THE RELUCTANT NATURISTS (CHAPTER 1)


I have just returned from a holiday in Spain with my
parents.  We had an interesting arrangement that
required some negotiation on my part.  I managed in
the end to persuade them to book me in at a new
naturist resort on the north coast, while they stayed
at a textile hotel nearby.  We could therefore both
enjoy our chosen lifestyles without getting in each
other’s way.

My sister Jenny was not with us, as she was staying
with some friends in England.  Only the year before I
had also stayed with the same friends, and soon I plan
to write about this visit in my story “The English
Experience.”  I had hoped to go back myself as well,
but they said reluctantly that they could only take
one of us – and my parents decided it was Jenny’s
turn.

Most teenagers like myself dislike taking holidays
with their parents, but mine have always allowed me
enough independence to suit me.  I would have
preferred, obviously, to have gone somewhere
completely by myself, but my parents were not quite
prepared to allow that until I had left school.  I had
the option of staying at home by myself or joining my
parents on fairly reasonable terms, so I went – on
condition I could stay at the naturist resort.

After some negotiation beforehand, we came to terms
which were about the best I could hope for from
parents.  I was to have my own single room in the
naturist area and would meet up with my parents each
day for an evening meal – textile conditions,
unfortunately.  We had our mobile phones so we could
always make contact if necessary, but they would not
contact me unless it was vital.  That was as much
independence as I could wish for under the
circumstances, and I must say they kept to the bargain
perfectly.

We flew in to Bilbao late on a Sunday morning and were
met at the airport by the travel company we were
using.  We had a drive of just over an hour to the
resort.  They dropped me off at my place first,
checked me in (quite unnecessarily), I said, “See
you,” to my parents, and we hardly did at all for the
rest of the two weeks.  It was a thrill to be nearly
independent on holiday for the first time.

I headed for my room, full of eager anticipation. 
Although supposedly a naturist resort, the rules did
seem to be a little lax as there were quite a few
people wandering around with clothes on, and they
clearly hadn’t just arrived as I had.  Most of them
were young females between the ages of about ten and
twenty, the group that seems most embarrassed about
their developing bodies.  Naturally, I was
disappointed in them, but it didn’t inhibit me at all,
and I stripped off as soon as I got inside my room.

I didn’t stop to unpack, but headed outside to share
the freedom of nature with the other holidaymakers,
several hundred of them, I guessed.  I did a lot of
exploring, and found that, like the world-famous
naturist resort of Cap D’Agde in France, there was a
small shopping centre, with shops and restaurants. 
There was a large sandy beach, quite crowded with
people, and a large swimming pool with various kinds
of water slides and other amusements.

One of my main aims was to make friends, with either
boys or girls.  But that afternoon I could find nobody
suitable.  Most of the people there were apparently
Spanish, and I cannot speak the language, apart from
‘Ole!’  I listened for anybody speaking English, but
heard few, and nobody I could really befriend.  They
appeared to be for the most part young couples or
older people.  I wished it had been possible for my
girlfriend Marina or at least my cousin Shelley to
come with us.

Still, I was quite enjoying it all, especially my
independence.  It was rather late season, so that
probably explained why there were few
English-speakers.  In fact, when the sun set, it
quickly became a little chilly.  Like most other
people around, I hurried back to my room to put on
something to wear.

I was not badly cold, so I just threw on a long shirt
I wore at home when the temperature was cool, with
nothing underneath.  It was long enough to cover my
so-called private parts by about five centimetres. 
Then I set off to find a meal.  Since we had eaten
together earlier, my parents excused me from eating
with them that first evening.

I enjoy foreign foods, and had noted quite a few
ethnic restaurants in the little shopping complex.  I
decided to try the most unusual to start with, which
to me was a little Vietnamese restaurant.

I had expected to find low couches or mats instead of
chairs, as in a lot of Asian eating places, but in
fact customers were seated at small tables just as in
most European restaurants.  The premises were small,
with room for about twenty guests.  All the tables
were at least partly occupied when I entered.

I glanced around, and immediately saw a table for
four, occupied by three.  There was a mother with two
children, a boy of about nine and a girl a little
older.  They looked as if they could be English, but
then so many of the central Europeans do, as I have
found.  But they were not Mediterranean stock, as most
of the people at the resort were.

I like children, but my preference would have been for
people my own age, had there been any available. 
Since there weren’t, I was preparing to join this
family in the hope that they could speak English. 
Then the boy looked up from his food and said to his
mother across the table, “I don’t know what this stuff
is, but it tastes shit.”

His sister looked up at him, gave a chortle and said,
“How do you know what shit tastes like, Philip?  When
have you tasted it?”

Their mother began to reprove Philip, and from their
speech I guessed they were Australian.  Encouraged, I
moved across to the table, stood behind the empty
chair, which was opposite the girl, and asked, “Mind
if I join you?”  I had the perfect excuse, as the
other tables were all at least partly occupied.

The children looked up at me and I flashed them both a
smile, while the mother, not unfriendly, replied,
“Yeah, go ahead.”

I sat down and introduced myself cheerfully, including
the children in my speech.  Presumably recognising me
as one not too far from their own ages, they responded
with smiles and interest.

“My name’s Carly,” the girl replied cheerfully,
butting in ahead of her mother.  “My mum’s called
Pat.”  She jerked her thumb at her brother, sitting on
my right and said, “This is my naughty brother
Philip.”  She was ten and Philip nine, I soon learned.

Realising I might have a future with the children if
their mother trusted me, I resisted my impulse to
boast about my independence and just told them I was
there with my parents.

“Where are your parents?” demanded Philip.

“They don’t like ethnic food, so I just came here by
myself,” I improvised, not altogether untruthfully.

“Our parents are divorced,” Carly informed me, without
shame.  “We . . .”

“That’s enough, Carly,” reproved her mother, but she
didn’t take up the conversation herself.  I noticed
she looked rather weary.

“Do you live here?” Philip wanted to know.  I told
them where I lived, and found out that they did indeed
live in Australia.  They were visiting Europe, they
told me, which must have cost a packet, but I didn’t
inquire about that.

I ordered my food, while Philip told the waiter what
he thought of the food.  Australians don’t mince
words, but the waiter couldn’t understand them anyway.

Carly took the opportunity to question me further. 
She was fair-haired, like her mother and brother, with
light freckles around her nose and blue eyes.  She had
a kind of twisted smile and big front teeth.  She
seemed rather precocious to me, but again I expect
that is the Australian way.  Her brother’s hair was a
slightly darker shade, while he had the same large
front teeth, but big challenging green eyes and no
freckles.  They were both dressed lightly in casual
clothes.

Carly kept talking animatedly, while I smiled at her
in my most charming way, and it was quickly clear that
she had taken a fancy to me.  The look in her eyes, as
with most girls, gave it away, as she looked at me
from a slight angle with wide eyes, giggled more than
necessary and used a slightly artificial voice with
more careful enunciation.  I glanced at her mother to
see if she had picked it up, but that woman was
concentrating on her food, looking relieved if
anything to get a bit of peace.

“Have you been going round naked today?” Philip asked
me, with a challenging grin, as if it was something
naughty he wanted me to admit to.

I nodded, while his mother showed she was still taking
some notice by saying, “Quiet, Philip.”

Carly was still chattering away, holding a chopstick
between her fingers, when she dropped it on the
ground.  I could immediately tell it was deliberate. 
She bent down under the table to pick it up.  I was
sitting with my knees slightly apart and realised
immediately that she would be able to see up my shirt
if she looked in that direction.  It didn’t worry me,
and I knew that in my position she would see only an
indeterminate mass between my legs.  I wondered if
that was why she did it.

She sat up suddenly with a slightly startled look on
her face, glanced at her mother and then at me.  It
was obvious she had indeed been looking up my shirt,
but that was not the reason for her action.  She
gulped, and then said, “Roy, it’s by your feet. 
Please can you pick it up for me.”

“No worries,” I said in the Australian way, and bent
my head under the table to do so.  Carly ducked her
head as well, and she gave a rather shy grin as she
unnecessarily pointed with her arm under the table and
said, “There it is.”

