THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 13)


About six months after Saskia’s arrival at the school,
I invited her to spend the Saturday afternoon at my
house.

“I can’t - I’m going to a party then,” she said.  “My
friend Meryl, who lives on the other side of town. 
You don’t know her.  Can we fix another time?  What
about the morning?”

But that was a particularly busy weekend for our
family and Saturday afternoon was the only possible
time.  Then Saskia said to me, “Well, I’m allowed to
bring a friend with me, but it’s not allowed to be a
boy.  I know!  You can dress up as a girl and come
with me.”

I thought she was joking, so I acted the fool a bit,
mincing around and gathering pretended skirts around
me.  “I’ll make a lovely girl,” I said sarcastically
in a higher-pitched voice.

Saskia laughed.  “Oh, goody,” she giggled.  “Look,
come round to my house after school and you can borrow
some of my clothes.”

It suddenly struck me that she was not joking after
all.  “Hey, not really!” I protested.  “I couldn’t
really pretend to be a girl.”

“Yes, you could!” exclaimed Saskia, getting excited at
the idea.  “I’ll get a wig for you and you can borrow
my clothes.  We can make you just like a girl. 
Remember, you’ve played in my dresses before.  Come
on, Roy, that will be brill fun!”

“Oh, no, not really,” I said, shaking my head
strongly.  “I can’t act like a girl and there will be
big trouble if I get found out.  Besides, your mother
wouldn’t allow it, and I don’t think my parents
would.”

Saskia’s face fell as I mentioned her mother.  She
also knew that her mother would probably not allow
anything like that.  “I’ll talk to Meryl,” she said. 
“If she says you can come, will you come with me? 
Please?”

I wasn’t really keen on going to a party where there
would clearly be no other boys, but when Saskia looked
at me so pleadingly it was hard to say no.  “Maybe,” I
said.  “If there are going to be other boys there.”

Saskia bounced up to me at school the following day
with a victorious smile on her face.  “It’s all
right!” she said.  “Meryl says you can come with me to
her party.  She says there’s going to be another boy
there and he wants some company.  My dad will come and
pick you up at twelve o’clock on Saturday.  And don’t
worry about a present, because we’ll get one for you
to give her.”

I still wasn’t too keen, but since my conditions had
been met I couldn’t very well argue.  I would probably
have tried to find an excuse if it had not been my
only chance of seeing Saskia that weekend.  I was very
well aware of her faults, but I couldn’t deny that I
was really excited by her company.  Besides, while she
was away Katarina might decide to chase me up again.

“Shall I bring my swimming costume?” I asked.

“No – er – Meryl – she doesn’t have a pool,” replied
Saskia.  I knew her well enough by now to sense that
this sounded like a lie, just from the way she said
it, but couldn’t think why she should lie about
something like that.  I decided to take my swimming
costume anyway.

Twelve o’clock on Saturday gave me very little time to
prepare after I returned home from a trip to town with
my family that morning.  I had scarcely finished
changing into some smart clothes when Saskia arrived
in the family car, driven by her father Gerald, as he
insisted I call him.  His wife was not so free and
easy, and she was still Mrs McDonald to me.  Saskia
swung the passenger door of the car open and hung her
legs out, knees far enough apart for her shiny white
panties of the day to be visible under her bright
sky-blue dress.  She seemed to take a pleasure in
deliberately revealing her underwear to me every time
we met, by one means or another.

“Come, Roy,” she smiled, gesturing me to sit beside
her on the front seat.  I greeted Gerald and sat next
to her.  We were pressed rather close together, which
we both enjoyed.

“What’s in that bag?” she asked me as Gerald drove out
of the gate.

“My swimming costume and towel,” I answered.  “I
brought them just in case.”

Saskia seemed to be about to say something, but
suddenly changed her mind.  Instead, she said, “Here
you are.  This is your present for Meryl.”  And she
handed me a box wrapped in gaily coloured paper.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just some clothes,” she answered.  “Meryl loves
clothes.  I’m so glad she said you could come.”  And
she immediately began to tell me all about Meryl.

We drove into the centre of town, which was not too
busy at the hot time of day and over the weekend.  I
assumed we would just be passing through the centre on
our way to Meryl’s house on the other side of town. 
But instead Gerald drove to a parking place outside a
large building belonging to an international company
and stopped.

“This is my office, Roy,” he said.  “I’ve got
something inside for you to take with you.  Please
come with me for a minute.”  Saskia gave a giggle for
which there seemed no logical explanation, but I had
long since discovered that logic played a very small
part in her life.  I was completely unsuspecting as I
walked right into the trap – but even now I cannot see
how I really could have anticipated what was to
happen.  If I had been the curious type I would have
asked questions about the faded red duffel bag she
took out of the car with her, but I hardly noticed.

The building had closed down for the weekend, but
Gerald had a key to let us in.  We took the lift up to
the eighth floor, I think it was, where he had his
office.  I was not particularly curious about what he
supposedly wanted me to take with me to the party.

I was still unsuspecting as we entered his office and
he shut the door behind us.  The blinds were drawn and
it was half-dark inside, I can remember clearly.  I
felt the first suspicion that something was up as I
turned round, looking for Gerald’s lead about what I
was to take with me, and saw him standing with his
back to the door, looking at me with an almost guilty
expression on his face.

“Roy, first of all I have to apologise for using a bit
of trickery to bring you here,” he began.  I had a
sudden prickly feeling in my stomach, knowing that
something was unusual here but having no idea what. 
“But my daughter assured me it would be necessary to
persuade you to – er – help us.”  I stared at him, a
spirit of impending doom clutching at my chest.  Then
he smiled and I saw a twinkle in his eye, which did
encourage me just a little.

“The fact is,” he continued, “that Saskia’s friend
Meryl would not change her mind and allow any boys to
come to her party.  My little Saskia was heartbroken
because she had really set her heart on taking you
along with her.  But then she had the brilliant idea
of dressing you up as a girl to go with her.  She told
me you wouldn’t even think about it, but said she was
sure we could persuade you once we got you started on
the way to the party.”

My sense of horror came back.  They were going to
dress me up as a girl and throw me to the wolves!  I
had once or twice tried on some of Saskia’s clothes
briefly in the privacy of her bedroom just for fun as
we played together, but I would have felt horribly
ashamed had anybody else I knew seen me wearing them. 
But most of all was the fear of being found out.

One of my friends at school had told me once about his
older brother who as a teenager gatecrashed a girl’s
party dressed as a girl, only to be found out rather
easily, given away by his hairy arms, peculiar voice
and a sagging breast.  The girls stripped him, threw
him in the pool, smeared food all over him and threw
him out on the street with nothing but a pair of
frilly panties to cover himself.  There was no way I
wanted to risk anything like that happening to me.

I stared at Gerald in horror, and then at Saskia, who
was standing there with her hands behind her back,
beaming at what she thought to be the success of her
trick.  “No way!” I expostulated.  “That’s not fair,
bringing me here and tricking me like this.  Saskia,
you lied to me!  I don’t want to go as a girl! 
They’ll soon find out I’m not and then I’ll be in big
trouble.”

Saskia’s face dissolved in shock.  Since her father
had pandered to her every whim throughout her life, it
was just unbelievable to her that any male could
possibly refuse her anything.  She gave a gasp, her
eyes filled with tears, her face went even whiter than
usual, and I could see she was on the point of
throwing a hysterical fit.

So could Gerald, I think, as he acted quickly.  “Wait
a minute,” he said, stalking quickly over to his desk
and sitting down in a chair on the near side so his
face was more on a level with my own.  “Perhaps we
went about it in the wrong way, Roy.”  He sure did! 
“This is really – really nothing more than a little
trick, a little joke my daughter would like to play on
her friends.  There’s no harm in it.  She’s been
looking forward to it so much all week and she
persuaded me to help her because I don’t want to see
her disappointed.  She’s been so excited about it.  So
please, Roy, will you just think about it for a
moment?  She will be so devastated if you let her
down.”

I was not the one letting her down, after being lied
to by both Saskia and her father, but I could hardly
say that.  I felt bitterly angry with a father who
would stoop to deception like this to indulge his
daughter’s every whim.  But he was now making it
harder still for me to say no, using a kind of
emotional blackmail.  “I just can’t do it,” I
protested.  Saskia made another choking noise as if
she was about to explode.

He spoke very kindly and gently to me, and asked,
“Roy, your attitude puzzles me and disappoints me.  I
thought a boy like you would be excited about pulling
off a ripping wheeze like this.  It would be such a
joke to play on the girls and they will never suspect
a thing if you act well, as I know you can.  What is
really bothering you?  Are you too scared?”  He said
it gently, but the accusation was there.

I told him the story about the boy at the party, and
he shook his head.  “Teenagers couldn’t get away with
a disguise as easily as you can,” he smiled.  “What is
there to give you away?  You don’t have any hairy
limbs, you don’t need breasts and you only need to
change your voice a little.”

“And Meryl’s mum would never allow the girls to do
that to you even if you were found out,” Saskia
assured me.  “It’s not a wild teenage party.”  She
giggled.  “I wish I’d seen that boy!”

“Look, if you’re still worried, I’ll take full
responsibility for that,” Gerald assured me.  “It
won’t happen, but if it did, then, Saskia, you would
ask Marcia” – Meryl’s mother, I assumed – “to stop any
trouble but to phone me straight away.  Tell her it
was my fault, and not yours or Roy’s.”  I did not find
him very convincing, considering how he had already
deceived me that day.  He turned back to me.  “Now,
Roy, is there anything else bothering you?”

“If there’s somebody there I know, she’s sure to
recognise me,” I said.

“You won’t know any of the girls there, I promise,
Roy,” Saskia assured me.  “They all go to the Roman
Catholic school where Meryl goes.”  On the other side
of town there is such a school and some English
expatriates living over there, especially the
Catholics, do send their children there as it is such
a long journey to our official English school.  “Do
you know any girls at the Catholic school?”

I knew only two, one younger and one older than
myself, and I mentioned their names.  Saskia shook her
head and said, “No, they won’t be there.”  I knew her
pretty well by now and it seemed to me she was telling
the truth.

“But I can’t make my hair look like a girl’s,” I
protested, thinking this was my trump card.  “It’s far
too short.”

“I’ve got two really good wigs for you to choose
from,” smiled Saskia.  “They’ll make you look so
different that nobody will ever know you.”

“So you’re really very safe, Roy, and it will be a
wonderful joke to play,” Gerald smiled at me.  I still
looked stubborn, pulling a face and shaking my head. 
“Look, Roy, will you at least try on the clothes
Saskia has brought, and then you can decide?” he said
finally.

I paused, trapped in a very difficult position. 
Saskia had her head on one side and was looking
pleadingly at me, hysterics put on one side for the
present but no doubt kept in reserve if necessary.  I
didn’t know what to say, and after a short silence she
opened the old duffel bag she had brought up with her
and took out a batch of clothes.

“I brought two of most things, so you can choose,” she
said.  She spread out on Gerald’s desk a pile of
girls’ clothes, no doubt her own.

“Panties!” I exclaimed, mainly to try and preserve my
macho image for Gerald’s benefit.  “Do you expect me
to wear those?”

“Well, if your dress goes up and people see you’re
wearing boys’ underpants, they might think they looked
funny,” she explained.  “And this is a bra, to cover
the muscles on your chest.”  A little flattery I
suspected there.  It wasn’t a real bra, but just one
of those half-vests with the bare midriff that Saskia
had been wearing during the first of our many times in
the tree house.

“Saskia, just come into the next room with me so Roy
can change into those clothes,” Gerald suggested,
taking it for granted I would.

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Daddy,” Saskia retorted rudely,
but her father weakly let it pass.  “Roy and I change
together for swimming all the time.  He doesn’t mind
us being here, do you, Roy?”

“No,” I growled, and a moment later regretted it.  If
they had both gone into the other room, I might have
been able to make my escape and find my way home
before they caught up with me.

I wasn’t given time to work out how to change my mind,
as Saskia began to talk about the clothes.  And in the
background there was Gerald saying, “Good boy, Roy,
I’m so pleased.  I knew you wouldn’t let us down or
hurt my little girl.”

(To be continued)



THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 14)


I felt I had no option but at least to try on the
clothes and work from there, hoping I could find
something to use as an excuse to refuse.  I sat down
on the chair opposite Gerald and began to remove my
shoes and socks, hoping he might give me another
chance to send them into the next room while I
changed.  Saskia immediately produced a girl’s pair of
white socks and sandals for me to wear.

“I’ll put them on last,” I said, thinking it would be
easier to change clothes with bare feet.

“Well, take your shirt off, then,” ordered Saskia,
going round behind me as I stood up and helping me off
with it.  I was quite proud then of what I considered
to be a manly chest, stronger-looking than most of the
flat chests owned by other boys of my age.  “You must
put on the bra in case somebody sees down your dress
or something and knows you’re not a girl,” said
Saskia.  “It’s not a real bra like mine but it will
cover up your muscles.”  More obvious flattery.

By the way, Saskia was now wearing a frilly little bra
all the time, although her chest was still almost
flat.  It fed her vanity.  I knew she was keen for her
breasts to grow but did not want a mass of pubic hair
like Katarina’s.

I slipped the half-vest over my head and pulled it
down, finding it a tight fit.  “I’ve brought some pads
so you can have some boobs as well if you want,”
Saskia giggled, picking up a plastic bag.

“No, thanks, it’s tight enough already,” I said,
undoing my belt and slipping my trousers down. 
Although the weather was quite warm at that time of
year, I was wearing long trousers in an effort to
appear smart at the party.  I had been hoping to win
feminine approval as girls of that age seem to admire
boys in long trousers.

Because of the long trousers I had been wearing
underpants that had a slit in the front to slip out
the penis when we need to urinate, and Saskia picked
up on that straight away.  “These are boys’
underpants,” she declared, taking hold of the front
and shaking it against my penis.  Her father did not
react to this over-familiarity in any way.  “If the
girls see those, they’ll know you’re a boy.  It’s a
good thing I brought some panties with me.”  She held
up two pairs.  “Which ones do you want?”

