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)



	
	
		
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