WATERING THE FLOWERS (CHAPTER 1)


In our community there are few permanent residents
like ourselves.  Most of the English-speaking
population is expatriate, staying for contracts
lasting between one and three years, and only
occasionally longer.

As we have permanent residence in this country, we
have to get used to temporary friendships on the one
hand, but on the other we get to meet a great many
more people over the years than do others who live in
a more settled society.  My eleven-year-old sister
Jenny and I have very few friends whom we also had
five years ago, but we do find that when we lose
friends, which happens every year, it does not take
long to replace them.

Our parents find the same thing.  My dad, for example,
is now head of the training side of his business, and
a great deal of his time is spent simply in helping
newcomers, expatriates on short-term contracts, to
learn the ropes and settle in.  As we are a sociable
family, he usually invites them round to our house
early on, and if they have children we soon get to
know them as well.

Most of these expatriates are other Westerners, many
from Britain as we were originally.  Some come from
North America and some from other Mediterranean lands,
but they are almost all from the white race.  It is
unusual for other racial groups to take up contracts
here.

It was a novelty, then, when an Indian family took up
residence here recently, the father being on contract
to my dad’s firm.  As usual, though, my dad had no
hesitation in inviting them round for afternoon tea
and dinner at our house one Saturday afternoon.

Mr Gupta has four children.  As usual Jenny and I were
given the job of entertaining them, but I must confess
we were a little apprehensive about how to deal with
children from a different race.  For all we knew, they
might not speak English.

In fact, they spoke English very well, as Mr Gupta had
been educated in an English public school.  His
English was perfect, and he had sent all his children
to English schools in India.  Probably only finances
prevented him from sending them to England too, as he
was immensely proud of his education there.  He was a
portly, talkative man with a big laugh who was always
talking.

His wife spoke English quite well, but not as capably
as the rest of the family.  She seemed very shy, but
she had a pleasant smile and was very pretty.  Her
good looks seemed to have been passed on to the
children.

They had two girls and then two boys.  The second
girl, Sandya by name, was a year older than Jenny, and
they soon hit it off together.  Sandya was quite a
beauty, slim, tall and graceful, with a lovely smile
like her mother’s.  She had big dark eyes and straight
black hair that came down the side of her face almost
to her shoulders.

The older girl, Surita, was fourteen and quite
good-looking, but not as much as her sister.  She came
with an Indian friend in her class at school, an
unusual piece of good fortune for her as we only had
about three or four Indians there altogether.  These
two sat side by side on our veranda, quietly at first,
and then began to whisper and giggle together.

Surita, I noticed when sitting opposite her, was quite
careless with her skirt, a black one with flowery
patterns on it.  It came down to her knees, but she
seemed unable to keep her legs still, forever opening
and crossing them, and often revealing flashes of
bulky-looking white panties within.  Her friend kept
her legs still and knees together, but her skirt was
tighter, and as she took her hand away as she often
did when whispering to Surita, shiny white panties
were revealed in the triangle formed by her skirt and
her two thighs.

There were two younger boys.  Sanjay was ten, wearing
glasses, and not interested when I tried to talk to
him.  He had a little computer game that he was
constantly playing with, and he only had this because
he could not bring the computer in his room with him. 
Too much computer work had damaged his eyesight
somewhat, but he was not about to give it up.

The youngest was Vijay, aged seven and small for it. 
Presumably his parents had finally tired of names
beginning with S.  Vijay was the sort of cherubic
little boy with wide innocent eyes that seem to make
all adults adore him.  He seemed very shy, but he sat
there with his hands in his lap like a little girl,
gazing about him with his big black eyes and causing
my mother to gush over how sweet he looked.

I soon found I didn’t have much work to do.  Surita
had her friend, Sandya and Jenny were fast making
friends, Sanjay was interested only in his computer
game, and Vijay appeared too shy to talk.

We had gathered on the veranda with masses of cold
drinks on a hot day just for a preliminary meeting
before, after twenty minutes or so, our parents would
as usual suggest we showed the visitors’ children the
garden or have a swim.  This time we could not swim as
the Guptas had not brought their swimming costumes. 
According to one of our naturist magazines, Indians do
not tend to swim a great deal and nudity is frowned on
quite strongly in their culture.  So Jenny and I did
not anticipate a close friendship with them.