One pair was a light pink in colour, edged with lace,
while the others were plain white, the sort she
normally wore for school, plain cotton with plain
elastic hems and no lace or patterns.  I very quickly
chose the plain ones, and removed my own underpants. 
I felt rather strange to be standing in Gerald’s
office, stark naked apart from the half-vest, but
realised it was nothing to what I would feel like
dressed in girls’ clothes.  I slipped on the panties,
feeling most embarrassed.

Saskia stared at them.  “At least your piss doesn’t
bulge out too much,” she said with her usual silly
giggle.  “It should be nice and smooth, like this.” 
So saying, she lifted up the front of her skirt and
ran her hand over the shiny silky smooth gusset of her
panties that covered her vagina.

“Well, I can’t do anything about it,” I answered,
looking at my strange reflection in a mirror that ran
down the wall behind the door.  No doubt Gerald, as
the vain man I took him to be, used it often to ensure
he was immaculately dressed at the office.  The front
of the panties I was wearing did not have that same
smoothness but it did not bulge too noticeably. 
Fortunately my penis was still pretty small in those
prepubescent years.  I would just have to make sure I
kept my skirt down at the front.  I wanted to tell
Saskia not to lift my skirt up at the front at all, as
I suspected she might decide to play her silly game
while we were there, but I couldn’t very well say that
in her father’s presence.

Now that the underwear was settled, we turned to the
dress.  “Which one do you want?” asked Saskia.  One
was a pale green miniskirt without a waist, while the
other was a brown and orange patterned skirt, not much
longer, with large white lacy patterns round the hem
and a T-shirt as a separate top.  “Try the dress on
first,” Saskia urged me as I picked up the other one.

To humour her, I slipped the dress over my head,
although I had already decided that the other was the
lesser evil as it was longer.  I am never worried
about anybody seeing my underpants, but I was rather
more concerned about people seeing feminine panties on
my body.  Besides that, I wanted my crotch to be as
well covered as possible in case anybody noticed a
suspicious bulge.

I quickly declared the dress to be unwearable as it
was too tight across the shoulders.  I had great
trouble in pulling it down over my head and shoulders,
even with the help of Saskia tugging the hem down all
the time.  Glancing in the mirror, I saw what was
definitely a boy wearing a short dress and shoulders
hunched up.  I took it off, again with great trouble,
and tried on the T-shirt, which had a Barbie-doll
picture on the front.  Not my favourite, but it did
give me more room.  Then I pulled up the skirt, which
spread out in folds and came barely halfway down my
thighs.  I would have preferred more protection.

“Haven’t you anything longer?” I asked.  “My legs are
too thick for a girl’s so it would be better to keep
them covered.”

“I don’t have any longer dresses,” Saskia told me, and
certainly I had never seen her in anything long enough
to cover her bottom when she bent over, apart from her
school dress.  “Except my bridesmaid’s dress and my
evening dresses, and you’d look really weird wearing
those.  I could have brought you a petticoat as well.”

All this fuss about clothes!  I thought straight away
that life would be so much easier if everybody enjoyed
a naturist lifestyle in this warm climate, and then
there would have been no question of my sneaking into
a girls’ party dressed as a girl!

I stood and looked in the mirror, but again I saw
nothing more than a boy wearing a dress, and hated the
sight.  “Now try on the wigs,” came Saskia’s voice
from behind me.

There were two wigs, both not too far from my own hair
colour.  There was a darker brown one that was rather
a mop, and a lighter brown one that had wavy hair
falling down the side of my face.  I quickly chose the
latter, as it would provide greater coverage of my
features.  It fitted firmly around my head and Saskia
demonstrated that it would be very difficult for
anybody to pull it off.

Saskia stood back and clasped her hands together in
admiration.  “Roy, that’s great!” she exclaimed.  “You
look *exactly* like a girl now, doesn’t he, Daddy? 
Look in the mirror.”

I did so, and was shocked by what I had seen.  I had
been hoping that I would still look so much like a boy
that I could make that an excuse for refusing to play
up.  But the wig changed everything.  I have always
thought that I am reasonably good-looking and
masculine-looking as a boy, but the reflection in the
mirror showed a girl, apart perhaps from the legs.  I
was shocked that I could hardly recognise myself.  I
did not think I was a particularly attractive girl,
and as I stared more closely I could see that my face
still did look rather boyish.  But until I looked
closely I could not deny that the figure appeared to
be that of a girl.

“Roy, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Saskia, jumping up
and down in excitement and giving a little flash of
her panties as her skirt bobbed up.  “You look so
different!  Nobody would ever recognise you now, will
they, Daddy?”

“No, I’m sure they won’t,” smiled her doting father,
but I broke in urgently.  “My face still looks like a
boy’s face,” I protested.

“We’ll cover that as well,” squealed Saskia, diving
into her duffel bag again and pulling out a spectacle
folder.  “Put these glasses on.”  She pulled out some
hideous-looking glasses with thick curly blue rims,
the sort occasionally worn by weird women and
definitely female in character.  I reluctantly put
them on.  Saskia gave a burst of laughter, her father
chuckled, and I looked in the mirror to see a very
strange-looking feminine face.  I could now not
recognise myself at all.  The glass was plain, so it
did not affect my vision.

“We’ve had to change your name too, of course,” Gerald
said.

“Yes, your name is now Rowena,” Saskia exulted,
grabbing me by the shoulders with her hands.  “That
was Daddy’s idea, so if I do forget and call you Roy,
I can quickly change it to Row and nobody will notice.
 So just put your socks and sandals on, Rowena, and
then we can go.”

They both seemed to take it for granted that I was now
falling in with their plans.  “Hey, I haven’t said
I’ll do it!” I protested, with a surge of rebellion,
and began to push my way out of the wig.

They both looked taken aback and alarmed.  “Oh,
please, Roy, you can’t let us down!” wailed Saskia,
and looked ready to press the hysteria button at any
second.

Gerald strode over quickly.  “Please, Roy, Saskia has
been looking forward to this so much,” he said
seriously, one hand on my shoulder and face down to
look earnestly into my eyes.  “Please, don’t let us
down.  And I forgot to say that I am giving you both
some money for the party in case there’s anything to
buy there that you would like.”

A muffled squeal of delight from Saskia suggested that
he had also failed to tell her about the plan.  He
pulled out his wallet and opened it.  “I think five
thousand each should be enough, so you can buy things
for your friends as well if you like.”  He began
counting out five notes for each of us.

So, it was blatant bribery now, was it?  That was
quite a sum of money, and we both knew I was never
likely to spend any of it at the party.  I thought for
a moment of seeing if I could push it up to ten
thousand, and then suddenly felt rather sickened. 
Gerald was obviously going to keep applying the
pressure on me and I realised now that it was only my
pride that was really keeping me from going along with
them.  I felt confident enough that I was completely
safe from discovery, barring some awful freak
happening, and I suddenly began to anticipate the
party with a bit of excitement for the first time.

I suppose all boys have wondered at times what it
would be like to be a girl, and to put your hand down
your groin and feel nothing but the smooth fleshy
depression down at the bottom.  Probably most have
wondered too what it is like to wear a dress.  Well, I
would find out the second one, anyway.  It would be
fascinating too to find out what girls really do and
say when they think there are no boys around, and
there were all sorts of things I might see as well. 
Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad after all . . .

“Would we be able to stop at the Arctic Circle on the
way back?” I asked, referring to the local well-known
ice-cream centre.

“Why, certainly, and you can have as much to eat there
as you want,” beamed Gerald, sensing victory as he
pressed five currency notes into my hand.  “Roy, you
have made my daughter so happy,” he said as his
daughter threw her arms round my neck, knocking those
fancy spectacles painfully against my temple, and gave
me a smacking kiss on the lips.

I completed the operation by putting on Saskia’s
sandals and socks, and then stuffed all my clothes
into my bag.  As I did so, I remembered.  “I’ve got my
swimming costume in here,” I said.

“You won’t be able to swim because everyone will know
you’re a boy then,” Saskia answered straight away,
forgetting what she had told me earlier.

“You told me Meryl didn’t have a pool!” I challenged
her with annoyance at the lie.

“Well, I had to say something,” Saskia protested,
unrebuked by her father.  “But even if we had a girl’s
costume for you, you’d have to change and your piss
would stick out inside your costume and the girls
would notice.  But just say you’ve had a cold and
you’re not allowed to swim.”

“I think you’ll need to change your voice a bit,”
Gerald broke in quickly before I could respond. 
“Rowena,” he added, remembering.  “Can you make it a
little higher?  Your voice is too gruff for a girl.”

“I can talk like this,” I responded in a lighter
voice.  “Is this all right?”

“Yes, that sounds better,” he approved.  “Now, let’s
see you walk.”

I had a few quick lessons on deportment, and learned
how to take daintier steps and use my arms a bit more
in feminine gestures.  I changed my smile a bit and
even had a quick lesson in how to comb my hair. 
Knowing how girls like to groom each other, I asked
Saskia to make sure nobody tried to comb my hair for
me.  If they looked too closely they would discover it
was a wig.

“Now, Rowena, sit down on the chair,” Saskia ordered. 
I did so.  She giggled and said, “I can see your
panties.”

“No, you can’t, because they’re *your* panties,” I
countered.  If Gerald had not been there, I would have
reminded her of the number of times I had seen her
panties when she sat down.

“Well, at least I can’t see you’ve got a piss,” she
said.  “You must sit down more slowly and lightly and
smooth down your skirt behind when you sit on it. 
Then sit with your legs closer together.”

If Gerald had not been there I would probably have
reminded her that she often failed to follow her own
advice.  I tried sitting as she said and asked her,
“Can you see your panties now?”

“No, that’s better,” she said.  “It’s even better if
you cross your legs.”  With the loose skirt I was
wearing, even though it was short, the material hung
down in the middle if I was careful so the panties
were then invisible.

After some more practising, Gerald decided it was time
to go.  “I certainly couldn’t recognise you now, Roy,”
he assured me confidently.  “You are making my little
girl very happy.”

A few years later I read the story of Huckleberry
Finn, in which there is a scene when he dresses as a
girl.  One of the things that led to his secret being
discovered was when a woman tossed something into his
lap, and he jammed his legs together as he caught it. 
The woman later pointed out to him that a real girl
would have spread her legs apart so as to catch it in
her skirts if she missed with her hands.  I did not
know that at the time of this story, but have thought
since that it would be of little use with the modern
girl.  Miniskirts are not long enough to be of any
help in catching anything with the legs spread apart!

As we stepped out on to the street a couple of minutes
later, I suddenly felt exposed.  I glanced fearfully
around, hoping desperately not to see anybody I knew. 
Wearing a short skirt felt halfway between being
clothed and being naked, although obviously girls got
used to it.  I could feel the air circulating around
my thighs under the skirt in a strange way, and it
actually felt good and made my penis swell a bit.  I
hoped that would not happen at the party.

I swung my hips a little and felt the skirt swirl
around my legs.  I caught a reflection of ourselves in
a shop’s plate glass window and I had to look hard to
find myself.  With Saskia giggling, I eventually
identified myself by the brown and orange skirt, and
could still hardly believe it was I.  I wondered if
even my own close friends and family could recognise
me now, but I didn’t want to put that to the test.

(To be continued)



THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 15)


As we drove out of the centre of town and into the
eastern suburbs towards Merle’s house, Saskia kept
talking to me and instructing me on how to behave like
a girl and talk like a girl.

But most of it went in one ear and out of the other. 
I can’t remember ever being so nervous in all my life.
 It was all very well for Gerald and Saskia to say how
well disguised I was, but perhaps the girls at the
party would see through it straight away.  Worse
still, perhaps they would find out in the middle of
the party after Gerald had left and when I was without
protection.  And I could never trust Saskia not to act
in a silly way that would embarrass me, although I
realised that if I were caught she would also be in
trouble for trying to sneak me in.

“The party really starts at two o’clock,” I heard
Saskia telling me.  “But Merle invited me and some
other girls to come early so we can have lunch with
her and help her decide what to wear for the party.” 
I made a mental note to remember what a big issue
dressing in the right clothes is for girls.

She even had a family history made up for me.  At
first I was to be Roy’s twin sister, but I managed to
persuade her that if any of the girls did meet me at a
later date, that could cause serious problems.  I
didn’t want any connection to be made with the real me
at all, and Saskia finally agreed – or seemed to
agree.  Every time I spoke I had to use my new girl’s
voice, or else Gerald picked me up on it straight
away.

Saskia was one for big families.  I, Rowena, lived on
a big farm a hundred kilometres away and my family
were friends of hers.  I went to boarding school in a
nearby town and I had five brothers and five sisters. 
That was Saskia’s idea, but I managed to persuade her
that it would be too hard for me to remember all their
names and ages if I was asked.  So we eventually
settled on twins, a brother and a sister, aged eight. 
Saskia seemed to have a thing about twins as well.

By this time we were almost there.  Gerald drew the
car up outside one of the usual walled houses with
electronic gates and requested entry.  My heart was
thumping and my stomach churning as the gates rolled
back and the car rolled down the drive.

“Gerald, please – please stay a few minutes in case
they – the girls find out I’m a boy,” I begged him in
great trepidation, and he agreed.

“There they are,” pointed out Saskia, quite
unnecessarily as a bunch of girls burst round the side
of the house and crowded round the passenger door
before the car had even come to a stop.  I looked at
them through my feminine spectacles with some
trepidation.  Now was the crucial time.  Would they
suspect me of being an impostor straight away?  But if
so, at least that would be better than being
discovered after Gerald had left.  There was a lot of
shouting and laughter, and I hoped they weren’t
laughing at my appearance.

“Hello, Marcia!” Gerald called out gaily as Merle’s
mother appeared round the side of the house.  “I’ve
brought Saskia and her friend Rowena for you.”

“Oh, good.  Hello, girls,” Marcia greeted us briefly
with a wave before walking round to Gerald’s door to
talk to him.  She was a small slim woman in a short
black dress and rather too much make-up.  She didn’t
exactly inspire me with confidence if anything went
wrong.

“Open the door, silly,” Saskia told me as the girls
outside pulled at the handle but were unable to open
it as it was locked from the inside.  She leaned over
me and pulled the handle so the door opened and the
girls were right in front of me.  I could now see that
there were four of them.

