to me. It got me excited in a way I had never been before, and I excused myself to go to the toilet. I deliberately left the bathroom door open as I went over to the bowl, lifted the seat, unzipped my fly and spurted. Just above the level of my head was a mirror and a movement caught my eye. I suspected it was Saskia, peeping round, unable to contain her curiosity. I kept my eye on the mirror and her head peeped round again and she stared at me. My back was turned towards her and she did not know I could see her reflection. When I came out she was seated on the bed, trying to look innocent. “Roy, did you know you left the bathroom door open?” she asked, and then giggled. “But I didn’t peek,” she lied. Then, as if to prove it was a lie, she asked me, “Do boys always stand up when they wee?” “Yes, because it’s easier,” I told her. “We can just stick our wees out without having to pull our trousers down and point them into the bowl, so it’s easy.” Again I was quite happy to give her plenty of information, all part of appearing very careless about such matters. I wondered if she would ask me to show her my penis, but she wasn’t ready to go that far just yet. I would have been quite happy to show her too, although I would have required a look at her vagina at the same time. Since becoming a naturist two years earlier I had never been shy of letting anyone see my penis - I’ve always felt I had a good-looking one, as they go, and my boyhood is something to be proud of, without showing it off. We had just started volume two of the photographs when Katarina burst into the room to tell us that dinner was ready. “Do you have to come in without knocking?” Saskia scolded angrily. “Oh, sor - ree, I didn’t know you were kissing and poking in here,” retorted Katarina sarcastically, stalking out again. “She’s so rude,” Saskia complained crossly. She turned to me. “Do you know what poking is?” She giggled. I nodded my head as we got up to go downstairs. “We weren’t doing that, were we?” she asked, giggling again. During the meal we were seated side by side, no doubt at Saskia’s insistence, and she spent most of the time pulling my sleeve and whispering into my ear, without any rebuke from her parents. Afterwards she wanted to get up and go again. “Daddy, may I show Roy around the garden?” she demanded rather than asked. “Yes, darling, just be careful,” replied her indulgent parent as she had already begun leading me out of the open French windows into the back garden. As soon as we got outside, Saskia said to me, “Hold my hand because I’m frightened of the dark.” I could tell this was an excuse as there were bright outside floodlights everywhere, especially towards the large tennis court I could see over to the left. I reached out my hand, but on impulse grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up to expose her panties at the back. She wriggled away, giggling seductively. “You naughty boy,” she teased, wagging her finger at me. “You remembered the game. But I can’t do anything to you when you’re not wearing a dress.” “You could pull my trousers down,” I grinned. She went up close and tried it, but I was wearing a belt with my long trousers. “That’s not fair,” she protested, pretending to sulk, and then squealed as I lifted her dress again. “Now hold my hand while we go out into the dark,” she told me. I did so this time, and she came close to me and led me around the garden. “This is our swimming pool,” she said as we passed it, behind a fence. “It’s empty now or we could swim tonight. In the dark.” She squeezed my hand and looked at me as if she thought it the most intimate experience. “It had a crack in it when we bought the house, but we’re getting it filled this week,” she explained. Next she took me past the tennis court, talking about that, and down to the far end, quite a long way in a very large garden. Gradually the lights faded behind us and Saskia held my hand more tightly, whispering more quietly the darker it got, and snuggling closer to me whenever she could. Then she giggled and said, “I need a wee. Wait here for me.” Forgetting she was supposed to be afraid of the dark, she released my hand and disappeared into the shadows among the bushes. A moment later I heard a distinct splashing noise of liquid on the ground and perhaps among dry leaves. I clutched at my unruly penis. She came back and giggled again, but I noticed she was giggling less now, as if she were gaining more confidence in me. “Do you ever wee outside?” she asked me. Without waiting for an answer, she said, “It’s naughty but it’s exciting! Let’s play catch.” She led me to a big open space on the lawn, slapped me on the hand and sped off, calling, “You’re catcher! Can’t catch me!” I chased after her, finding she was not a very fast runner and wobbled as she moved. I soon had her cornered and lifted up her dress to show I had caught her. Then she chased me, and I was much better at avoiding being caught. In the end I let her catch me, and she tugged on my belt but was still unable to make any impression on my trousers. We continued to play various games outside for quite a while. In the end Saskia threw herself flat on her face on the ground, laughing but exhausted, dress up at the back. I flopped down next to her. “That was fun,” she laughed, turning on her side to talk to me. She pulled my belt and then dug her fingers into my ribs, trying to tickle me. “Are you ticklish?” she asked. “Bet you can’t make me laugh,” I teased her. “I can,” she replied, pushing herself on top of me and digging hard at my ribs. She tried too hard to be ticklish and actually scratched me with her long nails. I rolled over and she fell backwards, legs deliberately high, wide and handsome and her pink panties exposed in all their beauty. Again I put my hands up her dress and tickled her tummy gently. I had learned through bitter experience how easily girls can get hurt in rough-and-tumbles, so I was very gentle. Exhausted, we lay there for a while on the soft grass side by side, talking – or rather it was mainly Saskia who talked and I who listened. Then she finally said, “Come up to my room again.” We went upstairs, hearing the adults still talking in the lounge. They certainly seemed to be getting on well together. As we reached the top of the stairs there was a light on in the next room along the passage. Saskia put her finger to her lips. “Katarina’s in her room,” she whispered. I realised that Jenny must have gone to bed in a corner somewhere and Saskia’s sister come upstairs. We went into Saskia’s room, and she put the light on and closed the door. I went over to draw the curtains helpfully, but she stopped me. The windows by the balcony were wide open and the curtains swaying gently in the breeze. “I always leave my curtains open,” she told me. “It’s much cooler, and nobody can possibly see in because of that big line of fir trees along the back fence.” I recalled then that when it had been lighter I had been able to see no view from Saskia’s window except for the line of trees, so it was quite true. “Let me show you my toy animals,” she said, opening the cabinet. She began telling me very boringly about them one by one, and we were in the middle of this when Saskia’s mother came upstairs to tell us that my family were about to leave. She seemed very happy to see us getting on so well together. I noticed it was nearly ten o’clock as we went downstairs. The other parents were saying their goodbyes on the front veranda. “You must come round to dinner with us sometime,” I heard my father say. “What about next weekend?” The invitation was accepted, and then Saskia chipped in, talking to her father in a loving, pleading voice especially put on, “Daddy, please could Roy come round here after school next Friday?” We finished school at one o’clock on Friday so that was the best day for a visit. “Why, certainly, yes, if Roy would like to and his family agree,” smiled her father, bending down and picking her up in his arms. She started twining his hair round her fingers, smiling down at me in triumph as if to say, “Look, I can get my daddy to do anything I want.” I nodded my agreement and my parents duly accepted on my behalf. Saskia then asked, “And please can he stay the night?” Her father hesitated, then said, “Well, I would be very happy with that, if that’s what you want, my darling. We do have a spare room.” He looked at my parents and then at me, saying, “Perhaps you’d like to discuss it and let us know?” “That would be great,” I said, nodding my head and smiling, looking at my parents. I did find Saskia a nuisance at times, but she seemed sexually alive in a way I had never experienced in any other girl and I was eager to see how far we could go together. I felt slightly disappointed at the mention of a spare room, but realised that it was only realistic. We were getting a little too old to share a room together. My parents looked at me and then at each other, and said they would discuss the matter and let them know. A few minutes later we drove away, my last sight of Saskia being on her father’s arm, one arm wrapped round his neck and the other waving. I felt very warm in the pit of my stomach at the sensual excitement of the evening, and wondered how I could wait six days before going back again. “Such a sweet little girl,” my mother commented. “And she seems really taken with you, Roy. Her parents have kept telling us how happy she is at school sitting next to you and having you help her with everything.” “I wonder if she’s a little spoilt, though,” my father commented astutely. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 3) My parents soon agreed to allow me to sleep over at Saskia’s house on Friday night, no doubt sure that I was still too young and sensible to get up to anything I shouldn’t, and that Saskia’s parents would keep a benevolent eye on everything. Friday could not come quickly enough for me. At our naturist club I had seen everything there is to see about girls of all ages, but it is a completely non-sexual situation there. Saskia, with her sexuality, her coquettishness and her crush on me, was a whole new experience. I had no idea where it was all going to lead, and I just hoped we wouldn’t get caught doing something adults disapproved of. I didn’t trust Saskia, but the possibilities were too tempting for me to turn down. Saskia did not help, constantly reminding me during school with a beaming smile that she couldn’t wait until Friday either. On Friday morning I arrived at school with a small suitcase packed for the overnight stay. I found it difficult to concentrate during the morning – not that it was easy at any time with Saskia next to me, as the teacher still had not latched on to the fact that very little of her talk to me now had anything to do with the lessons. When Saskia told me with a gleam in her eye that she had a special surprise in store for me, but would tell me no more, it really became exciting and I had to go to the toilet several times during the morning. So did Saskia, actually. Finally school closed at one o’clock. Saskia’s father’s driver came to pick us up in the car. We sat in the back together, and all Saskia would say about her `special surprise’ was, “I’ll tell you when we get there.” When we drove in at the gate, she changed her mind again and said, “I’ll tell you when we’re inside.” Inside the house she finally turned to me with her eyes sparkling and hissed, “Roy, we’re both going to sleep in my room tonight!” I felt a thrill of excitement, but at the same time worry. There was something about the way she said it that made me feel suspicious that something sneaky was going on. I already knew we were on the verge of things that might cause trouble if found out, and I felt worried. “Did your mum and dad agree?” I asked her. “Well, Mummy said no at first, but she’s out working till late,” Saskia replied. “Daddy didn’t say anything, but when he knows we want to sleep together he won’t mind, and he’ll come home before Mummy tonight. So I’ll get Estella [the local maid] to help us move your bed into my room and it’ll be all right.” The whole way she said it worried me more. I felt it would be dangerous for me to show any enthusiasm for sleeping in the same room as Saskia unless asked by one of her parents, and even then I had better sound casual about it. But I already knew, from several examples, what a terrible liar she was, and I couldn’t trust her now. I had better go carefully. “Where’s my bed now?” I asked. “It’s still in the guest room,” she told me. “But I’ll just go to Estella and get her to help us move it.” “But we can’t do that unless your parents say so first,” I objected. “They will,” retorted Saskia confidently, going off in search of Estella. I wasn’t so sure, especially about her mother, who seemed rather stricter than her father. Her father would give Saskia anything, I had gathered, but I didn’t want to be the cause of a row between the two parents if Saskia’s mother had already refused. “We’d better wait till they get home,” I said, following her. “Don’t you *want* to sleep with me?” she demanded. “Yes, but we don’t want any trouble about it,” I objected. “There won’t be. Daddy will be all right,” said Saskia firmly. She then spoke to Estella, who seemed very reluctant to help move the bed without orders from a higher authority. Saskia was very firm, though, telling her it was at her father’s orders. In the face of such a barefaced lie, I quietly tried to disappear into the background, feeling most uncomfortable. “Come on, Roy,” ordered Saskia, sweeping through the lounge with a reluctant Estella in tow. She didn’t wait to see if I obeyed but carried on up the stairs. I remained uncomfortably in the lounge until a minute or two later Saskia came indignantly looking for me. Then we had our first major row, as Saskia stamped her foot and accused me of not really liking her at all, while I insisted we needed to get her parents’ permission first. In the end she stormed off upstairs, saying that she and Estella would do it themselves, whether I liked it or not. I heard a lot of scraping and banging upstairs as they got to work. Then after a couple of minutes the front door opened and Katarina came in, wearing her school uniform and looking incredibly plain. She had just arrived home after cycling from high school. She didn’t trouble to greet me but just asked, on hearing the noise of removals upstairs and Saskia’s shouted instructions to Estella, “What the hell’s going on up there?” “I don’t know,” I lied as the easiest way out. Katarina went upstairs, and then the biggest row of all broke out. I heard Katarina shouting, “You put that bed straight back in its place! We don’t want you two poking each other all night,” and Saskia bellowing, “No! Get out! Mind your own business!” Katarina then played her trump card, saying, “Estella, go back to the kitchen,” and moments later a relieved-looking Estella scurried down the stairs. At the same time Saskia was having hysterics upstairs, shouting and screaming and banging in a terrible tantrum. It must have gone on for two or three minutes, but Saskia could do nothing now she didn’t have Estella to help her move the bed. She ended it by going into her bedroom and slamming the door, screaming, “I’m telling Daddy when he gets home and you’ll be in trouble!” Even from downstairs I could hear hysterical crying coming from her room. It was the first time I had really seen the nasty side of her character and it worried me. I felt very much like a spare part. Katarina came downstairs, looking very self-satisfied. “Roy, come and help me move the bed back,” she ordered. “It’s a good thing for you that you weren’t helping to move it.” Just what I had thought right from the beginning. I did not answer, but felt a strong mixture of disappointment and relief that I had avoided the possibility of trouble. I quietly followed Katarina upstairs to the guest room, which was opposite Saskia’s room. Cries of anguish were still coming from the closed door of that room as we moved the bed between us from the doorway of the guest room, through which they had been trying to move it, and back into its proper place. It was certainly an impressive room, almost like a hotel room, with its beautiful bed and furniture and luxurious carpet, and a washbasin in the corner. I was wondering rather miserably what I was expected to do while Saskia sorted herself out. Then Katarina showed a spark of humanity by saying, “Roy, you swim if you want, while my baby sister gets over her tantrum.” The sentence was finished in a tone of deep scorn. Then she walked off to her bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. I decided that was the only option for me, so I changed into my swimming costume, leaving the door open as usual. Grabbing an expensive guest towel from the rail by the washbasin in the corner, I padded downstairs and had a dip in the pool. It wasn’t much fun by myself, though. A few minutes later Katarina came down to join me and that was even less fun. She was wearing a fairly modest bikini, which I gathered later from Saskia was not her usual one. No doubt she did not wish to expose too much flesh to my youthful innocent eyes. She swam a couple of lengths, then got out and sat in a deckchair, reading a teenage girls’ magazine. With nothing else to do, I swam a bit and sunbathed a bit, wishing I had never come and feeling hungry, not having eaten any lunch. It was a relief when after about half an hour Saskia came down to the pool. Her eyes were red and she had changed into a very tight teenage-looking miniskirt, made of black leather, and an expensive white blouse. “Come, Roy, let’s go upstairs,” she said, ignoring Katarina and looking more like her normal self. Katarina looked up from her book and said sharply, “Saskia, make sure you don’t do anything silly in there, or you’re in even bigger trouble.” She dropped her eyes back to her book, which was just as well, because Saskia stuck her tongue out at her as rudely and viciously as she could. I followed Saskia up the stairs, far enough behind to see the edge of shiny white panties just peeping out under the hem of her miniskirt as she climbed them. So she had forgotten her promise of wearing her very sexy panties for my benefit. Inside her room Saskia turned to me and said in a voice of hatred, “Katarina’s going to be in such big trouble when I tell Daddy about this. She’s ruined everything. I hate her guts.” “There’s still a chance,” I persisted, trying to cool her down. “Just get your dad to ask me if I want to sleep in your room, and I’ll say yes, and he’ll fix it up and Katarina will be stuffed then.” I was hoping this would happen, but doubted whether even Saskia’s dad would agree to such a dubious arrangement. “I’m going to get revenge,” swore Saskia, stalking out of her room, turning left along the passage and throwing open the door to Katarina’s room. Apprehensively I followed her. I was just in time to see her march over to Katarina’s large chest-of-drawers, drag open a drawer and empty it on the ground with a bang. Bras, panties and assorted underwear of all shapes and colours tumbled on to the floor. “I hate her, I hate her!” she screamed. Saskia was about to do the same with the next drawer when I knew I had to step in. I could see myself being sent home, whether thought to be involved or not, if Saskia caused any more trouble. I quickly rammed the second drawer shut just in time and stood with my legs against it. “Don’t, please don’t, or I’m going to be sent home,” I pleaded urgently. Saskia flew at me, shouting, and we struggled together. I was stronger and I forced her back. She was about to fly at me with her nails out when we heard a voice along the passage, “Miss Saskia, Miss Saskia, what’s happening up there?” Estella had heard the noise and was coming to investigate. Saskia suddenly seemed to realise that she was going too far. Estella was technically in charge of us all but it seemed she had no real power, although she could report any misbehaviour and she could call Katarina up to see what was happening. Saskia froze for a moment, and I called out, “No, it’s all right, Estella.” There was a muffled grunt, and we heard Estella retreating. Then I said, “This will only cause trouble, so *please* - just wait till your dad gets home and you can tell him then. Let’s enjoy ourselves now, then Katarina will think she hasn’t really bothered us after all, until your dad comes.” “Yes, I will,” Saskia said sharply, turning round and stamping back to her own room. I looked round and knew what I had to do. I plunged into the mass of multi-coloured frilly lingerie on the floor, shoved it back in the drawer, hoping that it had not been stacked neatly inside, and shut the drawer. I returned to Saskia’s bedroom to find she had shut herself in the toilet, from whence came the sound of urine splashing into the bowl. I quickly returned to my room and changed out of my swimming costume. I did not think this was the best time to let Saskia see me naked for the first time - that dramatic moment would require a happier atmosphere. Saskia came right into my room just as I was pulling up my elastic-waisted shorts. She giggled, and I thought that sounded very normal once again. Then she said, “I’m glad you’re wearing those shorts.” “Why?” I asked. “Because!” was all she said. She shot out a hand, grabbed the elastic at the back and pulled down sharply. They came down halfway over my bottom, revealing my white underpants. She giggled and danced away, but as usual let me catch her without too much trouble. She clutched her arms across her chest and screeched in feigned terror while I pulled up her miniskirt. Once pulled, it stayed up, showing her shiny white panties almost up to the waist. She squealed with laughter and marched round the room with her skirt stuck way up there. Then she pulled it down again with a big grin. Things were back to normal, it seemed. We heard Estella’s voice again. “Miss Saskia, you haven’t eaten the lunch I made for you and your friend.” So we went downstairs and ate a light lunch, much to my relief. After lunch Saskia said, “Let’s go and play in the garden. I didn’t show you my tree house last time you were here.” We went outside, with Saskia ignoring Katarina in her deck chair, and Katarina took no notice of us. Saskia led me into the trees down near the far corner of the garden. One of them had a long ladder leading upwards to a platform built into a fork at least five metres high, with a little room rather like a shed on top. She started to climb it and I followed her, enjoying the view of her panties up her skirt. I lifted the hem of her skirt as she climbed, and she squealed and giggled. She was in no position to pull my shorts down this time. We both reached the top and then crawled in through the low doorway. It was quite large inside, with a carpet and tiny tables and chairs. At the far end there was a wide shelf, covered with a drab red rug, on which Saskia had placed a few books and some shabby toy animals, no doubt not considered good enough for her showcase. “We’ll sit up there,” said Saskia, pointing to it. “Then we can talk.” We climbed on to the shelf, pushed everything on it into a corner and sat down facing each other. It was a tight squeeze. Saskia crossed her legs, revealing a wide stretch of panties as she did so, while I sat with my knees tucked under my chin. We were so cramped that my feet were pressed against hers. It was very hot inside the wooden tree house and I started sweating. Saskia looked at my loose-legged shorts and announced, “I can see your underpants.” “That’s all right, I don’t mind,” I told her, deciding not to mention her panties. “Can you see my panties?” she grinned, leaning forward until her face was close to mine. She had a big smile, her teeth were white, her eyes half-closed with the grin and I could see every tiny