In some ways the Guptas were quite westernized.  They
wore Western clothes, although rather formal ones, Mr
Gupta a light suit and Mrs Gupta a long dress, while
my parents were dressed very casually.  The girls wore
dresses down to the knees, long for our mini-skirted
culture, and the boys long trousers instead of the
shorts I am used to.  At least they didn’t wear ties
as well.

They were quite happy with the Western-type food we
would serve for dinner, as my mother had checked
beforehand.  I was glad to find out, though, that they
did eat curry, and I enjoyed the visits we later made
to their house, where we were treated to some
excellent curries.

The girls were already attending the same high school
as myself, and I had noticed them before because their
brown skins were so unusual.  Sandya was in her first
year there and Jenny in her last at the junior school,
so they hadn’t met before.  The two boys also went to
the junior section, of course.

After a while, my parents made the usual suggestion
that we show the Gupta children round the garden. 
Sanjay for a start didn’t want to go.  His world was
his computer game and he resented being interrupted. 
The two older girls, Surita and friend, stood up and
wandered off together, still whispering and giggling
to each other, and they clearly did not want our
guidance.

Jenny and Sandya were quite happy to go off together,
and Vijay tagged along behind them.  Unwanted by the
others, I joined these three.  Jenny took charge as
she showed her new friend around our garden.  All the
time little Vijay toddled along behind, looking like a
lost angel and saying nothing.

After about ten minutes, I suddenly noticed that Vijay
was not with us.  I looked around for him and saw that
he was not far away.  He was over by the fishpond.

Hoping to make meaningful contact with him, I wandered
over to join him.  At one end of the pond we have a
life-size statue of Cupid, with his bow and arrow,
leaning forward over the pond.  He is naked, and a
stream of water flows through his penis into the pond,
keeping the water level high.  It was actually a gift
of some friends of my parents, expatriates who left
some years back and left us the statue as a token of
their friendship.  It seems to amuse my parents to
hear visitors make silly, supposedly humorous,
comments about it.

Vijay was standing there staring at Cupid, quite
fascinated.  Or, to be more precise, one particular
part of Cupid’s anatomy was fascinating him.

“Hello, Vijay,” I greeted him.  “What are you looking
at?”

Vijay never took his eyes off Cupid’s plaster penis
with its spray of water.  I thought he wasn’t going to
answer, but he finally said, in a mildly shocked
voice, “He’s naked.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I agreed.  “He doesn’t wear
clothes in the stories about him.  He’s called Cupid.”

“Stupid?” repeated Vijay, not familiar with the name. 
“Is that because he’s naked?”

“No,” I replied, and repeated it for him.  “He’s
called Cupid.”

There was another long silence, with Vijay’s eyes
seemingly glued to Cupid’s appendage with fascination.
 Then he said, “He’s doing a wee.”

“That’s all right, everybody does,” I answered.  “It’s
only pretend, but it doesn’t matter.”

“He’s doing it in the garden,” protested Vijay.

“Don’t you ever do it outside if you don’t have time
to go to the real toilet?” I asked him.

At last Vijay tore his eyes away from the statue.  He
turned and stared at me, as if I were suggesting he
kill his grandmother.  His mouth formed the word,
“No,” but no sound came out.  Then he blinked and
looked suddenly very thoughtful.  “Do you?” he asked.

“Yes, quite often,” I answered casually.  “So does
Jenny.  It doesn’t matter if you’re a long way from a
toilet.  Sometimes you can’t do anything else.”

Vijay looked suitably shocked.  Then he asked, “Is
that why he’s doing a wee?”

“Well, it’s just a pretend statue that somebody
thought would be fun,” I answered.  “He’s actually
just filling up the pond with ordinary water.”

Vijay turned and stared at the statue again.  I
waited, but with nothing else forthcoming I wandered
away to join Jenny and Sandya, but kept an eye on him,
just in case he decided to fall in the pond.

After a minute or two I saw him move closer to Cupid. 
He took a very close look at the white plaster penis
and put his finger quickly in front, maybe just to
make sure it really was only water.  Then he glanced
furtively around him.  I pretended to be looking
elsewhere.  Then he turned back and very quickly
touched the penis with his finger.

He looked around again, and then touched it a second
time.  A third time, and this time he took hold of it
in his hands and gave it a good feel, wetting his
hands in the process.  I watched him as he carefully
ran his fingers over it and under it.  Then suddenly
he wriggled and prodded himself between his own legs
as if there had been a transfer of thought from the
statue to himself.  He hesitated for a moment, as if
to consider whether he should emulate Cupid in
contributing to the fishpond, and then ran off back to
the house.