They were paying all their attention to Saskia, who
pushed me out of the car and then threw her arms round
a girl I took to be Merle, laughing and kissing.  The
other girls crowded round too, and for a moment nobody
was paying me any attention.

Then Saskia said, “Girls, this is my friend Rowena. 
Rowena, these are . . .” and she proceeded to reel off
the names so quickly that I couldn’t take them in.  I
did manage to confirm which was Merle, the birthday
girl, though.  She was a rather hefty girl my own
height, with light brown hair, blue eyes and what I
thought was a slight precocious expression.

“I’m glad you didn’t bring your boyfriend like you
wanted to,” giggled Merle, looking at me, as did the
others.  My heart stopped for a moment, but none of
the girls gave any sign that they suspected me of
being an impostor.  “Knowing you, I couldn’t be sure
you wouldn’t sneak him in somehow.”

I tried to say “Hello” in my girl’s voice, but the
word somehow stuck in my throat and came out as a sort
of gurgle.  Saskia plunged in to rescue me straight
away.  “Rowena’s rather shy,” she explained with a
giggle, throwing an arm round me.  “Maybe it’s because
she looks like a boy sometimes.”

That was quite uncalled for, and I thought a really
stupid remark that might have aroused suspicions – but
it was Saskia all over.  It set off the other girls
giggling at me, and one of them said rudely, “Well,
her chin sticks out too much for a girl.”  This, I
later discovered, was Avril, a tall girl with short
dark hair, a plain freckled face and a silly smile and
giggle.

“Those glasses make her look a bit weird,” commented
Merle, staring through them at me from the far side. 
This catty comment also caused a great deal of
giggling.  I immediately considered the possibility of
climbing back into the car and refusing to perform.

“Oh, don’t be horrible, she doesn’t look . . . so
bad,” a third girl piped up.  I looked at a small girl
with a dark complexion and big round black eyes.  She
had a long dark brown fringe down to her eyes and
plaits down over her shoulders, and reminded me of a
little mouse.  But I could tell she was trying to be
kind, only she was a little too honest to say I looked
pretty.  “I like your skirt,” she added, quickly
finding something she could praise.  Her name, I found
out later, was Lindsay.

“Thank you,” I replied, trying to smile at her
politely and in a feminine fashion, but not managing
it very well because I felt so nervous and out of
place.

“She has nice panties too,” put in Saskia with a loud
laugh, lifting the back of my skirt to expose her own
panties worn on my body underneath.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, taken by surprise and pulling it
out of her hand.  This duly brought some more laughter
from her silly friends, but I noticed Lindsay was not
laughing.

“She even talks like a boy!” Avril called out.  I
quickly reminded myself that next time I was attacked
in this manner I should squeal like a girl (or perhaps
a pig), if I survived long enough.  I had better watch
the front of my skirt carefully if this was one of the
girls’ favourite games, as I didn’t want any
suspicious bulges to be noted.

“What about you, Saskia?” chuckled Merle, lifting the
hem of Saskia’s skirt to expose her panties.  Saskia
duly squealed and grabbed for Merle, but Merle was at
that time wearing a pair of jogging shorts rather than
a skirt, and she laughed at Saskia’s efforts.  So did
Avril, so Saskia darted for her dull red skirt and
managed to lift it enough to give a flash of off-white
panties underneath.  Lindsay backed away, wrapping her
little blue-grey dress around her legs lest she should
become a victim, and I did the same thing.

It momentarily became a free-for-all as Merle lifted
Saskia’s skirt again, Saskia tried to pull down
Merle’s jogging shorts and Avril came back at Saskia. 
Behind them was a smaller girl, later revealed as
Merle’s seven-year-old sister Clare, jumping up and
down with laughter and flicking up her own skirt to
reveal white print panties underneath.

“Now, now, girls,” reproved Marcia, who was probably
failing to make herself heard in her conversation with
Gerald.

“Saskia, have you given Merle her present?” asked
Gerald, finding a better way to distract them.

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” answered Saskia, fluttering
her hands in front of her chest in a feminine way.  I
made a mental note to copy this gesture when
appropriate.  She reached back inside the car and
pulled out the two boxes of presents, handing one to
me.  “Happy birthday, Merle,” she squealed, thrusting
the box into her friend’s hands and then wrapping her
arms round Merle’s neck and giving her a smacking
kiss.

“Thank you, Saskia,” Merle responded, as she had no
doubt been trained.  I came forward with my present,
wondering if I should kiss Merle as well in that gushy
feminine way.  I decided I could be excused that as I
didn’t know her, but would have to be ready in case
Merle herself should take the initiative.

But I didn’t have anything to do straight away, as
Merle was too intent on ripping open the wrapping on
Saskia’s parcel.  “Ooh, a skirt,” she squealed,
holding it up.  It was a beautiful snowy-white pleated
skirt.

“And a blouse,” Saskia reminded her, pulling out a red
and white patterned blouse from the wrappings.  The
next minute or so was spent with the girls all
exclaiming over the clothing and holding it up against
themselves to see how it looked.

When the fuss had died down a bit, Saskia said
something useful for a change by reminding Merle that
I too had a present.  I bashfully stepped forward,
holding out the box.

If I had been able to think like a girl, I would
surely have wondered and asked Saskia in the car
exactly what I was going to give Merle.  I was rather
embarrassed, therefore, to see when Merle opened it a
set of four sets of very feminine panties inside, of
various light colours.  Just like Saskia to cause me
unnecessary embarrassment.

“Ooh, they’re silk!” exclaimed Merle in delight,
rubbing a pale pink pair against her cheek and cooing
with satisfaction at the soft smoothness of the
material.  The other girls, all exclaiming with
admiration, crowded round to take a pair each and do
the same.  My initial crossness with Saskia at giving
me such a present to hand over was replaced by
surprise and satisfaction at the pleasure it was
giving.  There was certainly no embarrassment on the
part of Merle and her friends – after all, we were all
girls together, weren’t we?

At this point Gerald finished his conversation with
Marcia and prepared to drive off, much to my alarm. 
But I couldn’t very well plead with him in front of
the girls to stay longer.  Saskia flew round the far
side of the car and enveloped her dad in noisy hugs
and kisses.  Merle forgot all about me, the one who
was supposed to have given her the gift, and bounced
up to Marcia, exclaiming, “Mum, we’re going to try on
these new clothes!”

“Do it after lunch, dear,” Marcia suggested.  “Or you
may get them dirty and won’t be able to wear them at
the party, if you decide that’s what you want to do. 
Lunch has been ready for quite some time.”

“You were late,” Merle said accusingly to Saskia and
me.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Saskia defended herself. 
“Rowena came without any party clothes and she had to
borrow some of mine.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I apologised in my high
voice, waving my hands around in what I hoped were
feminine gestures.  “But I’m glad we’ve come now. 
Thank you so much for inviting me, Merle, and I’m so
glad you like the panties.”

This seemed to mollify Merle somewhat, and we all
followed Marcia inside the house.  She had prepared
plates for us all with cold meat, vegetables, bread
and butter – not very appetising – but also with large
quantities of potato chips.  There were glasses of
fruit juice and bowls of jelly to follow.  We each
took a small tray and trooped out into the front
garden, where we headed for a large shady tree and sat
down in a circle.

Normally when sitting on the grass I put my knees up
and wrap my arms round them, but this is a boyish way
of sitting and would show my panties if I did that on
this occasion.  So I hung back and watched exactly how
the girls sat, although I already knew in general
terms.  Holding the trays in both hands, they crossed
their legs at the shins and lowered their bottoms to
the ground, leaning forward as they did so, so as to
sit with their legs crossed.

Usually, older girls will at the same time push their
skirts down between their legs to avoid revealing
their panties, but they could not do this and hold the
tray at the same time, so I had quite a view of them
all until they had put the tray down in front of them
and freed their hands.  This is what Avril and Lindsay
did, at least, and I had a glimpse of Lindsay’s light
blue panties for the first time.  Avril’s unattractive
off-white ones I had already seen, courtesy of Saskia
by the car.  Saskia herself never bothered to push her
skirt down when she sat, as I knew from experience,
and Merle was wearing jogging shorts.  They were
loose, and as she sat I could see the hem of her white
panties most of the way round.

I sat between Saskia and Clare, sitting down the same
way as the girls did, although aware that I too would
no doubt be showing my panties, and then pushing the
skirt in place when I had deposited the tray.  Clare
was still unsophisticated, and she sat with her knees
up and her little tray underneath them.  Her little
white panties were visible, with a picture on the
front that looked like a couple of fairies -  I could
see only the bottom part.

Merle gave a giggle, pointed and said, “Clare, we can
see your panties.  Cross your legs properly.”

“It doesn’t matter, Merle, we’re all girls here,”
Saskia piped up with a provocative giggle, directed at
me.  At the same time Clare sought to obey by putting
her knees down and crossing her legs, but knocked her
fruit juice over as she did so.

“That’s your fault, Merle,” Clare scolded crossly, on
the verge of tears, as the girls laughed unkindly at
her.  She scrambled to her feet and set off for the
house, carrying her empty glass and calling, “Mummy! 
Mummy!”  Her little skirt was folded up slightly at
the back, leaving her panties hanging down for a
couple of centimetres.

“Look at her panties,” Avril said, giggling in a silly
way.  “There’s no hope for her, Merle.”

“Who cares?” put in Saskia, rolling over backwards and
sticking her bottom in the air, displaying her own
panties in full.  She rolled back up again, giggling. 
“There are no boys here today, so we can do what we
want.  Can’t we, Rowena?”

“Yes, Saskia,” I agreed, and decided to risk falling
in with her frivolity.  Taking care not to kick my
tray, I too rolled backwards for a moment, giving them
all a view of my panties – or rather, Saskia’s.  I
came up again quickly and did my best to copy her
giggle.

“Saskia, you’re just a show-off,” Avril was accusing
her, but perhaps decided she didn’t know me well
enough to tackle me as well.  To Saskia, this was no
doubt to be considered a compliment.

The other four were all indulging in `girl talk’ when
Clare returned with a new glass of fruit juice and sat
down next to me, knees up at first giving a brief
glimpse of her panties and tummy right up to her
belly-button before crossing her legs in the approved
fashion.  `Girl talk’ consisted mainly on this
occasion of talk about other girls that they all knew,
many of whom were apparently coming to the party.

My dislike of Avril grew as she so often seemed to
find something bad to say about most of them.  “She’s
so silly” or “She’s so ugly” or “She lives in such a
horrible house” or “She’s a real baby” or “Her mother
wears such ugly clothes” seemed to flow from her lips
all the time.  When boys were mentioned, she was ruder
than ever.  She seemed to be the dominant hen in the
group and I soon thought that Merle was very much
under her influence.

The little Lindsay didn’t have much to say, just
getting on with her meal quietly.  Saskia of course
would be outshone by nobody when it came to talking,
and she would hold forth with her opinions even about
people she didn’t know, it seemed.

The lawn was lush and green and very comfortable, but
it did have a problem with little black ants.  We had
to keep brushing them off our food and legs.  Most of
us had just started our jelly when Saskia suddenly
grabbed herself between the legs and exclaimed, “Oh,
gross, I’ve got ants in my panties again, would you
believe it?”  So saying, she put down her dish, lifted
her skirt and pulled the leg of her panties aside,
introducing her vagina to the fresh air.  Seated next
to her, I had a clear view of her white vagina as she
bent her head over it, examined it closely and brushed
aside a couple of ants, real or imagined.

“Saskia!” came a chorus of disapproval, carrying from
amused distaste to a degree of shock, from the other
girls, and I just managed to join in.  Of course, this
was no new territory to me, because after knowing
Saskia for a few months I knew her private area every
bit as well as my own.

Saskia replaced her underwear and looked up with a big
grin, as if to show that she was doing it mainly to be
an exhibitionist again.  “So?  We’re all girls, aren’t
we?” she challenged them, knowing very well that we
weren’t.  “I don’t want ants crawling all over my
pussy.  They must be sex maniacs.”  This comment
brought the expected rude laughter from Merle and
Avril.

We had all finished our food and were continuing to
talk – or at least three of us were – when Marcia came
out to join us.  “Did you enjoy that, girls?” she
asked.

“Yes,” we all said in various tones, some of us with
gratitude but Merle and Avril with the bored tones
normally associated with teenagers when asked a stupid
question.  Marcia sank down on the grass next to
Merle, not crossing her legs as the girls did but
sinking down with her legs together and sitting with
them curled up to one side, balancing herself with her
other arm on the ground.  It was not the place for a
lady to do that with a short skirt, as she left a
sizable triangle between her thighs and the hem of her
dress. 
I could see her panties, soft and white and seemingly
well padded.

“Mum, I can see your panties,” Merle informed her in
the same bored voice.

“Darling, I don’t see how that matters when there are
only girls here,” Marcia replied, but she did try to
adjust her skirt with her other hand.  “You know, your
panties are showing under your shorts as well.”  This
led to a quick adjustment by Merle and a swift check
by all the girls, except the grinning Saskia of
course, to make sure all their underwear was covered.

“Merle, your other guests will start arriving in about
half an hour, so perhaps it’s time you changed into
your party clothes,” Marcia said.  “Don’t forget to
say thank you for all your presents and to say hello
politely to the parents.”

“Yes, Mum,” Merle replied in the same bored voice,
rolling her eyes.  Marcia pushed herself to her feet
and then bent over to pick up a paper napkin, giving
us at ground level a quick view of her rear end. 
Saskia stuffed her hand to her mouth to stop her
giggling.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Merle leaned
forward, laughing, so we all leaned forward so our
heads were close together, in the way girls seem to do
when sharing secrets.  “Did you see my mum’s panties?”
Merle giggled.  “She’s incredible!”

“I thought they were nice,” put in Lindsay, trying to
be kind again.

“Well, they are nice, but fancy letting us see her
bum!” squealed Merle.  “I keep telling her her skirts
are too short, but she says my Dad likes them that
way.  I’ve seen him pinch her bum, too.  He puts his
hand up her dress and pinches it.”

“My boyfriend Roy does that to me sometimes,” grinned
Saskia.  “He pulls up my skirt so he can see my
panties.”  I fumed inwardly, unable to defend myself
by explaining that this was Saskia’s idea of a game,
not mine.