pale brown freckle. I could smell the grapes we had been eating on her breath. I looked down as if I hadn’t noticed before. She made no effort to cover up. “Yes,” I said. “Very sexy.” She beamed with pleasure. We sat in silence for a few seconds, a long time with Saskia around. She seemed to be about to say something but hadn’t quite got the courage. Finally she told me, “I’m going to get a bra next week.” “Why?” I asked, rather a silly question I thought as I said it, but I couldn’t think of anything better to say. “My sprouts are starting to grow,” she grinned. With additional trust in me, she seemed to have developed a grin instead of a giggle much of the time now. I hadn’t heard the term `sprouts’ used in that context before, but the meaning was obvious. Then she whispered seductively, “Do you want to see them?” My heart thumped, but I tried to hide my interest and just answered, “All right. If you want me to.” This time she did giggle as she started to unfasten the buttons on her blouse. “I don’t mind,” she replied. I soon saw that she was not wearing her vest top this time. No doubt she had found out by now that young girls in this country didn’t bother in the hot weather. Then she pulled the material to one side and showed me one of her little breasts, giggling as usual. The skin for a few centimetres around it was very white and bikini-shaped, from where it had been under her swimming costume. There wasn’t very much to see, really. It just looked like a small swelling on her chest with a little nipple on top. “What do you think?” she asked, smiling at me. This is the sort of question where you never know the right answer. The best I could manage was, “It looks very pretty. Sexy,” but it seemed to be the right one. “That’s what Daddy says,” Saskia replied smugly. She then pulled her blouse to the other side to show me the other one. “Mummy says I don’t need a bra yet, but Daddy says if I want one I can have one. So I’m going to get one next week. I’ll show you when I get it.” “Thank you,” I answered rather awkwardly, feeling hot and sweaty. Then there was another silence as Saskia prepared herself for her next effort. Then she said, “What happens to boys when they get to puberty?” “Puberty? Well - our voices go deep,” I answered, taken by surprise. “Does your body get bigger anywhere, like a girl’s sprouts?” asked Saskia. “Well, we grow faster,” I explained, and decided to elaborate. “And our penises get bigger and they start getting hairy. You know, just like girls get hairy too between their legs.” After another pause came the next question. “Is yours getting big and hairy yet?” I hesitated, and then decided that I had better tell the truth as she would be seeing it very soon anyway, the way things were going. “Not yet,” I confessed. “Puberty usually happens to boys after it happens to girls.” There was another silence, and then Saskia finally reached the climax of what I’m sure she had been angling for. She said, “Let’s play another game. Even though it’s a silly game.” She looked into my eyes and giggled, with a big grin on her face. Then she ventured in a seductive whisper, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” “Yes, all right,” I smiled back, trying to hide the thumping of my heart. “I don’t mind you seeing mine.” I spread my knees apart a bit, reached down and pulled aside my shorts and underpants. My genitals spilled out, my penis, not as limp as it might be but not yet stiff, and my loose wrinkled scrotum with testicles inside. Saskia stared, her mouth open. In the end she said, “It’s not as big as my Daddy’s.” “Well, he’s a man,” I said, feeling mildly insulted. “Mine will get bigger when I reach puberty.” I slid it all back inside again. “I have my bath with my Daddy sometimes,” Saskia told me proudly. “And sometimes I touch his wee. He always thinks it’s by accident. Do you ever have a bath with a girl?” “Yes,” I answered. “But we’re playing a game. It’s your turn now.” “I mean with a girl apart from Jenny and Shelley,” Saskia specified. “Yes,” I nodded vigorously. “Quite often.” This was true in a way, as we have a jacuzzi at the club. “Tell me their names,” Saskia encouraged me. “That’s secret,” I told her. Then I added cunningly, “If we – us, I mean -ever have our bath together, I’ll keep that secret too. But now it’s your turn to show me yours.” Saskia giggled and shook her head. “I was only playing,” she said. “I didn’t really mean it.” “Yes, you did,” I told her, but keeping it light. “So you must play your part of the game now.” “I tricked you! I’m not going to show you,” she grinned. “Well, I’m sorry you don’t trust me like I trust you,” I told her, pretending to shrug it off with a sense of disappointment in her honesty. “I do trust you,” she insisted. “No, you don’t,” I repeated, shrugging my shoulders. “Friends are supposed to trust each other with everything. But if you don’t trust me I’m not going to make you.” Saskia paused and thought it over. Then she reached up her dress and pulled aside the material of her panties for a split second. As she still had her legs crossed, I had a quick glimpse of something that reminded me of a corkscrew, a rounded, twisty shape of folds of skin. Then she let the elastic snap back again. “Katarina calls it a pisshole,” she giggled. “I hardly saw anything,” I laughed, as if I too were joking. “One more turn,” agreed Saskia, pulling aside her panties again, still quite quickly, but it was rather a small view. I could just see part of an open vagina in there, with something a pinkish white in the middle, rather like folds of skin that had made me think of a corkscrew. When she let go again I looked her in the face and gave her a big smile. “That’s so beautiful,” I whispered. “I’m glad you trust me.” Saskia looked straight back at me and asked, “Do you like me?” Despite her silly behaviour, more of which I had discovered not long before, I suddenly felt a thrill of infatuation in my heart, which I thought was love. I gave a big smile and answered, “Yes.” “If you like me, then kiss me,” she replied, turning her cheek and waiting for me. I gave her a big warm kiss on her cheek, and she glowed. Then she turned and gave me a kiss as well. I felt a warmth in my heart, both with the kiss and with what I had just seen. Then she said, “I’ve never seen a real boy’s wee before. I’ve seen babies’ wees, and my Daddy, but not a real boy.” She tried to be complimentary. “It looks quite nice,” she said. I tried to feel pleased. I feel quite happy with my penis. Some boys have them big and some small. Some have long stringy ones and some short stubby ones. Some have curly ones and some have droopy ones. Mine, I have always felt, is just right. At that age I think it was about eight or nine centimetres long, if I remember correctly. From its base it narrowed slightly for a few centimetres, then bulged a little as the foreskin covered the prepuce before coming to a rather blunt end. Some boys have a penis that tapers off almost into a point, with the foreskin too long for it. Some have no foreskin, if they have been circumcised, and some have a short foreskin so you can see the pink prepuce peeping out of it. My foreskin just covers it nicely. “Have you ever seen a girl’s wee before?” asked Saskia, a similar question to the bath one. “I mean, apart from Jenny and Shelley?” “Lots of times,” I answered. Then I told her about our naturist club. She listened, fascinated, hardly able to believe that people would get in a group with friends and even strangers, boys and girls, men and women, and enjoy the freedom of nudity together in the open air. “It’s very exciting,” I told her. “You feel so free to be naked in the open air. And,” I added cunningly but truthfully, “it’s very special being naked with other people you can trust. You feel you like them much, much more when you’re all naked together and nobody minds.” Interest and curiosity were written all over Saskia’s face. Then she said, “My Daddy and I go swimming naked at night. That’s such fun. Katarina used to come as well, but she’s too proud now.” Her face lit up. “Maybe we can do that tonight,” she beamed, putting her face close to mine again. I nodded hopefully, wondering if her father would mind having a stranger join them. Then I said, “Clothes can be such a nuisance, especially when it’s hot. I think I’ll take my shirt off.” I started to pull my T-shirt off over my head. “You can take all your clothes off if you like, since you’re a naturist,” grinned Saskia teasingly. I pretended I hadn’t thought of it. “That’s a great idea!” I exclaimed. “Yes, let’s play naturists! We’ll take our clothes off and pretend we’re naturists. Then we can talk or we can play or do anything we like.” Saskia put her hand to her mouth to stop a fit of giggles, then said, “Yes, let’s. That’ll be an exciting game!” “We’ll have a race to see who gets all their clothes off first,” I said, taking the lead in a game for a change. “And the loser has to give the winner a kiss.” I thought it rather babyish, but this seemed to be the way she often thought. “Yes! Ready – go!” shouted Saskia, pulling at her blouse. I whipped off my shorts and underpants together before she even got her skirt off. Perhaps it would have been better had I been slower, as when she had removed her skirt she stopped. She just sat there in her white panties, little nipples sticking out on her chest, studying my naked body. I sat cross-legged, with my penis dangling down. “You won! Now I have to give you a kiss,” she grinned. “You haven’t finished yet,” I reminded her. “I don’t have to,” she gloated. “You didn’t say anything about that. You just said the loser has to give the winner a kiss.” She leaned over and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek. I thrilled inside. “Are you going to give me one, too?” she asked when I didn’t respond in kind, and turned her cheek towards me. “When you’ve finished,” I said. “We can’t play naturists while you’re still wearing your panties.” “My kiss,” she demanded, proffering her cheek again. “When you’ve finished undressing,” I insisted. She pouted. Then she pulled a face and said, “I’m sick of this game. I want to go swimming.” “Katarina’s by the pool,” I reminded her. Saskia looked at her expensive wristwatch. “She’ll be going out just about now,” she said. “She goes to a club on Friday night and they’re having an outing, so she has to meet them at three o’clock. She’ll be getting changed, so let’s go.” She slipped off the shelf and put on her skirt and blouse again. I put on my underpants and shorts, feeling very annoyed but knowing I had to play it carefully if I was going to get anywhere exciting with Saskia – quite what that would be in the end I had no idea, but my imagination had been running riot for several days. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 4) We climbed down the ladder, stopping at the bottom for a moment of impromptu mutual undressing, as Saskia tried to pull my shorts down again and I retaliated. Then we set off towards the house. As we reached the house, Katarina came out, wearing a flimsy purple miniskirt and masses of make-up. She was looking very cross. “Saskia, where is that stupid woman Estella?” she demanded furiously. “I can’t find her anywhere.” “She goes off from three until five on Fridays,” Saskia reminded her. “I know that, you dummy,” retorted Katarina. “But this Friday Mummy told her to stay in and keep an eye on you two, so I could go out to the club. But she seems to have gone off anyway. I have to go right now.” “If you go out and leave us alone here, I’ll tell Mummy,” promised Saskia. “Don’t you dare!” Katarina warned her with quiet viciousness. “If you tell, I’ll kill you!” “I’m going to tell,” chanted Saskia, jeering at her. “Saskia, listen,” I told her urgently. I whispered quickly in her ear, with Katarina making vile threats all the time. Saskia’s face brightened. Then she grinned insolently at Katarina and said, “We’ll make a bargain.” “I don’t want a stupid bargain. You keep your mouth shut about it,” Katarina warned her. “Okay? I’ve got to go right now!” She was getting very agitated, looking at her watch. “If you don’t tell about moving Roy’s bed, I won’t tell about you leaving us here alone,” Saskia told her. “But if you tell, then I’ll tell.” “Okay, okay, then,” spat out Katarina. “But make sure you don’t tell!” She turned and almost ran. “If you don’t tell, I won’t,” Saskia shouted after her. Then she turned to me, threw her arms around my chest and said, “That was a good plan, Roy. You saved me!” My heart was beating fast as we went inside to change for swimming. My mind boggled at all the things we could get up to unsupervised. Would she want to change for swimming with me now? But it seemed Saskia was very slow to have the courage to follow the path she obviously wanted to follow with me. Or was she just teasing me, making me hungry for her? As we reached the landing, after the customary lifting of skirt and pulling down of shorts, Saskia said to me, “Race you getting changed! Loser gives winner a kiss!” She shot into her room and slammed the door shut after her. I changed with the door open again, but expected to win the race. Cunningly I did not tie a knot in the drawstring of my swimming costume as I walked out into the passage to wait for her. She was quite some time before she eventually emerged, in her tiny bikini. She grinned and said, “I have to give you another kiss.” She did so. “That’s two you owe me,” she said. “You didn’t finish our naturist game, so you don’t get them,” I grinned at her. We went down the stairs, and I had a sudden idea. “Do we play our game with swimming costumes as well?” I asked, putting my hand on the back of her tiny bikini bottom as if to pull it down. She jumped away as if scalded. “No!” she squealed, and then laughed. But it seemed to me as if she was alarmed, so I didn’t try it. “Good thing,” I laughed. “My swimming costume’s still too big for me, so it’s very loose.” She turned and looked at it, but made no comment. I was hoping she would pull it down, without the drawstring tied, then I could go for hers, but she probably had the same thought. We threw our towels on the deckchairs and jumped into the pool. We swam across and splashed about, with the water tugging at the waist of my costume all the time. Then Saskia said, from a safe distance, “If we play that game with swimming costumes, it’s only down to our bottoms, all right? But we’re not playing it now.” “All right,” I said, getting excited again. This suggested that Saskia was planning to make an attack on me sometime. I paused, and then said, “I want to jump off your diving board.” I hauled myself slowly up the side of the pool, quite confident of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, just as my knee went up on the edge, I felt a pull on my swimming costume and a squeal of laughter from behind. My swimming costume went down over my buttocks at the back. Saskia was swimming away as fast as she could. “The slide is safe haven!” she shouted over her shoulder, heading for it. The slide was by the side of the pool, only a few metres away, so she was confident she could beat me to it. But I was already on the side of the pool and, without stopping to pull up my swimming costume, I took a flying dive and my outstretched arms just managed to grab her by the foot before she reached the slide. She squealed in dismay and thrashed about wildly, while I pulled her back and then pulled her bikini bottom down, but only just over her very white buttocks, minimum distance. Then I let go, and she stretched for the slide again, pulling her swimming costume back up with one hand. “I thought you’d never get me in time,” she grinned as she held on to the end of the blue slide, with a tinge of admiration in her voice. “You’ll never get me again,” I told her with a cunning smile, pedalling myself back towards the diving board. “Yes, I will,” she responded in a teasing voice. “No, you won’t,” I assured her, pulling myself up out of the water as I had done the time before and feeling my swimming costume sliding off as I did so. Saskia was already swimming in pursuit as I climbed out, and then she gave a squeal and a laugh. “Roy, your swimming costume has come off!” she called out to me, still laughing. “I can see your bum.” “I don’t mind,” I replied, turning round to face her fully naked. “I said that you wouldn’t get me again, didn’t I?” I laughed and plunged deep into the water to retrieve my swimming costume from where I had kicked it off. Saskia thought at first I was diving to pull her bikini, and I saw her from below, kicking out for the slide again. I surfaced next to her, grinning. “I’m going to get you and you can’t get me,” I teased her. “You can’t when I’m in the safe haven,” Saskia reminded me, clutching the slide. “No, I won’t, but I’ll get you when you come out,” I warned her teasingly, pulling myself out and paddling off to the diving board. Saskia remained clutching the slide while I bounced several times on the board and dived in deep. Again I could see her white body, clothed only in her tiny bikini, as I looked up at her from the bottom of the pool. She laughed at me again when I surfaced. “Roy, I love the way your wee bounces up and down when you jump on the board,” she told me. “I’m coming down the slide now,” I told her, climbing out again. She was still reluctant to leave it and swam to one side, holding on to one of the struts, while I climbed the steps and slid down. “I’m going to have a slide too,” she told me, climbing out of the pool, with one hand firmly holding on to the slide. She walked round, climbed it and sat at the top. I waited at the bottom for her, grinning. She then realised that if she slid down, she would lose contact with the slide as she entered the water. “Roy, move out of the way while I slide,” she ordered me. “I’m waiting to catch you when you come down,” I laughed at her. “We’re not playing that game any more,” she told me, sounding rather cross. “Yes, we are,” I laughed back. “It’s not funny,” she retorted, sitting on the top of the slide and sticking her lip out. “You can’t make all the rules around here,” I told her, still smiling. She clammed up, remaining seated at the top of the slide. I swam gently away towards the diving board. As soon as I saw a movement from the corner of my eye I turned and swam back as fast as I could go. Saskia saw me change direction before she hit the water but it was too late to stop herself. She could not get back to the slide before I caught her and gently pulled the back of her swimming costume. “This is a silly game,” she sulked, holding on to the slide again. “You made it up,” I laughed at her, swimming away for another dive. As I climbed out of the water, she called out, “We’re not playing it any more.” I turned and looked at her. “All right, if you don’t want to,” I said very firmly. “But if you stop now, we’re never, never going to play it again, dresses, shorts, nothing. Because you can’t just start and stop when you feel like it. So never again! All right?” I was feeling pretty cross and frustrated with her, but I was sure she enjoyed the sexuality of that dress-lifting and would not want that to end. She clammed up again and said nothing, which seemed to confirm my suspicions. Then she swam to the side and climbed out for another slide, but then seemed to realise that she would again be vulnerable when she hit the water. So she slipped back into the pool again. As I walked along the diving board she seemed to have taken her decision. “Ro - oy,” she sang out in a high soprano voice. “You won’t get me any more.” “Yes, I will,” I assured her, responding to her inexplicable change of attitude with a teasing grin. “No, you won’t,” she sang out again, in the pool and still holding on to the slide. By way of explanation she reached down into the water, removed her bikini bottom and slung it on to the side of the pool. I bounced on the board gently as an excuse for the jerking of my penis. “Yes, I will,” I managed to call back. “Because you’re still wearing your top.” “No, I’m not,” she sang out, pulling it off over her head and throwing it after the bottom. “Now I can’t,” I laughed. “I can’t even pull your skin off now.” I bounced on the board again and dived in deep. Saskia didn’t seem to realise at this stage that I would be able to see her under water. I stared upwards and saw her two legs gently treading water. At the apex was a little white rounded vagina, and higher up I could not quite make out in the unsettled water the gentle swelling of her new little sprouts, as she liked to call them. I surfaced alongside her and she gave a squeal. Then she grinned and said, “Roy, I can still do something to you and you can’t do it to me.” “What’s that?” I asked in my ignorance. “This,” she whispered. I felt her fingers suddenly brush against my groin. Before I could move she had found my penis and pulled it gently. “Got you!” she teased. “And you can’t get me because I haven’t got one.” “I can tickle you there, though,” I grinned, reaching out, my hand making contact with her buttock. “No, no!” she squealed, thrashing the water as she strove to get away from me. I lunged after her. She grabbed the slide again and kicked out wildly. “Roy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she panted. “I won’t do it again, I promise. The game’s over, okay?” I stopped a short distance away from her. “All right this time,” I said. “But if you ever do that again, I can tickle your vagina. Next time. Okay?” “No,” she scowled, but I felt that at last I was getting somewhere with her. We swam around and enjoyed ourselves for a while, but Saskia did not get out of the water. I knew that she felt covered when in the water, but much more vulnerable outside it. I had seen that sort of thing happen to new children who come to our naturist club, and it does take a while for most of them before they feel confident enough to be naked out of the water. I very happily used the slide and diving board, noticing that she watched my bouncing penis with some fascination. “I know another game,” I said, my imagination working. “You swim to the corner of the pool and close your eyes. Then you count out loud. I have to climb up the slide from the pool, the wrong way, run all the way round the pool and slide in again while you count with your eyes closed. When you hear the splash, then you stop. Then we do the same thing all over again, you counting at the same speed, and I have to beat the record. And we keep doing that until I don’t break the record, and then it’s your turn.” My plan was that by running naked when I couldn’t see her, she would become more confident and more willing to go naked when I could see her. Saskia agreed but, unusually for her, came up with a sensible extra rule. “We must run on the grass, not on the tiles,” she said. “Then if we slip, we won’t get hurt.” Saskia played her part while I did mine, and she counted aloud to 36 before hearing my splash. Second time round, I again scored 36 and had not broken my record, so we changed over. “No peeping,” warned Saskia, and I agreed. Keeping my part of the bargain, head down, I counted to 44 before Saskia hit the water. I tried to count slightly slower and managed to get her down to 40, hopeful that she was getting used to running about naked during daylight – presumably she had done it after dark with her father. Then she hit 39, but was 40 again after that, clearly a little tired. She clung to the side of the pool, panting. I added another idea. “Let’s play handstands,” I suggested from my position in the shallow end. “We do this at the naturist club. I’ll do a handstand and you catch my legs against your shoulders. Then you count, and see how long I can stay up for.” She stood there while I faced her and stood on my hands in the water. I felt her hold on to my legs, which I spread out a little, and