As her head was down, her legs were apart, with one
knee raised slightly.  She was wearing a light blue
skirt, and I could very easily see her panties in dull
red and white – not my favourite type, but I would
never turn them down.  Now I understood why she had
worked out this plan to have me look under the table. 
When many girls trust a boy, they will `accidentally’
expose their underwear, and sometimes their nakedness
as well, in a token of trust, as has happened to me on
many occasions.  It doesn’t usually happen so soon,
but Carly was ready.  Perhaps she felt she needed an
exchange with me, having seen up my shirt.

Her face was slightly flushed and she thanked me
shyly, with a quick glance into my eyes, as we both
sat up and I handed it to her.  I smiled warmly.  Of
course, in a girl’s secret code of conduct, it would
have been quite unacceptable for me to acknowledge the
gift verbally.  I have found that often by not
acknowledging it at all, I get a second helping, just
to make sure I have indeed received the gift.

We continued to chat, mainly Carly and I, while Philip
complained to his mother about the food and she became
increasingly ratty, although rather restrained in her
responses no doubt due to my presence.

Finally the family finished their meal and prepared to
leave.  “Will you be going to the pool tomorrow, Roy?”
Carly smiled at me.  I replied in the affirmative, and
she said meaningfully, “We’ll meet you there.”

“No, you won’t, we’re going into the town tomorrow,”
her mother contradicted her.

That comment brought forth groans and protests from
her children.  She cut them short.  “You two have been
perfect pests all day,” she snapped at them angrily. 
“Tomorrow you can just do what I decide for a change.”

“But, Mum, you can go into town if you want and leave
us here,” protested Carly.

“I can’t possibly leave you here unsupervised, when
we’ve only been here a day,” she retorted.  “There’s
no crèche, so we stick together, whether you like it
or not.”

Above the continued arguments of her children, I saw
my chance and took one.  “Pat, if you like, I can look
after them tomorrow,” I ventured.

“You wouldn’t want to,” she snapped back, not angry
with me, I suppose, but with her children.

“I’m used to looking after my sister and her friends,
and I enjoy it,” I told her.  “There’s hardly anybody
else here who speaks English.  So I’d be happy to look
after them – me and my parents,” I added, hoping this
would allay any suspicions as to my motives.  I was
even prepared to try to dig my parents out and
introduce them if it would help.

It wasn’t necessary.  The air was filled with the
pleadings of her two children, and she snapped out,
“Well, if you want the little brats, you can bloody
well have them!”

The children’s voices were raised in appreciation, and
I was delighted it had been so easy.  I realised,
though, that her willingness to trust a stranger she
had known for only about half an hour stemmed more
from her frustration than anything else.  For some
reason, her children had been giving her a trying
time.  Perhaps she might change her mind when she
thought about it, although she would have more family
trouble to face if she did.

I quickly made arrangements with her, although it was
clear she had had enough and just wanted to wash her
hands of her children for the time being.  I told her
my chalet number and she promised to bring them round
at about a quarter to nine, so as to catch her nine
o’clock bus.  Despite having forestalled a family
rebellion, she was still very curt as they left, with
the children both turning and grinning at me in
appreciation as they walked out of the restaurant.

Next morning I was eagerly awaiting their arrival.  I
did not have long to wait.  I had just finished
breakfast at about half-past eight and was gazing out
of the window at the whole panorama of the resort just
below my chalet on the hillside, when I saw them
coming up the path.

They were dressed, as many other people were as it was
only just beginning to get warm.  I thought I had
better play safe to start with, so I grabbed my long
shirt again and slipped it on.  Then I stood on the
little balcony and greeted them cheerfully as they
appeared below and then mounted the steps.

“G’day, Roy,” Pat greeted me in true Australian
fashion, while the children grinned at me.  Pat seemed
somewhat less strained now.  “Hope you don’t mind us
coming early, but the kids were so keen they kept
pestering me and I got sick of it.  Mighty grateful to
you.”

“That’s fine,” I smiled.  “I’m all ready.”

“Your parents here?” asked Pat, looking around for
them.

“No, they’ve gone out to breakfast,” I improvised
quickly.  “We weren’t expecting you till a quarter to
nine, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, all right, then,” grinned Pat, obviously not
thinking it important to meet them.  “I’ll be off. 
Cheers, kids, and behave yourselves.”  Her resigned
tone indicated she didn’t think there was much chance
of that.

As she made her departure, the children grinned up at
me.  Then Philip said triumphantly, “When we were
below you on the path, I could see your dick under
your shirt.”

“Philip, don’t be rude,” Carly reproved him, but her
tone of voice seemed to show that she hadn’t noticed
and was disappointed at missing out.

“It doesn’t matter,” I shrugged.  “This is a naturist
resort, and real naturists don’t say things like that
because they know it doesn’t matter.”

“We’re not real naturists,” Carly burst in straight
away, and rather heatedly.  “It’s Mum who’s the real
naturist and she tricked us into coming here.”

“Tricked you?” I replied.  “How did she trick you?”

“She told us we were coming to this seaside place but
she didn’t tell us everyone would be naked,” Carly
replied.  “I’m telling you, it was a shock to see all
these bare people walking around.”

“She said if she had told us then we wouldn’t have
come,” added Philip, but his gleaming, roving eyes
showed that he was quite excited by the unusual
sights.  He was now watching a couple of naked teenage
girls walking down the path with a little more than
casual interest.

“So you haven’t been to a place like this before,
then?” I surmised, rather obviously.

“You bet we haven’t,” answered Carly, looking up at me
with her big blue eyes and a half-smile on her face. 
She was wearing a blue and white top and skirt, with
the midriff bare.  “But Mum does.  She goes to a
naturist club back home, but she only goes when we’re
staying with our dad, because she knows we won’t go.”

“We wouldn’t go bare yesterday,” put in Philip.  “And
she got mad because we stayed inside and she said she
wouldn’t be seen with us in our swimming costumes,
with her all bare and everything.  I’d never go out
with her when she’s bare.  She looks awful – she has
these big tits that flop down over her tummy.”  He
demonstrated with his hands.

“It serves her right for tricking us,” added Carly. 
“We stayed inside, but Philip was watching people
through the window.”

“So were you,” Philip counter-accused.

“Only a bit,” answered Carly.  “I don’t like it here.”

“So what do you want to do today, then?” I asked them.

“Go out without our mum,” answered Carly.  “Maybe your
parents can drive us somewhere.”

“There’s an amusement park in town!” burst out Philip,
making it clear that had been their hope and plan all
along.  “Let’s go there!”

“Well, we can’t do that today,” I told them, although
I could probably have worked it out somehow if I had
wanted.  But I decided to stay at the resort and try
to change the children’s minds.

They both looked dismayed at my negative answer.  “But
can’t your parents get us there?” asked Carly, as if
it were the easiest thing in the world.

“No, their room is in the next section,” I told them. 
“And they’re having a day by themselves while I look
after you two, so we won’t be seeing them.  Don’t you
want to go swimming or anything?”

“Yes, but not *naked*!” objected Carly.  “We’ve got
our swimming costumes” she indicated the bag she was
carrying, “and we know you’ll let us wear them, even
if Mum won’t.  There are other people wearing swimming
costumes too.”

“Why don’t you want to swim naked?” I asked.

“I’d feel bad with all those people looking at me,”
answered Carly.

“I’ll only do it if Carly will,” said Philip.

“But this is a naturist place and nobody looks at
anybody else at all if they’re naked,” I told them. 
(“Philip does,” interrupted Carly.)  “People will
stare at you if you wear a swimming costume, and think
you’re shy, which is bad at a place like this, or a
spy, which is worse.  You might have other kids coming
up to you and teasing you, or even trying to pull your
swimming costume off.”  I made up the last bit on the
spur of the moment – I have never seen it happen.  But
then, other resorts I have been to have had total
nudity.

The children looked rather concerned by this news. 
Carly looked at me anxiously and said, “But you’ll
stop them, won’t you?”