“How perverted!” snorted Avril.  “Saskia, I don’t know
how you can associate with such a dirty-minded boy. 
Slap his face next time he does it.”

“Or kick him in the balls,” giggled Merle.

“Is your dad coming to the party?” Saskia asked her.

“No way, he says there are too many females here
already so if boys aren’t allowed to come, neither is
he,” replied Merle.  “But that’s just an excuse
because he wants to play golf.”

We climbed to our feet, some of us still talking
non-stop and some of us doing just what Marcia was
being criticised for and revealing our panties.  Merle
led the way to her bedroom.  The six of us crowded
inside and shut the door after us.

(To be continued)



THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 16)


“Now I was going to decide what I wanted to wear to my
party,” announced Merle, peeling off her T-shirt to
reveal a chest that was just beginning to develop,
looking like a deep boy’s chest.  “But I may just
decide to wear that lovely outfit you brought me,
Saskia.”

Saskia looked pleased, and Merle took down her jogging
shorts so that she stood there wearing only her
panties.  They were white, as I had already seen, but
they also had a floral pattern on the front.  I
noticed how flat and smooth those panties appeared as
they disappeared between her legs, with only a slight
depression in the middle at the bottom as a clue to
what lay underneath.  I was sure I could not stand
there clad only in panties without my gender being
discovered.

Even though she had already seemed to decide on what
to wear, Merle would not have been female had she not
wanted to try on several other outfits as well.  She
opened her wardrobe and pulled out one dress or skirt
after another, trying them all on and talking all the
time, except for when Saskia or Avril interrupted her.
 Then, as I predicted, she said, “I think I will wear
your skirt and blouse after all, Saskia.”

Saskia flashed a mischievous grin at me and said,
“What about those panties Rowena brought you?  Aren’t
you going to wear those?”

“Ooh, yes, let’s do that,” enthused Merle, looking for
the box and finding it.  She took out a pale pink pair
and held it up to her cheek.  “Mmm, these are so soft
and lovely.  Thanks, hey, Rowena.”  This was the first
time she had actually thanked me, I think.

“I want to wear a pair too,” put in Clare, reaching
out and picking up a pale blue pair.

Avril sniffed in contempt and Merle snatched them out
of Clare’s grasp.  “It’s my present, not yours,” she
snapped.  “You wait till your own birthday.”

“And when it’s my birthday you’re not going to see
*any* of my presents, then!” Clare shouted, and
immediately a quarrel started.  Merle and Avril both
shouted back at Clare, who dissolved into tears and
fled the room, crying, “Mummy!  Mummy!”

Merle pushed the door shut after her and slipped off
her panties.  I could see quite a large, fleshy vagina
there.  Avril was holding a yellow pair of the
panties.  “Merle, do you mind if I wear these?” she
demanded rather than asked.

Merle hesitated for a second, perhaps to decide that
Avril was too influential to cross.  Then, standing
there naked still, she said, “All right, but only you.
 Nobody else is to wear any.”

“Let Rowena wear some if she wants, since she brought
them,” put in Saskia mischievously.  “Hey, Row, do you
want to wear your panties?”  Merle had paused to look
at me, with an expression that hinted at reluctance,
but then looked down as she put on her new panties
when I shook my head vigorously.

Avril put her hands up her skirt and pulled down her
off-white panties.  As she stepped out of them,
raising one leg and then the other, I thought I could
see something up her skirt but was unable to make out
any detail.  At the same moment Saskia said, as she
did on far too many occasions that afternoon, “Good
thing there are no boys here.  Hey, Merle, has a boy
ever seen you naked?”

Merle’s vagina disappeared under cover as she
answered, “No way.  I’d never let a boy seem *me* when
I was bare.”  She then took hold of the skirt to put
that on.

Meanwhile Avril was pulling up the yellow panties she
had chosen.  Girls are quite capable of changing their
panties under their skirts without revealing anything,
given reasonable length, but Avril pulled the panties
up to her thighs, and then lifted her skirt for a
moment before pulling the panties up properly.  She
pulled them high and then jiggled her legs up and down
as she made sure they were in place.

I wondered for an instant why she had apparently
deliberately exposed herself to the rest of us.  I was
so naïve then that it was not until years later, when
I was thinking about it, that I suddenly realised the
reason.  Avril had obviously just received her first
sample of pubic hair by mail order, and she wanted to
make sure we knew she was growing up.  I just caught a
glimpse of a black vagina with a fuzzy dark patch at
the top of it.

I think Saskia was the only other one to witness the
display, as Merle was getting dressed and Lindsay,
sitting on the bed with her legs neatly crossed,
seemed completely sexually unaware.  Provocatively
Saskia asked the same question, “What about you,
Avril?  Has any boy ever seen you naked?”

“Never!” Avril denied vehemently.  “I’d kill myself if
a boy ever saw my pussy!  Or else I’d kill him.”

With this sort of attitude from Saskia, I was
naturally unable to enjoy the irony of the situation
until much later, but rather became more fearful than
ever of the possibility of being caught.  For Saskia,
though, it was a huge joke.  She tried not to laugh
but was unable to stop herself from bursting into
laughter.

“What do you think’s so funny?” demanded Avril
angrily.  “Has a boy ever seen *you* naked?”

“Of course – my boyfriend Roy,” grinned Saskia,
causing Avril and Merle to gasp in horror and exclaim
“Saskia!” in shocked tones.  “We often see each other
naked,” she continued.  “How do you think you can ever
have babies if a boy never sees you naked?”

“I’m never going to get married,” declared Avril
viciously.  “I hate boys!  I wish they were dead, all
of them.”  Looking back with the wisdom of additional
years, I now suspect that this attitude may have been
caused by the plain looks which would certainly not
have made her attractive to the opposite sex.  Her
bitchy nature would help to make that doubly certain.

“What do you mean, you often see each other naked, you
and Roy?” Merle asked, putting on her blouse, most
curious.  “What do you do?”

“It started off when we swam together,” Saskia
replied, in tones of great personal satisfaction. 
“Then we slept together at night.  We even had sex
together!”

“Saskia, you are a liar!” exploded Avril viciously. 
“You never did any such thing!”

“Yes, we did,” insisted Saskia.  “It’s true, isn’t it,
Rowena?”

I had been sitting there with my mixed feelings of
apprehension and anger at Saskia growing, but dared
not interrupt.  Now that I was invited, I just
remembered to use my girl’s voice and hissed at her,
glaring.  “No, that’s not true, Saskia!  Don’t tell
lies!”

Saskia looked completely taken aback by my denial, and
I glared at her as strongly as I dared risk.  I don’t
know what she would have done next, except that Merle
suddenly broke in with the question, “Saskia, what
does Roy – what does he *look* like?”

For once Saskia was not properly on the ball.  She was
still looking most disconcerted, but she replied,
“Well, he’s – he has dark hair and sort of grey eyes,
and . . .”

“No, I mean, what does he look like – down here?”
Merle asked, grinning with obvious embarrassment. 
“His thingy . . .”

“His cock, you mean,” broke in Avril sharply.  “I’ve
seen a boy’s cock, you know.  Last year I saw one of
the locos having a piss by the side of the road.” 
(`Loco’ is derogatory slang for a member of the local
population, of Mediterranean stock, whose young male
population in particular is often quite unconcerned
about where to relieve themselves.)  “It looked like a
sausage.  A big ugly brown sausage!  And there was
this wrinkly bag of balls hanging out underneath.  I
nearly died!”

“Oh, gross!” came predictably from Merle, who pulled a
face and made as if she was ready to vomit.

“Roy’s not like that,” Saskia told them.  “His is
quite small and it looks quite nice.  It doesn’t look
like a sausage at all – it just looks like – like –
like a nice little thing.”  Comparisons obviously
failed her.  She held her hands apart to show the
length, and I must admit she had it just about right. 
Most people need a motive to tell lies.  Saskia needed
a motive for telling the truth.  She did not want to
win Avril’s contempt by claiming too long a penis for
me.

“He’s probably still just a *little* boy, then,”
declared Avril with contempt.  “You wait and see, when
he gets older his cock will get as big and ugly as all
men’s.”

“Does he have any hair on it?” Merle wanted to know. 
Saskia shook her head.

“Well, he hasn’t even reached puberty yet,” sniffed
Avril.  “It’ll get big and hairy and ugly then.”

“He’ll be a fuzzy-wuzzy, like my sister,” laughed
Saskia.  “I’m telling you, girls, she looks so ugly. 
She’s got so much hair all over her pussy.  Just like
a beard!”  She went off into peals of laughter.

“My mum’s a fuzzy-wuzzy, too,” put in Merle, her eyes
gleaming in excitement as she picked up on Saskia’s
vivid term.  “She’s got black hair all over here.” 
And she smoothed her skirt down and waved her hands
all over her loins to illustrate.

“Well, that’s all right for girls,” put in Avril
sharply.  “It’s called pubic hair and it shows you’re
becoming a woman.”

“You’ll be a fuzzy-wuzzy like my sister,” grinned
Saskia, who was sitting on a chair with one knee up
and revealing her panties.

“So will you, Saskia,” snapped Avril aggressively. 
“But *you* have to reach puberty first.”

“All right, show us what yours is like, then,”
challenged Saskia.

“I’m not going to show off to you lot,” retorted Avril
snootily.  “I’m becoming a woman and that’s a million
times better than becoming a man.”

“There’s no point in becoming a woman if you hate men
so much,” Saskia provoked her.  “When you’re a woman
you can have sex, and don’t pretend you’re so superior
to all the rest of us when you’ve never had sex with a
boy.”

“Neither have you, Saskia,” accused Avril, moving
forward and standing over her.  It was beginning to
get nasty now.  “Don’t tell us your boyfriend has
poked you because it’s not true.  Even Rowena says
so.”

“Rowena doesn’t know,” replied Saskia, who refused to
be intimidated.  “Only Roy and I know, because it was
private.”

“If Rowena doesn’t know, why did you ask her, then?”
demanded Avril.

Saskia was losing the argument.  “Well, I – I told her
afterwards,” she answered, bluffing it out.  “She must
have forgotten.”

“Saskia, you are the biggest liar I have ever met,”
snorted Avril.  At last, I thought!  Something we
agree on!  “You have never had sex and I don’t believe
you’ve seen a boy naked, either.”  She turned her back
on Saskia and stomped over to the door.

“Oh, yes, I have!” Saskia shouted at her back.  “I’ve
seen lots of boys naked!  They have this piece of skin
at the end that slides up and down.  And you can make
their piss stiff by tickling it, and that’s when they
can have sex with you.”

“Oh, everyone knows *that*!” jeered Avril.  “That’s
what’s so disgusting.  You can even see the bulges in
their swimming costumes where their cocks stick out. 
I can’t imagine why boys have to be born with such
ugly things.”

“That’s so they can have sex!” Saskia pointed out
triumphantly.  “You see, when a boy’s piss goes all
stiff and . . .”

“I know all about that!” shouted Avril contemptuously.
 “That’s even more disgusting.  I’m never, never,
never going to have any stupid, horrible, ugly boy
lying on top of me and sticking his cock down my
fanny, I can tell you.  They shouldn’t have them at
all.”

Merle for once tried to reason with Avril.  “They
can’t really help it, Av,” she said.  “When a baby’s
inside its mum’s tummy, they all have cocks.  But
before they get born, some of them fall off and they
become girls.  Those who still have them become boys.”

Avril treated this fable with the contempt it
deserved.  “Who on earth told you such absolutely
stupid rubbish?” she ridiculed her.

Merle looked quite abashed and her cheeks went red. 
“My mum,” she muttered.

At that moment there was a loud knocking on the door
and, speak of the devil, Marcia’s voice was heard. 
“Girls, please, not so much shouting in there,” she
called out.  “Merle, Tanya’s arrived, so please come
and greet her.”

“All right, Mum,” replied Merle and headed for the
door, no doubt relieved to be rescued from the sharp
end of Avril’s tongue.  (Did it have any other ends?)

I happened to glance at Lindsay at this point.  She
was still sitting cross-legged on the bed, but her
eyes were filled with shock and dismay.  The poor
little innocent obviously had had no previous
experience of anything the other girls were talking
about, and her safe, secure little world was crumbling
about her.

We all began to move out of the room.  I hung back and
put my arm round Lindsay’s slim waist.  She still
looked very shocked.  “Don’t take any notice of those
girls, Lindsay,” I encouraged her.  “They’re so rude.”

Lindsay made an indecipherable noise but did not
otherwise respond.  I took my arm away, remembering my
inclination to remain as inconspicuous as possible,
and we followed the others outside.

I kept as much in the background as I could as Merle’s
friends arrived, terrified in case there was anybody
there who knew me or who would suspect that I was not
a girl.  But as they came, one by one, I saw nobody I
recognised properly, although there were one or two
who looked slightly familiar.  I couldn’t remember
where I had seen them before, though, if I had at all,
and as none of them knew me and were among their
friends, they ignored me.

I was watching them, though, and assessing them, as I
have always tended to do, looking for those I found
attractive.  One of the first to arrive was a lovely
girl called Martine.  She had straight dark brown hair
down to her shoulders, not too different from the wig
I was wearing, and wore a flimsy dark purple patterned
dress that swirled around her as she walked.  She had
a lovely wide smile and a happy open way of talking,
neither did she shriek with laughter at the end of
every sentence, as did Saskia, Merle, Avril and many
of the others.

She also brought a more original gift than the others,
whose gifts were very predictable – a joke box. 
Keeping out of the way and therefore behind all the
others, I did not get to see much of what was in it,
but it seemed to contain some funny wigs, masks, body
paint, false beards and exaggerated eyelashes and all
that sort of thing.  Avril put on a mask of a very old
witch, most exaggerated, and the girls all shrieked
with laughter so loudly that my ears hurt.  I was
sorely tempted to congratulate her on the improvement.
 
Just as Merle was about to try out some of the
articles, more visitors arrived and the gift had to be
put on one side for the time being.

One of the newcomers was a little girl called Daisy. 
She was wearing a neat little brown and white checked
dress, and had long light brown hair in an untidy
ponytail and a little pointed freckled face.  Like
Avril, she did not at first appear pretty at all, but
unlike Avril she more than made up for it by being so
lively and full of smiles.