could feel them resting on her shoulders. The water was about waist-deep there, so I was sure she would be having a good look at my inverted genitals and penis hanging down. I stayed under as long as I could before kicking myself free and surfacing. Saskia’s giggly expression indicated that she had indeed been enjoying the view, so I had another turn before inviting her to try it. She giggled and said, “I’m not very good at handstands.” She did have one try, though, but it was very brief. I had no sooner placed her legs against my shoulders and looked down at that long and apparently unbroken slit from her bottom to the top of her vagina, than she kicked herself free and surfaced again, laughing. Then she heaved a big breath, grinned and said, “I’m getting out.” I followed her to the side of the pool, where she scrambled up in front of me. Her bottom, perhaps never having seen the sun since her baby photos, was very white and various swimming costume lines were evident on her body. As she scrambled out, I could see from behind the pink loose skin between her legs with the slit of her vagina in the middle. She was still not completely confident, as she quickly flopped down on the warm tiles on her tummy, her rounded white bottom pointing at the sky, and grinned at me. I sat down on my bottom almost facing her, deliberately placing my penis just within her range in case she should want to pull it. I saw her looking at it, fascinated. We talked for a while, Saskia up on her elbows so I could just see the tiny round bulges of her two little breasts. Then after two or three minutes, she could resist the temptation no longer. She shot out her hand, gave my penis a tug, leapt to her feet and ran, laughing. I was ready for her, though, and she had not even covered ten metres before I managed to grab her round the waist and tumble her to the ground, laughing and squealing at the same time. “No, you can’t!” she spluttered in between laughter, as I rolled her on her back, struggling to get her knees up and keep them together. I tickled her tummy first, causing her to scream and struggle, laughing all the time. Then, as she kicked, I managed to get a hand between her thighs and give her vagina a quick tickle with my finger. I could feel the soft folded skin give in the middle as I found the slit. A thrill ran through my body like electricity at the contact. She was still squealing, so I stopped tickling and sprawled my body on top of hers, trying not to hurt her. Then I rolled her over on top of me. It was wonderful to feel her naked body on top of mine, her skin against mine, my penis rubbing against her thigh, although she probably didn’t know it. We rolled and wrestled, and must have made a fearful noise. At last we lay there on the grass, panting for breath and still, I on my back and Saskia still half sprawled over me, face down, one leg across me, face up near my chin and still laughing in delight. “That was fun,” she beamed. I sat up and rolled her on her back, still sitting next to her. Quite forgetful now, she spread her legs apart, knees bent, and I could see that lovely little juicy white vagina at the bottom, cleft deep into her skin on her mound. I always think vaginas look much lovelier when they are wet, and hers was well rounded, with soft damp white skin bulging as it folded over and disappeared down the canyon. Then she remembered, and clasped her hand over it. “What’s the time?” she asked suddenly. I told her it was just after four o’clock. “If we’re quick, we can have a bath together before Estella comes at five,” she said. “Let’s do that. We’ll be safe because she never comes early.” I was very quick to agree, so we got to our feet, collected our swimming costumes and went up to Saskia’s room, still thrilled with the beauty of our nakedness. Saskia ran the bath, putting in a healthy amount of foam, and we got in together. We had a wonderful half-hour or so of fun and games, wrestling and rolling together in our soapy bodies, playing with the foam but most of all just enjoying the feel of each other’s naked bodies. I had to keep an eye on the time, though, and at a quarter to five we knew we had to get out. Saskia wanted us to dry ourselves on the same towel, her large and very fluffy one, and we wrapped ourselves up together in it, pressing our bodies against each other from the shoulders to the loins. In fact, I even pressed Saskia in between my legs as I rubbed her back dry, her chest all the time pressed against mine, and I was able to make out the soft feel of her little sprouts against me. “Let’s go without any underwear,” Saskia whispered to me seductively. She sat on the side of her bed putting on her sandals, with one knee raised high, giving me a brilliant view up that tight little skirt of her white little vagina. I dutifully left off my underpants and sat in the chair opposite her, putting on my sandals in exactly the same way and wondering if I was showing anything inside my loose shorts. Saskia let me know straight away. “One of your balls sticks out when you do that,” she giggled. “Well, you showed up your skirt when you did it because it’s so short,” I told her. “If Katarina sees that, she’ll cause trouble for you.” “Katarina won’t be back till late,” she told me. “Well, your mum or dad or Estella might see,” I said. “So be careful.” We had just heard Estella come in downstairs, but Saskia said she would never come upstairs without calling first, so we were safe. “May we play another game?” asked Saskia. “Come and lie on my bed, flat on your back.” I did so. Looking down the length of the bed, I could see my reflection in a mirror just opposite. When I lay on my back, the tops of my shorts were up. I could see part of my testicles reflected, along with the base of my penis, lying on its back. This is what Saskia was looking at as well. “This is just a stroking game,” she said. “You can play it with me afterwards. Keep still.” I kept still, and then felt her fingers on my shorts. I felt her put her hand inside and gently touch my testicles. “It’s all wobbly in here,” she commented in surprise. I was amazed at the exciting feeling it gave me as she ran her fingers over my testicles, then my penis, causing it to stiffen quite a bit in the process. “It’s getting hard!” she exclaimed, looking at me. “I can’t wiggle it any more.” “That’s what happens when it gets disturbed,” I told her. I didn’t tell her why, but I’m sure she knew anyway. She continued to massage until she had quite satisfied her curiosity for the time being. “Now it’s your turn,” she grinned, lying on her back and starting to giggle in anticipation. Immediately her vagina was revealed under her skirt in the mirror opposite. I sat down next to her on the bed and very gently felt up her skirt with trembling hands. As my fingers found the little vagina, she gave a wriggle and a giggle. “It tickles!” she said. “Now we do it together,” she decided a minute later, and made me lie down next to her on the bed. She began by taking my face in her hands and kissing me passionately on the lips. I responded, and then we reached for each other’s clothes. It wasn’t too easy as we were in the wrong positions, but it was so exciting to be so close and intimate with each other. “Do you want to feel my sprouts as well?” Saskia asked. I did indeed. But I had only just started feeling those tiny bulges, loose and wobbly on top but firmer inside, when noises downstairs made it clear that Saskia’s father had arrived home. “I’ll ask him if we can share bedrooms!” shouted Saskia, leaping off the bed and scurrying for the door, her skirt flopping reluctantly down over her bare bottom. “Katarina will find out, though,” I called out warningly after her. “She won’t dare do anything or she’ll get into trouble about leaving us alone,” she laughed, rushing headlong down the stairs. I followed, but did not feel happy about things. If Saskia’s mum and Katarina were both against our sleeping in the same room, that could cause a major problem. My parents hopefully would not hear about it, but I didn’t want to cause trouble in somebody else’s house. Saskia was putting on a whole performance when I arrived downstairs, in her father’s arms and rubbing her head against his cheek. Her skirt was up slightly at the back, revealing her round bottom, which her father was in no position to see. He was looking rather troubled. “Your mother wouldn’t like it, I’m afraid,” he was saying. Saskia’s eyes gleamed. “Mummy doesn’t have to know,” she smiled cunningly. “Roy can start off in the guest room so it looks like he’s been sleeping there, and then come in and use my sleeping bag. Then he can go back early in the morning and she won’t know. We’ll keep it a special secret. Oh, please, Daddy.” She slobbered kisses lovingly all over his face. She was more devious than I had given her credit for. Her father visibly weakened. “Well, we’d better ask Roy,” he muttered. “Hello, Roy, so glad you could come. What do you think about this?” “It’s all right, I don’t mind,” I said, trying to look non-committal. “Well, then, darling, you do what you like,” her dad told her, stroking her hair. “I just love to make you happy. But listen, if you get caught by your mother, I don’t know anything about it. That will have to be our secret. All right?” “Oh, thank you, Daddy, I knew I could trust you,” gushed Saskia, squeezing his neck tightly and smothering him with kisses again. “You’re not trusting me for anything because I don’t know anything about it,” smiled her father, adoring her. Soon afterwards Saskia’s mother came home and we were soon having dinner. I suggested to Saskia when I had the chance that we keep the nude swimming with her father until next time, because if her mother objected to this, as was quite likely, it could make things far worse if she did catch us sleeping in the same room, and it would ruin our chances for the future. Fortunately she saw reason and did not tackle her father on the subject. After dinner we watched some television for a while and then played some table games and talked. At one stage, watching television, Saskia carelessly put one foot up on the sofa and her mother exclaimed, “Saskia, my goodness, where are your panties? Why aren’t you wearing any?” “Ooh, sorry, Mummy,” Saskia giggled. “I was just getting changed after swimming when Daddy arrived, and I ran to meet him straight away and I forgot.” “Well, just you go upstairs and put some on, young lady, especially when you have a boy as a visitor,” her mother told her. I tried to look as if I was quite uninterested. “Saskia, bed at nine o’clock tonight, you remember,” her mother said when she came down, teasingly flashing her panties under her skirt for a second to show she was wearing them. “Yes, Mummy,” answered Saskia politely. Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. “You must be doing her some good, Roy,” she said to me. “She’s often very difficult about her bedtime at the weekends. I think you should go to bed at the same time.” I hoped that Saskia’s unusual submissiveness had not aroused too much suspicion. I knew that Saskia had a very good reason to be eager to get to bed this time. Saskia at least tried to play her part, yawning every now again and appearing tired, although she didn’t fool me a bit. At nine, the moment her mother prompted her, she said goodnight to them, most effusively to her father in particular. I said goodnight as well, and as we went up the stairs I heard her mother comment, “That *is* unusual. She must be really tired.” In the passage Saskia whispered to me, “Go to bed in the spare room to start with. I’ll come and tell you when it’s safe, and get the sleeping bag ready. So don’t go to sleep, and keep your light on.” Then her eyes gleamed. “And I’ve a special surprise for you later tonight. I’ll show you something you’ve never seen before!” She giggled naughtily and slipped into her room, leaving me to wonder exactly what mischief she was planning this time. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 5) I slowly undressed by the light of my bedside light, then got into bed and awaited my summons. There was no danger of my falling asleep, as Saskia’s parting message to me had my heart throbbing with anticipation. After a few minutes I heard noises downstairs, and gathered it was Katarina coming home. As I waited, I heard her coming upstairs and walking past my door. Her bedroom door shut behind her. Only about half a minute after that, I heard my door handle turn, and Saskia’s head came round, with finger to lips. She beckoned me with her finger. I climbed out of bed and she giggled to see that I was naked. She wore a short light blue nightdress. I followed her into her bedroom. She locked the door behind us. The lights were off, but there was a pale light coming in from the window, where the curtains were still wide open. She shut the door behind us, and I could just see her grinning at me in the pale light from outside. “Good thing nobody saw you walking round the house in your wee,” she grinned. “What are you going to show me?” I asked her. “Katarina’s just come in,” she grinned at me. “Come and watch her. She does the same thing every Friday night.” She turned and crept towards the window. I followed her as she led the way out on to the balcony outside. It was cool in a light breeze. The first thing I could see was a light to our right, coming from Katarina’s window. I went with Saskia a few steps towards the light along the balcony. Saskia was leaning on the railings, looking into Katarina’s room. Katarina had been slightly more cautious than Saskia, in that she had drawn the curtains most of the way across, but had still left quite a large gap to let the air in this side. The balcony continued across the front of Katarina’s room, although there was a railing between the rooms to separate the two. By leaning on this railing, we could see right inside her room. Katarina presumably had just drawn the curtains most of the way across and taken her shoes off in the time it had taken us to get there. As I looked into the room I could see her leaning over something on a shelf on the far side of the room. I could see something white under the hem of her flimsy purple miniskirt for a moment before she straightened up and the noise of rock music filled the air. I felt Saskia’s breath in my ear. “Watch her now,” she said in a tone of delight. I drew back a bit. “She’ll see us,” I said, only daring to talk because the music from inside the room would have drowned my voice. “Only if we’re in the light,” grinned Saskia, putting an arm round my neck. She was right. The lights in Katarina’s room, just as in Saskia’s, were fixed on the wall above the window, and so shone on everything in the room but on nothing outside. Unless we were very close, nobody inside could have seen us. Or that was the theory, but I was rather reluctant to test it. I stood back slightly but kept my eyes fixed on events in the room. With the music on, Katarina walked smartly towards her bathroom en-suite on the far side of her room, lifting her dress as she disappeared through the door and giving a white flash of her panties. “She’s going to the loo,” Saskia grinned into my ear. “Having a piss!” she added in a hiss, just in case I didn’t understand what happened in such places. About half a minute later Katarina reappeared through the door, just in the act of pulling down her skirt again. She now started to dance to the music. With exaggerated movements, she flung her arms and legs into the air as she danced, revealing flashes of frilly white panties under her skirt. “Look at those panties,” grinned Saskia wickedly into my ear, as if I were not paying attention properly. With strained and intense expressions on her face, Katarina continued to dance around the room for several minutes to the music. Much of the time she had her back to us and I realised that she was dancing to her reflection in the mirror on the side wall, just as we had watched ourselves in the mirror in Saskia’s room. On more than one occasion, Katarina twirled her skirt deliberately high like a little girl as she danced, revealing her frilly panties in all their glory and watching it all in her mirror. I shivered as I imagined how furious she would be if she discovered we were watching her. “Soon she’ll go for her shower,” Saskia breathed into my ear. I felt my penis beginning to stiffen as I wondered just how much would be revealed. Sure enough, about a minute later Katarina, still dancing about in the middle of the room, put up her hands and started unbuttoning her dress in the middle, revealing white skin and black bra within. Then, head back and still dancing, she slipped out of her dress, which fell to the ground and she stepped out of it. I could see her thin white body in her underwear, with a fragile-looking black bra at the top and skimpy white panties at the bottom, much of them semi-transparent. It was hard to tell, though, as her skin was almost as white as the material. She put a toe into her dress and casually flicked it on to her bed. “Not matched, is she?” grinned Saskia. “Do you like black undies?” I shook my head. “I think white’s much sexier,” I breathed back, without taking my eyes from the display inside the room. Katarina, although less animated, continued to dance gently around the room, making sensual arm movements as she did so. Then she suddenly reached up her arms and pulled off her bra over her head. Immediately her round white breasts appeared, and they were very white indeed, as white as ivory. If I had thought Saskia white, her sister was whiter still. It looked almost ridiculous to see her large pink nipples in the middle of these snow-white breasts that wobbled about as she continued to dance. Round and round she twirled, and I could see freckles over much of her back. The bikini tan line was very visible, although the tan was scarcely what I could call a tan, so white was the skin. I waited breathlessly for the next step. It finally came. Hands on hips, she took hold of the waist of her frilly panties and pulled them down. As she stepped out of them, I caught a glimpse of a large mass of light brown pubic hair about her loins. Saskia looked at me, giggling, with her hand over her mouth. The pubic hair became clearer as Katarina threw her panties on to her bed with the rest of her clothes and danced again, quite naked this time. The hair came up from between her legs into a wide furry triangle across her groin. “Look, she’s a fuzzy-wuzzy,” Saskia giggled into my ear. As Katarina danced, she pushed her hands into her hair and rubbed down sensuously towards her hidden vagina in time to the music. Her face may have been very plain and her body white, but I could find nothing wrong with her body shape apart from being rather thin. The curves and elegance were all there. Then suddenly she twirled into the bathroom and disappeared from view. “Don’t worry, she’s just going for a shower, then she comes back and does some more,” Saskia sniggered. She had taken her nightdress off now and I hadn’t even seen her do it, so raptly had I been concentrating on the antics of her older sister. I could just make out her shape, standing there as naked as I was. She put her chest against mine and gave me a cuddle. Then she giggled. “Your wee’s all hard!” she told me triumphantly, as if I didn’t know. “Roy, you didn’t get as hard as that for me!” “Well, you didn’t put on such a big show as Katarina,” I tried to explain, keeping my eyes urgently on that bathroom door. It was wide open, but the angle was not too good. I could see a thin wedge of the bath, and caught my breath as I saw Katarina, in a shower cap, step into the bath and pull the shower curtain round. We waited a few minutes, myself in considerable excitement. Then at last I caught a glimpse of Katarina emerging from behind the shower curtain, and moments later she came out of the bathroom into her bedroom again, soaking wet and still wearing her shower cap. The drops of water all over her body glistened in the bedroom lights, especially on her pubic hair, which looked almost as if it were lit up with tiny fairy lights. She pulled off her shower cap, causing her long hair to fall down over her shoulders, and faced the mirror again. The music was still playing as we watched her dry herself, easing her towel over and round her breasts, and then sliding it under her legs as she rubbed dry her pubic area. Then she picked up a comb from her dressing table and began combing her pubic hair, with gentle delicate strokes, easing it through the tangled mass of fuzz and pulling gently with the other hand where necessary. “She always does that,” grinned Saskia, snuggling up against me. “Katarina’s a real fuzzy-wuzzy,” she repeated. Then came the greatest show of all. Katarina threw herself down on the bed, just on the other side of the window, on her back with her knees in the air. Her head and breasts were out of my line of vision, but I could see her waist and her knees up. As I watched, involuntarily clutching my penis, she opened her legs wide and continued to comb her pubic hair. I leaned forward as far as I could to get the best possible view, with Saskia giggling at me. Between Katarina’s legs, just above the crack of her bottom, was that triangular area of soft skin, a bright pink in colour, almost red. At the top was the mass of pubic hair. In between was her open vagina, black-edged, pink and almost orange in colour, with pink folds of skin visible inside. To my young, inexperienced eyes – I had seen them before, of course, but never in a sexual context – it looked a massive open gash, an open cave of treasure hidden away under the bushes and only suddenly revealed to the treasure hunters. My eyes drank their fill greedily. “Do you want to poke her?” Saskia giggled into my ear. I shook my head. Then the combing stopped, but the music continued. Katarina put a hand between her legs and started stroking, massaging the hair and the hole, wriggling her body sensuously as she did so. Her legs writhed as her hands stroked and rubbed, up and down, fingers working in and out. I wonder if she was moaning as well, as I had heard girls often do when masturbating, but with the music playing I could not hear. Her legs were still apart and I stared at the gaping hole between her legs, under the hair, surrounded by the reddish skin. “She’s playing with her clitty,” Saskia explained unnecessarily. It seemed like an age as I stood there watching her, as she in turn watched herself in her wall mirror. Finally she lay back on her bed, almost still, knees down and that mass of pubic hair, still slightly damp and sticking up rather after the combing, only about two metres from my eyes. Still she ran her hands over the area, rubbing gently and massaging, and occasionally wriggling her hips. Then she put her index finger into her mouth and reached down to push it into her vagina, pulling it out and then pushing it in again, wriggling her whole body as she did so. Involuntarily I gasped, and Saskia giggled. Suddenly Katarina reached up a hand to the wall and pressed a switch. Most of the lights went off, and suddenly all I could see was her dim outline, with only one light left on. Saskia quickly pulled me by the arm and we scampered back inside her room. “There,” she smiled at me, putting on the light. Instinctively I drew back from the window. “She might have seen us when she put all the other lights out. Didn’t I tell you what a sight it was? What a fuzzy-wuzzy!” I was still breathing heavily, my heart was thumping hard and my penis felt as if it was bursting. “You’ll probably look like that when you’re her age,” I told her, gasping for breath. “No, I won’t,” Saskia assured me. “I don’t want all that hair. I’ll shave it off. Boy, wait till Katarina is horrible to me again, and I’ll tell her all about how we watched her in her room. She’ll