A minute or two later, before Vijay came out again,
Jenny brought Sandya in that direction to look at the
fishpond.  But as soon as the Indian girl saw the
statue, she turned away, clearly embarrassed by it.

After that the two girls spend most of their time
sitting cross-legged on the grass, facing each other
and talking and laughing together.  I was used to
Jenny, as a lifelong naturist, sitting cross-legged
without pushing her skirt down in the middle, but most
other girls that age are rather panty-conscious and
try to keep their underwear hidden, when there are
boys present at any rate.  I was surprised to find
that Sandya generally seemed quite unconcerned.

That afternoon as she sat cross-legged opposite Jenny,
the skirt of her light green-and-white dress was
spread fairly tightly over her knees, revealing soft
pale blue panties beneath.  I was to discover that,
although she often wore plain white, she had a
collection of panties in all sorts of quite attractive
pastel colours.

Vijay joined them when he re-emerged from the house,
sitting silently to one side as the two girls chatted
and laughed together and ignored him.  I was also
being ignored, so I wandered off and left them to it. 
Although I liked the family, I didn’t expect my future
involvement with them to be of any consequence as none
of the children connected with me in any way.

By the end of the afternoon Jenny and Sandya were
great friends.  The fact that they went to different
schools increased their desire to get together outside
school.

In our city there is a small cinema that often shows
English films, and the following Saturday, in the
evening, there was a cartoon festival.  Jenny and I
both enjoy cartoons, and I was keen to go.  It was
Jenny’s idea that we should go to watch and invite
Sandya to join us.  My parents gently persuaded her
that we should invite all the Guptas, just for the
sake of politeness.

The parents, naturally, were not interested, and
neither were Surita and Sanjay, who never did want to
come anywhere with us.  Sandya was very enthusiastic,
and Vijay wanted to tag along again.  I was quite
happy with that arrangement, but Jenny wanted us to
leave a couple of hours early so she could show Sandya
some of the sights of the capital city.  I was not
interested in that, but dropped a hint that I might
agree if we could stop off at the Guptas’ house for a
curry when we returned their children after the show.

Jenny made the appropriate arrangements, so we picked
them up at about four o’clock for the six o’clock
show.  I parked the car near the cinema and then Jenny
took over, leading Sandya around to show her the
shops, the parliament building, the shops, the law
courts, the park, the shops, the library and the
shops, together with anything else that was of
particular interest, such as the shops.  Jenny’s
future husband should be a wary man.

We did spend a while in the park, where there were
swings and slides that Vijay enjoyed, for one.  The
girls considered themselves too old for this, and sat
cross-legged on the grass talking for a while. 
Sandya, it was not difficult to see, was wearing soft
white panties on this occasion.

After about an hour, when Jenny and Sandya were
eagerly discussing dresses in front of another shop
window, Vijay began to show signs of distress.  He had
been his usual silent self up to that point, looking
angelic, passively enduring all the shop windows and
too shy to speak when I tried to engage him in
conversation.  But now, behind the backs of the two
girls, his occasional wriggles became more frequent
and every now and then a little brown hand would
clutch between its owner’s legs.

I knew I should have tried to help him as soon as I
noticed, but I was rather annoyed by his silence when
I had tried to talk to him, and so decided the onus
was on him to speak out for a change.  Besides, I
didn’t know of any toilets nearby – a common problem
in our modern city - and wasn’t sure what we could do
about it.

Finally the strain was too much.  Bent forward with
both hands modestly inside his trouser pockets to hide
where he was clutching, Vijay finally burst out,
“Sandya, I gotta go!”

The girls turned round in surprise.  “Go where?” Jenny
was saying, unused to such ‘refined’ language.  Jenny,
Shelley and I use the word `toilet’ completely without
embarrassment and we were never able to understand why
some people always use euphemisms like `bathroom’ for
Americans and `loo’ for English, or ask to ‘be
excused’.

Sandya knew immediately what he meant, and she looked
most uncomfortable.  I learned later that Vijay
actually has a bladder problem which means he has to
urinate more often than most people.  But nobody had
told us then, so Jenny and I never anticipated a
problem and Sandya had obviously forgotten.  Vijay, of
course, should have spoken out much earlier.