After a couple of minutes she sat down in a small
group that included Lindsay for a chat, and I noticed
straight away, as she sat rather carelessly, the baggy
pale yellow panties she was wearing.  They were tight
enough around the leg, but certainly hung down in the
middle, with big folds in the material.  Quite
unconcerned, she did not cover them up as she sat
there and talked with her legs crossed and her panties
sticking out under the fold of her skirt.

I immediately thought that perhaps these should be the
sort of panties I was wearing, as I was still very
much afraid that if mine were exposed at the front the
bulge might be too visible.  I was still feeling very
much out of place and wishing heartily I had never
come, and this was my main fear now.  I consciously
kept one hand down by my thigh all the time, ready for
instant protection should Saskia or any of the other
silly girls try to pull up my skirt.

With my childish mind, I then starting fantasising as
to whether Daisy could also be a boy in disguise like
myself.  Common sense told me that she was far too
feminine for that to be possible, but as I looked at
her sagging panties it did seem possible to me that a
penis might really be hidden underneath there.  Pretty
she certainly wasn’t, but her lively personality, her
smiles and sense of fun definitely made her
attractive.

Sure enough, when there was a lull in the arrivals and
Merle’s mother was not too close, Saskia went behind
Avril and whipped up her skirt, saying at the same
time with her silly giggle, “Look, girls, this is one
of the presents I brought Merle.  Avril wanted to wear
them.”

I at least have to hand it to Saskia, she was not
afraid of Avril as most of the others seemed to be. 
White with anger, Avril turned round and tried to slap
Saskia, who dodged away and tried to pull up Merle’s
skirt, amid much squealing and laughter.  Avril stood
there glaring, hands on hips and quite unaware that
her skirt was still tucked up at the back, revealing
the bottom of her panties.

Martine was the next victim, Saskia pulling her skirt
up to reveal tight little white panties over a round
bottom.  Martine squealed and giggled, but did not
join in the free-for-all that followed, as six or
seven girls all started the silly game of
skirt-lifting.

There was not much room for escape, so I thought the
best way to protect my own dress was to sit on it.  I
went over to the little group on the ground and shyly
asked Lindsay, the only one I had spoken to before,
“May I join you, please?”

“Yes,” smiled Lindsay, looking up at me with her big
brown eyes, and moved back a bit to make room for me.

I sat down rather clumsily, forgetting to cross my
legs first.  I sat on my bottom with a bit of a bump
and then leaned back to cross my legs.  As I leaned
forward again, pushing my knees down, one of the girls
on the other side of the group, sitting next to Daisy,
giggled and said, “Nice panties,
Whatever-your-name-is.”

“It’s Rowena,” said Lindsay, flashing a small smile at
me, as I blushed and pushed my skirt down.  “And it
doesn’t matter because we’re all girls here, like
Saskia says.”  They all giggled at the mention of
Saskia.  “You’ve got nice glasses, Rowena.  I like
them.”

The thought came to me that apparently at least one
girl had had a good view of my panties between my legs
and had seen nothing to arouse her suspicions.  I
surreptitiously kept my eyes on Daisy’s panties, again
childishly thinking that it was indeed possible for
this to be another boy in disguise.  I fantasised
about what I would do if I uncovered her secret,
imagining myself sharing my secret too and becoming
secret friends with him/her.  On the far side of the
group, Saskia and her like-minded friends were still
running around pulling up skirts.

“I can see your panties, girls,” came the musical
voice suddenly of Merle’s mother, with a big smile on
her face.  Rather guiltily the girls all dropped their
hands and looked at her, wondering if they were in
trouble.  But Marcia just smiled at them and said, “Do
you want to carry on playing this game, or shall we
start the real games now that almost everybody has
arrived?”

There was a brief pause, then Saskia gave a big grin
and giggle and said brightly, “Let’s carry on with
this game for a while.”  So saying, she pulled up
Avril’s skirt again, as the latter was taken by
surprise.  “Marcia, these are the panties . . .”

She broke off with a surprised squeal, as Marcia bent
down and pulled up the hem of Saskia’s dress.  “Oh,
that’s a very nice white you have there, Saskia,” she
laughed.  In my naivety, I found this most startling
behaviour from an adult.

Thus encouraged, the girls began lifting dresses
again, amid the usual shrieks of laughter.  Whenever a
girl came near her, Marcia would reach out and lift
her dress too, treating it all as a harmless game
herself, which I still found almost incredible for an
adult.  None of the girls dared to lift her skirt,
though.

Once Saskia ran up to her and reached out a hand to
pretend to lift it, although I could tell it was only
pretence.  “Don’t you dare, Saskia,” Marcia laughed,
reaching forward to grab hold of Saskia and hug her to
herself.  She tickled her, rolling her over on her
back, where she lay with her knees and skirt up,
laughing hysterically.  Like vultures, the other girls
gathered around Saskia, pulling her and tickling her. 
Merle reached hold of her panties and began to tug at
them.

I don’t know whether she would really have pulled them
off, for I suddenly saw Avril, close to Saskia, bring
her foot down hard, and in an instant Saskia’s
laughter became a piercing scream, followed by a noisy
flood of tears.  The other girls dropped back in
shock, as Saskia rolled over, clutching her hand.  “My
hand!” she wailed.  “Somebody jumped on my hand!”

I’m sure other girls besides myself had seen that it
was Avril, but did not dare say so.  Marcia gathered
Saskia up into her arms, studying her hand while
Saskia howled loudly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Saskia,” I just managed to hear Marcia
say, as our group sprang up and went over to have a
look.  “I’m sure it was an accident.”

I was sure it wasn’t, and had I not been trying to
remain as inconspicuous as possible I would have
challenged Avril on it.  Furious as I was to have my
girlfriend treated so, however much she may have
deserved it, I kept quiet, as Marcia supported the
wailing Saskia into the house for some first aid.  The
rest of us stood around, rather subdued now, and there
was no more pulling of skirts, although I kept away
from Merle’s clique just in case.  I was naturally
less certain than ever that Marcia would be able or
willing to protect me from the wrath of the girls were
my boyhood to be discovered.

(To be concluded)



THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 17)


After a few minutes Marcia came out of the house
again.  “Girls, Saskia is just resting because her
hand is very sore.  Let’s start playing some games,
shall we?”

We moved over to the front lawn where Marcia organised
us into a large circle.  I stayed with Lindsay, and
kept away from the `silly group’, as one of the other
girls called Merle and her skirt-pullers.  I was not
surprised when, just as we were sitting down, a
red-eyed Saskia came out of the house to join us,
still holding her hand very limply.  She would have
had to be in a very bad state to miss the action, but
of course she kept saying how much it hurt and she was
sure it was broken.

The games were rather silly and very girlish, from my
point of view, but I had to pretend to enjoy them. 
There was a lot of squealing and shrieking and flashes
of panties, especially in the first game, where a
runner had to drop a handkerchief behind one of those
sitting in the circle, who then had to chase her.  I
am sure I revealed mine as well when Saskia dropped a
handkerchief behind me and I scrambled up awkwardly
and chased her.  I hadn’t thought about how to run
like a girl, but Saskia was always a slow runner and I
caught her, so she had to try again.  I was relieved
that none of the other girls chose me, except for
Lindsay once near the end, so I could stay
comparatively inconspicuous.

We were in the middle of this game when a friend of
Marcia’s arrived, rather late, with a video camera to
take shots of the party.  Some weeks later Saskia
borrowed it and we watched it together in private, she
with great delight and myself with apprehension. 
Fortunately nothing particularly embarrassing came
out, as I was aware all the time of its presence
during the party.  I was relieved to see that, even to
my critical eye, I did nothing that would have marked
me out clearly as a boy – I merely looked like a
rather clumsy girl.

It had one shot of me from behind, bending over on my
knees and bobbing for apples, bottom in the air and
panties clearly visible, but there was another girl
next to me doing the same thing and revealing even
more.  There were several panty-shots of Saskia, some
of them intentional I am sure, and she shrieked with
laughter as we watched her bump into another girl and
sprawl over backwards with her legs apart, and pull up
the hem of her dress to wipe sweat off her face,
having temporarily forgotten her ‘broken’ hand.

When we had races, I tucked my skirt into the elastic
legs of my panties to run, as the other girls did, and
made sure I finished somewhere in the middle each time
so as not to draw attention to myself.  There was one
chasing game where we had to stand with legs apart
when we were caught and were rescued by somebody else
crawling under our legs.  I stood there for quite a
while before, to my initial surprise, Avril came
running up and crawled under my legs from behind.  But
then she scrambled up too soon, obviously
deliberately, and shrieked with feigned laughter as
she tried to stand with my skirt caught over her head.
 I pulled away, but slipped and fell over with my
skirt half-up as she laughed unkindly at me.

I was not the one to suffer the most, though, as I
could at least perform fairly capably the things the
others did.  There was a tall, thin, ungainly girl
called Angela, half a head taller than any of the rest
of us, with short light brown hair and dreamy but
anxious-looking brown eyes.  She seemed very clumsy
and uncoordinated, and Avril was soon making her
contempt for Angela clear.

“I only invited her because I had to,” I heard Merle
say.  “Her mum’s a friend of mine so she said she must
come.”

“Well, she runs like a camel,” retorted Avril loudly,
snorting with laughter.  At the first opportunity, she
pulled up Angela’s green and white dress, revealing
her delicate pink panties, bordered with lace.  “Just
making sure you’re not a boy,” she told the hurt
Angela sarcastically.  “You’re clumsy like a boy.”

At the end of the games we had a dancing session, when
Marcia brought out a tape recorder and played some pop
music.  I wondered whether to pretend I had sprained
my ankle, but thought that with my inability to swim I
had better join in everything else, even if I did it
badly.  So I jiggled around and swirled my skirt and
jumped up and down along with the others, laughing and
squealing along with them.

We played musical statues, and Angela was the first to
be dismissed, unable to stop moving quickly enough
when the music stopped.  Again I contrived to be one
of the middle group to be dismissed.  Then we had a
dancing competition, when Marcia said she would stop
the music and each time call out the name of the
poorest dancer, who would have to sit out.

The music began, and we danced.  When it stopped,
Marcia most thoughtlessly selected Angela as the first
to go.  Avril led a bit of jeering and mockery, and
Marcia did at least tell them to stop it.  I saw
Angela walk off miserably towards the house, head
down, as the music started again.

I tried to hang in there until the middle, but I could
not disguise my inability to dance.  When the music
next stopped, Marcia called out gaily, “Rowena, you’re
out now.  I guess they don’t do much dancing on the
farm, do they?”

I quietly slipped out, and when the music started
again I walked over towards the house, following
Angela.  I could see her sitting on the step with her
head down, knees up due to the shortness of the step
and those delicate pink panties visible underneath. 
She had her arms wrapped round her legs and her chin
resting on top of her knees.

I went up and sat down next to her.  She glanced at me
and then turned her head shyly away, eyes filled with
tears.  I tried to behave as I had seen the nicer
girls of my acquaintance do.  I put my arm round her
neck and said, “Aw, don’t cry, Angela.  I’ll be your
friend.”

She turned her head and looked at me now, trying to
smile.  “Thank you, er . . .” she responded.  “I’m
sorry but I don’t know your name.”

“I’m – er – Rowena,” I answered, taking a moment to
connect.  “I’m Saskia’s friend and I live on a farm. 
She invited me today.  I’m sorry Avril is being so
horrible to you.”

“A lot of the girls tease me,” she replied with a sob,
hugging her knees.  “I’m just not very good at games
and dancing and that sort of thing.”

“Nor am I,” I told her.  “What are you good at doing,
then?”

“Well – computers,” she answered hesitatingly.  Then
slowly she began to tell me about her father’s
computer and the things she liked doing on it.  I
could tell at least she was pretty clever, even if
physically she was fairly hopeless.

We sat together for a few minutes, watching the
dancing from a distance.  It was actually won by
Daisy, who was really enjoying herself and moving so
fast nobody else could keep up with her.  Then Marcia
called everybody to join in the final dance.  I got up
from the step, holding Angela by the arm, and linked
arms with her as I often saw girls do.  “Let’s go,” I
said, and she came along quite happily with me.  I
suddenly realised as I approached the rest of the
girls that befriending Angela might well make me more
conspicuous than I wanted to be, but I didn’t feel I
could leave her.

“Everybody find a partner,” Marcia called out gaily.

“Will you be my partner?” I asked Angela, and she
nodded her head, obviously relieved that she would not
have to suffer the embarrassment of being by herself.

“Oh, look, the two losers are together,” sneered Avril
as the music started.

“We’re just doing it for fun,” I replied as Angela and
I tried to dance together.  She was quite a bit taller
than I and there was no chance we would be able to
coordinate our movements, but we just jumped around
and had some noisy fun as the music grew louder and
louder.  Skirts swirled, and of course Saskia had to
swirl them higher than anybody else, but we were all
excited and some of the other girls followed her
example.

Finally the music stopped, and we were all exhausted
but talkative.  Marcia tried to make herself heard,
but we were too full of nervous energy to keep quiet. 
Finally Marcia called out, “Now our last game before
we eat . . .”

There was a degree of silence.  “The winner of the
next game can help Merle cut the birthday cake,”
announced Marcia.  “All of you, lie down on the
ground.  Anybody I see move or hear make a noise is
out, and the last person I see moving will be the
winner.”

All the girls, it seemed, were eager to help cut the
cake.  We sank down to the ground, some on their sides
or their faces.  I lay down on my back, trying to keep
my chest from heaving with my breathlessness, and
remembering to check my skirt was pulled down properly
over my crotch.

Marcia then walked among us, studying us to try to
find somebody who was moving.  I had not chosen my
position intentionally, but I suddenly realised as I
saw her coming in my direction that if she came any
closer I would have a worm’s-eye view up her short
skirt.  At that point she stopped and bent over Merle
to look more closely, perhaps keen to expel her
daughter first.  She was still facing me, but I saw
and heard Saskia, on the other side of her, give a
stifled giggle and I knew she had seen up Marcia’s
skirt.