feel so ashamed she’ll never be horrible to me again, or I’ll tell everyone.” “No, don’t tell her!” I exclaimed in a panic. “She can do all sorts of bad things to us, and if any of the grown-ups find out, I’ll never be allowed to come round here again! And besides, she’ll close her curtains every time in future and nobody will ever see in again.” Saskia pulled her face, realising the truth of what I said. She rubbed her vagina and grinned at me. “You ready for bed yet?” I looked round but could see no sign of the sleeping bag she had promised to get ready for me. “Where’s the sleeping bag?” I asked. “It’ll be too uncomfortable for you without a mattress,” she replied. “You can sleep in my bed with me. Come.” So saying, she pulled back the bedspread and sheet and jumped in, still naked. The bed was quite wide, but I hesitated. Despite our freedom as naturists, I had never slept in the same bed as a girl before – outside my family, that is. Then I said, “I need a wee first.” I went into her bathroom and urinated noisily into the bowl, not the easiest of jobs with a half-stiff penis. Saskia followed me in and watched, grin on her face. When I had finished she sat down, knees together, and I heard the splashing of urine into the water. “Now our wee is all mixed together,” she commented as she flushed it. “And we can do the same in my bed.” She took me by the hand and led me to her bed, jumping in and moving across to make room for me. With a mixture of excitement and reluctance, I climbed in and lay down, close to her but not touching. She put her face close to mine, giggling, and then reached down and pulled my penis. “Hey!” I exclaimed, not expecting that. I grabbed for her vagina, but she rolled over on her other side, laughing. I sprawled over the top of her, pulling her on to her back. She squealed and then gasped. “Stop!” she hissed. “We mustn’t let Katarina hear us!” “You keep quiet, then – you’re the one who’s making the noise,” I hissed, forcing her legs apart without too much trouble. As I tickled her between her legs, she seemed to choke and pushed me away urgently. “No, no!” she gasped. “That’s too much! I’m too ticklish there – I’ll make too much noise and she’ll hear us! Don’t tickle me there!” “Don’t pull my penis, then,” I told her, sprawling over her again. I could feel my penis pressing against her groin as I pressed my face against hers and kissed her. She wrapped her arms round my neck and we squeezed tightly and kissed each other. But soon her hand went down and she pulled my penis again. “You can’t tickle me or I’ll make too much noise and be caught,” she threatened me with a laugh. “Let me feel you, then – I won’t tickle,” I assured her, rolling over and pushing her on to her back. I put my hand between her legs, and she allowed me to rub her, only occasionally giving a squeal or a giggle. I could feel the rounded lips wobbling beneath my fingers and the tender loose skin between her legs. Determined, she put her hand out to take my penis and rub it with her fingers. It soon got quite hard. That was really as far as we went that night. After a minute or two Saskia said, “Let’s stop this now.” We lay together in the half-darkness, lying on our sides facing each other, each putting the top arm over the other. I think Saskia was feeling tired, but my mind was so full of Katarina and I was so stimulated I wanted more. We talked for a few minutes and then Saskia fell asleep, her head under my chin. I lay awake for a long time, thoughts and visions of Katarina whirling round inside my head, making my heart thump wildly and my stomach churn. Saskia did not sleep very deeply, and she soon rolled over with her back to me. I hardly slept that night at all. I couldn’t get Katarina out of my mind, and besides, it wasn’t easy to sleep with Saskia in the same bed as I was. I had slept at times in the same bed as my cousin Shelley, but there was nothing sexually simulating about that. My relationship with Saskia was different. Very different. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 6) As soon as the first signs of light began to show in the sky, I slipped out of Saskia’s bed to return to mine. She opened her eyes. “Where are you going?” she murmured. “Back to my own room,” I told her. “I don’t want to get caught. See you later.” She rolled over and I unlocked her door, slipped naked into the passage and then into my own room and bed. Soon after seven o’clock I could hear the family beginning to move around. In our hot climate people tend to rise early, even at weekends. I didn’t know what time breakfast was, so I thought I had better wait until I was called. I remembered to put some clothes on, to avoid possible problems with the family, and lay on my back on the bed with my eyes shut, still tired. I sat up with a sudden start as I felt something tweak my penis through my shorts, and heard a familiar laugh. Saskia had sneaked into my room so quietly that I hadn’t heard her. She stood there at the foot of my bed, laughing at me. She was wearing a very short, tight and bright pink miniskirt with a yellow top. “Hey!” I exclaimed, jumping up and lunging for her. She darted round the room, giggling, before throwing herself on my bed. I rolled her over and thought straight away that she was wearing no panties. But as I put my hand there and tickled her, I found I was doing it through the flimsy cloth of those little sexy panties, little more than a thong, that she had shown me the previous weekend. She wriggled loose and stood in front of me, with a wide grin. “Nice, hey?” she asked, lifting the front of her skirt to show me clearly. Most of the material was transparent, except for the gusset right at the bottom. When her pubic hair grew, I was sure it would be visible through the transparent part, although I thought straight away that she would probably have grown out of them by then. “Your mum might not like you wearing them with me here,” I warned her. “She’ll never know,” Saskia assured me. “Hey, Roy, you remember Katarina last night?” Did I ever! I just reminded Saskia, “Please, make sure you don’t let her know we were spying on her, or there’ll be all sorts of trouble and I’ll never be allowed here again.” “I won’t,” Saskia agreed, to my relief. She took me by the hand. “Come down for breakfast now.” I followed her down the stairs. The first person we saw was Katarina, in a red miniskirt, sitting on the sofa with her legs demurely crossed, reading a newspaper. She glanced up at us, did not acknowledge us, and continued to read. I stared at her, mentally undressing her. She would never guess in a million years that I had seen what was under that miniskirt, that I had seen those icy white breasts, all the pubic hair, the deep gash between those folded legs, that I had seen her masturbating to the music . . . As it all came back yet again, but better than ever with the real exhibit sitting in front of me, I could feel my heart thumping harder again and my penis beginning to respond. She looked up sharply at me. “What are you staring at?” she asked coldly, no doubt confident that her skirt was hiding everything underneath at present, as indeed it was. I was taken by surprise. Then I just said, “I like your dress.” She raised her eyebrows, grunted, and then turned back to her paper. Obviously she didn’t want to appear to be taking compliments from a ten-year-old, and I couldn’t tell what she was really thinking. Saskia was over at the breakfast table, bending over to inspect what was for breakfast. What there was of her panties had disappeared up the crack of her bottom, and unless one looked carefully it appeared that she was not wearing any. All that was clearly visible were the rounded fleshy cheeks of her slightly podgy bottom. Katarina looked up again, then exclaimed loudly, no doubt intended for their mother’s ears, “SASKIA! Go and get some panties on at once! How can you walk around like that? And your skirt is far too short!” Saskia turned round and stuck her tongue out rudely. “I am wearing panties, so there!” she shouted back, holding up the front of her skirt to display the small amount of visible material to her sister. At the end of the room her mother turned round to see what it was all about. “Those ones hardly count,” Katarina said in a tone of disgust. “And that skirt is far too short. You can’t dress like that with a *boy* here, you little prostitute!” She was so excited that she had forgotten about her own skirt, and she was now sitting facing Saskia with her legs uncrossed and a small triangle of bright turquoise material visible up her skirt between her legs. “You can’t talk – we can all see you’re wearing your best blue pantie-wanties,” Saskia jeered at her, pointing. “Don’t you be so rude!” Katarina virtually yelled in indignation, immediately whipping her hand over the offending area and crossing her legs. nticipating that she would look in my direction to see if I had been watching, I fixed my eyes on the far wall, to see their mother about to enter the fray. “That’s enough!” shouted their mother loudly, cutting through Katarina’s continued invective. I soon learned that she did have occasional explosions, even if at other times she did let her girls get away with too much. “Both of you! This is disgraceful behaviour, and right in front of Roy, too! We do not want to hear that sort of talk. Saskia, you march right upstairs and change into something more decent. You shouldn’t be wearing those sorts of clothes in front of Roy. Put on that dark blue skirt and get a pair of those panties you wear to school. At once!” Saskia looked furious, but her father was not present so she was unable to appeal to him. She turned to go upstairs, calling out, “Come, Roy,” over her shoulder. “Roy does not come with you to see you changing, you shameless hussy!” Katarina shouted at her. “That’s enough, Katarina, you leave it to me,” snapped her mother. She turned to me, but I had anticipated events and was sitting in my place at the table, shaking my head in warning at Saskia. Saskia disappeared, stamping her feet. “Roy, I’m sorry about this behaviour,” her mother said to me. “They’re both being very rude at the moment.” Katarina wasn’t finished yet. “Roy, I hope you enjoyed your view of Saskia’s bottom,” she called out to me. “It doesn’t matter,” I replied, shaking my head as her mother turned to rebuke her again. “Well, Roy, you’re a very well-mannered young man,” her mother said as she returned to me. A few minutes later Saskia returned, wearing a blue pleated skirt that came down almost to her knees. Her mother had left the room briefly, so Katarina hissed at Saskia, “I hope you are wearing some decent panties now.” In reply, Saskia turned round, lifted up her skirt at the back and stuck her bottom out at her sister, to reveal her ordinary white cotton panties. “Is *this* good enough for you?” she enquired viciously. “If I wore a pair of your flimsies, that would be *really* rude, now.” As Saskia walked over to me at the table, her mother entered the room again from the kitchen. Immediately Saskia was transformed. She ran over to her mother, assuming an expression of grief on her face, and wrapped her arms round her mother’s waist. “Oh, Mummy, I’m sorry,” she wailed, burying her head in her mother’s bosom. “I really wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, but Katarina was being horrible to me.” It was quite clear to me, having seen her moments later, that Saskia was putting on an act, but it seemed to fool her mother. They had a few moments of tenderness together, making up, while Katarina looked on in contempt and helpless fury. I wondered what ulterior motive Saskia had in mind. Moments later Saskia’s father came in and we had breakfast, with Saskia putting on a performance of perfect sweetness with both her parents. Afterwards Saskia and I went for a swim in the pool, having to wear swimming costumes with the rest of the family at home, of course. Saskia, in deference to her parents, wore a normal-sized bikini this time. While we were in the pool, Saskia told me, “We go to town every Saturday at about ten. My mum will want us to come too, but I’ll try and get her to say we can stay here by ourselves.” Her eyes gleamed in anticipation. When I asked, she told me that Estella was off duty on Saturday mornings and so would be unable to keep any eye on us. It was only later I realised that this was probably the reason why Saskia had been sucking up to her mother in particular. We were sunbathing and chatting when Saskia’s mother came out of the house, with Katarina in tow. “Saskia, Roy,” she called. “We’re going to town in fifteen minutes, so please be ready by then.” Saskia looked shocked, as if she had forgotten. “Oh, Mum,” she moaned, sounding hurt rather than indignant. “Do we have to come with you, when Roy’s here? Please may we stay here by ourselves? We’ll be all right. We’re old enough, and Roy is very sensible.” She put on her cutest expression of petition. Her mother looked doubtful and I’m sure was about to say no, when Katarina put her spoke in. “Don’t let them, Mum,” she said bossily. “They could get up to *all sorts* of things with nobody to watch them. You can’t trust that little hussy a centimetre.” This was a mistake on her part, because it had quite the opposite effect from what was intended. I could see her mother’s expression change. “Katarina, you will please mind your own business,” she scolded, quite annoyed. “You have had far too much to say this morning.” She turned back to Saskia and me. “Well, I suppose we can try it, this once. We’ll leave you the mobile, so you can call us, or else the Fernandinos next door, if you need any help. Is that all right to you, then, Roy?” “Oh, yes, thank you,” I replied, as Saskia, beaming, threw herself at her mother in affected love and cuddles, which was not altogether appreciated as she was still rather wet. “Well, Mum, I think I should stay behind and keep an eye on them,” Katarina tried to insist. Her mother was having none of it. “I hardly think that would be good idea, after all the trouble you’ve caused with them this morning,” she replied coldly. “Me? Don’t blame me for that – Saskia caused it all!” Katarina protested, but her mother ignored her. Katarina gave Saskia a look of pure hatred as she followed her mother back into the house. Saskia just laughed silently at her, while I kept out of it. I found it hard to hate a girl who had exposed herself so beautifully to me, as Katarina had, even though it had been completely unintentional. A few minutes later Saskia’s parents came out of the house to say goodbye to us, leaving their mobile phone on a table nearby. Saskia could hardly wait for them to depart. When we heard the car engine start, she nipped out of the pool area, round the side of the house and watched through the bushes as they drove out. The moment the gates were shut behind them, she scampered back, grinning broadly at me and pulling her swimming costume down as she ran over to me. I was more cautious. “What about when they come back, or if we have visitors?” I asked. “They might come back a bit early if they start fussing about us, like parents sometimes do.” “I’ll turn up the alarm,” Saskia said, dropping her costume to her feet and freeing her smooth white naked body. “We have an alarm inside that bleeps when the gates are open, so I’ll turn the sound up, then we can hear it from outside.” She scuttled inside, her shiny white bottom glinting in the sunlight. I pulled my costume off too. I have always blessed my wisdom in taking that precaution, or getting Saskia to do it. She returned, and we both jumped into the pool naked together, splashing around with a lot of body contact. It was wonderful to feel her soft smooth white skin pressing against mine, especially when I managed to get my hands on her tiny budding breasts, and she was in the mood for a lot of penis-pulling. We did our handstands again, and as I stood on my hands in the shallow end, resting my legs against her shoulders, I could feel her holding my genitals cupped loosely in her hands. I was still down on the floor of the pool, eagerly anticipating changing roles, when suddenly she pushed my legs back down hard and reached down to pull me sharply by the arm. I surfaced, startled. Saskia was shouting something in my ear, but I couldn’t hear her because they were still full of water. I shook my head and asked her to repeat it. “The bleeper went off,” she shouted in a panic. “Somebody’s coming! They’re opening the gate! We must get our swimming costumes on again quickly!” We floundered over to the side and dragged on our swimming costumes. My short swimming costume was quicker to put on than Saskia’s, and I slipped back into the pool while she was still pulling hers up. My mind whirled as I wondered whether that was her parents returning, or visitors. I leaned my arms on the side of the pool by the corner, resting with my head out of the water and trying to look relaxed. Saskia slipped in next to me, talking in a tense whisper as she tried to guess who it was. We were just in time. Katarina came bursting through the house and headed straight for the pool area. “She’s come back to spy on us, the bitch!” fumed Saskia. “Look, just don’t be rude to her, whatever you do, or she may tell your mum lies about us,” I hissed urgently as Katarina stalked into the pool area. “What are you doing back here?” Saskia burst out angrily. I gave her an urgent nudge to try and restrain her. “I forgot my handbag, so I’ve come to collect it,” Katarina replied glibly. Neither of us believed she had forgotten by accident. “And Mum asked me to check how you two lovebirds are doing.” She strode over towards us and moved round the corner of the pool next to me. I guessed that she was checking that we were wearing swimming costumes, although she didn’t say so. “I hope you are behaving yourselves,” was all she said. “Yes, we are, as if it was any of your business,” Saskia retorted. “Are you all right, Roy?” Katarina asked me. “Wouldn’t you like to come to town with us after all? We’re going for an ice cream later.” “No, I’m fine, thanks,” I answered, turning my head to look upwards at her. I had not bothered before, but I suddenly realised now that she was standing by my side only about a metre away from me and I had to look almost vertically upwards at her. Of course, from that position I could see right up her dress. I had a full view of those bright turquoise blue panties, which I saw had an edging of clear white lace all round, even at the top. In fact, through a fold in her skirt, I could not only see the top of her panties but also her belly button and even as far up as the bottom of her black bra. She was obviously so concerned with causing trouble that she was oblivious to the view she was giving me. “Saskia can be very naughty, so make sure you keep out of trouble,” she advised me, turning and walking off again. Briefly I could see those turquoise panties with the white lace covering her bottom as she departed. Saskia put her hand over her mouth and giggled as soon as Katarina had left the pool area. “Wow, did you see those panties?” she whispered into my ear. “Do you like bright blue?” “I still like white ones best,” I replied, watching over the fence as Katarina disappeared into the house. “Like those ones you wear for school. We’d better stay like this until we know she’s gone. I bet she’s going to spy on us through the windows.” We must have waited two or three minutes when we heard a car hooter. Saskia’s father, we guessed, must have been getting impatient with waiting for Katarina. Soon afterwards we heard a brief loud bleeping from the house to signal the opening of the gate to let Katarina out. Saskia immediately shot off round the side of the house to make sure they had all really gone. She came back beaming and stripping off her costume again. “They won’t come back till they’ve finished in town now,” she grinned. “So now we can play!” (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 7) I have only a vague general recollection of those thrilling two hours I spent alone with Saskia at her house. Naked, I think we did about everything visually, if not physically, that is possible for two people to do. We had already swum naked, so we ran out naked into the back garden by way of beginning and just enjoyed our freedom, running around and chasing each other like two-year-olds. We rolled and wrestled together naked on the lush green grass, loving every feel of each other’s bodies against our own, laughing for the sheer joy of it all. One of the games we played was Doggies. We went around on all fours like dogs and spent a lot of time sniffing each other’s bottoms, although I kept telling Saskia it was only the male dogs that did that. She took no notice, and I only hope my bottom did not smell too bad. Hers did give off a slight smell of urine and manure as I kept trying to stick my nose right beneath her legs, as she squealed with laughter. I didn’t know anything then about how dogs mount each other, but I think Saskia did, as she kept urging me to do things that seemed even more obscene and nonsensical. “I wish you could see yourself from behind, Roy,” she laughed after a while. “You look so funny with your balls hanging down and wobbling about when you move. And when I put my head down I can just see the back of your piss dangling the other side.” “Well, what about you?” I countered. “You look as if you have a long zipper going right the way from your bottom round to the top of your vagina.” “My pisshole!” Saskia corrected me with another laugh. “That’s what Katarina calls it. She says you can’t see her pisshole these days because she’s such a fuzzy-wuzzy, but you can underneath when she sticks her legs apart. Like we saw it last night! Do you remember?” As if I could ever forget! I remembered only too well, and I could only long for another view of Katarina through her window. Saskia must have sensed my attention was wandering from her, because she rolled over on her back like a dog, kicking her limbs in the air and spreading apart her legs. Pretending to be a dog again, I crawled round and stuck my head between her legs to sniff at her vagina, while she laughed. Just at the top of her vagina, I could see her tiny fair body hairs were just beginning to grow a little longer and thicker, in preparation for puberty. With her legs wide, the lips of her vagina spread slightly apart, and I would see the whiteness of her clitoris down the middle. I put my head down and kissed the middle of those cute lips gently but eagerly. She laughed, reached up her arms to put around my neck, and pulled me down on top of her. We rolled over again and then lay side by side against a tree, half on top of each other. She reached out her hand to hold my penis and rubbed it between her fingers to see what it felt like. Naturally it began to swell a bit. I reached over and put my hand on her vagina. I felt for those tiny hairs around the top and stroked them gently. Then I reached down further and rubbed her gently between her legs, along the vagina lips. I put my finger down the middle and rubbed again while she shuddered and giggled. In the meantime she held my little wrinkled hairless testicles cupped in her hand and was rubbing them up and down underneath. I let her rub my penis until it was stiff, and then pulled the foreskin right back for her to look inside, quite fascinated. She sat with her legs crossed, causing her vagina to open right out, and then spread it wider, giving me a confusing vision of moist dark pink folds of skin with something white far down in the middle. She let me rub my fingers up and down her clitoris, pushing at it. It tickled her, but was not too sensitive as I pushed my finger inside, so I presumed she had spent a lot of time playing with it herself. In the end we tired of this, and chased each other round