“Well, have you thought how I’d feel?” I asked them. 
“I’m sure your mum would feel the same.  You feel bad
to go with her when she’s naked, but I’d feel bad
going with you when you’re wearing swimming costumes. 
You’d make me feel bad then.  Had you thought of
that?”  This, I confess, was not really true.

“But you’re older,” answered Philip, as if that had
anything to do with it.

“Let’s go inside,” suggested Carly.  We were still
standing on the balcony and there were people passing
by much of the time, so she was probably afraid of
being overheard.

We went in through the sliding glass doors.  Although
I was there for a single room, there were two beds in
it.  Without asking, Philip jumped on to the one
nearer the door and lay back on it, arms behind his
head.  I had been sleeping on the other, but had
pulled the covers back over, and Carly sat on that
rather than on one of the two wooden chairs near the
foot of the beds.  I sat on one of those.

“I’m surprised nakedness bothers you,” I said,
conscious that both children were eyeing the bottom of
my shirt to see if my genitals were visible.  I didn’t
think they were.  “Australians are supposed to be
confident people.  And most kids go swimming naked or
play together naked at times, and brothers and sisters
have their baths together.”

“Oh, we do that all right,” replied Carly.  (“More
than that,” Philip butted in with a naughty giggle.) 
“But we don’t want to do it in public, with people
staring at us.”

“I told you, nobody will stare at you in this place,”
I assured them with a smile.  I did my best to sound
casual and relaxed, in a ploy to downplay everything
but still get my way this them.  “Everybody just
accepts you as one of the club, and people wearing
swimming costumes just don’t belong to that club.”

“They seemed to be having fun when we saw them
yesterday,” Carly said.

“Back home kids talk about your dick if they see it,”
Philip said. “They say it’s too big or too small or
too thin or too fat or too ugly.  In my class the boys
even had a competition to see who had the longest
dick.”

“Did they?” asked Carly, interested.  “Where did you
come?”

“Second,” grinned Philip, suddenly looking a little
pleased with himself.  “Very nearly first.”  He
glanced down at his shorts, and as he was lying on his
back there was a small bulge in the appropriate area. 
The legs of his shorts stood up a little on either
side, revealing brown underpants.  Again they are not
my favourite type, and I hoped Carly had something
better to show me this time.

“Well done,” I congratulated Philip.  Actually, I
thought such a competition rather off colour, but
played along with him as part of my plan.  “So why are
you so frightened of swimming naked here when just
about everybody else is?”

“I’m not,” objected Philip.  “It’s Carly.  If she’ll
do it, I will.”

Carly looked embarrassed.  She put her hands round one
knee and pulled it up in her awkwardness, giving a
glimpse of thin white panties under her blue and white
skirt.

“Aha, Carly, you’re showing your panties!” laughed out
Philip, pointing.  She put her knee down hurriedly,
looking more awkward than ever.

“Philip, cut that out,” I told him.  “That doesn’t
matter at all.  When you’re with me, you can go wild
and do whatever you want, and I won’t let anybody say
anything silly like that.”

“Go wild?  You mean it?” asked Philip, his eyes
gleaming.

I nodded, wondering what I had let myself in for.  “As
long as you don’t say or do anything that bothers or
hurts anybody else,” I told him.  “Or that might get
you into trouble with your mum,” I added.

Carly leaned back on my bed, one elbow on the pillow,
and lifted her leg to put her foot on the bed under
her bottom, revealing her panties more clearly.  They
were plain and white, made I think of thin cotton, and
were smooth around the crotch.  She was obviously
doing it deliberately again for my benefit.  She shot
a challenging glance at Philip, daring him to say
anything.

But Philip was in thoughtful mode, and I wondered what
mischief was going on behind those gleaming eyes. 
Then he looked at me and said, “If being naked is so
good, why are you still wearing clothes?”

“Well, that’s just because you’re wearing clothes,” I
told him, shrugging my shoulders.  “You feel bad when
your mum is naked, so I don’t want you to feel bad
about me.”

“We won’t feel bad,” said Carly, her leg still up and
trying unsuccessfully to hide her curiosity.  “You can
do if you want.”

“It’s best if we all stay the same while we’re
together,” I told her, still talking in as casual a
way as possible.

“I don’t mind going naked,” said Philip, stealing
another glance at the little bulge in his shorts. 
“It’s Carly.”

“We can try it if you do,” Carly said to me
reluctantly, but without looking at me.

I felt obliged to make a gesture, even if it was to be
a unilateral one.  “All right,” I said, standing up
and pulling my shirt off over my head.

The children were not good at hiding their curiosity. 
I went to the bathroom at the back to fetch a towel to
sit on, and they both stared at me as I came back. 
Philip, unable to keep silence, blurted out, “You’ve
got hair.”

“That’s just part of growing up,” I told him, standing
in front of him and letting him see clearly the pubic
hair spread around my groin area.  I always keep it
cut a bit so as not to alarm small children, many of
whom seem to be repulsed by a mass of hair.  “You’ll
both get hair there when you get older,” I said.  I am
always glad I have normal sized genitals too.  If they
are too small they invite ridicule from non-naturists,
and if they are too large they repulse preteen girls.

“My mum’s got lots of hair there,” Carly couldn’t
resist telling me.  “It’s all curly, and it’s brown,
but her real hair is fair and it’s straight.”

“Yes, it’s just a different kind of hair,” I answered,
sitting on my towel and awaiting further developments.

“How old were you when you first got hair?” Philip
wanted to know.

“About eleven,” I answered.  That I suppose was about
true – ‘about’ being the operative word.  I was
twelve, to be exact, and ahead of most of my class.

“Will I get like that when I’m twelve?” asked Philip,
pointing at my pubic hair.

“Maybe sooner, probably later,” I answered.  “It comes
at different times.”

“And what about Carly?” Philip wanted to know.

“It often happens at about eleven for girls,” I
answered, sensing Carly was rather uncomfortable. 
“Sometimes older, sometimes younger, but it doesn’t
matter when.”  The two looked thoughtful.

(To be continued)



THE RELUCTANT NATURISTS (CHAPTER 2)


There followed a couple of minutes of inconsequential
chat, as the children told me about life in Australia
generally.  They quickly seemed to lose their
embarrassment over my nakedness.  Then Carly stood up,
came over to me, looked into my eyes with her pleading
blue ones, put both hands on my knee and whispered,
“Roy, please may we go to the amusement park?”

“How do we get there?” I asked.  A thought came to me.
 “Have you enough money, anyway?”

A look of dismay came over both their faces.  “Oh,
no!” gasped Carly, hand to mouth and staring at
Philip.  “Mum forgot to give us any money for today!”

“Did you forget to ask her?” I suggested.

“She should remember!” protested Carly.  “She’s
supposed to be in charge of us.”

“Can you pay for us, Roy, and Mum can pay you back
later?” asked Philip, sitting up on the bed with his
knees up.

“I haven’t enough money for that, and we can’t get
there anyway,” I replied, taking the easy way out. 
“Sorry, but we’ll have to stay here today.”

They groaned.  Then Carly looked at Philip and said
gleefully, “You’re showing your underpants now.”

“You can see all you like,” grinned Philip,
deliberately lying back and pulling his shorts up at
the top so as to display more of them.

“Carly, as I said earlier, I won’t have anybody saying
silly things,” I told her sternly.  “That doesn’t
matter at all.”

“You said we could go wild here and do whatever we
like?” Carly checked with me, with her precocious
half-smile, looking at me out of the corner of her big
blue eyes.

“Yes, as long as it doesn’t hurt or bother anybody
else,” I reminded her, wondering what mischief she had
in mind.

Grinning, Carly put her hand on her brother’s foot and
chanted, “There was a little mouse, and he lived just
there.  And if anybody frightened him, he ran – right
up to *there*!”

On the last word she ran her fingers like lightning up
Philip’s leg, inside his shorts and started tickling
him between his legs.  Philip squealed and wriggled
with laughter but didn’t try to stop her.

“Now it’s your turn,” Carly said, turning and looking
at me with her usual half-smile.

I had no objection to doing it, but I did not want any
trouble from Pat about sexual assaults on her
children.  So I asked them, “Doesn’t your mother mind
you doing this?”