Marcia immediately turned round and dismissed Saskia,
although I was sure she had no idea what Saskia was
giggling at.  Then she turned again quickly to find
Merle moving, and two of them were out.  Marcia
continued her walk in my general direction, and I kept
even my eyes very still, staring into the distance,
until I knew Marcia was looking at one of the others.

She stopped about a metre away from my head to look at
one of the other girls and I yielded to temptation.  I
could see up the front of her skirt to the rounded
shape of her luscious white panties, looking smooth
and well padded, at her crotch.  She turned and bent
slightly to look at a girl behind her, and now the
bottom of her panties showed at the back, firm and
rounded, with a slight crease down the middle.

Again one or two of the other girls behind her
exchanged glances and giggled, which led to their
removal from the game.  Within a minute the numbers
were going down fast, mostly through giggles, and
Marcia never seemed to realise why there was so much
giggling.  I soon found to my alarm that there were
only four of us left in the game.  I took a last
glance at Marcia’s panties up her skirt and then gave
a muffled cough, which successfully led to my removal
from the game.

We were all amazed that Angela actually won this game,
remaining completely still to the end, lying on her
side with her eyes shut.  She looked surprised when
she opened her eyes as Marcia called out, “I see your
eyes blinking, Martine, so that makes Angela the
winner!”  Saskia started to clap, smiling, so I joined
in and so did a few of the nicer girls there.  Merle
and Avril studiously ignored her, Merle looking most
displeased at the prospect of having to cut the cake
with Angela.

“Please when may we swim, Marcia?” asked a little
fair-haired girl who was wearing a pink dress that
matched the colour of her face.  “I’m so hot!”

“We’ll swim after the food, Elly,” replied Marcia, who
unlike most parents didn’t seem to see anything wrong
with that.  “Come along now, girls.”

We followed her over to a large trestle table set
under the trees and loaded with food.  I suddenly
found my heart beating faster and a tight feeling in
my stomach.  I didn’t feel I could eat much.  Swimming
after the food!  I couldn’t swim myself, but would I
be allowed in while the girls changed?  From what I
knew of girls, I didn’t think they would mind having
other girls in attendance – unless they had suspicions
of me or unless Avril decided she hated me so much she
couldn’t stand me in the room.  But did I dare?

I suddenly felt a desperate need to go to the toilet. 
As the girls tucked in greedily, I slipped away and
headed for the house.  Once inside, it only took me a
moment to find the toilet and I shut the door after
me, taking in deep breaths.  Then I discovered to my
dismay that there was no key.  Somebody might come in
while I was busy.

But I had no choice.  Listening carefully, I put my
hands up Saskia’s skirt and pulled Saskia’s panties
down to my ankles.  Then I raised the skirt at the
back and sat down on the seat, with the skirt at the
front covering my penis.  With a gasp of relief, I let
fly into the bowl.

I had almost finished when to my horror I heard
footsteps and voices coming along the passage.  I knew
I did not have enough time to dress again before they
reached the door, so I just hoped they were going
further along the passage.  But no such luck – I was
still sitting there on the seat holding my breath when
the door swung open and Clare marched in, followed by
Merle and Elly.  I remembered the habit girls have of
turning a visit to the toilet into a social occasion.

Merle giggled when she saw me, but it seemed perfectly
natural to Clare.  “I’m next, Rowena,” she said,
standing in front of me to begin a queue.  “I need a
wee badly.”  She pushed her thighs together and
slipped one hand between her legs, rather like the
Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke.

“I’ve just finished,” I stammered, standing up and
reaching down to pull up my panties.  They were
halfway up when Clare rebuked me, “You didn’t wipe
yourself.”

“I forgot,” I muttered, red in the face, while Merle
giggled again.  I tore off a piece of toilet paper,
reached my hand under the skirt with it, brushed it
against my penis and let it drop in the bowl – the
toilet paper, that is!  Then I pulled up the panties
under my skirt, taking the greatest care not to let my
boyhood show.

Clare pushed past me as I did so, and I heard a
splashing in the bowl before her panties were even
down properly.  I moved aside, standing there
adjusting my panties, while Clare giggled and said, “I
almost wet my panties then.”  She finished urinating
and then stood up, taking a piece of toilet paper and
lifting her skirt to reveal a fleshy little vagina,
which she wiped.

“Me next,” said Merle, moving in.  As nobody seemed to
object to my presence, I hung around, glancing round
the bathroom.  It was quite a mess, with a dirty
washbowl and a dirty pair of panties flung in one
corner.  I saw among the towels strewn over the rail a
big white fluffy towel, very clean, with a large
picture of a ballerina on it.

For want of something to say, I exclaimed, very
girl-like, “Oh, what a pretty towel!  I just love it. 
Merle, is this yours?”

It was the right thing to say.  Merle, in the process
of wiping her vagina, looked across and smiled.  “Yes,
my mum gave me that for my birthday,” she beamed. 
“Isn’t it beautiful?  I wish I could do ballet.  Do
you do ballet, Rowena?”

“No, we live on a farm,” I explained, as Merle pulled
up her panties and joined me by the towel rail.  “You
saw when we did the dancing – I can’t dance at all,
though I try.  But I thought you were good.”

Elly took Merle’s place on the toilet, pulling down
her white panties and momentarily lifting the front of
her skirt as she sat to show her cute little vagina. 
As she sat, her skirt covered her from the top of her
thighs but there was again the splashing of urine in
the bowl.

I looked around the bathroom and found two
toothbrushes to exclaim over, with Mickey Mouse heads
on the handle.  These belonged to Merle and Clare, who
both seemed pleased at my admiration.  As we all left
the bathroom together, Merle momentarily put her arm
through mine, smiled and said, “You know, Rowena,
you’re not so bad after all!”

We returned to the table to find most of the girls had
dispersed with their food and were sitting around in
groups on the grass, talking.  I took some crisps and
a chocolate bun, although my stomach was churning so
much I knew I would find it difficult to eat them. 
Angela was standing by herself, looking lost, so I
said, “Come, Angela,” and walked over to join the
group on the grass with Lindsay and Daisy in it. 
Angela hesitated, and then followed me, and Lindsay
moved over again to give us room as we sat down.

I finished my food slowly and with difficulty, and
then my heart lurched again as I heard Merle call out,
from a nearby group, “May we go swimming now, Mum?”

“Yes, all right, and you can come back here for more
food when you want it,” Marcia replied.  “Girls, just
change in the lounge as there are so many of you
today.”  That was in fact where they had put their
little bags with swimming costumes and towels when
they arrived.

The girls in our group now began to get to their feet
and head for the house.  I rose too, and wandered over
with them wondering if I actually dared to join them
in the lounge.

Saskia had it all planned.  She detached herself from
Merle’s group and came over to take me by the arm. 
“Come, Roy – I mean, Row,” she ordered.  She turned to
anybody else who was in earshot and announced, “Rowena
can’t swim today because she’s been sick.  That’s why
her voice sounds funny sometimes.”

I was rather worried that Saskia would overdo it, but
I could at least be grateful that she was doing her
best, in her misguided way and for whatever reason, to
help me out with my desires.  We walked into the house
and then turned into the lounge, along with the other
girls.  I felt both thrilled and terrified at the same
time.  If I was unveiled as a boy in here, I was dead
meat.

I immediately headed for a place in the corner where I
would be as inconspicuous as possible.  There was a
little chair in one corner, so I sat on that, my heart
thumping wildly.  At our naturist club I had not the
slightest interest in watching girls changing, but the
lure of the forbidden had a completely different
effect on me.

Avril switched the lights on and then moved over to
draw the curtains.  “Oh, don’t be silly, Avril,
there’s nobody here to see us changing,” snorted
Saskia, pulling her dress off over her head.  “We’re
all girls in this place,” she added for the hundredth
time.

“You do as you like, but I want to change in private,”
replied Avril coldly, completing the job.  It did seem
quite dark in there, even with the lights on, after
the bright sunlight, but perhaps it would make me less
noticeable.

Saskia looked at me with a meaningful smile on her
face as she removed her panties.  At this point in our
relationship she seemed to get a kick out of exposing
herself to me as much as possible.  But I could never
tire of seeing that lovely plump, rounded little
vagina, destined to grow a light coating of down
almost before my eyes over the next few months.  Other
girls were still coming in and my heart was still
trying to burst out of my chest.  My stomach felt
tight and I could feel my penis pushing against the
panties I was wearing.

Angela slipped in on the other side of me and looked
around nervously.  She looked at me with a tremulous
smile and I grinned back, and then hurriedly tried to
change it into a more girlish smile.  She opened her
bag to take out her swimming costume and towel.  Then
she slipped her hands under her dress and began to
pull down her panties.  After a couple of enchanting
and very sexy-looking wriggles, completely
unintentional I have no doubt, she slithered her pink
panties down her legs and stepped out of them, facing
me and back to the rest of the girls.

I was sitting with my eyes at about the level of her
waist, and as she stepped out of her panties I could
see her vagina up her skirt, as first one leg lifted
and then the other.  I caught my breath.  Was that
possibly some pubic hair at the top of it?  The other
girls were in the process of stripping off completely,
quite unconcerned.  I have since discovered that girls
at the beginning of puberty are often ashamed of their
bodies, even before other girls, and it seemed that
Angela was at this stage.

I suddenly thought of Daisy and my childish
imagination sprung into action again.  Was she really
a girl, or was she hiding something under those baggy
panties?  Part of me knew that she had to be a real
girl, but the other part just wanted to make sure and
fantasised about what would happen and what I would do
if she wasn’t.  I glanced swiftly around the room for
her but she didn’t seem to be there.

Again I watched Angela as she put on her bikini
bottom, and again her knees went up to reveal her
secret place.  With her tendency to be rather clumsy
and uncoordinated, she caught her toe as she tried to
put it on over her second foot, having succeeded with
the first.  She struggled to regain her balance, but
failed.  With a little squeal of dismay, she
overbalanced and fell backwards, one leg still up.  As
she bumped on to the carpet, I had a second to see her
long, slender vagina with clarity, and I had been
right.  At the top there was a light puff of pubic
hair.

I was quick-witted enough to react in the way a girl
would – a nice girl.  “Oh, Angela, are you all right?”
I fussed, going over and helping her as she struggled
to her feet.

“Yes, I’m – I’m fine.  Thanks,” she gasped, very red
in the face.  She quickly put the bikini bottom on the
ground and stepped into it more successfully this
time, pulling it up hurriedly, still most embarrassed.

“Why are you changing under your dress, silly?” the
girl on the other side of her, naked, asked.  “Are you
shy of showing us your pussy?” she giggled.

I looked across to Avril, who was now down to her
underwear on the other side of the room.  She was
wearing a genuine bra, plain white and pretty
utilitarian.  Fortunately she was talking earnestly to
Merle and hadn’t picked up this incident.

Bikini bottom in place, Angela glanced nervously
behind her and, still facing me, slipped her dress
down.  She wore nothing underneath at the top.  She
kept her eyes downcast, so I had no difficulty in
watching her with what I hope was a very casual air,
and saw her little breasts were budding.  She had
quite large nipples that were sticking up in a lump
from her chest, only two or three centimetres high but
growing.

Saskia also noticed, and foolishly had to say
something.  “Hey, Angela, you’ve got some nice boobies
there,” she said in appreciation.  “Let’s have a
look.”  And she came closer to see.

This time Avril did pick it up.  She looked across the
room to see the barebacked Angela covering up with her
hands as Saskia tried to inspect her.  “What’s wrong
with Angela now?” she called provocatively across the
room.  “Angela, what are you hiding?”

“They’re nice, Angela,” Saskia tried to encourage her,
realising that she had made a mistake, too late as
usual.

“Don’t worry, Angela, she means it,” I said
reassuringly, as she looked at me for help with big
fearful eyes.  “You look good.”

“Come on, Angela, show everybody what you’ve got,”
Avril called mockingly across the room.

Angela looked helplessly at me, and I hesitated, then
nodded, thinking that this was the best way to act in
such a predicament.  Any more covering up would be an
invitation for the likes of Avril to humiliate her
still further.  Fortunately Angela took my advice,
lowered her hands and turned round towards Avril,
although stopping halfway.

Some of the other girls murmured with what sounded
like a mixture of envy and approval.  They were all
still flat-chested, as far as I could see, apart from
Avril, and they were perhaps surprised to see the
points sticking out of Angela’s chest.

“That’s good, Angela,” beamed Saskia, who seemed quite
unenvious.  She was still quite naked herself and was
in no hurry to put on her swimming costume.

Angela gave a weak smile and then began to put on her
bikini top.  “That’s not much,” came Avril’s bossy
voice, just as she started removing her bra.  “You
don’t need a bra yet, Angela.  You’ve still got to
grow up a bit.”

Avril gave me the impression that she was both proud
and a little embarrassed about her own development
into puberty.  She seemed keen for others to
appreciate her progress, but not altogether
comfortable in supplying proof of it.  I learned later
that she had two sisters, both several years older
than herself, so I suspect that she may have been
desperate for years to catch them up.  Certainly she
seemed to possess a typically dirty teenager’s mind.

Almost defiantly she pulled off her bra, to reveal
only slightly more substantial breasts than Angela’s. 
They were a bit broader and a bit more pointed, but
still had a long way to go.  Some of the other girls
looked on in a certain amount of admiration and envy,
as no doubt Avril had been expecting.

“Hey, Avril, what would you do if a boy saw your
boobs?” Saskia grinned at her provocatively across the
room.

“No boy will *ever* see *my* boobs,” Avril responded
curtly, as she began to pull down her panties.  Then,
looking at Saskia, she happened to see me sitting next
to her, still fully dressed.  “Rowena, aren’t you
changing for swimming?” she demanded, in the tone of
voice she might have used to a criminal.

“Rowena isn’t allowed to swim because she’s been
sick,” Saskia retorted.

“Well, she can get out of here, then,” snorted Avril,
panties right down in the groin with fingers
underneath and just covering the essentials.  “Go on,
Rowena, piss off.”

“Ah, no, Avril, let her stay,” Merle suddenly piped up
on my behalf.  “She’s not so bad, and it’s my party.”