again, catching our naked bodies and enjoying the closeness, laughing with each other. Finally we lay side by side again by the pool, gazing at each other and enjoying the beauty of nakedness. We were still like this when we finally heard the buzzer go in the house. Laughing, we scampered for our swimming costumes and were splashing around in the pool when Saskia’s parents came out of the house a few minutes later to see how we were. Katarina looked at us very suspiciously but she could prove nothing. It was rather tame after that for a while, forced as we were to wear clothes or swimming costumes, and then to have lunch with the family. Saskia had changed into a white blouse with a short sky-blue skirt and shiny white panties underneath that flashed whenever she bent a little or ran. “Mum, Saskia’s changed her clothes again,” Katarina pointed out interferingly as we came to the dining table. “That skirt’s too short for her.” Saskia at that moment was standing quite upright and revealing nothing. Her mother just gave her a glance, which she met with a sweet innocent smile, and then said sharply, “Katarina, that’s enough. Leave them alone.” When she looked away again Saskia flashed her sister an annoying and victorious grin, and Katarina sulked throughout the meal. After lunch, Saskia’s parents decided they wanted a nap, while Katarina had arranged to go out with friends. Saskia drew me outside, still wearing our play clothes. Her parents’ bedroom did not overlook the back garden, but in any case the far end was well hidden among the trees and bushes. “Let’s go and play down in the trees, where no one can see us,” she urged me, and the gleam in her eye told me she had another idea. She led the way as we ran down to the trees, her skirt bobbing up and down at the back and showing the white of her panties underneath. As soon as we were among the trees, I caught up with her and lifted high her skirt at the back, right up above the waistline of her panties. As usual, she squealed and laughed, then reached for the belt of my shorts. “Hey, you’ve changed your shorts!” she exclaimed indignantly, pulling at the waist in vain. It was fastened with a buckle rather than elastic and wouldn’t budge far under her tug. “Caught you out!” I laughed at her. I was actually wearing a rather old, tight pair of shorts that I had brought as spares by mistake and could only just fit into them. “That’s cheating!” she protested, half laughing and half cross and darting away as I reached for her skirt again. We stopped near the tree house and sat down underneath it, side by side. “I’m going to tell you a story Katarina told me about when she went out the other week,” Saskia told me. “And as I tell it, we’ll act it out together.” I wondered what I was in for, but agreed. “This is our house over here,” Saskia said, designating a space between the bushes. “Katarina is going out with her boyfriend Petro. You be Petro. Now you come driving up in your car to our door to pick me up. We’re going to the cinema.” Petro was presumably a local boy. I pretended to drive a car, roaring the engine as I moved up in front of the house and hooted the horn. “No, Petro doesn’t hoot,” Saskia corrected me. “He gets out of his car and knocks on the door.” I did that. “Katarina is all dressed up in her little black miniskirt and she’s wearing loads of make-up.” I pulled a face and Saskia giggled. Then she threw open the imaginary door and smiled at me. “Hello, Petro,” she said in a soppy voice. “Hello, Saskia – I mean, Katarina,” I laughed. I bent forward as if to kiss her, but she pushed me away with a giggle. “Not here, Petro, silly,” she said. “Mum might see us. Now Petro takes me to his car and opens the door for me. It’s a big red sports car, because he’s rich, you see.” We acted that out, and Saskia daintily sat herself down in the passenger seat on the grass, legs up and panties revealed underneath. I shut the `door’ behind her, went round to the other side of the `car’, climbed in and we drove off. Then Saskia said, “When they have gone round the corner, Petro stops the car.” I did that. “He says to Katarina, `Eef I can’t kees you when you are at home, I weel haff to do eet here.” She mimicked a poor-quality local accent. I repeated the words, then leaned over, took her face in my hands and began slobbering kisses all over it. She squealed and laughed. The moment I paused for breath, she said, “He puts his tongue inside her mouth and they begin kissing like that.” That sounded a little too much for me, but I dutifully tried. I don’t think Saskia was too keen on it either, really, because when I paused she carried on with her story. “Petro’s hands steal down to Katarina’s blouse. He starts undoing the buttons.” I did that. “Then he puts his hands inside and feels her bra.” “Hey, you’re not wearing a bra,” I protested. “I will be next week,” boasted Saskia. “Just pretend for now, silly.” I felt around, but could only feel her tiny bulges under her nipples. “He fondles her and tells her how much he loves you.” “I luff you from ze heart of my bottom, my darleeng,” I said in an exaggerated accent, causing Saskia to go off into peals of laughter, rolling backwards and kicking her legs in the air. Her skirt rode up, revealing her panties almost to the waist, but she ignored it. Acting as Petro, I climbed on top of her, my body between her legs, put my head down and started kissing again. Laughing hard, she pushed me off. “Katarina says, `No, we can’t do this in public. We must go to the cinema before we’re too late.’“ Reluctantly I climbed off, rubbing her on her bottom as I did so and enjoying the feel of those soft, silky panties under my hand. “Petro starts the car again,” Saskia instructed, so I did. We `drove’ for about five seconds before she decided on a quick journey and said, “Now they arrive at the cinema.” I jammed on brakes with a lot of screeching, causing a laughing Saskia to jerk forward and then turn this into a forward roll, legs over the top, panties and all. Then she returned to her seat and instructed me in how Petro came out of the car, opened the door for her and she got out. “Then they go inside the cinema,” continued Saskia, getting down and crawling into a thicket of large bushes. I followed her, with her shiny panties peeping from under her skirt. I pulled the skirt up over her back and she squealed, but did not pull it down again. There was quite a large space under the bushes, well hidden from the outside. “This is the cinema,” Saskia informed me. “They choose a place at the back.” I followed her to the far side and we sat down side by side. I wrapped an arm round her and she snuggled her head on to my shoulder. “They watch the advertisements and the previews,” Saskia continued. “Petro keeps feeling inside Katarina’s blouse, and she feels his chest.” I was only too happy to play my part, while she untucked my T-shirt and ran her hand over my chest, as far up as she could reach. “Then it’s the interval,” decided Saskia. “Petro decides he needs to go to the toilet.” “My darleeng, I need a pees-pees – I mean, I need to go to ze potty,” I said, causing Saskia to explode with laughter and tumble over backwards again. “So do I,” she answered when she had recovered, and we crawled back out of the cinema. “Petro goes to the toilet and has his `pees’,” she giggled. Obediently I stepped over to the nearest tree. Normally when wearing shorts I simply stick my penis out of the leg of my shorts, but after trying I found they were a bit too tight for this. So I had to pull down the zip of the shorts, which was rather stiff. When it was down, I pulled down the top of my underpants and stuck the end of my penis out under the elastic so it was just hanging out. I stuck my hips forward, put my hands behind my back, threw my chin up to face the sky, and let fly. A little squirt of urine shot up into the air to come down in a stream against the tree. Saskia’s squeals of laughter showed how much she appreciated the display. As the force of urine lessened, I put my hands down to pull out my penis properly and make sure I didn’t wet my clothes. I shook it dry, then tucked it back into my underpants and pulled up the zip. “Zat ees how we pees in my house,” I explained. “Katarina goes to the toilet as well,” grinned Saskia. Trying like me to do something different, she sat down on the ground, pulled her skirt clear at the back and pulled down her panties to her ankles, revealing the oblong pink area of loose skin, like the bottom of an African shield, with her vagina down the middle. She leaned back, lifted her legs off the ground until I could see the hole in her bottom, and a squirt of urine sprayed out on to the ground. I too laughed so as to please her, and when the force lessened she squatted and finished the job from that more orthodox position, back against a tree so as not to urinate on her panties. “Breeliant, my darleeng,” I congratulated her. “I coodent do better myself.” “They go back into the cinema for the main film,” said Saskia, continuing her story. We crawled back into the hideout under the bushes and sat again together at the far end. “They watch the film,” continued Saskia. “It’s a love story, so they put their arms round each other.” We did that, then Saskia said, “Then Katarina notices that Petro’s fly zip is undone. He forgot to do it up again after he went to the toilet – had a pees.” My zip actually was in perfect position, but I pulled it down again to fit the story. My white underpants showed through the gaping hole in the front of my shorts. “Katarina says, `Let me pull it up again for you, my darling.’” She reached down and took hold of my shorts. I could feel her fingers around my penis through my underpants as she grabbed the end of the zip. She tugged, not very successfully, but probably she did not want to be successful just yet. I kept a careful eye open to make sure she did not slice into my penis getting the zip up. She tried again, giggling, and I could feel her fingers round my penis, clutching it firmly through my underpants. It was beginning to swell under the pressure. “Does Katarina really do this to her boyfriends?” I asked. “She can’t get it up again because it’s stuck,” Saskia finally said, putting her hand right down and pressing my testicles up and down before finally removing her hand. “So Petro has to sit there all the time with his fly undone. His cock is now so big that it won’t even stay in his underpants.” Obedient to the story, I pulled down my underpants enough for the end of my penis to peep out at the top. Saskia touched it with the end of her forefinger and giggled. “They do a lot of kissing during the film,” Saskia continued. So I put my arm around her and we both rolled over backwards with our legs in the air to perform the action. She wanted to spend a long time in this pose, and we must have lain there for at least five minutes, Saskia on her back with her knees up and skirt up to her waist. Finally she stirred herself and said, “The film is over. Katarina and Petro are feeling very romantic. They leave the cinema and go back to Petro’s car.” We pulled ourselves to our feet and crawled out of the bushes. We found our ‘car’ and set off ‘home’. “On the way,” said Saskia, “Petro asks Katarina, ‘Why don’t you come to my apartment for coffee?’ Katarina agrees.” I put the imaginary car into a wild screeching turn as we changed direction. Almost immediately Saskia, with a big grin that had me wondering what she had in mind next, announced, “They arrive at Petro’s apartment.” As before and without being prompted, I went round to open the door for Saskia and let her out of the car. “Katarina has been here before, so she knows where to go,” Saskia continued, leading me towards the ladder for the treehouse. She started to climb, so I mischievously lifted her skirt at the back as her bottom passed my eye level. She squealed and scolded me, trying to reach down for my gaping fly, penis now safely back inside, but she couldn’t reach. “Petro does not do that to Katarina,” she corrected me. “If Katarina is wearing one of her usual miniskirts, he won’t need to,” I thought to myself. We climbed the ladder, with Saskia giving me a fine view of those shiny panties, creased into her bottom just between her legs. I resisted the temptation to reach my hand up and slip it inside her panties in that delicate spot. Our coffee inside was very quick, as Saskia seemed impatient. “They sit on the sofa to watch television, with their arms around each other,” Saskia said. We did that, and Saskia’s spare arm strayed once again to my fly. “Katarina tries again to fix Petro’s trousers,” she added, as an afterthought. She put her hand inside and gave my genitals a good feel all over. In the meantime I was stroking Saskia’s thighs, moving my hand slowly upwards, which wasn’t difficult as she was half-bent over me for her investigation of my open fly. Soon I felt the edge of her panties at the back, and her giggle showed that she was very aware of my progress. This was just under her hipbone, so I slipped my fingers underneath and continued to rub, gradually working my way round to the front. I rubbed gently, feeling the soft smooth material over her mound and heading slowly downwards. I had not quite reached the final destination when Saskia continued her story, “Katarina tells Petro she will have to take his trousers off for him so she can fix them for him. So stand up.” Rather bemused, I stood up, my head brushing the roof, and partly raised my arms while Saskia unfastened my belt and buckle. The front of my trousers of course fell wide open then and Saskia had no difficulty in pulling my shorts down to the ground. I stepped out of them, wondering if this new development would extend to her clothes as well. “It’s very hot inside the apartment,” continued Saskia, putting my shorts on one side instead of fixing them. “So Petro asks Katarina to take his shirt off as well.” She came round behind me and, as I moved my arms in the appropriate positions, she pulled my shirt off over my head, leaving me standing in my white underpants, which had a suspicious bulge at the front. I was sure that the real Petro, if he existed, would not have worn mere white. Saskia stood looking rather uncertain how to proceed, eyeing my bulge and giving a rather shy giggle. I decided to help her. “So Petro says, ‘You must be hot, too, Katarina. Let me help you cool down a bit.’” So saying, I reached over to the buttons of her blouse. She giggled, and then said, “Yes, that’s right.” I undid the buttons and then pulled the blouse off at the back, exposing her ivory-white breasts, round and just slightly raised from the surface. “‘Ooh, what lovely sprouts,’ says Petro,” I continued. “‘I want to gobble zem all up, my leetle beauty.’” While she grinned, with an occasional giggle, I fondled the soft springy little nipples with my hands and then bent my head to kiss them. I felt the wobbly nipples against my lips, yielding to my gentle pressure. Then I put my hands down to her skirt, which was held up by a zip at the side. I unzipped it and slid her skirt down, leaving her now, like me, clad only in her shiny white panties. We gazed at each other with what, I suppose, passes for lust at that age. Saskia now seemed ready to take up the story again. “Petro says, ‘Let me show you my beeg, beeg cock,’” she giggled. I duly pulled down the waist of my underpants and stuck out my still immature penis, halfway towards being stiff with the excitement of it all. I straddled my legs apart and waggled it at her. “Look how beeg eet ees,” I boasted. “Just like a snake.” Saskia laughed and reached out her hand to stroke it. “I’m sure it won’t bite me,” she said, running her fingers up and down it and bouncing it up and down, while it became quickly stiffer as I wriggled. Then she hesitated, so I continued for her, “Now Katarina says, ‘Let me show you my new hairstyle. You can see it if you look in through my bedroom window on Friday nights.’” Saskia laughed and she too pulled down her panties at the front, exposing her plump, almost hairless, little vagina to my avid gaze. I reached out my hand in turn and ran my fingers over the top of her vagina, while she flinched a little. “Ooh, what a theek mat of fuzzy hair,” I exclaimed in Petro’s assumed voice. “How do you find your pees-hole underneath all zat?” “That’s your problem, not mine,” she squealed, laughing uproariously. Then she blushed a little, very unusually for her, and her eyes flashed challengingly at me. “Petro says, ‘Let us go into my bedroom and I’ll show you ze treeks I can do.’” I looked hesitantly at the shelf where we had sat before, wondering if that was what she meant, but she was already leading the way. It was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into laughter at the ludicrous sight of her climbing up on to the shelf with her panties pulled down over her bottom, but I suppose I must have looked the same, with a little erect penis hanging out of the top of my underpants. “Petro pulls back the sheets and they both lie down in the bed,” said Saskia, in rather a strained voice. She was going further than she felt comfortable with, but was determined to carry it through. My heart was thudding violently as I pulled back imaginary sheets. “Petro takes off his underpants and throws them out of the window,” continued Saskia, finishing with a stifled stream of giggles. With a grand gesture, I pulled them off and threw them to the far side of the treehouse, but not outside. Responding, she removed her panties and we lay down side by side, facing each other, on the rug. Saskia stared at me and then giggled, seemingly very nervous to proceed any further now. She glanced furtively towards the door, as if fearful of interruption at this critical stage. Finally she spoke, in a rather strained voice, “Petro says, `Katarina, let me give you my baby’.” (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 8) I felt very excited and quite frightened at the same time. So she really did want to have sex with me! I had never come close to having sex with anybody before, or even really dreamed of it. All I knew was that the male put his stiff penis inside the girl’s vagina, and that was it. At the age of ten, I had never even fantasised about actually having sex, not even with Saskia. Saskia seemed to know more about it than I did. She rolled over on her back with her knees up and apart, opening her vagina. She turned her head to look at me, with a seductive smile on her face. I waited for her to tell me what to do. “Don’t you know how to do it, silly?” she asked after a minute. “Of course,” I lied. “But you’re telling the story, aren’t you?” She sighed. “Petro gets on top of Katarina,” she said. I rose to my knees and crawled round between her knees, looking down at her wide, white, tense, freckly face, the gentle swellings where her `sprouts’ were beginning to make their appearance, and at the half-open hairless vagina between her legs, the clitoris just exposed in the middle. Saskia reached forward and took hold of my penis, which was rather limp. I immediately reached down and touched her clitoris with my finger. She jumped and wriggled and giggled. “Wait, silly,” she told me. “We must get your – get Petro’s cock all stiff first, or it won’t go in.” She ran her fingers up and down my penis and it began to respond, becoming quite stiff. I was still very anxious, though. I knew my penis had to be stiff to penetrate her vagina, but I also knew that some stuff called sperm was supposed to come from my penis, and I had no idea how to make that happen. I was afraid I might urinate all over her. “We’d better not really do it, though,” I protested. “You might really get a baby, and that would be big trouble for us.” Saskia squealed with laughter. “You can’t really make me have a baby, silly, because you haven’t any hairs on your cock,” she informed me. “You have to have hairs there first. So we can really do it and be safe. I mean, Katarina and Petro can really do it.” She carried on stroking to keep me stiff. My heart was beating rapidly with anticipation and I was sweating profusely, but I was also filled with trepidation that I would mess things up. I waited for Saskia’s next instruction, and she quickly told me, “Now Petro strokes Katarina’s pussy.” Normally the connection with stroking the little cat Saskia’s family had might have caused me some amusement, but I was too tense to laugh, although this part I could handle – literally. Balancing on one arm, placed next to Saskia’s chest, I reached down and massaged her gently between the legs. She released my penis, closed her eyes and purred almost like a cat herself in ecstasy as I stroked, feeling the firm smooth labia beneath my fingers and the looser skin right down between her legs. She wriggled her hips from side to side, and I was alarmed to find that her vagina was becoming damp. I was afraid she was urinating on me, but it didn’t smell like urine and all I could say was that this was a warm smell that I had never smelt before. I continued to stroke, feeling deeply with my fingertips, pushing inside, happy to put off the fearful moment where I might not perform. All the time Saskia moaned and purred, breathing deeply almost as if in pain. But at last Saskia, eyes still shut, said to me in little more than a whisper, “Now Petro pokes Katarina.” The time had come. But my penis was now limp again. I took a hand off Saskia’s vagina to pump it up again, and she opened her eyes and giggled when she saw what the problem was. She reached out a hand and pulled my penis downwards, and I lowered my hips with the pressure. She rubbed the end of it against her vagina and I could feel the excitement as it began to grow hard again. She continued to rub my penis up and down on her folds, while I crouched very awkwardly, and in moments my penis was as hard as it had ever been. “Now Petro pokes Katarina,” she whispered again. I was equipped and had to do it. I felt afraid again. I heard that the first time girls did it, it hurt them and they bled, and I was scared of doing that to Saskia. I didn’t know if this was Saskia’s first time or not. Saskia may have seemed completely knowledgeable to me then, but I realise now that she didn’t know as much as she pretended. She still lay there with her knees up and myself between them, but I now know that she should have raised her legs higher for a more successful conclusion. I pushed my penis hard against her vagina in the middle, but couldn’t get it in. And I could tell it was hurting Saskia as I tried it. “Come on, silly, do it properly,” she gasped at me, face running with sweat. She was blaming me when it was really more her fault for being in the wrong position, although I didn’t know it either. “Be careful,” she scolded as I sprawled on top of her, unable to force my penis inside. “Don’t squash me or I’ll piss in your face.” “It’s not working,” I gasped in dismay after struggling for quite a while without success. “Your piss isn’t strong enough,” she grumbled, wriggling her hips again. She arched her back to make herself more comfortable on the rug and I saw her vagina open slightly near the bottom. I decided to go for that, and moved back a bit until I was almost squatting, crouched behind her. At last I thought I could do it. I pushed my penis hard and felt less resistance here. I pushed again and felt my prepuce surrounded by her flesh which seemed to be sucking it inwards. I kept pushing and thought I could feel it going in, pressed tightly all around by Saskia’s vagina muscles. Saskia suddenly screamed in pain, thrusting her hips upwards, and I withdrew sharply. My penis came out quickly and I stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open. “Sorry,” I gasped. “Be careful,” she ordered, settling back and waiting for me to try again. I wish she had told me just how to be more careful, but