They suddenly looked rather guilty, but Philip
answered, “She won’t mind because she’s a naturist.”

“Naturists don’t touch people there,” I told them,
ignoring the fact that my confession would label me as
not being a true naturist.  Touching is a real
pleasure I enjoy, but I only do it with the willing
permission of others – most notably Marina’s infamous
little brother Scott.  That, I think, is the main
reason why I have never been in real trouble about it
yet, because unwilling partners would be sure to give
me away sooner or later.

“But, Roy, please don’t tell her, will you?” Carly
begged me, clutching my arm.

Cunningly I decided to try a little leverage.  “Well,
if you two were real naturists, it wouldn’t *really*
matter, because it’s just fun and he doesn’t mind,” I
said.  “But you two aren’t naturists, so it’s really
pretty serious.  You could get into a lot of trouble.”

“But we will be naturists, really,” Philip assured me,
sitting up and looking alarmed.  “We’ll do it later
when it’s warmer, but it’s too cold now.  Won’t we,
Carly?”

Carly looked very reluctant, but then she looked at me
and said, “As long as you don’t tell about – that,
Roy.  Or anything else we do.”

“Why, what else do you do?” I asked her.

Philip opened his mouth to speak, but Carly broke in
quickly.  “Nothing, really,” she said.  “But you won’t
tell, will you, Roy?”

“Not if you’re real naturists,” I agreed.

“Yes, we’ll do it later,” muttered Carly, looking
uncomfortable.

“Now you can do the mouse bit, Roy,” Philip encouraged
me, lying back and pulling up his shorts again.

I wasn’t really keen to do anything physical so soon,
before I knew them better, but Philip obviously wanted
me to do it and Carly was looking happier now.  “Yes,
go on, Roy,” she grinned at me.  “He’s really ticklish
under his balls.”

“You say the rhyme for me, then,” I told her, as I was
not sure I could remember it.  She did, and when she
got to ‘right up to there’, I ran my fingers up
Philip’s leg, slipped them inside his shorts and began
to tickle him gently under the crotch, feeling the
wobbly little bits inside.  He wriggled and hooted
with laughter.

“Now it’s me again,” said Carly eagerly.  This time,
on the magic words, she ran her fingers up and I saw
her slip them inside his underpants.  I caught a
glimpse of a little pale pink wrinkled testicle
sticking out from under her fingers, with the stalk of
something else disappearing behind her hand.

“Your turn,” she said, and I rather reluctantly, for
fear of possible trouble rather than anything else,
copied her.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic
and immediately felt the soft wrinkled skin with a
harder oval objects underneath.  Philip squealed with
laughter as I tickled him underneath.

“Last time,” announced Carly, looking quite proud at
showing me what she did with her brother.  This time I
saw her plunge her hand right inside those brown
underpants and seize hold of something within.  As
Philip squealed and giggled, she pulled out her hand,
gripping something.  Through the ring made by her
finger and thumb I could see the end of a pink
foreskin, looking like a round pair of lips as it
closed over his prepuce.  Then she took her hand away,
leaving his genitals dangling outside his underpants
and shorts.

His penis lay on its side, smooth and pale pink, with
the little wrinkled testicles underneath – well, one
was outside and the other still inside his underpants.
 It was perhaps about ten centimetres long, quite an
impressive beast for a small boy to possess without
being weird.

“The mousie has found a sausage and now he’s going to
eat it,” announced Carly, obviously showing off to me.
 She picked up the end of her brother’s penis between
thumb and fingers, stretched it out, and then bent
down and clamped her lips around it, as if she was
taking a bite out of it.

Philip lay back and giggled again.  “I might piss on
you,” he warned her, laughing.

“Now it’s your turn, Roy,” Carly told me, tucking the
penis back under cover again.  “There was a little . .
.”

“I think that’s enough,” I broke in, feeling slightly
nauseated by what she had done.  “Naturists don’t
really do that sort of thing.  So let’s call that game
over.”

“Now it’s your turn, Carly,” announced Philip, sitting
up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“No,” protested Carly, suddenly looking alarmed.  “I
don’t want to.”  She shot me a sidelong glance.  She
was clearly not quite ready for such intimacy from me
yet.

“Aw, come on, Carly, we always take it in turns,” said
Philip, glowering at her as if he had been cheated. 
“It’s fun.  Roy does it nicely.”

“I don’t want to right now,” argued Carly.  “Roy, you
said we mustn’t do things that bother others.”

“That’s right,” I agreed reluctantly.  “Philip, if
Carly doesn’t want to, that’s fine.  She doesn’t have
to.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have started if she wasn’t going
to give me a turn,” responded Philip sulkily.

“We can play other things, Philip,” Carly said
pleadingly.

Philip rose from the bed, took Carly by the arm and
guided her over to the door.  “Let’s play . . .” he
whispered in her ear, and I couldn’t hear the last
part.

Carly looked startled.  “With him?” I heard her
whisper back, as she shot me a glance.  I tried to
look unconcerned, and as if I hadn’t heard.

Philip nodded, a grin on his face.  Carly looked
uncomfortable, then I heard her whisper, “But we keep
our underwear on, okay?”

There was another muttered consultation, which I could
not hear however much I strained my ears, and then
Carly seemed to get her way.  They turned and came
back to me.

“We’re going to play another game,” Carly told me,
smiling at me from the corner of her eyes.  “This is a
hotel and you’re the manager.”  She moved the table to
be a reception desk and sat me down behind it.

They went outside and then came in again, arm in arm
and grinning self-consciously.  “Good evening,
manager,” grinned Philip at me.  “Do you have a double
room?”

I wasn’t sure how they wanted to play it, but decided
to be agreeable unless instructed otherwise.  “Yes,
sir,” I answered.  “How many would you like?”

“One for each of us, please,” answered Philip, but
Carly butted in, “No, we’re sharing one, silly.”  She
gave a giggle.  “First time I’ve seen a hotel manager
with his dick sticking out.”

“My dick’s longer than his, and he’s much bigger than
I am,” boasted Philip proudly.

I’m sure it wasn’t, quite, except in proportion to the
rest of the body, but I wasn’t prepared to argue or
get into a measuring competition.  “I can give you
Room 333,” I told them.  “We moved the camels out of
there yesterday.  What’s the name, please?”

They looked at each other uncertainly, and then Carly
said, “Mrs Smith.  I mean, Mr and Mrs Smith.”

“And are you married?” I asked.

“No,” answered Philip, and “Yes,” answered Carly.  “We
were married today,” she added, with her half-smile.

“Congratulations to both of you,” I said.  “Here are
your keys.”

“Thank you, mate – I mean, my man,” said Philip,
taking the imaginary keys.  “Will you take the baggage
up to our room, please.”

“Certainly,” I grinned, standing up, picking up a
startled Carly and putting her over my shoulder.  She
screamed in surprise and laughed.

“Hey, what are you doing to my wife?” Philip wanted to
know.

“You asked me to take the baggage up to your room,
sir,” I told him.  “I thought she was the baggage you
wanted me to take.”  The joke fell quite flat, though,
as they were evidently too young to understand the
humour, so I put the giggling Carly down and picked up
some imaginary suitcases.  I led them to the far bed
and opened an imaginary door, showing them inside.

“Thank you, my man.  Here is your tip,” said Philip,
slipping me a ten-thousand note.  Or it may have been
a one-centime coin, as I couldn’t see it at all.  It
was quite invisible.

I shut the door and returned to my desk, turning the
chair round so I could see them.  They sat next to
each other on the bed and giggled with embarrassment.

“You first,” whispered Philip.  “No, it was you who
wanted to play it,” insisted Carly.

Carly finally got her way.  Philip stood up and said
in the same artificial, self-conscious voice that they
were both using all the time, “Well, my dear, I’m
going to have a shower and then we can get to bed. 
Help me with my trousers, please.”

Despite the mention of trousers, Philip put his arms
up and Carly pulled his shirt off over his head,
showing me his smooth, tanned back.  Then, with a lot
of giggling on both sides, she fiddled with his shorts
and eventually pulled them down.  His underpants came
partway down too, showing half a white bottom before
he threw me a sheepish grin over his shoulder and
pulled them up again.