“You can keep her, then,” sniffed Avril dismissively
and turned her eyes from me.  At the same moment she
slid her panties down her legs, revealing her vagina
with a very definite black patch of pubic hair at the
top.  Then, to help draw attention to herself, she
announced, “If the party had been last weekend I
couldn’t have swum either.  But I had a good reason
because that’s when I had my period.  I’m sure
*Rowena* will have the same reason in a few years’
time.”

Again there was a murmur as some of the girls took in
Avril’s pubic hair.  I cringed in expectation of
Saskia throwing in an inflammatory remark about her
becoming a `fuzzy-wuzzy’, but fortunately Saskia was
admiring the bikini of the girl next to her.

All the girls, it seems, were wearing bikinis, as this
was definitely the fashion for that age group, who had
just grown out of swimming topless.  Avril rather
quickly put on her bikini bottom, then her top, as if
not too comfortable to have certain areas exposed for
too long a time.  After all, she had made her point.

I noticed that some of the girls were watching her in
admiration, while others were taking no notice at all.
 That was one of the characteristics of that age
group, I later worked out as I thought about it.  Some
were far more sexually conscious than others – very
much an in-between age.

Two who were not at all sexually conscious were
Lindsay and Daisy.  At this moment they marched gaily
into the lounge, having been delayed outside for some
reason.  Again I fantasised about Daisy, and watched
her as she marched gaily over to her bag by the
window.  She didn’t keep me in suspense for long. 
Within a few seconds she had whipped off her little
brown and white dress and was standing there in her
baggy yellow panties.  She had a pale flat chest and
the tan marks on it indicated that she spent a great
deal of time wearing a girl’s swimming costume.

Then she whipped off the panties and I had my evidence
– a sweet little curved vagina between her legs,
lightly freckled.  I didn’t know whether to be excited
or disappointed that she was not a secret boy.  She
reached in her bag and within moments was dressed in a
little red bikini.

Lindsay next to her was taking things more slowly. 
She sat down first to unpack her bag, and then peeled
off her white top.  Then she stood to remove her dark
blue skirt, revealing her light blue panties.  Her
skin was darker than most of the other girls’, almost
an olive colour, and her sweet little vagina stood out
in black as she removed her panties.  She slipped on a
dainty white bikini bottom and then packed her clothes
in her bag.  Apparently she was not wearing a top for
it.  This was not unusual, as girls in this country
often do not wear tops until their breasts start to
grown, but with this group, who went to the Catholic
school, tops were very much the fashion obviously,
even if they were only bikinis.

By now Daisy was scooting out of the door towards the
pool, closely followed by Martine, in a tiny pink
bikini with yellow polka dots.  “Wait for me, girls,”
called Merle, dragging up her bikini bottom and
chasing after them.  I suddenly realised with great
disappointment that I had forgotten to keep an eye on
that sweet little Martine while she changed.

“Saskia, are you planning to swim stark naked?” Avril
asked in a voice of contempt, as my girlfriend
strutted around the room as bare as the day she was
born.

Saskia took her seriously.  “Yes, let’s do that!”  she
answered excitedly.  “There are no boys here!  Great
idea, Avril.”

“It was not an idea,” snorted Avril.  “I certainly
will not be swimming in the nude, and you had better
not either.  Now get your swimming costume on.  It’s
nothing to be proud of, showing everybody your flat
baby chest and your little fat bald pussy.”

Just as that moment Lindsay walked past her towards
the door.  “Hey, Lindsay, you’re not going swimming
like *that*, are you?” she asked contemptuously.

Lindsay looked rather shocked.  She stared at Avril,
not understanding what was wrong.  “Hasn’t your bikini
got a top?” Avril asked icily.

Lindsay looked down at her bare chest in surprise.  “I
– no, it doesn’t have one,” she whispered timidly. 
“My mum says I don’t need one.”

“That’s because you’re such a *little* girl,” snorted
Avril.  “You are so immature, Lindsay.  You don’t even
understand that girls of our age wear tops to look
decent.  Lindsay, I don’t know why Merle invited you
to this party.  Even Clare wears a top to her bikini. 
You certainly can’t swim like *that*, you silly little
baby!  You can sit next to Rowena while the rest of us
swim and both be weird together.”  And with that she
stalked out.

I felt furious inside, as I saw poor little Lindsay
standing there looking stunned, with tears welling in
her eyes.  Normally I would have rushed to her
defence, but in my disguise I did not dare.  I felt I
hated Avril, but didn’t know what to do about it.

Saskia was now dressed in, of course, the smallest
bikini on display, which actually showed her tiny
nipples at the top and the grooves of her groin at the
bottom, as well as the top of the crack of her bottom
to the rear.  The top was tied with strings at the
back and the bottom with strings at the side.  “Come,
Rowena, let’s go,” she said gaily, linking her arm
with mine and propelling me towards the door.  Still
seething, I went with her, not sure what else I could
do.

We were in a straggling line of excited girls heading
for the pool, which was at the far side of Marcia’s
house.  We arrived to find more girls in the pool,
diving and splashing and shrieking at the tops of
their voices as girls often do.  I felt more out of
place than ever, still wearing Saskia’s dress.  Marcia
was standing at one end of the pool keeping an eye on
things.

Within moments Saskia was diving into the pool along
with the others, forgetting me in an instant.  I saw
Avril screaming and splashing with Merle and my blood
boiled.  Then I remembered Lindsay, and felt the least
I could do was to help one of the few girls who had
been pleasant to me here.  When the last of the girls
had entered the pool area I slipped back to the house
unnoticed.

I entered the lounge, finding it darker than ever
after the bright sunshine outside, and it seemed very
strange to find it deathly quiet.  For a moment I
thought Lindsay was not there, and then I saw her
sitting cross-legged on the floor by the window.  She
had taken off her bikini bottom and was sitting there
naked, with tears rolling silently down her smooth
brown cheeks.

Remembering to act like a girl, I went over to her and
sat down in front of her, also cross-legged.  For a
moment my eyes strayed downwards to where her little
vagina was spread slightly, showing a little white
piece of flesh at the top.  Then I felt very bad for
taking advantage of her like this, although she didn’t
know it.  “Sorry, Lindsay,” I said.  “Avril’s
horrible.  Aren’t you coming to swim?  I’m sure Marcia
would let you.”

“Yes, but if I do Avril will be horrible to me again,”
sniffed Lindsay, not looking at me in her distress.

I wished I could tell her I would stand up for her,
but in my disguise I did not dare.  Then I had an
idea.  I scrambled to my feet.  “I’m just going to the
toilet, then I’ll come back,” I promised.

I shut the bathroom door behind me and then slipped
off Saskia’s shirt.  I took off her half-vest and put
the shirt back on.  I had not dared to do this in
front of Lindsay in case she saw my boyish chest and
suspected something.  Then I returned to her.  “I’ve
had an idea.  Lindsay, would you like to wear this?” I
asked.

Lindsay looked up and saw the half-vest.  She
hesitated, and then took it.  Standing up, she tried
it on.  It was a bit loose, but not too bad, and when
she put her bikini bottom on again it did not look too
out of place.

“Thank you, Rowena,” she said, wiping her eyes and
trying to smile at me.  She put her arms round my neck
and gave me a hug.  I felt the warmth of her cheek
pressed against mine as I responded in what I hoped
was a girlish way.  “You’re a good friend,” she said. 
“I wish you came to our school.”

(To be continued)



THE TEMPTRESS  (CHAPTER 18)


We went over to the pool and Lindsay, with a final
smile at me, slipped quietly into the water.  As far
as I knew, there were no further problems, and another
incident happened to distract the attention of anybody
who noticed.  I saw it happen as Saskia, scrambling
out of the pool near the diving board, showed her
white bare bottom to the public.

There was an “Ooh!” from several girls who saw her, of
mixed amusement and shock, then I could hear several
loud voices passing on the news to those who hadn’t
seen.  “Hey, Saskia, your bikini’s fallen off!” I
could hear Merle’s amused voice.  “We can all see your
bum!”

By now there was more laughter than anything.  This
time I am sure Saskia had not done it deliberately. 
She looked down at herself, then turned to face the
pool and gave a mock curtsey, with a big grin on her
face and wearing only her tiny top.  A couple of girls
were already diving for the missing piece.

“Why bother?” asked Saskia loudly.  “Marcia, let’s
just swim like this.  We can be naked here when there
are no boys around.”

Marcia looked doubtful, and I thought she might even
have agreed when Avril broke in scornfully with, “Of
course not, Saskia!  Don’t be stupid!  We can’t go
naked outside.  Put your costume on again properly.”

“Please, Marcia,” Saskia appealed to a higher
authority as one of the girls came up with her missing
piece.

“Well, er, you know, Saskia, it might cause trouble,”
replied Marcia, rather uncomfortably.  “Just put your
bottom on again, all right, dear?”

Saskia reluctantly complied, and I was disappointed,
but grateful to her for her effort to please me,
although perhaps it was a mischievous sense of fun as
much as anything that had prompted her.

A moment later Merle called out, “Mum, may we use the
tubes and the airbed?”

“Yes, dear,” agreed Marcia.  “Er – Rowena, they’re in
the shed behind you.  Can you just get out the tubes
and the airbed for us, please, dear?”

As the only `girl’ not in the pool, I was the natural
choice for such a task.  I went over to the small shed
in the corner, only to find it was locked.  Marcia
asked Merle if she had the key.

“It’s in my room somewhere, but I don’t remember
where,” replied Merle.  “Rowena, just go up to my room
and look for the key.  It’s got a red piece of string
round it, but you might have to look around for it.”

“In Merle’s room it will probably take you some time,”
smiled Marcia.  “Will you do that for us, please,
Rowena, there’s a good girl?”

Reluctantly I agreed, going back to the house by
myself and into Merle’s bedroom.  Almost immediately I
saw the key, with the red string, hanging from the
cupboard door handle.  I picked it up, then, knowing I
was not expected back immediately, looked around the
bedroom.

Merle’s presents were in a pile on the floor.  The
joke box Martine had brought caught my eye.  Idly I
opened it and had a look at the contents.  There were
the wigs, masks and other things I have already
mentioned, and then I found a little white packet with
a funny cartoon picture on it of somebody with a
horrified expression scratching their back wildly and
the words `Itching Powder’.  “Wish I could pour this
down Avril’s back,” I thought.  Then suddenly an idea
came to me.

I grinned in anticipation.  Looking round the room, I
saw Avril’s discarded off-white panties lying on a
chair, where she had left them when she exchanged them
for my `present’.

I took a piece of paper out of the waste-paper basket.
 Then, very carefully, I tore a tiny slit in the top
of the little packet and shook and squeezed out some
of the contents on to the paper.  I did not dare make
the slit any larger for fear of discovery, so it took
a minute or two to get a small pile of powder on the
paper.  I had no idea how strong the powder was and I
did not want to try it out, so I hoped this would be
enough.

Then I gingerly picked up the obnoxious Avril’s
obnoxious panties and opened the inside.  I poured the
powder on to the material at the front of the crotch,
in the middle, then spread it out a little with the
edge of the paper.  The powder was almost invisible on
the material.  A thrill of excitement and anticipation
spread through me.  I put the panties down carefully,
hoping the powder would not fall off, and then
returned the paper to the basket and restored the joke
box to the way it had been when I found it.  Confident
I had covered my tracks, I took the key and returned
to the pool.

I could not wait for the swimming to finish.  But
finally Marcia called everybody out and we trailed
back to the lounge.

Changing afterwards was even better than changing
before, as the girls would remove their costumes and
then dry themselves naked, talking loudly all the time
as usual.  I kept an eye on the cute little Martine
this time, and was rewarded when she slipped off her
bikini to show a tiny tight little vagina, almost
invisible between her legs.  Her little naked body
looked beautiful beyond words as she tossed her head
back to dry her hair, the front of her body curving
outwards smoothly right down to that lovely place
between her legs.

Avril was holding forth as usual, standing there naked
with her patch of black pubic hair quite visible and
her little breasts sticking out grandly, drying
herself with what I’m sure she saw as complete
elegance.  I had a thrill of anticipation at what I
hoped was to come.  I just hoped she would not
continue to wear the ones she had borrowed from Merle,
as I wanted to see her suffer.

She sat down on a chair opposite me to dry her feet,
lifting one foot and then the other to do it.  I had a
perfect view of the long, deep slit between her legs,
starting at that black patch of hair and spreading all
the way downwards until it appeared to meet with the
crack in her bottom on the other side.  I could see
the long oblong piece of loose pink flesh at the
bottom, like a couple of long flat testicles I
thought, with the vagina running down the middle.  It
gave me no pleasure, apart from a rather sadistic
pleasure, to see the nakedness of a girl I disliked as
much as Avril.

I could also feast my eyes on the naked beauty of the
other girls there who had attracted me – Martine,
Daisy, Elly, Lindsay – and those who had not.  Even
Angela was less inhibited this time, still with her
back to others, but facing me naked as she dried
herself.  Sure enough, she had a little tuft of hair
beginning to grow at the top of her vagina and some
long hairs hanging down between her legs.  I could
hardly keep the smile off my face as I watched her
delicately dry her small soft breasts, the towel
dangling down just to one side of her shallow, smooth
groin.  Lindsay, naked, came across to return the
half-vest to me, with a sweet shy smile.

Daisy, now that I had more time to watch her at my
leisure, had quite a prominent pubic mound that bulged
outwards as she dried her hair, with her little vagina
down the middle.  I don’t suppose that had anything to
do with her baggy panties, though the bulge, a smooth
one rather than a knobbly one like mine, might have
been noticeable under tight panties.

Saskia as usual was in her element, revelling in her
nakedness and wandering all over the room talking and
laughing non-stop.  Although she had set up the
situation for me, I got the impression she was rather
jealous if I paid too much attention to the others,
and often came back to me to say something, leaning
forward, legs spread apart and weight resting on her
hands which in turn were resting on my knees.

She was positioned like this once when Merle, naked
herself, came up behind her and playfully tickled her
between her legs.  Saskia squealed, jumped, and turned
round to chase Merle, catching her and tickling her on
her vagina in turn.  “Nobody’s allowed to do that to
me apart from my boyfriend,” she told her bossily but
with a smile on her face.