I didn’t dare ask. Again I pressed my penis on her vagina, rubbing it up and down myself to keep it hard. Then I found the place I had used before and pushed. Again I felt the flesh on either side give and then seem to wrap itself around my prepuce and suck it inwards. I pushed hard, felt it begin to go in further, squeezed hard on all sides, and then Saskia gave a louder scream than before. Again I pulled out quickly, staring at her. “What are you doing?” she demanded, sitting up and clutching her vagina in pain. “There’s no need to hurt me this much.” I stared at the rug and at her skin, dreading to see blood, but there was none. “Well, how do you want me to do it, then?” I asked her. “Just push it in here,” she said, pointing. “Slowly.” “That’s what I have been doing,” I told her. “Try again,” she ordered, leaning back. A lot of the excitement had gone out of it now. It wasn’t too easy to get my penis fully hard again and Saskia’s vagina was almost dry now, although neither of us understood the significance of that. And at my age I had no lubrication myself to offer. When I tried again it was harder to get in, and Saskia again screamed out just as I thought I was getting inside. “I don’t know what you’re doing but it’s all wrong,” she scolded me. “Haven’t you ever done it before?” “No,” I confessed. “Have you?” “Yes, of course,” she answered very quickly, and I immediately doubted her word. “Who with?” I asked. “I’m not telling,” she replied. “But *he* did it properly and it didn’t hurt so much.” “Well, what did he do different?” I asked. “I can’t see what you’re doing wrong, can I?” she retorted, sitting up and glaring at me. “I think my penis was too big,” I answered, rather regretfully watching it shrink and slacken. “It wouldn’t go in easily.” “Well, cut it off, then,” she snapped, and suddenly burst into a fit of giggles at the thought. Eager to change the whole activity, I pinned her on her back and tickled her ribs and her vagina, while she closed her legs and curled up, still laughing, to stop me. “We don’t really have to do it,” she said in the end, to my relief. “But it’s fun just to act it out like Petro and Katarina did.” She lay back again and said once more, “Now Petro pokes Katarina.” With my penis half-erect, I squatted down on top of her and laid it on her vagina. As I rubbed it up and down again it stiffened properly, while she lay back and moaned, wriggling her hips, as she had done before. It was much more of a pleasure now to enjoy the feel of our private, sensitive flesh together knowing that I didn’t have to finish the job this time. It then struck me that if Saskia had changed her body position it might have been much easier, but I didn’t say anything in case she wanted to try it and I found it didn’t work again. It seemed an awful long time that we lay together, myself becoming more uncomfortable all the time as I crouched over her, trying not to squash her. I loved the feel of lying on top of her, our bodies pressing firmly against each other right from shoulders to loins, but she always complained quite quickly that I was squashing her. She seemed to be making a strange singing, moaning kind of noise all the time which I thought was just like humming to herself. In the end she pushed me off and said, “Soon it’s time for Katarina to go home.” It didn’t seem like soon to me, but I didn’t argue. “They get dressed again.” We did that, although Saskia didn’t trouble to put on her panties. I was about to zip up my shorts when she stopped me. “Petro still has his zip stuck,” she reminded me. Once we were dressed, Saskia decided against going back yet, and we sat cross-legged opposite each other, knees touching, and talked. My shorts gaped open and Saskia kept stealing glances at my white underpants, with a suspicious bulge in the middle, and grinning. For my part I could see her half-open vagina under the slight drooping of her skirt which failed even to cover her crotch. I wondered if she sat like that it might be easier to get my penis inside, but I didn’t suggest it. She seemed to sense my thoughts, as she gave a naughty grin and asked me, “Can you see my fanny?” I nodded. She laughed and put her fingers down between her legs, pulling back that tiny bit of skirt that was in the way. “Look,” she said. She licked her forefinger and pushed it slowly and carefully into her vagina, wriggling as she did so. “That doesn’t hurt much. That’s what you should have done.” “My penis is much bigger than your finger,” I reminded her. She laughed and put her hand across to prod my penis through my open fly and my underpants. “It’s not very big now,” she said. “Ooh, it’s getting bigger.” “It was much bigger when we were doing it, but you couldn’t see it properly,” I excused myself. Saskia shrugged. “We can try again next time,” she decided. Then suddenly she began to talk to me about something completely different, and we sat face to face in that treehouse, genitals exposed, or partly in my case, and talked about school. Saskia did most of the talking as usual. As the adrenaline stopped pumping, I began to wonder about the story of Katarina and Petro. Was it true? Was it partly true? Did Saskia really get all of it, or some of it, from Katarina in one of her better moods? Or did she make it all up? I wasn’t sure. Some years later now, I’m inclined to think that Katarina did tell Saskia something, probably exaggerated for effect, while Saskia in turn no doubt embroidered it a lot further for our game. I also wondered if I had lost my virginity. I worked out that I hadn’t really got myself properly inside Saskia, and I certainly hadn’t produced any sperm and was no doubt incapable of doing so at that age. Saskia hadn’t bled at all – assuming it really was her first experience – so I still had my virginity. After a long time, during which my mind rambled on these topics, Saskia suddenly decided it was over. “Let’s go and have a swim,” she said, putting up a knee to give me a quick flash of her clitoris and springing to her feet. “Better put my panties on, just in case,” she grinned, stepping into them. The story of Katarina and Petro was left handing in the air, so I never thought to pull up my zip. We walked into the lounge through the sliding doors, on our way to the bedrooms to change. Katarina was inside, just stepping back from the television set after switching it on. She looked scathingly at us, and her eyes rested on me. “I don’t know what you two have been up to,” she said coldly and bossily. “But Roy, you had better do up your zip before you get frostbite on your little carrot. It’s a good thing you’re wearing those white underpants.” Saskia flared up on my behalf. “Oh, just piss off!” she shouted at her sister. “You’re always interfering!” “And Saskia, you should be wearing that longer skirt you had on this morning,” Katarina continued provocatively. “We all know how much you like showing everybody your pretty little panties.” Saskia completely lost control and she flew at her sister. “See how much *you* like showing everyone *your* panties, then,” she yelled, grabbing the hem of Katarina’s skirt and pulling it as high as she could. It revealed her turquoise panties underneath as Katarina staggered back under the unexpected onslaught, and I got a glimpse as high as her lacy bra before Katarina managed to force her skirt part of the way down. She could not pull it all the way down, though, as Saskia’s fury seemed to give her extra strength, and for a few seconds the two of them wrestled, pulling at that skirt with all their might at around midriff level, panties still clearly visible. I suddenly realised that this could seriously damage my chances of further visits to Saskia’s house, and in any case if we wanted to be left alone while here, détente with Katarina was desirable. I leapt over and caught hold of Saskia, trying to pull her away, shouting at her to stop. I was suddenly aware of a stinging blow on Saskia’s arm as her mother arrived on the scene. “Stop that at once!” she screamed at Saskia, who did now leave go. Katarina staggered back and almost fell on to the television, while I let go of Saskia and she staggered into her mother. Her mother wrapped an arm round her, commanded, “Just you come with me, you horrible child,” and marched her out into the kitchen, protesting. I looked at Katarina, red in the face and smoothing down her skirt, which somehow had remained untorn. “I – I didn’t want that,” I stammered. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t look at me at all but continued to inspect her dress. A moment later her mother put her head round the kitchen door and commanded, “You come as well, Katarina.” Katarina stalked off to the kitchen, face flushed and head held indignantly high. I decided I would be better off out of the way. I remembered to fix my zip, and went into the swimming pool area, although my swimming costume was still inside and I dared not swim naked or even in my underpants here. I just lay on the bench for quite a while, fantasising about Katarina the previous night and Saskia in the treehouse, and at the same time fearing very much that the latest rumpus might have put paid to my chances of any repeats. After about half an hour Saskia’s mother came out of the house, looked around and saw me lying there. “Oh, there you are, Roy,” she said, walking over towards me. I was afraid this might be my marching orders. “Roy, I must apologise for the behaviour of my daughters this weekend,” she said to me. “But I know you were not responsible, and I saw you trying to stop this latest fight. So I thought I should just tell you that we enjoy having you and you’re welcome to come again, but that will have to be dependent on Saskia’s behaviour.” I thanked her very much, and she invited me to come into the house and change into my swimming costume for a swim. I did so, uncomfortably aware of muffled rantings coming from behind Saskia’s closed bedroom door. There was no sign of Katarina, but I assumed she was in her bedroom as well. Their father was now sitting in the lounge, looking somewhat distressed. I wondered why he didn’t take charge of his family better. Later on my parents came to pick me up, and Saskia’s parents invited them in for a drink. Saskia’s mother ordered the girls to come downstairs, and Saskia was very sulky and red-eyed. She said nothing to me except a brief word at the door just as we were about to depart. “Why did you fight for Katarina against me?” she demanded in a cross murmur. “I didn’t,” I protested. “I knew you had to stop pulling her skirt up because your mum might stop me from coming again.” “My dad will always allow you to come again if I ask him,” grumbled Saskia, turning her head away from me and refusing to speak to me again. I was rather puzzled by Katarina’s attitude to me, though. Several times I noticed her looking at me and got the impression that she was actually doing so rather pleasantly. As I got into the car, Saskia refused to say anything, but Katarina said clearly, “Goodbye, Roy. It’s been nice having you.” I could only assume that my efforts to rescue her from Saskia had won her approval after all, although I had done so only out of self-interest. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 9) At school on Monday Saskia was back to her normal self, boasting that she was going to invite me back to her house the following weekend. The thrill of excitement swept over me again. I looked eagerly forward to another session on the balcony when Katarina came home on Friday evening and some more experience in the tree house. But my hopes were destroyed on the Wednesday, when I reminded Saskia to ask her parents to phone my parents and make arrangements. “My mum won’t let you come,” she muttered. “She says not until next month. I hate her.” This, I was sure, was a result of Saskia’s bad behaviour as her mother had assured me that it was not my fault. Being Saskia, though, she managed to arrange a weekend out for herself, her parents apparently agreeing. She had now started making friends with the other girls instead of giving me her exclusive attention at school, and had wangled a weekend away with one of them. So I felt somewhat disconsolate as I walked home alone after school at Friday lunchtime. Saskia had managed an alternative treat, while I was the one who had suffered. I thought back with regret on that exciting weekend and wondered if I should ever have a repeat. On my way home, I was surprised to see Katarina standing on a street corner by herself. She had come out of the high school and was still wearing the uniform, blue skirt down almost to her knees, the shortest that the regulations permitted. Her hair was tied back in a straggly ponytail and she looked quite different, but still most unattractive to me. As I walked past, Katarina suddenly seemed to notice me. “Oh, hello, Roy,” she greeted me, and she even smiled. I stared in surprise and returned the greeting in a mumble. “I’ve just been waiting for a friend but she doesn’t seem to be coming,” explained Katarina, not very convincingly. She swung her bag down and took a couple of steps in the direction of her house. Then she stopped, turned round and looked at me. Even to my inexperienced years, it seemed to me that this was all somewhat calculated rather than spontaneous. “Actually, Roy, would you like to come round just for the afternoon?” she asked me in honeyed tones. “You can have lunch with us and stay for a while.” That would be no problem to me, as my parents were out at work and nobody would trouble about me as long as I arrived home before they did. I replied, “But Saskia won’t be there because she’s going to Sharon’s house.” “Oh, she’s not going until later,” Katarina told me. “So why don’t you come round until she goes?” It sounded rather suspicious, but the tinge of excitement within me decided me in favour. Who knew what Saskia and I might be able to get up to in a couple of hours? Though with Katarina there we might have a problem – but maybe she would go out again later. And I would be gone before their parents arrived home. It suddenly occurred to me that Katarina might be setting a trap for me, to get me into trouble by making an illegal visit which would have me banned from the place in the future. So I asked, “But will your mum allow me to come?” “Oh, yes,” Katarina assured me. “She wouldn’t let you stay overnight, but she doesn’t mind you coming for the afternoon.” Against my better judgement I put discretion aside and went with Katarina to her home, despite feeling rather embarrassed at being seen in the presence of an older girl. Katarina talked to me very pleasantly on the way, although she was not as voluble as Saskia, and I felt certain that her pleasant behaviour was really genuine. The incident in the lounge had changed her attitude towards me for the better. When we entered her house, there was no sign of Saskia. As we passed through the lounge I could hear Estella working in the kitchen, and Katarina called out a greeting. I followed her upstairs, expecting to find Saskia in her bedroom. The door was open, the room remarkably tidy (no doubt Estella’s work), but she was not there. “Where’s Saskia, then?” I asked Katarina. “She can’t have come back yet,” Katarina replied. “Anyway, come into my bedroom.” I entered her bedroom for the first time, my heart pounding and an excited feeling in my guts as I remembered all I had seen in this room from the outside. I could see the balcony outside, together with the railing that separated it from Saskia’s balcony, the railing I had leaned against when spying on Katarina a week earlier. “Sit down,” Katarina instructed me, indicating a chair. I sat. “I just want to change out of this awful school uniform before lunch,” she continued, not looking at me. She opened a wardrobe, looked inside and asked me, without turning around, “What colour do you think I should wear?” I was rather taken aback at being asked my judgement in such a matter. My mind didn’t function properly. Was she really going to change in front of me? When she repeated the question, I blurted out, hardly knowing what to say, “Do you have white?” “Here we are,” she answered, pulling out a short white dress with an embroidered front and shutting the wardrobe door. She turned her back on me, probably through a degree of embarrassment, unbuttoned her school blouse and took it off. I could see her bony shoulder blades sticking out on her heavily freckled back, and the thin back strap of her black frilly bra crossing it horizontally, and the two shoulder straps vertically. I could see a side reflection in the mirror, with the black cups of her bra quite prominent. Then, back still towards me, she unbuttoned her skirt at the side and slipped it off, revealing very brief frilly black panties. She stopped for a moment and, still without turning round, asked me, “Do you like black?” For underwear I never have liked black, and I presumed that was what she meant. I answered perhaps a bit too honestly, “Not – I mean – well, I think a sort of white is the nicest colour. For underwear, I mean. I think it’s more sexy.” I wondered if she would change into white underwear to please me, and she hesitated for a moment as if she were considering it. Then she half-turned her head round, white dress in hand but without starting to put it on, and asked with a forced smile, “Do you think I’m sexy?” Then she turned round and faced me in only her underwear, but she did not look very comfortable about it. She put her arms up to untie her ponytail, giving me a completely clear view of her shaven armpits and a very white, rather thin freckly body covered only very briefly in frilly black underwear. I didn’t know how to answer, feeling I could not lie by giving an unqualified yes. I found her face pretty ghastly, to be honest, but her body, apart from the freckles and thinness, seemed to me perfectly shaped. I opened my mouth but the words didn’t come. “No need to be shy – I don’t mind,” Katarina urged me. “Do you think I have a sexy body?” The fact that she mentioned her body rather than her face seemed to indicate to me that she also knew her strengths and weaknesses. “I think so,” I stammered, afraid of seeming too forward. “Probably.” “Probably?” she repeated, still smiling awkwardly and exposing her front to me, covered only briefly in bra and panties. I thought I could just see the topmost tufts of her pubic hair at the waistline of her panties. “Why only probably?” “Well, I can only see . . .” I tried to explain, and instantly realised that I had made a mess of it. “I mean I . . .” I dried up, not sure what to say. She laughed, again rather unnaturally. “What makes you think you’re going to see all of my body?” she asked. I made no reply but felt most embarrassed. “Do you want to see all of my body?” she asked provocatively. Again I dared not reply. She laughed again, obviously embarrassed as well but feeling the urge to be intimate. “I bet you’ve never even seen a girl naked before, have you?” Obviously Saskia hadn’t told her about my naturist lifestyle, and again I didn’t answer. “An *older* girl, I mean, not my randy little sister. Do you know that she’s told me everything that she did with you?” I stared at her suddenly, shocked. I was astounded to learn that Saskia had actually told her hated sister all about what we had done together, and I felt terrified that Katarina might pass it all on and caused great trouble for us both. I felt betrayed. Then I saw a flash of delight and triumph pass across Katarina’s face and wondered what that meant. “Tell me, is it true that you actually poked her?” asked Katarina, eyes gleaming. “No, no, I couldn’t,” I stammered. “It was . . .” Then it slowly began to dawn on me that perhaps Katarina had just fired a shot in the dark and had been delighted to find it had struck home. As I thought about it later, I slowly became more certain that Saskia had in fact told her sister little or nothing and that Katarina had done nothing more than guess. But I had given away the fact that something at least had gone on between Saskia and myself, and her eyes lit up again. “Did you know *how* to poke her?” Katarina continued. “Well, I don’t know,” I answered, most uncomfortably. I couldn’t read the expression on Katarina’s face. “Maybe I’ll have to teach you,” she said, and then began to slip her dress on over her head. White dresses do not go well over black underwear, and it was very easily possible to see her bra and panties through that dress. But Katarina was either unaware or untroubled by it. “But you did see my sister quite naked,” she stated rather than asked as her head came out the other side. Again I had no idea how to answer safely. She repeated the question, looking at me intently, and in the end I ventured, “Well, you said she had told you everything that happened?” “Yes, but you can’t always believe everything *she* says,” Katarina said scornfully, as if she were the paragon of truth herself. “So that’s why I’m asking you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.” I kept my mouth firmly shut, and would have pleaded the Fifth Amendment had I known anything about the American constitution in those days. I was desperately concerned not to incriminate myself any further. “Come on, tell me what happened,” Katarina coaxed me. I shook my head obstinately and would not budge on that issue. “Nothing happened,” I said. Looking back, and in view of what was to follow within the next hour or two, perhaps my silence did me good, as it may have assured Katarina that I would not talk about anything she did with me either. I was afraid Katarina might get angry at my silence, but I was even more afraid of trouble if I so much as hinted at what Saskia and I had done, or tried to do, together. So I just kept repeating, “Nothing happened,” although I could tell Katarina didn’t believe me. In the end she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You should trust me. Anyway, we’ll go down for lunch now, and you can tell me afterwards.” I followed her downstairs, wishing I had not agreed to come. Estella came out of the kitchen and I asked her, “Estella, where’s Saskia?” “Oh, you didn’t know,” Estella answered, looking surprised. “Miss Saskia has gone to the house of her friend Sharon until tomorrow.” “Oh, I thought she was only going this evening,” put in Katarina rather unconvincingly. “That’s why I told Roy he could come for a while this afternoon.” “No, Miss Saskia went there straight from school,” Estella insisted, just as I had thought. “She does not come home until tomorrow evening. So I am sorry if Master Roy has come for nothing.” “Well, he can have lunch with us,” Katarina said. “Could you serve the lunch for the two of us, please, Estella? And don’t tell Mum, because she’ll blame me.” Estella brought us cold meat and salad, followed by pineapple. “Oh, Miss Katarina, I see your dress is too thin,” she commented as she put the bowls on the table. She could hardly have failed to notice how Katarina’s underwear showed through her dress. “It doesn’t matter,” snapped Katarina angrily. “I’ll change it.” A few minutes later, when Estella had completed her work, she said, “Thank you, Estella. You may go now.” Katarina kept up a light conversation during the meal, and when we had finished she said to me, “Well, let’s go back up to my room now.” “I think I need to be getting home,” I said apprehensively, wondering why on earth she wanted me to stay. Katarina urged me to stay a little longer, but I kept insisting I should go, until she finally realised what the problem was. “Look, we won’t talk any more about what you and Saskia did, if that’s what’s bothering you,” she said. “Now, will you stay for a little while? You must be very hot. Wouldn’t you like a swim?” “I don’t have my swimming costume with me,” I answered. “Don’t worry about that, you can borrow one,” she assured me, putting an arm round my shoulder. I was not sure I wanted that. “Saskia has some bikini bottoms that look just like a boy’s swimming costume, so you can wear that.” One part of me told me it would be wiser to go home, but the other part told me that Katarina had a real interest in me and anything might happen, especially after she had deliberately changed her dress in front of me. I was also very curious about her hint of teaching me about sex. If that took place, it was likely, I thought, to involve some practical work rather than just theory. I followed Katarina upstairs again, and she went into Saskia’s bedroom and opened her wardrobe, despite my protests that Saskia might not like our invading her privacy. “She’ll never know,” Katarina shrugged it off, ignoring the likely evidence of the wet swimming costumes. She pulled out a few swimming costumes, most of them very feminine. There was only one I felt I could wear, a small plain red one. “I’ll take that,” I said. “It may be a bit small for you because she’s had it two or three years,” Katarina said. “But try it on and see if it fits you.” She sat down on the bed waiting for me. “Where shall I change?” I asked. “Oh, you can just do it in here,” replied Katarina, trying to sound casual. I had no objection in principle to her, or any other girl, watching me changing, but I was a bit worried that she might make some silly or rude remarks. I had learned already that many people who are not naturists feel uncomfortable with nudity and try to hide their embarrassment by saying something stupid. So I felt rather uncertain as I removed my school uniform, shoes and socks first, then my shirt. Katarina tried chatting away to me, in a slightly strained voice I thought, as I unbuckled my shorts and slipped them down to reveal my usual white underpants. Then those came off, and my penis popped out into her view. Her interest was obvious, although she said nothing about it. I struggled into the tight-fitting costume, and could see her trying not to laugh as I battled to pull it on properly, the end of my penis sticking out helplessly between my groin and the elastic waist of the costume for a few seconds before I completed the job. It was uncomfortable when I had it on as well, as it had not been made to contain a scrotum and mine felt squashed. “Aren’t you going to swim as well?” I asked as we left the room and headed for the stairs, her arm round my bare shoulders. She rubbed them gently, and I could no longer have any doubt that, for some reason, she fancied me. “Er – no, I don’t want one right now,” she answered, leading the way downstairs. I guessed she was not yet ready for me to see her naked – or, strictly speaking, for her actually to know that I was seeing her naked! I spent a few minutes in the pool, while Katarina sat on the bench watching me, legs crossed and occasionally giving a flash of her black panties. Then she suddenly said, “Actually the water looks very nice. Just wait here a few minutes and I’ll come and join you.” She stood up and went off into the house. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 10) Katarina re-emerged a few minutes later, wearing such a pale orange bikini that from any distance at first almost looked as if she were naked, and carrying two small towels and a bottle of sun cream. She might almost as well have been, as there was a minimum of cloth involved. I stared, looking for traces of pubic hair sticking out of the top of her bikini briefs, and she caught my glance. She didn’t seem displeased. “Do you like my swimming costume?” she asked. I nodded, thinking that was the safest response. She sat on the side of the pool and slipped into the water. She swam across to the other side and then climbed out. Standing up, she pulled at the front of her elastic waist as people tend to do when finding the material sticking to their skin. I caught a flash of light brown pubic hair, and I think that was deliberate. Slowly she was plucking up the courage to display more of herself to me. Then she dived neatly into the pool and came up underneath me. I felt her pushing under my legs and tumbling me over. She reached out and grabbed me round the shoulders with her arm and pulled me towards herself, laughing. I felt my chest pressed up against her side, almost touching her right breast. I wasn’t sure I liked it very much, but if a bit of the physical was required to have another view of her unclad body, I was prepared to put up with it and pretend I did. I broke away and splashed water at her, forcing myself to laugh. She squealed and chased after me. As I reached the side of the pool, I felt a hand on the waist of my swimming costume, pulling at it. “Got you!” she laughed. “If you pull my swimming costume off, I’ll pull yours off,” I threatened, making it sound like fun and laughing at her. “Ooh, you wouldn’t dare,” she teased me, and she was right at that moment – I didn’t. We splashed around in the pool for quite a while, Katarina taking frequent opportunities to grab me round my body. Once as she swam up underneath me I felt her hand pushing under my crotch and her fingers against my penis. “Hey, you touched my peeny,” I accused her laughingly when she surfaced. Normally I do not use slang or baby-talk, but I was playing along with her, just as she was playing along with me, and we were now both apparently working towards the same climax. We both played it slowly, though, she because she was shy of my seeing her naked and me because I wanted to encourage her to do so. “I didn’t mean to,” she giggled unconvincingly. But a couple of minutes later she did it again, brushing her hand against my genitals and wrapping her fingers gently around them. Then for the first time as she caught me she pressed me against her breasts and I could feel the firm but springy lumps against my shoulder. Finally she gave a sigh and broke away, pulling herself up on the side of the pool and standing up. “This bikini sticks to my skin when it gets wet,” she stated, to explain what she was about to do and perhaps to gain my attention. She pulled at her bikini top, exposing for a moment the startling white of her breasts, but not as far as the nipples. Then she tugged again at the bottoms, showing a greater expanse of pubic hair than before. She looked at me and giggled, unable to act naturally. “Ooh, I nearly showed you too much,” she tittered, sounding very silly. Her face was slightly flushed and she clearly didn’t quite know how to handle things convincingly. She went over and lay down on a sun lounger under a tree while I followed her out of the pool. Then she picked up her bottle of sun cream and said, “Roy, do you think you could do me a favour? I have such a fair skin I need to wear sun cream because even the reflection can burn me. Could you put it on for me, please?” I was more eager to oblige than I showed. I took the bottle as she turned over on her stomach. “Just a little, but rub it in well,” she said. I poured some on my hand and began to rub it over her freckled back, starting in the middle and working my way towards the bikini top, which was only attached by a string at the back. “Just undo the string so you can rub it in properly,” she instructed me. With trembling fingers I obeyed. The sides dropped away and I could see the sides of her white bulges as she pressed her breasts into the lounger. Then I rubbed all over, right up to her neck as she held her long hair out of my way. Then I moved down to her waist level. “Just rub it in with your fingers under the edge of the costume, can you, Roy,” she instructed. “Then if I move I don’t burn at the edges.” I stopped running for a moment, my hands were trembling so much, and she went on, “Don’t be scared, you can put your fingers underneath.” I could already see the depression where the crack in her bottom started before the costume even began. I rubbed up to the edge of the costume and then slipped my fingers inside. As I rubbed, I was aware of my fingers rubbing over the deep trough there, and so obviously was Katarina, as she giggled. “That tickles,” she said. “Do you like me tickling?” I asked. “Oh, yes, it’s fun,” she smiled, turning her head to look at me and then turning it away again quickly. I cunningly continued to rub lightly and tickle, lifting the edge of the costume with my fingers enough to see a short way down her backside and the long black crease. Then I turned to her legs, starting at the bottom and working my way up. When I reached her costume, which was small enough to reveal the bottoms of her buttock cheeks, I again slipped my fingers inside, feeling the soft flesh under them and getting a glimpse of the crack in the middle. As I moved round between her legs I could even feel a few long strands of hair. Katarina laughed and wriggled. “You’re tickling again!” she said. “Do you want me to do your front as well?” I asked hopefully. “Yes, do that,” she said, rolling over on to her back. As she did so, the bikini top, still untied, fell away and I had a glimpse of an ivory-white breast with a large pink nipple in the middle. She turned back so quickly, clutching her bikini top to her, that I’m sure she really knew it was undone, but she squealed and laughed to pretend it had all been an accident. “You forgot to tie up my top again,” she accused me, lying on her front again with the sides down. “You didn’t tell me to,” I excused myself, reaching down for the strings and tying them together, but as loosely as I thought I could get away with. Then she rolled over on to her back and shut her eyes. I started just above her belly button and rubbed, feeling the bony ribs underneath and keeping an eye on that bikini top. The white sides of her breasts were already visible for a couple of centimetres at the bottom. I worked up to the costume and then put my fingers under the edges again, nudging the material up enough to see the tall sides of those white mountainous structures. “Do you want me to undo the top again so I can rub it in properly?” I asked, more from hope than expectation. “Of course not,” she giggled. “My boobs are none of your business, Mister! Now rub it on my shoulders.” I moved to the top and worked downwards, rubbing against her breasts without actually running my hands over them. Now I returned to her midriff and worked downwards, feeling the thin delicate skin that led down to her loins. Again, the bikini was so brief that I could see the first little whiffs of pubic hair and the depression that led down to her groin. I wriggled uncomfortably in my swimming costume as my penis responded. I put my fingers underneath at the sides and began to work towards the middle. Just on the other side of the hipbones my fingers began to encounter the first bits of pubic hair, and I rubbed my fingers excitedly over them. I was just beginning to explore further when Katarina’s rather skimpy modesty took over. “That’s enough there,” she said. “You can do my legs now.” Reluctantly I removed my hands and asked innocently, “Why? I haven’t finished the edges.” “I don’t need it there,” she replied. She giggled and said, “We ladies have natural protection just there.” “What’s that?” I asked her. “Never mind,” she replied, bossily but smiling. “Just do my legs.” I did, covering the feet, shins, knees and thighs in turn until again I reached the barrier of bikini bottom. Unable to resist the temptation and fearing being stopped before I got there, I quickly slipped my fingers just under the edge between her legs and rubbed gently. I could feel quite definitely thick pubic hair and looser skin underneath for a split second. “Ooh!” squealed Katarina, suddenly jerking her legs away and sitting up. “What are you doing?” I affected surprise. “Just rubbing under the edges. Did I hurt you?” I asked. “No. Don’t do it there – it tickles,” she told me. Then she made me finish the job while she sat up, hands loosely in her groin to prevent me from getting too close to her most private place again. When I finished, she said, “Now let me put some cream on you.” I was about to demur, but she was quite insistent and in my state of excitement I was happy to let events take their course. So I lay on my stomach and let her rub cream over me. She obviously enjoyed the touch as she moved her hands smoothly and tenderly all over my back and my legs, no doubt frustrated that the swimming costume prevented her from letting her hands loose on my bottom as well. She put her fingers inside my swimming costume, just as I had done with her, and I felt her tickling the crack in my bottom just between my legs. I wriggled as it tickled me but she did not persist. I presume she was saving up her most exciting work until the end. “Turn over,” she commanded. I lay on my back and watched as she rubbed in large gentle strokes all over my chest and stomach, feeling my flat nipples, but it seemed that her glance kept straying to my swimming costume. She slipped her fingers inside the waistline, pulling at it probably to try to give her a view inside, but it was too tight to go more than a centimetre or two. I could feel her fingers down to my groin. Then she did my legs, working upwards until she reached the edge of my swimming costume. “Now let’s just do under the edge to make sure,” she said in a rather silly, unnatural voice that made it clear to me that her intentions were not completely pure. She slipped her fingers under the elastic and felt my groin. Then she moved them towards the centre and I felt a finger touch my penis. She moved her hands slowly down, rubbing all the time, and I could feel her on the loose skin where my scrotum joins my body, wobbling it backwards and forwards. Then she moved her fingers up again, and again I felt her push her fingers inside far enough to touch my penis, which was lying on its back and in the process of hardening steadily. “Ooh, what’s this, Roy?” she said, in a very silly voice, with a giggle. “You naughty boy, your little willy is quite hard in here.” “My swimming costume is too tight. It’s squashing me,” I excused myself. “Well, that was the only one you wanted, but you can take it off if you like,” she invited me, running her finger down the short length of my penis and giving it a rub before slowly withdrawing her hand. “There’s nobody round here to see so you won’t get into trouble.” Rather cunningly I replied, “Well, that would be better, but I’d feel bad doing it by myself.” “Oh, you want me to take my bikini off as well, do you?” she smiled at me with exaggerated concern. “Do you really think you’re going to see my beautiful boobs?” “I can’t go naked by myself,” I protested. “And if you did, I couldn’t tell anybody because you could get me into trouble then.” Katarina tried to hide the thoughts that were no doubt racing through her mind, but she said nothing for a few seconds. Then she said with an unconvincing smile, “Let’s do it. Stand up and I’ll help you off with your swimming costume.” I was in two minds as to whether to let her, but in the end I stood up and put my hands to the waistline of the swimming costume. But Katarina immediately put her hands up there, brushing mine aside, and started pulling it down. I helped pull it down over my bottom, which was difficult, while she forced down the front until my penis popped out, sticking out almost straight and fairly firm after the excitement of the last few minutes. I saw her eyes gleam as she stared at it. I didn’t know if she had ever seen a boy of my age naked before, and I didn’t dare ask. If Saskia had spoken the truth, she must have had experience of older boys. I bent my knees to help pull the swimming costume down and she helped, but still kept her eyes on my little pink penis and the tight little testicles underneath. I stepped out of the costume, which Katarina put on one side. Then she looked at my genitals again and said in a silly voice, “Oh, the poor little things look quite squashed.” She put up her hand and took hold of my penis with her fingers. I pulled away. I was not going to give away too many liberties before getting something in return. “Not yet,” I said. “It’s your turn now.” “Maybe,” she said. Then she turned round and dived into the pool, still wearing her bikini, surfacing at the other side and laughing at me. “Come on in now, Roy,” she called. “Not by myself,” I answered. I got no reply, so I went over to the swimming costume and started pulling it on again. I was pulling it up over my knees when I heard Katarina call me. I turned to see her at the far side of the pool, head only above the water but waving her bikini top in her hand. Then she tossed it on to the side of the pool. I waited, but she did no more. “That’s only one part,” I said, the swimming costume still around my knees. She said nothing for a moment, then laughed again. “I’m only teasing you,” she said, and reached under the water. A moment later her hands came up with her bikini bottom, which she also put on the side. I could see the whiteness of her body under the water, but could make out no detail. I dragged off the swimming costume, leapt into the water and thrashed my way across the pool towards Katarina. She squealed, laughed and swam away. I ducked under the surface and could see her perfectly in the clear water. I could see her slim white freckled bottom and her legs kicking as she swam. She reached the side of the pool and turned round for a moment. I could see the snow-white breasts with the large pink nipples in the middle and the mass of light brown pubic hair in her loins. Then she turned round again quickly and held on to the side of the pool. I came up next to her, to find she was looking at me accusingly. “You were looking at me under the water,” she frowned. The water was quite shallow here so she kept her knees well bent so that no more than her shoulders protruded from the water. I didn’t try to hide it. “I couldn’t help it,” I protested. “It – it was just beautiful. Really sexy. Better than any girls at the club.” She frowned again. “What club?” she asked. I had given it away, but perhaps it was time. “We go to a naturist club,” I told her. “All my family.” Except, of course, for my parents! She stared at me, eyes wide open. “So you *have* seen girls naked before!” she exclaimed. “Well, why were you so scared about swimming naked here then?” “I – I didn’t want to get into trouble,” I said. I could hardly have explained that I used it as a tool to persuade her to strip off too. “Are there lots of girls there?” Katarina asked darkly. “My age, too?” “Yes, all ages,” I answered. “But your body – you – you’re the only one I thought was that sexy.” It was largely true. When you are with girls you are used to seeing naked, you don’t get turned on by their bodies. It’s the lure of the forbidden that attracts. She kept her face expressionless but I sensed she was flattered. “Well, you’re a naughty boy,” she said, eventually breaking into a smile. “I thought you were really shy. Why did you try to look at me under the water, then? Now it’s my turn.” So saying, she ducked under the water to have a look at my body. I in turn ducked under and faced her. I could now see her fully from the front, her lily-white breasts, her pubic hair floating about in the water like a mass, and she could obviously see my penis bobbing about under water as well. We came up together, both laughing. This time Katarina stood up straight, the water coming up just above her belly button, and those white ivory pillars were almost directly under my nose. I stared entranced at one of her large pink nipples, standing out so clearly against the white of her breast. “You are so cheeky!” she laughed, although I was uncertain whether it was because I had copied her by ducking under the surface or because she had caught me staring at her breasts. She reached down, wrapped her arms around my chest and dragged me to her. I felt my head pressing against her shoulder and her breasts against my neck. She pressed tight, and I wondered if she was getting out of control. I could feel my penis pressing against her body somewhere, but the flowing water made it impossible for me to tell which part. Things were getting exciting. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 11) Katarina now seemed gradually to be accepting her nudity in my presence. I flattered myself by telling myself that I had lured her out, that I had caught her like a fish, tempting her with bait, and had now tamed her, to mix my metaphors completely. But no doubt she had been playing her own game and considered she had caught me. “Let me see you dive off the board,” she said. “If you will as well,” I responded. “All right,” she agreed. So I climbed out of the pool, aware that she was watching my every move with probably as much greed and lust of the eyes as I planned to watch hers. I climbed on to the board, bounced two or three times and plunged in. I surfaced to find that she was laughing at me. “Oh, Roy, I love the way your little peeny bounces up and down with you on the board,” she sniggered. “Can’t you keep it still?” “Only when it’s hard,” I told her, slowly gaining in confidence. “Now it’s your turn.” I rocked on to my back and kicked my way slowly to a good vantage point as she grasped the side of the pool and pulled herself up. Her snowy white bottom, soaking wet, glistened in the sun. As she climbed up I could see a slit of vagina, surrounded by pinkish-red skin amid a pad of hair, between her legs. Then she turned round and sat on the edge. I could see again those startling white ivory breasts hanging down and the exploding mass of brown pubic hair, seemingly darker when soaking wet, in the triangle between her legs as she sat facing me. She looked down and didn’t move. “Your turn,” I repeated. “I can’t,” she grimaced in a tone of embarrassment. “Someone might see me.” “Who?” I asked. “No one can see you here.” “I know,” she agreed. “But – I can’t do it.” I understood the feeling, although I had never experienced it myself. I knew how those new to naturism often felt shy they were being watched, even in a safe place, just as Saskia had been. But I was hard-hearted in my impatience. “Well, if you’re not going to keep your promise I’m putting my swimming costume on again,” I said, back-pedalling towards the side of the pool. “No, don’t do that. I’ll do it in a minute,” she said. I watched her as she sat there biting her lip and looking around out of the corner of her eye, trying to find anywhere that might offer a Peeping Tom a view of her. It took her quite a while before she got to her feet, grabbed her bikini bottom, clutched it to her loins and made her way on to the diving board, bending almost double as she did so as if to make herself smaller. Then she hesitated, dropped her bikini to one side, quickly bounced once and splashed into the pool. “I love the way your boobies bounce up and down with you on the board,” I said cheekily as she surfaced. “Well, they can only do it if they’re a big enough size,” she said rather tartly. We played together for quite a while, and it became quite physical. Katarina kept chasing me as if in a game, and whenever she caught me I could feel her running her hands over my head and chest especially. She would plant little kisses on my neck and cheek, which I didn’t return. I wasn’t very keen on it, but did not protest in the hope that I would gain myself in the end. Then came the time by the edge of the pool when she pressed me to her, so I could feel her breasts against my neck, under my chin, and then her fingers taking hold of the end of my penis, rubbing it gently. I said nothing but reached down as far as I could with one hand and felt my fingers touch a floating mass of pubic hair. I rubbed my fingers against it and she pushed me away with an exclamation, “Don’t touch me there, that’s private, Roy! Keep your fingers to yourself.” “Well, you don’t touch my penis either, then,” I countered. She didn’t