Anxiously Sandya turned to my sister and said
nervously, “Jenny, Vijay, he . . . he needs to go.”

Jenny had by then realized what Vijay had meant and
answered, “Gee, I don’t know of any toilets near here.
 Do you, Roy?”

Sandya was clearly embarrassed even more by having me
included in such a delicate matter.  All I could say
was, “The nearest toilet I know is at the cinema, but
that’s over half a kilometre away.”

“I can’t wait!” wailed Vijay, his face screwed up, his
hands tight in his pockets, his body bent almost
double at the waist now and his thighs thrust together
down to the knees, while his calves splayed out on
either side.  I had to try hard to keep myself from
laughing.

“Vijay, stand straight, you can’t stand like that,”
Sandya hissed at him urgently.

“I can’t, I’m going to burst,” he wailed, writhing in
agony.

There was only one thing to do, as this was an
absolute emergency.  I picked Vijay up in my arms and
hurried off down the street, with Sandya trotting
after me, calling out in bewilderment.  About thirty
metres down the street I had seen a narrow lane for
tradesmen’s entrances to the shops and for deliveries,
as city blocks sometimes have.  I remember using them
more than once in an emergency or two of my own when I
was younger.  Despite the Guptas’ embarrassment, I
could see no alternative for Vijay.

I carried him about five metres round the corner into
the dark lane between two tall buildings.  I put him
down just as Sandya, followed by Jenny, rounded the
corner.

“Roy, he can’t do it here!” wailed Sandya in horror.

“What else can he do?  He’s going to burst,” I
replied.  “In our culture, it doesn’t matter.”  That
was true, perhaps more so in the local culture than
the expatriate culture, though.  It was quite a common
sight to see local people, even occasional adults
although mostly male at that age, lubricating trees by
the side of the road.  The more refined residents were
constantly bombarding the lethargic city council with
requests for more public toilets.  One friend of ours
with a sense of humour wrote a letter to the
newspaper, berating the council for the shortage of
trees, lampposts and fire hydrants in one area of
town, and signed it ‘Rover’.

There was a faint smell in this lane to show that it
was not unknown for people to make deposits here. 
Sandya clapped her hands over her nose.  Vijay was
still standing there, groaning and crouching in his
agonised posture, so I said to him, “Come on, Vijay,
do you want us to leave you while you do it?”

“No, I can’t,” he groaned.  “Sandya, help me!”

“What shall I do?” she responded, worried and
perplexed.

“There’s nowhere else to go, so you’ll have to do it
here, I’m afraid,” I told him, trying to sound gentle
and casual.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’ve done it here
myself before today.”  Sandya shot me a look of shock
and flinched as if I had just told her I was a serial
rapist and she was next on my list.

“So have I,” Jenny backed me up, and Sandya turned her
horrified gaze on her.  “Sandya, we – just live that
way here sometimes,” she added, taken aback by her
friend’s consternation.  “It doesn’t really matter.”

I knelt down beside Vijay and told him quietly, “It’s
all right.  We’ll go round the corner and you can come
out when you’ve done it.”

“Don’t leave me,” wailed Vijay.  “I can’t do it by
myself.  Sandya, help me.”

“How?” she asked helplessly.

“Please do it with me,” Vijay begged her.  “I need
somebody to do it with me.”

“No!” squealed Sandya in absolute horror, backing
right away.  “I could *never* do that!”

“Come on, Vijay, I’ll do it with you,” I volunteered,
reaching inside my shorts.  “Let’s water those flowers
over there.”  Amazingly, in a large crack between the
tar and the wall of one of the buildings, there were
three or four bright orange flowers growing on thin
stems.

“Sandya, please!” begged Vijay, but by now Sandya’s
back was quickly retreating round the corner on to the
main street, with Jenny following her friend.

“Let’s water the flowers, Vijay,” I said, aiming my
penis at them and pushing hard for a couple of seconds
before I finally got the urine to flow, as I was not
really ready to go myself.

The flowers bent over almost to ground level as my
spray hit them.  There was silence from Vijay, and
then suddenly he gave what sounded like a stifled
giggle, pulled his hands out of his pockets, tore down
the zip on his long trousers and fidgeted in great
agitation for a second or two.  His little penis was
already spurting before he even had it out of his
underpants.  It came up at first in a thin high spray
that almost landed on his shoes, and then wobbled
about before settling rather unevenly on the flowers.