Dressed only in those brown underpants now, he acted
out the shower, even making his voice sound deep as he
sang tunelessly.  “How about singing `Waltzing
Matilda’ while you’re showering?” I suggested, and he
obliged in a silly voice.  He ran his hands all up and
down his body to simulate washing, and then faced
Carly while he washed his front.  I saw his hands
disappear below hip level as he ‘washed’ there, and
there was a squeal and a giggle from Carly that
suggested he had done something revealing.

“Now it’s your turn, my dear,” he said as he came out,
forgetting to dry himself.

“Oh, I don’t think I need a shower tonight,” grinned
Carly, looking coy and forgetting to change her voice.

“No, come on, you must have one.  I don’t want to get
into bed with a smelly woman,” said Philip, in his
man’s voice.

“Ah, no, Philip, let’s forget that part,” said Carly
with an embarrassed grin and in her normal voice.

Philip turned to look at me and said, “You know why
she doesn’t want to shower?  She’s growing boobies and
she doesn’t want you to see them.”

Carly reacted crossly but I broke in with, “Hey,
Carly, that’s great!  You must be so pleased about
that.”

She sat there uncertain of how to react, so I went on
cunningly, “You know, my sister Jenny is eleven and
she’s just started growing little breasts.  She’s so
proud of them because she’s growing up now.  Do you
like yours, Carly?”

A little red in the cheeks, she looked at me to make
sure I wasn’t teasing her, and then said, “Well, sort
of.”

“Come on, let Roy see them,” Philip urged her, tugging
at her blue and white top.  She pushed his hands away
roughly.

“Hey, Philip, you don’t do that when she doesn’t want
it,” I broke in.  “If she’s too scared, I understand.”

“No, I’m not scared,” Carly denied.  “You can – I
don’t mind doing it if you want.”

“No, I don’t want you to feel bad,” I assured her,
playing her along with the skill I have developed over
the years.

“I don’t really feel bad,” said Carly.  Then, suddenly
reverting to their game, she affected an adult voice
and said, “I think I’ll have a quick shower after
all.”  She giggled.  “I don’t want to stink in bed.”

She stood up, said sharply to Philip as he tried to
help her, “No, I’ll do it,” and pulled off her top. 
She had no vest underneath, but the swimming costume
lines showed she often wore a small bikini.  The area
around her little breasts was white, and the little
pale pink nipples stuck out a couple of centimetres on
the end of two tiny pyramids of white flesh.  I
wondered whether to make a favourable comment but she
turned away from me quite quickly, so I decided not
to.

Facing Philip rather than me, she slipped off her
elastic-waisted skirt so that she was wearing only her
thin panties, with the colour of her skin evident
through the material and crease in her bottom just
visible at the back.  Then she had her pretend shower,
trying to sing but in a very strained way, and turning
round now and then to face me, although without daring
to look at me.  The cotton was tight and smooth as it
disappeared between her legs.

“Do you like her boobs?” Philip asked me.

Although Carly glared at him, she didn’t try to shut
him up, so I decided she was wanting an answer.  “They
are really beautiful, quite perfect,” I answered,
smiling warmly at her.  “Jenny looks great, but Carly
looks even better.”

“Some of my friends are growing them too,” Carly said,
turning to face me properly now and obviously
encouraged.  “But my best friend Laura, she’s still
very flat.  She doesn’t say so, but I bet she wishes
she had them too.”

“And Chelsea wears a bra,” put in Philip.

“Well, she’s a show-off,” said Carly.  “I want one
too, but Mum says I don’t need one yet.  What do you
think, Roy?”

“Maybe it’s a good idea if you feel best with a bra,”
I answered carefully.  “But I don’t want to argue with
your mum.  Jenny doesn’t want one, though.  She’s a
naturist, so she doesn’t like wearing more clothes
than she has to in our hot climate.”

“It’s hot in Australia, too,” Philip broke in, going
into a long description of the heat back home, the
game forgotten.

“Does she wear panties?” Carly wanted to know about
Jenny.

“She does usually, when she wears clothes at all,” I
answered.  I told them briefly how for most of the
year we go about our house and garden naked.

“Our mum does that,” Carly told me.  “But she doesn’t
want the neighbours to see her.  She looks terrible,
with her boobs all hanging down.  I don’t want boobs
like that!  Do you think mine will grow like that?”

“You could always have an operation to make them
smaller, if you decide you want them that way,” I told
her.  “But don’t do it now!  You look so beautiful
like you are now.”

Carly gave an embarrassed smile and looked down at her
little pointed breasts, rubbing them gently with her
hand.  Then Philip said, “Let’s get on with our game.”
 He changed his voice.  “Time for bed now, Mrs Smith,
after our wedding.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Carly, changing her voice in the
middle.  “All right, dear, I’m ready when you are.” 
She lay on her back on the bed, her panties stretched
and smooth all the way down.  I could make out a
slight depression in the middle as it disappeared
between her legs.

“Coming, my dear,” answered Philip, dragging off his
underpants and lying down next to her on the bed, his
penis flopping back upward towards his stomach.

“Hey, I said we keep our underwear on, and you
agreed,” protested Carly in her normal voice.

“I’m not scared to let Roy see my dick,” boasted
Philip.  “He’s showing us his dick all the time, so he
must think you’re silly to be so scared to show him
your fanny.”

“The proper names are penis and vagina, you know,” I
informed them, rather tired of their use of dirty
slang.

“We know that,” retorted Carly scornfully.  “But we
don’t want to use rude words like that.”

“Those aren’t rude words – yours are the rude ones,” I
objected.

“Everybody in Australia uses them,” Carly informed me.
 “That’s what my mum calls them.”  There wasn’t much I
could argue against that.

“Hey, Roy – I mean, manager.  Have you got any
condoms?” Philip asked, standing up and pointing to
his penis.  It hung down proudly, smooth and straight,
a handsome implement if ever I saw one.  Obviously
these two had reached a far more advanced stage of sex
education than was available in our staid,
old-fashioned English school back home.

“No, I don’t have any,” I told him, and I saw his face
fall.  Obviously he had been hoping I would give him a
real one.

“We don’t need a condom, dear, because we’re going to
have a baby,” Carly said in Mrs Smith’s voice.  In her
own, she told me, “Philip always wants to try a
condom.  He tried to use a balloon once.  But he
couldn’t fit it on his dick!  It wouldn’t go over the
end.”  She giggled loudly.

“Don’t you ever wear a condom?” asked Philip
desperately.

“I never have,” I told them.  I am in no hurry to
become sexually active, and that is the same for many
naturists.  We enjoy sex as much as the ‘textiles’ –
or so I’m told – but what are the uncontrollable urges
of the textiles are in our case well satisfied in the
naked company of others.  Aunt Sue tells me it tastes
best of all when we wait and use it only for those
with whom we have first developed a real deep
relationship, preferably in marriage.  I tried to
explain that to them.

“But we’re only playing,” protested Carly.  “We’ll
show you.”

“I thought you wanted to keep your panties on,” Philip
challenged her.

“Yes, I will,” giggled Carly playfully, grasping both
sides of her panties tightly with her hands.

“I’m going to pull them off!” shouted Philip, leaping
on top of her and tugging at the panties.  She rolled
over on to her tummy, laughing all the time.  I was
about to stop Philip, but it was quite clear that
Carly was enjoying it.

“Help me, Roy!” Philip called me, tugging at the back
of her panties.  I didn’t follow it up as I wasn’t
sure whether Carly would accept my stripping her, and
I wanted to go very carefully until she was actively
trusting me with her nakedness.

“Let go, or I’ll tear your panties,” Philip ordered
her, still tugging.  Carly gave a squeal and a giggle,
and let go.  She still wriggled hard, to put up a show
of protest, but it was clearly a game.  Philip had his
back to me, and his penis and testicles dangled down
between his legs as he pulled.

As they were neither of them looking at me, I shifted
my position so as to view the action better.  Carly’s
little rounded white bottom was exposed, and with a
sudden heave Philip pulled the panties down to her
knees.  As she heaved and wriggled, giggling all the
time, I could see that black crack stretching from her
bottom, between her legs and round the other side.