answer but chased me again. I jumped out and sat by the diving board. She was still too inhibited to get out of the water herself, so she grasped the edge of the pool and watched me. “Come on, jump,” she said after a while. I entertained her with a few bounces as she watched my penis before I dived into the pool. Again she chased me, and I wondered what would happen when she caught me. The first time was back to normal, as she just held me with her arm round my shoulders against her side and rubbed her other hand over my chest, laughing and talking as she always did to cover her actions. The second time, though, she turned me round and pressed my back against her body and her breasts, with her arms around my waist. Then I could feel her long thin fingers reaching down and gently pressing under my testicles, feeling and pushing them. Perhaps with my back to her she felt I could not touch her private area, but I put my hand round behind my bottom and again felt her pubic hair, loose and floating under the water. She squealed and pushed me away. “Cheeky boy,” she scolded, but I thought she was weakening and she didn’t tell me not to. “Come here,” she ordered, and pulled me into the same position as before. “I just want to stroke you,” she sniggered, and I felt her fingers closing around my penis again. “So do I,” I replied, reaching down, finding the gap between her legs and pushing my hand in, feeling the hair once again. She arched her back, putting it out of my reach, and said, “I don’t want you hurting me there.” “Well, I don’t want you hurting me, either,” I answered, thinking it would be much easier for her to crush my little pink testicles than for me to do any damage down there. “Look, I’ll be careful,” she smiled, coming closer and pushing her plain face close to mine. She reached out her hand under water again, and I back-pedalled. “So will I,” I said. “You must kiss me first,” she insisted. “If I do, will you let me touch you?” I asked. When she agreed, I reluctantly planted a small kiss on her cheek as the price to pay. Then we both indulged ourselves. All the time I could feel her fingers kneading my penis and testicles, feeling the skin, feeling the shape. At the same time my hand was between her legs, feeling for the opening of her vagina under the hair, but without being sure I ever found it. I could feel her mass of pubic hair floating around and between my fingers and the soft flesh underneath, feeling for the loose skin between her legs, which wasn’t easy as she would not open her legs very wide for me. Occasionally embarrassment would overcome her and she would brush my hands away, but I went back again a few seconds later. At last we tired of it, and rested against the side of the pool. Eventually Katarina said, “Let’s get out now.” We pulled ourselves out and moved over to the sun loungers. Then I said, “I need a piss. Is it all right if I use this tree?” Katarina suddenly looked interested. “Yes, that’s all right,” she said, coming over with me and talking some idle rubbish about her school so as to give her an excuse for watching me at close quarters. I wasn’t too sure I enjoyed being watched like an exhibit, but I held my penis out and squirted the tree, under her view. “How high can you piss?” she asked me. I pointed my penis upwards and made my mark on the tree trunk at about chest level. She didn’t seem very impressed. “Now can I watch you piss?” I asked her. “I don’t need to go right now,” she replied rather coolly. That was something she was not prepared to let me see, it appeared. Katarina sank down into a sun lounger and immediately said, “Roy, come and stand here.” I obediently went and stood beside her, while she idly reached up a hand and fondled my testicles, talking again about any old rubbish by way of excuse. “Sweet little things,” she murmured as an aside, fondling my penis now, while I did not hide my gaze from her hair-covered groin. She didn’t seem to mind now. She was too interested in watching the slow expansion of my then small penis. I could see her hipbones sticking out through her thin white skin and see her veins beneath it. It was not a pretty sight but I found it utterly fascinating. “Boys look so ugly when they grow their hair,” Katarina added. I could have said the same thing about girls, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. Ugly perhaps her pubic area may have been, yet it was so fascinating. I know a lot of girls, especially younger ones, think boys with hairy pubic areas look ugly, so since my own pubic hair began to grow I have at times used some scissors to keep it within bounds, not so short as to make it look that I have still to reach puberty, but trimmed enough not to frighten those unused to it. “Does this tickle?” Katarina asked, scratching me under my crotch. “A bit,” I said, then, not seeing why all the traffic should be one-sided, I reached out a hand towards her pubic hair. She pushed it away immediately. “Naughty,” she said teasingly, letting go my penis. I took the opportunity to go to the next sun lounger and flopped down in it, lying on my back, my penis flopping loosely down over my testicles. Having a good look as she did so, Katarina pulled her sun lounger right next to mine and lay down as close to me as she could. We were in the shade, but her ivory white breasts showed startlingly clearly up from her otherwise white and lightly freckled body, and her white loins had disappeared under the mass of soaking light brown pubic hair, covered in droplets of water. Idly she put her hands over and slipped them under my testicles again. My penis began to stiffen under her fingers, and she sniggered. In turn I reached over and rubbed her pubic hair between my fingers, feeling again for the gap between her legs. She winced for a moment, but this time did not stop me. Then I dared to put my other hand on the nearer breast. She didn’t protest as I felt the large hard bright pink nipple and wobbled it around on top of the firm breast. After a while Katarina idly said, “So tell me, did you really poke Saskia last weekend?” “No,” I answered, without embellishment. “You don’t know how to do it, do you?” she responded. “I do,” I answered, aware that I should give nothing away if I could help it. “No, you don’t, because my sister is such a little whore that she would have made you poke her if you could,” said Katarina in a tone of disgust. “But it must be rather embarrassing for you when you don’t know what to do. I can help you there.” She waited for an answer but I didn’t give her one. I disliked her veiled hint of my ignorance, but opening my mouth and protesting could result in more trouble. “Let’s go and get dressed now,” she suggested. “And I can tell you a little bit about it, to help you. Is that all right?” “All right,” I agreed cautiously, wondering just how far she intended to go with me. I couldn’t imagine her being willing to have sex with a boy so much younger than herself. “Let’s go, then,” she said, standing up, picking up her towel and spreading her legs wide to dry her pubic hair and underneath, the only parts of her, apart from her hair, that still appeared to be wet in the afternoon heat. I too stood and dried under my testicles, then we both picked up our wet swimming costumes and I followed her inside. Unused to appearing naked in her own house, she wrapped the towel around her as she did so, but I had no such worries. I followed her in silence up the stairs and into her bedroom, half expecting to be told to go away as I entered. But her silence, I can see now, wasn’t due to rejection of me but more I think because she felt nervous about what she planned to do. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 12) When she entered the room, Katarina threw her towel to one side and lay down on her back on her bed, knees up, quite naked. “Come here, Roy,” she commanded. I came. “Boys always want to rush into everything and get poking straight away,” she told me as I stood next to her, looking down at her white face and body, with those white breasts sticking up like marble and the red nipples looking completely out of place on top, but still setting me thinking of cherries on top of an iced cake. “Girls like it done the proper way, slowly,” Katarina went on, turning on her side and stretching out her arm to put it around my waist and draw me closer. My penis was now only centimetres from her nose and she studied it for a moment before looking up at me again. “So come and lie next to me.” She moved over and pulled me down next to her on the bed, lying on my side, facing her. She pushed her face forward and kissed me wetly on my lips. I tried not to shudder. Then she pressed my chest against her side and her right breast, reaching her arm round to fondle the back of my head. I suffered in silence, only consenting through the excited anticipation of what might be coming. She ran her hands down my body, rubbing my stomach and belly button, then down into my groin and fondling my penis and testicles with her fingers. My penis began to swell a bit, but it took a while as I did not find her exciting. As she reached this area, I too put my hands out, one to rub her breast and wobble her nipple and the other to massage her pubic hair. I worked my way down and as soon as I tried to push my fingers between her legs, she decided it was time to move on. “A lot of fondling is good for a girl,” she said. “Though I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because you’ll only do it with Saskia, and she doesn’t deserve it. Then, when she’s quite ready, you may get on to the poking. Now do what I tell you. Your little willy needs to be properly stiff.” “It’ll get that way,” I muttered, afraid that I might not be able to respond properly. Then I realised that maybe I really was just about to have sex for the first time, and my heart lurched. My penis began to swell by itself. “That’s better,” she said, reaching out and fondling it with her fingers again. “Now get up and come between my legs.” Her knees were still up and she spread them apart. I climbed round on the bed until I was between her feet. I looked down the long expanse of her body. Her face seemed half a kilometre away at the other end of the bed. I could see her slender white neck and shoulders, with the shoulder blades clearly visible under the freckled skin. Then came the twin humps of her icy white breasts with those red nipples on top, and the flat, bony whiteness of her stomach and her hips. Next came the mass of still-damp light brown pubic hair straggling over her groin in a triangular shape, until, between the legs themselves, the hair stopped and I could see that bright pink, almost orange area with a deep black slit in the middle. That was where I was supposed to insert my penis, once it was properly erect. “Stop staring,” Katarina snapped at me, with some annoyance. “Come on, get your peeny properly stiff. You must let the girl help you.” She sat up, reached forward and took hold of my penis, which was only slightly up. She played around with it, tickled my testicles and kept fondling while it slowly became larger and harder. As she was concentrating on that, leaning forward with her legs wide apart and myself between them, I feasted my eyes on her vagina, visible as a deep black slit, surrounded by that pinkish-orange skin at the very base of her mass of pubic hair. It certainly looked big enough, if I could manage to do the job. It looked damp to me, and in my ignorance I assumed that she just hadn’t dried it properly after our swim. It took a good minute or two to get my penis hard. I was very curious, yes, but not sexually aroused by her at all – in fact, I thought she looked quite nauseating. It did not help when she made one or two humiliating comments as she worked to get my penis up properly. Finally, when it was as erect as it was ever going to be and sticking out horizontally in front of me, she looked at it and giggled. Then she lay right back, pulled her legs right up, higher than Saskia had done, spread them wider and said, “Right, now poke me. If you can! Put it inside.” I felt even more nauseated. That ugly gaping slit, that bright pink skin, that mass of damp hair all disgusted me at close quarters, though curiously I was still so fascinated that I couldn’t take my eyes off it all. I felt my penis beginning to droop already. I was sure I couldn’t do it if I tried. I tried to imagine it was Saskia, with her cute little rounded hairless vagina, but it didn’t work. “I – I think that’s enough for today,” I stammered, putting a hand up to hide my diminishing penis. “I – I know how to do it now. Maybe we can do the rest another time.” She glared at me. “Don’t be such a drip,” she snorted. “We haven’t come this far just for you to give up at the last moment. How much more do I have to tell you?” She sat up again, reached her hand down to point to the juicy centre of her vagina, and said, “Put it in there. You’ll have to push hard because you’ve only got a weak little willy.” Then she leaned back and waited for me, fortunately appearing not to notice that it was in fact my penis that had turned wimp. I dared not fail her now, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t let my curiosity get the better of me. “Do I lie on top of you?” I asked. “If you must,” she said sharply. I leaned forward and sprawled across her stomach, leaning on one elbow to keep my face from disappearing between those cold-looking white breasts. I could feel the warmth of her stomach beneath me, but she also felt quite bony. I pushed myself up until my chin topped the breasts, but there was her cross-looking face just above mine. Still, my body would prevent her from seeing the state of my penis. I kept my other hand down, desperately crunching my penis to try to get it hard again. It didn’t work. “How can you see where you’re putting it?” she demanded. I pushed myself up again, looked at her and hoped that her bulging breasts would prevent her from seeing what I was doing down there. Her pillow had fallen on the floor, so her head was well back and I thought I was safe. I squatted between her knees, my limp penis close to her vagina. I hardly dared touch it but I knew I had to. I could feel her long thin thighs on either side of mine. I put out a finger and touched it in the middle, between the firm folds of skin. “Is that the right place?” I asked nervously. She shuddered and I withdrew my finger sharply. But it seemed it was only with delight. “That’s it,” she murmured in a much quieter, more contented voice. “Put it in. Can you do it?” “Yes,” I replied desperately, afraid that any other answer might prompt her to sit up and try to help me again. At the moment she was staring at the ceiling, mouth open, panting and giving out little moans rather as Saskia had done. My penis was obviously useless. In desperation I stuck out my thumb and pushed it at the middle of the vagina, hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel the difference. She moaned again and writhed at the hips. I was amazed to feel her vagina grow wet under my touch, and was afraid she was urinating on me. But I had to go ahead. Keeping my thumb on the vagina, I leaned forward to make it look as if I was using my penis. Then I pushed it. I could feel the firm skin on either side of the tip, but it hardly moved. “Come on, push harder,” Katarina urged me. I tried, but was afraid to do it too hard. But nothing happened, so I tried again. Suddenly I felt flesh squeezing tightly around my thumb on all sides and, with Katarina urging me again, I pushed some more. Now I could feel my thumb almost being sucked inside by the muscles surrounding it. “That’s it! Nearly!” gasped Katarina, panting for breath and her face seeming whiter than ever as I glanced up at it. “More. Just a bit more.” I could feel my thumb right inside her now, right down to the base, pressed tightly all around in a sticky, slimy aperture, and there she was thinking it was my penis. “That’s it,” she spluttered. “Come on now, up and down, up and down.” I hardly knew what she meant, but I moved my body and my thumb up and down together, pushing and relaxing, pushing and relaxing. My thumb felt quite wet, and I couldn’t understand how I could do it without hurting her. I hoped there was no blood, but I wasn’t in a position to look. But I didn’t expect Katarina to be a virgin. It was almost like a wrestling match as Katarina moaned and gasped, thrusting her hips up and almost throwing me off her, time and again. “Keep going, that’s good,” she encouraged me once, with her eyes shut and mouth still open, gasping for air. I almost spoilt it by laughing when I thought of how much she was enjoying it, in the belief it was my penis and not my thumb that was working in and out in her vagina. Ages seemed to pass by, and I grew weary, still half-sprawled over her body, working my thumb all the time from an awkward position. Soon my arms began to hurt and I felt I couldn’t go on much longer. “I’ll have to stop soon,” I gasped. “Urhh!” she gasped, still with her eyes shut, still panting. I took this as assent, so I thankfully pulled hard, surprised to find I had to do that, to withdraw my thumb from the suction of her vagina. Then I sank back, grasping my genitals to hide them still should she look in my direction. Katarina lay on her back for a minute or two, eyes shut and moaning gently, a blissful expression on her face. I was amazed. I could not imagine how a ten-year-old boy such as I could have brought such pleasure to an older girl, especially when it was my thumb rather than my penis that had done it. My thumb still felt constricted and, sneaking a look down, I saw that it was red. I presumed it should have been my penis that was that colour and started squeezing it in case Katarina should decide to inspect it. I looked again at Katarina’s secret place, still gaping open as she lay with her legs sprawled apart, and felt nauseated. The gaping, coloured vagina, almost dripping with her juices, was a sight I still cannot forget. In fact, I think this experience may have put me off older girls and sex for quite a few years. One does not recover quickly from intimacy with a girl one finds so repulsive, especially when it is the first such experience. At last Katarina sat up and looked at me, with a gentle loving smile on her face. I felt amazed that she should show such feeling for me, and also rather worried about what she might expect from me in the future. “You were great, Roy,” she said, as warmly as she could. “For the first time. Is your peeny all right?” “Yes, it’s okay,” I said. Then, realising that might mean a repetition, I hastily changed it to, “I mean, it’s sore. It was hard.” “Come here and let me have a look,” she said, reaching out for me with both arms. “No. I - I mean, I’ll have to go now, I think,” I tried to excuse myself. “I’ve been here too long.” I tried to get up and fetch my clothes, but Katarina already had me by the arm. “In a few minutes,” she assured me. “It’s very unkind for boys just to walk out on a girl after sex. You must stay and wind down afterwards so she’ll be happy. Let me have a look.” She pushed my hand aside and took my penis in her fingers, looking at it closely. It was very limp and weak now. “It’s certainly gone right down again,” she commented, staring at it and stroking it gently. It failed to respond. All I wanted to do was leave. “But it did such a good job – didn’t you, sweetie?” she added, cooing to it as she would to a pet dog. “Did you enjoy that, Roy?” “Well, I – I – I don’t really think I’m ready for that,” I stammered. “I mean – you’re much older and – I don’t know whether we fitted well.” “Oh, we did very well,” she assured me. “Now let me show you how to finish off after you’ve poked a girl.” She lay back and drew me down next to her, pressing my head to her breast. I became increasingly desperate to get away as she fondled me and got me to fondle her as well, but just her breasts and her back. She did not seem prepared to let me loose on her vagina again. It seemed an age before I could finally persuade her that it was time for me to go. “Thanks very much for teaching me,” I said politely as I left. “I think that’s all I need to know for now,” I added as a hint in case she had any ideas of continuing our relationship. “Well, now you know what to do to my whore of a sister,” she remarked as she shut the front door behind me. That did seem to me a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I walked home with my mind in a whirl. My heart was still thumping with the excitement of what had happened, far more than I had expected or imagined. I was relieved I had safely avoided having real sex with somebody who in the end had repelled me, but there was part of me that told me that I had again had the chance to have sex with a girl and had failed. There was of course nobody I could talk to about this, and I felt confused for quite a while. In the end, though, I convinced myself that I had not failed, but it was Katarina who had failed me by not being the sort of girl I wanted to lose my virginity to. I had not failed with Saskia either - rather the problem was hers, as I had not wanted to hurt her. Maybe if the opportunity came again with Saskia, I would go through with it. But I had had my fill of Katarina. My eyes had seen strange and wonderful things, but at the end I felt like a boy who had gorged himself on chocolate cake until he was sick and could no longer stand the taste of it. Katarina was still keen on me, unfortunately. It did have a fortunate aspect in that she respected me far more while I was Saskia and rarely caused trouble with us again. But I could sense her flashing glances (and often panties as well) in my direction when I was in her presence, and was rather afraid that she would pump Saskia for information about what we did together. In fact, I would have been amazed if she hadn’t. And I had no control over what Saskia might say. It soon became clear what Saskia had been telling her. Katarina fortunately dared only to approach me when I was by myself, which was not often, and could only suggest we renew our acquaintance at a time when Saskia was elsewhere. One afternoon about six weeks later I walked home alone, to find her waiting for me as she had before. She smiled toothily at me, looking as hideously plain as ever. “So, Roy, I’m glad to hear what you’ve been doing with my sister,” she said with a sly wink. “I hope I helped you.” Obviously Saskia had been lying blatantly, because although we had frequently enjoyed looking at and feeling each other, we had never tried to have sex again. Saskia hadn’t brought up the suggestion, and I guessed that was because she was afraid of the pain. We had not done anything that would have evoked that response from Katarina. “Thanks very much for your lessons,” I smiled at her, trying to get away. I remembered uncomfortably that Saskia was spending that weekend with a friend again, and I should have been expecting this approach. Sure enough, the invitation came to come home with her. I pretended disappointment. “I have to get through a whole lot of chores this afternoon and I’m not allowed,” I lied. “But I’ll come round as soon as I’ve finished them, if I can. All right?” I managed to fob her off this way, and never turned up. After that I made sure I knew when Saskia was going away for the weekend, and made sure I could either get a genuine excuse or else invited company home with me. She did not dare to approach me when there were other boys around, and more than once I passed her standing wistfully on a street corner, looking after me as I passed safely by with my friends. After a few months she seemed to lose interest and never tried to solicit me again! (To be continued) ___________________________________________________________ Yahoo! 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