Not knowing about his bladder problem, I was surprised
when his flow of urine dried up before mine did.  It
was obvious, though, that quite a portion had not been
able to escape in time, and there was a large dark
patch on the front of his trousers.  I could not see
too clearly in the dim light, but his dark-coloured
underpants had no doubt soaked up some too.

“The flowers are standing up again,” Vijay commented,
giving the first big cherubic grin I had ever seen
from him as he pointed at them.  He was right.  They
had now recovered from their battering and were
standing up, if looking rather frail, amid a pool of
liquid that was still running in little streams out on
the tar.

“It makes them grow well,” I smiled at him, clapping
him on the shoulder.  “If you come back next week,
you’ll see they’re as big as this.”  I jokingly held
my hand out at waist level, palm downwards, and his
eyes boggled at me.  That joke of mine was to have a
far-reaching effect on his future activities.

Suddenly he stared into the distance and froze for a
moment, as if expecting some massive thunderbolt to
flash down from the sky and burn him to a cinder. 
Visibly I could then see him relax, and he turned and
looked up at me with a tremulous smile.  “It’s – all
right?” he asked hopefully.

“Quite all right,” I grinned.  “Lots of people do that
in this country.”

We went back on to the street, where Jenny was trying
to talk some sense into a rather tense and agitated
Sandya.  Vijay gave her a big beaming grin.  “I did
it, Sandya, and it was all right!” he burst out.  “You
should have seen those flowers bend over when we did
it on them!  Roy says they’ll be this big next week,”
and he demonstrated.  “Roy, may we come back next week
and see them?”

“Stop it, Vijay,” Sandya broke in, more upset than
angry.  “It’s all your fault because you should have
said before so you could go – in the proper place. 
And you’ve wet your trousers.”  She wrinkled up her
nose, and I too could catch a whiff of urine.

“And it made a big puddle on the ground, like this,”
Vijay continued, waving his arms around to demonstrate
again.  “And . . .”

“You’re going to be in such big trouble with Father,”
Sandya scolded him.

That took Vijay aback.  “Sandya, I couldn’t help it,”
he protested.  “Please don’t tell him.  I didn’t know
there wasn’t – anywhere proper.”

“Sandya won’t tell your father as long as you don’t
talk about it to her any more,” I broke in, hoping to
persuade her that way.  “So we forget about it now,
all right?”

“All right,” muttered Vijay, looking anxiously at
Sandya.  I looked at her too, and after a brief inward
struggle she nodded.

Jenny led us around for a little longer before we
departed for the cinema.  The incident seemed to have
broken the ice for Vijay, who every now and then would
chat to me, sometimes with a big grin.  We couldn’t
help getting a whiff of his wet clothes at times,
though, and Sandya was very perturbed.  She wanted to
go back home and get him changed, but her parents had
told us they were going out between about five and
seven, so it wouldn’t be possible.

There were a few problems along the way.  Vijay, at
his young age, was always expected to hold Sandya’s
hand when we crossed the road, but now, knowing where
that hand had been, Sandya refused to touch it.  There
was quite a grabbing contest as we came to the first
road as he reached out for her hand, which she held
above her head and refused to let him touch her.  She
tried to persuade him to let her hold him by the
shoulder, but he didn’t like that.  Instead, he
stepped back and, before I could stop him, grabbed my
hand.

I wasn’t all that keen on holding it either, but I had
once been used to changing Jenny’s nappies, so I
decided I could handle it if I had to, rather than add
to the problem.  So I reluctantly let Vijay hold on to
me with a rather sticky hand as we made our way
towards the cinema.

I must say at this point that the narrative does give
rather a wrong impression of Sandya.  Although she had
her hang-up about nudity and urinating, she was
actually a lovely girl, rather shy, but with the
sweetest of smiles and always very full of respect
towards me.  She was very health-conscious, though, I
found, keeping herself spotlessly clean and with
almost a phobia about dirt and germs.  I can’t say I
actually fell in love with her, but I developed a very
deep big-brother type fondness for her.  I often
longed to put my arms around her and show my
affection, but I gathered that this was also
considered inappropriate in Indian culture.