Philip heaved the panties over Carly’s feet and held
them up in triumph.  “I’ve raped her!” he shouted. 
“Look!”  Clearly he had not yet graduated from his
Australian sex education class.  “Hey, Roy, do you
think she has a beautiful pussy?”

“I can’t see it, but it doesn’t matter,” I answered. 
Carly was still giggling, now lying flat on her tummy
on the bed with her hands clasped underneath and
between her legs so I could only see fingers there
instead of vagina.

“Come on, Carly, show Roy your pussy now,” Philip
urged her.  “Let her play `Little Mouse’ with you.”

“No,” giggled Carly, wriggling coyly.

“Well, let’s carry on with our game, then,” decided
Philip.  Changing his voice, he said, “Mrs Smith, I’m
going to poke you!  Turn over.”

“No,” squealed Carly between giggles.

“Well, I’ll have to do it this way, then,” decided
Philip.  He sat on her thighs, took his penis in his
hands and lowered it down to push it against Carly’s
backside.

“No, Philip, that’s dirty, don’t do that!” protested
Carly, trying to turn on her side.  “You’re not a
homo, so keep your rude little dick out of my
arsehole!”

“Gee up, horsey!” laughed Philip, riding her and still
fiddling around with his penis on her crack.

Carly wriggled over on her side and pushed him off
with great effort.  She sat up on the bed, facing him
crossly with legs spread apart.  I could see the soft
rounded lips of her hairless vagina, slightly open in
the middle as she spread her legs, and the loose pink
skin underneath.  As usual with girls her age, it was
the most beautiful sight on earth to me.

“You’re spoiling it, Philip, you stupid little
pissball,” she told him crossly.  “I’ll kick you in
the balls if you do that again.”

“Well, lie down, my dear, so I can do it properly,”
Philip told her, pushing her between the breasts.  She
fell back on the pillow and put her knees up, wither
having forgotten me or being no longer concerned about
what I could see.  She spread her knees apart, and I
got what to me is the most thrilling view of all.  The
soft pink skin between her legs was shaped like an
African war shield, with the line of her little vagina
running down the middle.

Philip fell over her, his genitals dangling down
again.  I could no longer see Carly above her navel,
but I saw her reach out both hands and take hold of
Philip’s penis.  As he giggled, she began to tickle
it, making `koochie-koochie’ noises all the time. 
Slowly it began to stiffen.  The testicles dropped,
the penis rose, and then he lay down on top of her.

She gave a squeal and a giggle, and I was afraid for a
moment that I was going to witness a genuine act of
incest.  But Philip did not actually try to force his
penis inside, leaving it, from what I could see,
squashed between the loins of them both as they
giggled and heaved together.

“Uh! Uh! Uh!” went Philip, wriggling from side to
side.  “Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!” went Carly in response,
kicking her legs gently, that wonderful war shield
before my eyes in all its glory.

Then suddenly she gave a little scream.  “Ooh, Philip,
get off, you’re squashing my boob!” she exclaimed.

Philip obediently rolled on to his side, legs
spreadeagled and a now softening penis hanging down at
an angle.  Carly sat up, massaging her left breast
anxiously.  “I told you you have to be careful,” she
accused him.

“Wow, that was good,” grinned Philip mischievously,
panting for breath.  “Did you like that, Roy?”

“Well, thank you for showing me, but it’s not really
my sort of game,” I excused myself.

Philip looked down at his penis and wiggled it, but it
didn’t respond this time.  Then he said, “Carly, let’s
go for a swim now.”

(To be continued)



THE RELUCTANT NATURISTS (CHAPTER 3)


When Philip made his suggestion, Carly’s face was a
picture.  She was still flushed with the excitement of
what they had just been doing, but clearly daunted by
the prospect of exhibiting her naked body in public
for the first time.  Her hand edged towards her loins,
as if to cover them, but then she closed her legs and
the area of embarrassment disappeared from view.

Philip took that as acceptance.  His face too was a
mixture of contrasting emotions, but the positive was
the stronger.  He grabbed the bag they had brought
with them.  “We’re going to need some sun cream,” he
said.

He pulled out a bottle of lotion and took the top off.
 Then he suddenly thought of something, stopped, and
held out the bottle to me.  “Roy, you put it on for
me,” he ordered, throwing himself on to the bed he had
first used and lying on his back, arms behind his
head.  His penis lay floppily on its side.

“All right,” I grinned.  Using the lotion, I began to
plaster him from head to foot with the liquid, white
but turning transparent as I rubbed it in.  I covered
his face, neck, arms, shoulders and stomach, working
downwards briskly.  Then I moved on to his hips and
began to work down his legs.  I was too cautious to
tackle his genitals without some encouragement.  If
none came, I would ask him if he wanted me to do them
or would do it himself.

Carly gave me that.  “Roy, you’ve forgotten his
prick,” she called out to me.  “If that gets
sunburned, he won’t be able to piss any more.”  Philip
chuckled.

“Do you want me to do that?” I asked him.  Philip
nodded, grinning, with his eyes gleaming.

“Come on, tickle him there,” Carly encouraged me. 
“Don`t worry, he likes it.”

Just testing, I put a finger under his little pink
wrinkled testicles and gave it a twitch.  Sure enough,
Philip laughed and wriggled, obviously enjoying the
experience.

Carly came over to help.  “Here it is,” she grinned,
taking his penis between her fingers and pulling it
towards me.  I took hold of the exhibit, to more
chuckles from its owner.  It felt limp and smooth in
my hands.

Holding it with one hand, I rubbed the sun cream in
gently with the other.  As I continued to rub until it
became transparent, I could feel stirrings within as
it began to swell slightly.  It no longer felt limp. 
Then I set to work on his testicles, but it was not as
easy on the loose skin.  Still, I suppose the wrinkles
would prevent them from getting burned so easily.

As I reluctantly replaced Philip’s so-called private
parts to continue my work on his legs, Carly grabbed
hold of his penis.  “Hey, you must do inside as well,”
she said jauntily, pulling back the foreskin to
uncover the little purplish prepuce underneath. 
Philip took it all in his stride, grinning broadly.

This was not really necessary, in my view, but with
the encouragement of them both I did the job quickly. 
“That tickles,” giggled Philip, wriggling as I ran my
finger round the tender flesh, avoiding the little
hole in the end.  Carly watched closely, smiling and
fascinated, as I tried to rub it in, but I had put too
much on.

“Philip, you’re going to be running around with a
little white blob on the end of your dick,” she
giggled at him.

“Let’s see,” replied Philip, sitting up and looking. 
Then he took the bottle from me and squeezed a big
blob on to the unsheathed end of his penis.  “Look at
me!” he laughed, standing up and facing the mirror. 
The reflection revealed an upper half of penis and a
lower half of sticky white.

Then suddenly he gasped and clutched himself between
his legs.  “Ooh, that stings,” he groaned, grabbing
his penis with both hands.

“You must have put cream down your hole,” giggled
Carly unsympathetically.  “Quickly, wash it off in the
dunny.”

Still clutching his penis and in some pain, Philip
hobbled off to the bathroom.  Carly followed him in
and I tagged along at the back.  Philip turned the
cold tap on fast in the washbasin but was too short to
get his penis in the basin and under the flow of
water.  He jumped on the pedal bin next to the basin
and thrust his penis over the bowl, but leaning over
as he was he caused the bin to overbalance.

He grabbed hold of the tap and just saved himself from
falling flat on his face, but he gave a shriek as in
the process he squashed his testicles against the edge
of the basin.  He scrambled upright again, yelling
with pain, clutching his genitals tightly, jumping up
and down and almost crying.

“Quick, into the shower,” I urged him, reaching
inside, turning on the cold tap and pushing him
inside.  He squealed with the cold of the water, but
then recovered to stand there urgently scraping the
cream off his exposed and obviously sensitive prepuce.

“Next time you go to the dunny you’ll piss out sun
cream,” Carly laughed at him.

“The dunny - is that what you call the toilet?” I
asked her.