“Your boyfriend!” snorted Avril, interfering as usual.
 “That’s all you talk about, Saskia!  Who needs a
boyfriend?  And I certainly don’t believe all the
things you say you’ve done with him.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re so ugly no boy
would ever want you,” retorted Saskia, which I thought
was very close to the truth.

“Liar!  Bitch!” spat out Avril, an outburst that
brought expressions of shock to the faces of most of
the other girls, delicately bred at the Catholic
school as they were.  But they did not dare to
challenge her.

“Avril, those are my panties you’re putting on,” Merle
broke in.  “Please don’t go home with them.  I think
yours are still in my bedroom.”

Reluctantly Avril removed the yellow panties and began
putting her dress on over her naked body.  I waited in
eager anticipation.  Then she went out of the door, no
doubt to Merle’s bedroom.  I wished I could be there
when she put them on, but knew I had best keep out of
the way.

Avril returned very shortly, empty-handed, so I
assumed she had put her panties on there.  I felt
dismayed.  It looked as if the powder was not working.
 She began to pack her bag, talking to Merle as she
did so.  Then I noticed her put a hand down to her
crotch and give it a rub.

Saskia had thrown her clothes on by now and she
grabbed me by the arm.  “Come, Roy – Row, let’s go
outside,” she urged.

I saw Avril clutch at her crotch again and give it a
squeeze.  “Hang on,” I said.  “What’s wrong with
Avril?”

“Who cares about her?” Saskia snorted.  “Let’s go.”

I wished I could have given Saskia a hint of what was
really happening, but I dared not trust her not to
give it away.  So I made another excuse.  “In a
minute,” I said.  “My knee’s sore.”

I lifted my knee and pretended to inspect it.  Saskia
gave a giggle and said, “Rowena, I can see your
panties.”

“It doesn’t matter, we’re all girls here,” I said in a
giggly voice, and continued my pretence, all the time
watching Avril.  She now had both hands over her
crotch.  “Hey, look at Avril,” I said, putting on a
puzzled voice and pointing, now that it was clear
something unusual was happening.

Saskia looked, as Avril clutched tightly at her
crotch, teeth gritted, and gave a loud gasp.  Merle
looked at her in surprise.  “Are you all right,
Avril?” she asked.

“She needs a wee-wee,” suggested Clare brightly.

“Oh, shut up,” Avril snapped at her.  “Merle,
something – something’s itching horribly here.”  She
did a sort of dance, stamping her feet up and down and
wriggling, clutching herself tightly by the crotch.  I
spluttered and coughed to contain my delight and
laughter.

“Where, on your tuzi?” asked Merle, somewhat startled.

“No – yes!” squealed Avril, frantically shooting her
hands up her skirt and inside her panties.  “It’s
weird!  I can’t stand it!”

While most of the other girls stared in shock, Saskia
burst into peals of laughter.  “Oh, Avril, you look so
funny!” she cackled.  “You look just like you were
bursting to do a wee!”

Some of the other girls tried to contain their
laughter, but in vain.  They may have been somewhat
scared of Avril, but to see her like this, frantically
scratching inside her panties, was quite a cure. 
There was a noise of smothered giggles, and then some
of them burst out aloud, clapping their hands over
their mouths as they stared in fascination.

“Shut up!  I can’t bear it!” screamed Avril,
white-faced and scratching furiously.

Merle began to panic.  She raced to the door and
shouted, “Mum!  Mum!  Come quickly!”

Her tone was enough to convince anybody it was an
emergency.  Marcia came dashing in, looking as if she
expected a fatal accident.  “Mum, it’s Avril. 
Something’s wrong with her wee!  It’s itching her to
death,” blurted out Merle.

Avril was now almost doubled up on a chair.  Her skirt
was up and her hands were inside her panties,
scratching away furiously.  Her face white with alarm,
Marcia skittered over to her, grabbed her panties and
dragged them off.  As the girls all gazed in awe,
Marcia pulled Avril’s hands away and had a look.

I caught a glimpse of a vivid red vagina with the
patch of black hair at the top.  Avril struggled to
scratch again, wailing, “It itches!  It just itches so
much!  I’m going mad!”

Saskia burst out into laughter again, but the other
girls were a bit more solemn now, thinking something
was seriously wrong.  Avril clapped her hands to her
vagina again, but did not scratch so wildly this time.

“Try wiping it with this,” suggested Merle, handing
her mother Avril’s wet bikini bottom.  Marcia moved
Avril’s hands aside and wiped the area gently.

“I can’t see anything, dear,” she told Avril
comfortingly.  “My goodness, you are growing up.” 
This was presumably recognition of her pubic hair. 
“It just itches, did you say?”

“Yes, it was – driving me mad,” wailed Avril
tearfully, scratching her vagina again but not so
desperately this time.  “That’s a bit better.”  She
lay back on the chair, her vagina area, bright red
with all the scratching, fully exposed, but she had
forgotten to care.  The other girls crowded round to
have a look, and I joined them.

“When did it start?” asked Marcia.

“I’d just been to Merle’s bedroom,” came Avril’s
voice, a broken, humiliated voice.  “I was changing
back into my own panties.  Maybe . . .”

“Maybe a spider came and laid some eggs in them and
they all hatched,” suggested Merle.

“Oh, shut up,” moaned Avril, forgetting this was
Merle’s party and she was in the presence of Merle’s
mother.

“Maybe all your fleas in them went out and brought
back some more fleas with them,” suggested Saskia,
bursting into giggles again.  “Oh, Avril, you looked
so funny!”  Saskia began to mimic her, dancing around
the room, squealing and flashing her skirt up and
down.  “Ooh dear!  I’ve got fleas!  They’re all over
my pisshole!”

“Saskia!” Marcia reproved her with a rather shocked
frown, but I don’t think Saskia even heard her.  Most
of the other girls were either laughing aloud or
spluttering to cover their laughter.  Now that Avril
seemed to be out of danger, they were remembering how
funny it looked.  They gazed at Avril with a new
disrespect.

“It’s still itching too much,” wailed Avril, but I
think this was more a ploy to get some sympathy.

“I’ll get some water,” Marcia said, bustling out of
the room.

Saskia sank to the floor and wheezed with laughter. 
“Oh, you should have seen how funny you looked,
Avril,” she laughed.  “Scratching your fanny and
screaming!”

“Saskia, I hate you,” Avril ground out through
clenched teeth, hands still tightly between her legs.

At that moment Marcia fluttered back in, carrying a
dripping wet cloth.  “Just lie back, dear, and let me
see to it,” she urged her.  Avril lay back in the
chair, eyes closed.  Marcia moved her hands away and
began to run the cloth lightly over the whole pubic
area.  The girls all surrounded the chair, watching
with fascination.  Being taller than most of them, I
managed to peer over the shoulders of Lindsay and
Daisy to get a clear view of what went on.

The black slit of her vagina ran down the middle of
her open legs, with that black patch at the top.  I
was close enough to see the individual hairs
straggling out, still fairly short and slightly damp
after the swim.  Her legs were far enough apart for
the folds of skin to be seen inside her vagina, and
the surrounding skin was a bright, raw pink.  It
didn’t quite look as repulsive as Katarina’s had close
up, but it was fairly close.  There was still time –
just give her a few years.

“Ah, that’s better,” gasped Avril, without thanks, as
Marcia’s sponging seemed to remove the remainder of
the powder.  She looked upwards at all our big eyes
gazing at her, and her voice became suddenly harsh
again.  “What are all you lot gaping at?” she exploded
angrily.  “Get the hell out of here!”  She waved her
hands at us furiously.

“Avril!” reproved Marcia.  Then she turned to us.  “I
think all of you should go outside for a while,” she
said.  “We’re handling this all right now.”

Merle was allowed to stay, but the rest of us went
outside, talking in hushed, excited whispers at this
fascinating event.  There was nothing hushed about
Saskia, though.

“Did you see her pisshole, girls?” she cackled. 
“Bright red!  Like a turkey!”

Normally I presume the nicer girls at least would have
expressed some shock at Saskia’s language, but they
were so caught up in the drama of the situation that
they appeared not to notice.

“I wonder how it happened,” said Martine thoughtfully.
 Although some of the girls were less crude than
others, I noticed that none of them expressed any
sympathy for Avril.

“Her panties were in Merle’s bedroom,” said Elly. 
“She must have got an insect or something inside them
there, I think.”

“Serves her right!” laughed Saskia.  “She’s a bitch. 
I’m not a bit sorry for her.”

Saskia was even less sorry for Avril when I later had
the opportunity to tell her just what had really
happened, and almost had convulsions of laughter.  She
was full of praise for me, but as I might have
suspected could not help telling everyone about how
`her friend Rowena’ had sabotaged Avril’s panties. 
“Next time you must also put some super-glue in the
right place so her fuzzy-wuzzy hair will stick to
them,” was her suggestion.

We waited a while and gossiped about what had
happened.  I felt a nervous warmth inside me, rather a
mixed feeling.  I felt thrilled about my trick on
Avril, but a bit afraid that somehow I might be found
out, or at least suspected.  And I felt a wonderful
warmth to look round at this group of girls and know I
had been privileged to watch them all changing before
and after swimming.  The feeling of intimacy was
wonderful and it was all I could do to keep quiet.

After quite a while Merle came out of the house by
herself.  We crowded round her eagerly for a progress
report.  Apparently Avril had taken a while to recover
and had then foolishly decided to put on her panties
again, refusing to believe there was anything wrong
with them as she could see nothing inside.  But she
started itching again, not so violently this time but
enough to be uncomfortable, and had had to take them
off.  She was borrowing a pair of Merle’s panties, but
was not ready to come out again.  The humiliation
probably made her reluctant to see her friends again
for one who had been so arrogantly in charge of the
group, ruling with an element of fear.  In fact, I
never saw her again, for which I was not at all sorry.

“Serves her right,” said Saskia again, beaming
broadly.  She raised her hands in the air, swung her
legs up and stood on her hands for a moment.  Her
skirt flopped down over her stomach until she fell
over a second or two later.  She tried again, with
similar results.

“You’re not very good at it,” Merle informed her.

“Rowena’s much better at it than I am,” stated Saskia
mischievously.  “Come on, Row, show everybody how you
can do it.”

“I’ve been sick, so I shouldn’t be doing that,” I
protested weakly.

“Oh, it won’t harm you – come on, Row,” Saskia
encouraged.

I gave in, secretly longing to do it and share the
feeling of intimacy I was experiencing.  I just tucked
my skirt quickly into my panties at the front lest my
bulge should show, and stood on my hands.  I could
stay on my hands for up to half a minute, actually,
and from my upside-down position I could see bare legs
about me and hear murmurs of admiration.

Then I felt hands tickle me around my bare back and I
collapsed in a heap, bumping my head on a stone.  It
was Saskia, as I might have expected.  “Sorry, Row,
but your skirt was right down all the way at the back
and we had a big view of your panties,” she giggled.

I gasped and rubbed my sore head.  Martine was the
first to realise I was hurt.  “Are you all right,
Rowena?” she asked kindly, crouching down next to me
and unintentionally giving me a view right up to her
belly button.  I could see all of her lovely white
panties, but even in pain I warmed with the knowledge
that a few minutes earlier I had seen far more than
that.

I staggered to my feet, aware I was showing my panties
again as I put my knees up and clambered up.  “Let’s
all do handstands together, girls,” called out Saskia.
 “See if we can beat Rowena.”

“I’ll join in the next one when my head feels better,”
I said.

“Go!” Saskia called out, and they all swung their legs
into the air.  Most of them had perfunctorily tucked
their skirts in, but not very well, and I had a brief
display of underwear as they all went upside down. 
But none of them could stay up for more than a couple
of seconds, and they collapsed into heaps, usually
with their legs in the air.

“Now join us, Row,” commanded Saskia, and I joined in
the second time round.  From my upside-down position I
could see collapsing girls around me, and then
suddenly I realised I had forgotten to tuck my skirt
in this time.  I collapsed too.

We were sitting there laughing when we suddenly heard
a jocular male voice.  “That’s a very good handstand,
Rowena,” I heard, and turned round to find that
Saskia’s dad Gerald had arrived unexpectedly.  “But
you did rather display your panties.”  I felt most
embarrassed and briefly wished hellfire on the man who
had deceived me in the first place.

But then – after what I had seen, perhaps it was worth
it.  As long as I could escape undetected.  I hated
the thought of betrayal that nice girls like Daisy and
Lesley and Martine and others would feel if they knew
a boy had been there all the time.

“That doesn’t matter, Daddy – we’re all girls here,”
grinned Saskia very cheekily, glancing at me as she
said it.

Gerald had come a little early due to an evening
engagement and we had to leave at once, the first to
go, to my relief.  All I wanted to do now was to get
out while the going was good, while I was still ahead.
 And boy, was I ever ahead!  Marcia came out to see us
on our way, and we climbed into the car.

Saskia pushed me into the middle of the front seat,
and then rolled the window down so she could talk to
her friends.  Most of them ignored me, but I could see
Lindsay and Angela looking fondly after me and waving,
while Martine also flashed me a lovely smile and a
wave.  I leaned back and heaved a huge sigh of relief.
 I had got away with it, and carried a host of
exciting memories with me.

As Gerald started the engine, Saskia leaned out of the
window and shouted to the group, “Girls, before we go,
I want to tell you a very special secret.  It’s about
Rowena, and none of you have even guessed it!”

I sat up and reacted in shock.  I had taken it for
granted that Saskia would keep the secret for ever,
unless she foolishly revealed it by accident.  But now
that we were safe, she just couldn’t resist the
temptation to reveal everything.  “Hey, no!” I gasped,
grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to pull her
back.

“There is a very big secret about her and I can’t wait
to tell you,” laughed Saskia, pushing me away and
shouting to the girls again, who crowded round eager
to hear and staring at me.

“No, don’t!” I shouted, trying to put my hand over her
mouth to shut her up.  She bit my finger and then
pulled her head away.

“This is the secret, girls,” she called out as the car
just began to move off down the driveway.  Desperately
I tried to shut her up again, but all in vain.

“The secret is –” she paused dramatically.  “Rowena
has two very favourite boyfriends.  Bye - ee!”

The End



	
	
		
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