(To be continued)



WATERING THE FLOWERS (CHAPTER 2)


When we arrived at the cinema, we went straight in, as
Mr Gupta, a man of lavish generosity, had actually
booked us a box, so we would get the best view in the
house.  Once inside, Sandya turned to Vijay and
insisted that he wash his hands straight away.  I was
on the point of suggesting the same thing, and I
certainly wanted my hands washed, so the two of us
made our way to the toilets.

I had a closer look there at Vijay’s trousers, which
certainly had a large damp patch at the front and gave
off a faint but pervading smell.  Vijay was quite
afraid about the patch at first, but I didn’t want to
lose any progress that I had made in curing his
hang-up, so I just assured him it didn’t matter and
would dry before his parents saw it.

We rejoined the girls, who had also decided to visit
the toilet, bought some food and drinks with Mr
Gupta’s lavish generosity and then made our way to our
box.  There were four very comfortable seats there for
us, with a magnificent view of the screen.  There was
some argument about seating, as Vijay wanted to sit
next to Sandya as he was still a little boy needing
the security of his big sister, but she would have
none of it.

Clearly it was the smell that nauseated her, but she
was too polite to say so.  Vijay didn’t smell strongly
to my nostrils, at least, but a gentle whiff was
noticeable most of the time.  So in the end Sandya sat
on the extreme left, next to Jenny, and then came
myself with a very hurt Vijay on my right.

We dived into our food and were only mildly distracted
when the show started.  It was cartoons all the way
through, and the girls had a great time, by the sound
of their laughter.  I was a little disappointed,
finding these particular cartoons a little childish. 
Vijay stared at the screen and gave an occasional
giggle, but nothing more.

After about ten minutes a sudden stronger whiff of
stale urine struck my nostrils.  I glanced at Vijay
again, to see that he was no longer watching the
screen.  It took me a few seconds to realise what he
really was doing.  His head was bent forward and down,
and I was tempted to ask him if he was meditating on
his navel, but knew he wouldn’t understand the
attempted humour.  Then I saw that his trousers were
unzipped.

The screen became brighter all of a sudden, and I
could then see exactly what he was doing.  His
underpants were pulled down.  Although Sandya had many
different colours of underwear, as I was to discover,
for some reason Vijay always wore maroon-coloured
underpants.  His penis was out and he was examining
it, visually and manually.  He was not masturbating as
such, but looked rather like a scientist examining
some new discovery that he had not been aware of
before.

I had not seen his penis properly in the lane, but
expected it to be in line with his size, tiny, very
much like my friend Scott, Marina’s brother, who even
now at eleven has a penis that would fit inside a
thimble and two testicles beneath like little peanuts.
 Vijay’s stringy little penis was actually a bit
larger than that in comparison with his size, but it
looked rather thin and malnourished.  It had a
distinct knob on the end where the foreskin tapered
off.

Vijay was pointing it upright and running his fingers
all over it, feeling it with fascination as if he had
never before been aware of its existence.  He examined
it from all different angles, and did the same to his
little brown testicles underneath.

I smiled to myself as I watched his exploration of
self-awareness, and it must have been telepathic.  His
head jerked round and he caught me watching him before
I could turn my eyes away.  He gave a gasp of guilt
and shock, pulling up his underpants in a flash and
clapping a hand over them.  All the while he was
staring at me with guilt written all over his face in
English, Hindu and Bengali.

“Is that more fun than the film?” I whispered to him. 
He gave no reply but merely stared at me with big
horrified eyes.

I smiled at him and tried to think quickly how to
proceed.  I did not want to add to his phobia.  “It’s
all right,” I grinned at him.  “You can see mine if
you like, but we’d better not do it while Sandya’s
here.  She might not like it.”  I winked at him.

I could see my words and their implication spinning
round in his mind.  Then suddenly he broke into a
wicked grin and said, “No,” looking at me as if we
were sharing the same secret.  Then he stretched up
and whispered in my ear, “What’s it called?”

“A penis,” I whispered back.  “But a lot of people,
like Sandya, are frightened of it and think it’s bad. 
So don’t use it with other people.”

He nodded, and we swapped mouth and ears again.  “Is
it good or bad?” he asked.

“It’s just as good as any other part of your body,” I
whispered back.

“Why are some people scared of it?” was his next
question.

“I don’t know,” I answered, pretty honestly.  “Just
because boys are different from girls, I guess.”

“What does Sandya’s peeny look like?” he asked.

“Girls don’t have peenies – penises,” I answered. 
“It’s just like two little lips in the skin between
their legs.  Very pretty.”