“Well, that’s what we call it,” she said.  “Or else we
just call it the shithouse.  I think a dunny is
supposed to be the little one out in the back yard. 
Back home we have a little bush where nobody can see
us and when we’re outside and we need a piss we use
that.”

Inside the shower Philip was now more carefully
cleaning the end of his penis, which had become very
red after reacting to the cream.  He tensed his
muscles and let fly a small stream of urine.  “Just
clearing it out,” he explained to me.  “Gee, I won’t
do that again.  That stung like crazy.”

“It’s not the first time he’s done that,” Carly
informed me gleefully.  “When he was about five we
were having our bath together and he put soap up his
dick.  You should have heard him scream!”

“And when we were in the playroom you put a crayon up
your fanny,” Philip broke in quickly, since it was the
time to reveal family secrets.

“When Philip was small and it rained, he went in the
street naked to play in the puddles,” Carly continued
eagerly as we returned to the main room, Philip wiping
his penis carefully on a hand towel.

“And you did a wee in your panties when we went on
holiday to Sydney,” added Philip.

“Only because you were holding your dick so tightly
that was the only way you could hold it in,” countered
Carly.

Before more of their lurid past was revealed, Philip
flung himself back on the bed and demanded I finish
putting cream on his legs.  Then he turned over,
placing his penis very carefully as it was still
tender, and I did his rear.

After I had finished, with both children descending
into what was obviously the realm of fiction to get
digs at each other, Philip rose, took the bottle from
me and said, “Now it’s your turn, Carly.  Lie down.”

“You’re not doing it,” Carly informed him, lying on
her front, with her cute little white bottom sticking
up.  “You didn’t let me do you, so Roy can do mine as
well.  Give the bottle to Roy.”

“No, I want to do it,” insisted Philip.

An argument began, but I stopped it by saying that
everyone had a right to choose who they wanted to
frisk them – or frey them, as we call it at school. 
Reluctantly Philip gave me the bottle.

I put cream on Carly, enjoying the feel of her soft
smooth white little rounded bottom as I came to that. 
She wriggled and giggled in a very sexy way as I did
it.

“Put some down her crack,” Philip urged me, and I
immediately refused, but not before Carly had rolled
aside in hurried self-defence.

She still showed a degree of shyness as she rolled
over on to her back.  The curve of her little vagina,
with its tightly rounded lips, stood out clearly
beneath her loins, and at first she instinctively
stole a hand down there to touch the edge in
self-protection.

I was soon on to her little breasts, as she gave me a
warning not to hurt her just as I was pondering
whether to take the initiative.  Very gently I rubbed
cream into her little nipples, still soft and spongy
at this stage of her development, but firmer
underneath.  The flesh there was very white,
presumably having stayed under cover for years, and
the pale pink nipples were still quite small.  But the
cute little stalks underneath were quite enchanting.

Then I worked down her body, feeling the sharp little
hipbones under the thin white skin, and the taut
whiteness of her loins below.  Carly looked at me
rather anxiously as I moved down, so I stopped and
looked questioningly at her.

“Come on, Roy, tickle her there,” encouraged Philip. 
Seeing her hesitating, he added, “Or I’ll do it.”

That comment actually worked in my favour.  “You’re
not doing it,” Carly told him.  “Roy’s doing me all
over.”

“I never touch people there without their permission,”
I told Philip.  “I’ll never do anything to you that
you don’t want me to, I promise,” I assured them both.

“You can do it,” whispered Carly, smiling weakly.  I
could feel her tense as I moved my hands down.  “Only
please – don’t put any inside.”

“I won’t,” I reassured her, working the cream ever so
gently over the smooth rounded lips, just able to feel
the firmness of her small mound underneath.

“Tickle her like you tickled me,” Philip instructed
me.

I glanced at Carly and she gave me her rather cheeky
half-smile, which was obviously assent.  “Aha,” I
grinned, slipping my fingers underneath and
stimulating gently the loose skin underneath.  She
squealed, laughed and wriggled in delight, and
suddenly I felt my fingers getting a little damp.

“Be careful she doesn’t piss on you,” Philip warned
me.  “She sometimes does it a bit when she gets
excited.”  I decided against giving Philip a quick sex
education lesson, figuring he would get it soon enough
at school, either theoretically in the classroom or
practically behind the bicycle shed.

I finished the gentle massaging of cream into the
tight tender skin around Carly’s vagina, without
actually moving down over the edge into the abyss,
gave her another gratefully received tickle
underneath, and then finished the job.

The two children then stood up, Carly took the bag and
they looked through the big glass door with some
apprehension.  There were still late sleepers
wandering down to the swimming pool or the beach, all
shapes and sizes and all unclothed.

“Where shall we go first, the pool or the beach?” I
asked them.  “Or somewhere else?”

“I need a wee first,” muttered Carly, disappearing
into the bathroom, where I heard a splashing of liquid
into the bowl.  Philip stood there silently,
unconsciously massaging his penis.  They were clearly
suffering from stage fright.

“Where are there fewer people?” Philip asked me.

“There will be fewer at the pool,” I answered, without
mentioning that people tend to get closer and more
intimate much more quickly there.

“Let’s go to the pool, then,” he suggested.

Carly returned from the toilet – or dunny – and said,
“Come on, Philip, let’s wear our swimming costumes
first.  We can take them off later when we get used to
it.”

In vain did I argue, and Philip was unwilling to go
outside naked unless Carly did the same.  “You
promised you would do it as long as I didn’t tell your
mum about your games,” I reminded them.

“But you can’t do that now because you played them as
well,” Carly responded brightly, and I realised with
regret that she had me there.

“You can wear your swimming costume as well,”
suggested Philip, pulling up his red one.  The end of
his penis stuck out of the top for a moment until he
put it properly into position.

“I don’t have one here, and I’d never wear it anyway,”
I answered.  “All right, then, I won’t force you.  But
there are conditions.”  I thought quickly.  “You must
stay in the same place as me all the time.  We go to
the pool, and we stay there.  And as long as you are
wearing your swimming costumes I don’t know you.  I’ll
feel ashamed to be with you.  All right?”  I knew I
had a card up my sleeve which I was sure I could play
later in the day.

“All right,” they agreed.  Carly was now wearing a
little bright green bikini held together at the side
with strings.

They didn’t know where the pool was, so I led the way.
 They followed, by my instructions, five metres behind
me.  They kept well back and I hoped they were indeed
following me and not sneaking off elsewhere, as they
obeyed instructions and gave me no indication of their
presence.  As I neared the pool, I heard them talking
quietly to each other, so at least I would not have to
deal with runaways.

I found a place conveniently close to a group of
shapely teenage girls, with their firm high breasts
and bushy loins, once I heard them speaking English. 
I enjoy children and appreciate the beauty of their
smooth, hairless bodies more readily than I do those
of older girls, but on the social level of course I
prefer the company of those my own age.

Immediately Carly ran up to me and asked, “Roy, may we
go off the big diving board?”

I had no objection, so I just answered coldly, “Go
away, textile girl.  I don’t know you.”  She looked
surprised, then crestfallen, and slunk off looking
downcast.

I soon got into conversation with the girls, but it
was less than five minutes before both children came
up to me, rather upset.  “Roy, the man told us we’re
not allowed to swim with our swimming costumes on,”
Carly complained loudly.

There was a giggle from several of the girls, but I
just answered coldly, “It’s your choice.  Now go away.
 I still don’t know you.”

I enjoyed the company of the girls, a group from a
naturist club in England, and we enjoyed ourselves in
the pool together, along with a few other chancers
like myself.  I kept a watch on the children out of
the corner of my eye, as they sat disconsolately under
a sun umbrella.  At least, Carly was disconsolate, but
Philip had a roving eye and I saw him conducting
visual examinations of my female companions, among
others.

After about half an hour, I decided to add a little
pressure.  Taking a couple of the girls with me, I
went over to the little shop at the pool to buy ice
creams for the whole of our group, now nine in number.
 I had told the rest of the group about the two
children who had broken their promise, without giving
details.