I should perhaps have kept to the facts rather than
add my opinion, as Vijay suddenly sounded more
interested.  “I want to see Sandya’s,” he told me.

“She wouldn’t let you, and you’d get into trouble
trying,” I breathed into his ear.  “Don’t think about
it.  Let’s watch the film.”

So we did for a short while, before he came back with
another question.  “Have you ever seen a girl’s
peeny?”

I still find it difficult to believe that there really
are children who have never seen a member of the
opposite sex naked.  I tried to hide my bemusement and
whispered back, “Yes, lots of times.  But we’d better
not talk about that here.”

We had no further conversation until the interval. 
Vijay did not seem to concentrate much on the films,
though, but he was more careful about airing his
penis.  I saw him sneak a few covert looks beneath his
underpants at times, and occasionally slip a hand
down.

At the interval the girls disappeared immediately to
buy some more food and drinks.  Vijay sat there
slumped in his seat, staring into the distance.  Then
suddenly he stood up and said to me, “Come.”

I assumed he wanted to buy some more food or visit the
toilets, but he led me through the crowded foyer and
outside into the street.  “Where do you want to go?” I
asked him.

He turned and flashed me a wicked grin again.  “I want
to water the flowers again,” he said.

It took me a moment to realise what he was talking
about.  Then I said, “But that’s too far away and we
don’t have time.  Just use the toilets here,”

“I want to water the flowers,” he repeated, and shot
off down the street.  I chased after him, and caught
him as he turned into a lane on the block very similar
to the one where he had enjoyed his life-changing
experience.

I saw I couldn’t stop him now, so I smilingly accepted
the situation.  It was almost dark now, so it was
difficult to see, but surprisingly he didn’t seem to
worry about the dark.  He trotted gaily along, looking
for flowers, until he had almost reached the far end
without finding any.

“Can’t find any flowers.  Have to do it here then,” he
informed me, standing in front of a row of overflowing
dustbins surrounded by rubbish and a huge pile of
rags.  He unzipped his trousers, thrust his hips
forward, pulled out his penis, except that I couldn’t
see it in the dark, and sprayed on to the pile of
rags.

Seconds later we had a big shock.  The pile of rags
heaved and grunted, and a pair of shoulders and a
grizzled head with black hair and shaggy beard emerged
from it suddenly.  A fist appeared and shook itself at
us, while the head emitted outraged words in the local
language.  The rags were evidently still being worn by
one of the local tramps who live on the streets of the
city.

Vijay gave a squeal and leapt back, the spray of urine
coming to an abrupt end.  Then he took off in full
flight down the lane back towards the cinema, his
trousers slipping down round his knees as his legs
scuttled, exposing his little brown bottom above his
half-lowered underpants.  Still running, he tried to
drag them up again.

Half-killing myself with laughter, I staggered after
him, with words that I was grateful Vijay could not
understand being flung after us by the outraged tramp.
 I caught Vijay just inside the entrance to the lane,
looking very guilty again.  He was a hilarious sight,
holding up his gaping trousers and with his penis
still hanging over the elastic waistline of his little
maroon underpants.

I pointed back and tried to pretend I was laughing at
the tramp.  Vijay saw me laughing helplessly, and
unexpectedly he burst into laughter as well.  As he
did so, he again lowered his trousers and finished the
task he had come here to do, cackling so much that the
urine came out in spurts and waves against the wall.

We returned to the cinema, still laughing together,
and I had to warn Vijay to stop when we rejoined
Sandya, as there was just a chance she might not
appreciate the joke.  He saw the sense in that, and we
watched the remainder of the show together without
further incident.

After the show, we came out of the cinema, Vijay
without going to the toilet on the way.  Sandya was
obviously watching out this time, as she asked him as
we reached the exit, “Vijay, don’t you need to go to
the toilet?”

“Soon, but I want to water the flowers again,” he
grinned, with his usual beatific expression.  “Roy,
let’s go back the way we came so I can water the
flowers and see if they’ve grown.”

Sandya looked shocked, so I jumped in straight away
before she had chance to protest.  “No, Vijay, there’s
a toilet here, so you must use it,” I told him.  “You
only watered the flowers because there was no proper
toilet, so go and do it here.”

Vijay pulled a face.  “No, I want to water the
flowers,” he demanded, rudely and crossly.