As I expected, as we were waiting in the queue, I felt
a tap on my arm.  I didn’t look round.  Then I heard
Philip’s voice, “Please, Roy, may we have some money
for ice creams?  Mum forgot to give us any.”

I turned and stared at them.  “I don’t know any
children in swimming costumes, so don’t come pestering
strangers for money,” I told them icily.

“Go away, textile children,” ordered one of the girls,
backing me up.  “This place is for naturists only.”

As they slunk miserably away, the other girl said,
“Oh, poor little things, I do feel sorry for them.”

“They broke their promise,” I reminded her.  “But I
don’t think they’ll hold out for long.  Strip or
starve – and I bet they’ll strip first.”  The girls
giggled.

We bought our ice creams and walked back eating them,
deliberately passing in front of the children.  Carly
had her head down and was wiping away a tear or two. 
Philip was not so devastated as he had a greater
interest in the unusual scenery than his sister, but
his face was still quite long.

It happened just as I could have predicted.  About two
minutes later I saw from the corner of my eye
something run and jump into the pool with a splash. 
Seconds later Philip sprang out, his handsome penis
sparkling in the sunlight, and dashed over to me. 
Grinning, I held out my arms and he leapt right into
them, sprawling over me with his dripping penis wiping
water as it brushed my thigh.

The others in my group gave a few cheers and murmurs
of approval, which I was afraid might embarrass him,
but he seemed to enjoy the attention.  After all, the
problem had been more with Carly than him.  But the
part of his anatomy that was causing him the most
concern (it was empty) was perhaps ten centimetres
higher than his exhaust system, and he was quickly
asking for money.

I gave him an amount that made his eyes open wide and
told him he was not allowed to share it with any
textiles.  He gave me a powerful hug and then was off
in the direction of the tuck shop.  He passed Carly on
the way, still sitting disconsolately and now lonely
as well.  He triumphantly waved my banknotes above his
head at her.

Three minutes later, as he came back, Carly stood up
and approached him.  I was afraid she was trying to
beg food off him at first, and so was he, as he moved
back clutching it to him and saying in a very snotty
voice, “Go away, little textile girl.  This is only
for naturists.”

Carly wanted to talk, though, and a quick discussion
followed.  Philip came back to me, sat down and said
quietly, “Carly says she wants to take her bikini off,
but she doesn’t want anybody to see her.  Can she go
back to your room and do it there?”

“No, I’m not going to mess around while she’s silly,”
I said.  Then, as Philip stood up to relay my message,
I had a further thought.  “Tell her to sneak into the
pool when the lifeguard isn’t looking,” I suggested. 
“Then she can take her bikini off under water and
nobody will see her.”

Philip ran back to pass on the message.  Carly turned
and looked towards me, but I switched my eyes
elsewhere quickly.  There seemed to be a bit of
arguing, but Philip had changed sides.  He turned away
as she was still speaking and came back to me with a
superior grin on his face.  “She’s still shy about her
fanny,” he informed the group, which caused a few
laughs from the boys and slightly shocked squeals from
the girls.

“Don’t look at her, guys, and she’ll have to do it in
the end,” I told them.  “If we look, it’ll only make
it worse.”

I could see Carly looking towards us out of the corner
of my eye.  After about a minute, she stood up,
looking most uncomfortable and tugging at the back of
her bikini bottom where it had stuck to her skin. 
Slowly she edged towards the pool, but not close
enough to attract the attention of the lifeguard who
had forced her out earlier.  He was still
concentrating on the job.

“I’ll go and distract the guy,” said one of the girls.
 “He looks rather dishy.”  She stood up and walked up
to the top end of the pool, where he was sitting on
his perch.  I saw her approach him from behind, on the
far side, causing him to turn his head.

I don’t know whether Carly realised that it had been
done with her in mind, but she took advantage of it. 
She skittered over and slipped into the pool, ducking
under the water.  I saw her fair hair bobbing up and
down just beside the edge, and after a minute or so
her face turned in our direction.  We all pretended we
hadn’t been looking.

“Philip!” she hissed urgently.  Philip stood up and
trotted over to her, leaving the rest of us wondering
if she had another plan in mind.

But when Philip arrived, she merely reached up her arm
and handed him two small pieces of bright green
material.  He came back with a big grin, holding the
top over his chest and pushing the bottom part over
his penis, showing off to the group.

Carly stayed holding on to the side of the pool,
though.  It was clear what the problem was.  “Look,
guys, we need to take no notice of her and look away,”
I told them.  “If we watch her, she’ll never come
out.”

They saw the sense of that and resumed chatting to
each other, while I paid attention to Philip, who was
actually putting on the bikini bottom for fun now.  He
stood up and danced around in a silly way, the end of
his penis deliberately peeping out of the top.

When I next glanced at the pool, Carly was not there. 
I stared around for her, before eventually spotting
the back of a fair head and a white bare bottom over
at the far side of the pool.  I saw her climb out and
make her way round the side towards us, half bent
forwards, obviously feeling less exposed that way
should the group decide to pay attention to her again.

She actually sneaked round the back way, and I
pretended to be staring elsewhere when I felt a tap on
my shoulder and the naked Carly squatted down beside
me.

“Ah, welcome to the group, Carly,” I beamed, but
quietly as I respected her wish not to attract
attention.  I held out my arms and, giggling, she
tumbled across me, wrapping her arms round my neck and
sitting in my lap.

This idyllic situation predictably lasted only a few
seconds before she put her head close to mine and
whispered into my ear the loving words that I shall
remember all my life, “I want some money.  Please.”

I gave her the same amount as I had given Philip and
she dashed off, her little white bottom gleaming in
the sunlight as she made her assault on the tuck shop.

Five minutes later we were all together again in a
group, eating and talking, and all was well with the
world.  The other teenagers treated them well, and on
the whole sensibly.

One girl did rather foolishly say to Carly, “Why were
you so shy?  A beautiful little body like yours.” 
Carly didn’t appreciate attention being drawn to her
embarrassment and turned away, one hand instinctively
slipping down to protect her vagina.

Philip was standing next to one of the older boys,
talking animatedly, with his penis not far in front of
the boy’s face.  I couldn’t hear what he was saying
but the older boy turned to him and said, “Well,
you’re becoming quite a man.”  Judging by the look of
pleasure mixed with a tinge of embarrassment on
Philip’s face, there had been some reference to his
penis, hanging down straight and smooth and a fair
size for his age.

We had a good day together, the only thing to spoil it
being that we had forgotten to reapply sun cream to
Philip’s penis after his incident with the big blob on
the end that morning.  It was mid-afternoon when Carly
suddenly blurted out in the middle of the company,
“Hey, Philip, your dick’s going all red.”

Sure enough, the outward half of his penis was very
red and sore-looking, although obviously its owner
hadn’t felt it yet.  The skin was wrinkled and, as
everyone turned to stare after Carly’s exclamation, he
was clearly embarrassed this time.  He turned towards
me, his face turning a similar shade of red.

The others at least had the sense to turn away, so I
just wrapped an arm around him and whispered, “We
forgot to put more cream on it, didn’t we?  We had
better put that right.”

I was rummaging in my bag for the sun cream when I
heard Carly blurt out to the rest of the group, “Do
you know what Philip did with his dick this morning?”

I had to step in quickly.  “Carly, shut up,” I told
her fiercely.  “There are quite a few stories Philip
could tell about you, and remember what I told you.” 
She went rather red and kept quiet, but a few minutes
later was with a couple of the girls, who were
giggling, and it was not difficult to guess what she
was telling them.

So Philip was to endure a sore penis for the rest of
his time there, and it was quite uncomfortable for him
to wear clothes, with the sunburnt area chafing
against his underpants all the time.  But at least
they had rid themselves of their hang-up about public
nudity.

Pat, their mother, was surprised and pleased when she
arrived home from town to be set upon and hugged by
two naked children, and we enjoyed each other’s
company quite often during the next week or two.  She
didn’t quite tell me I had worked a miracle with her
children, as one or two other parents have done on
occasions, but I was glad to have helped the cause of
nudity in another part of the world.  I wonder if,
when they went back to Australia, they ever did go
with their mother to the naturist club.

The End



	
	
		
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