I thought he was behaving like a spoiled brat, and
with spoiled brats I’ve usually found that the best
thing to do is to frighten them while you still can,
before they gain full confidence with you.  So I bent
my head down, grabbed Vijay firmly by the shoulder and
spoke very strongly right into his face.  “Do as
you’re told and go now!”

He still frightened very easily.  His bottom lip
trembled, he gave a strangled sort of sob, he turned
on his heel and scuttled over to the toilets.  Sandya
gave a squeal and headed right after him, dodging
people coming out after us, as in his state of shock
he tried to open the wrong door.  Fortunately he
stumbled and Sandya managed to catch him and
redirected him to the appropriate door before any
ladies inside were treated to his method of watering
the flowers.

We returned to the car, with Vijay very subdued.  I
tried to cheer him up, but he was acting as if I had
betrayed him.  I only had success just as we were
about to leave his parents’ house, my stomach
gratifyingly swollen with curry, and I managed to
whisper in his ear, “I’ll look at that tramp next week
and see how big he’s grown.”

He looked at me nervously to make sure he could trust
me, and then broke into a big grin.  As I left, I felt
I had made very good progress with him.

I soon discovered that I had made perhaps too much
progress for his own good.  On Monday evening, Jenny
told me what Sandya had told her at school that
morning.

On Sunday afternoon, she had been playing with Vijay
in their garden when he suddenly went over to a
flowerbed, opened his trousers and began urinating on
the flowers.  Shocked, she told him to stop and he
refused.  She then shouted at him, and that brought
their mother out to see what was happening.

She too was shocked, and marched Vijay off angrily to
Mr Gupta.  When his father confronted him sternly,
Vijay burst into tears and blurted out, “I was only
watering the flowers.  I want to see how big they’ll
grow.”

Unexpectedly Mr Gupta roared with laughter.  He
thought this was absolutely hilarious.  When his wife
urged him to punish Vijay, he more or less told her to
leave his son alone and let him water the flowers if
he thought they needed it.

Indian fathers are apparently God in their own homes,
and as a result Vijay felt free to water the flowers
with complete impunity.  Half an hour later he called
his father, “Father, come and see.  I want to water
the flowers again.”  And, much to the consternation of
Sandya and their mother, he proceeded to give a
demonstration, causing their father great amusement.

Vijay also told his father with great glee a story
that Sandya didn’t believe for one moment.  He came up
with some fantastic tale about how he had gone out of
the cinema during the interval with Roy, to water the
flowers, and had urinated on a pile of rags next to a
dustbin, only to find that some tramp was wearing
them.  The tramp then chased him all the way back to
the cinema and would have caught him, except that Roy
came to his rescue and beat up the tramp in a big
fight.  It was nice to be a hero rather than blamed
for the problem, as I might have been, but I’m sure
not even his father believed his story.

After that, there was no stopping him.  He took great
pleasure in provocatively watering the flowers in the
presence of his mother and Sandya, knowing they were
quite powerless to stop him.

Later in the week, I heard from Jenny on Friday, he
went too far.  During morning break at school, one of
the prefects caught him watering the flowers in one of
the school beds.  She reported him to the head girl,
who in turn marched Vijay to the head teacher.  Jenny
as a prefect herself saw him being marched in and
managed to attach herself to the party out of
curiosity.

As soon as he was in the head teacher’s office, Vijay
apparently burst into floods of tears and claimed that
he couldn’t help it, because he was desperate and on
the point of bursting and he had a medical problem
anyway.  The head teacher checked the records and
found that it was true, and probably Vijay’s cherubic
innocence came to his rescue again and made everyone
feel sorry for him.

Jenny asked my advice on whether to tell Sandya and I
suggested it might be better not to.  As we later
found out, though, Vijay himself had told her,
boasting and gloating about it, and she contacted
Jenny to find out if it was true.  No doubt Vijay
rejoiced in the knowledge that he was under his
father’s patronage for his new lifestyle and neither
his mother nor his sister could do anything about it.

I thought I had better do something about this problem
myself, as I felt partly responsible, before Vijay
started advertising his services under ‘Gardening’ in
the classified section of the national newspaper. 
Organic watering, I suppose he might have called it. 
So the next time Sandya was due to visit Jenny at our
house, the following weekend as we spent this
particular weekend at our naturist club with Aunt Sue
and Shelley, I made sure I was there.

Sure enough, Vijay came too.  Sandya hadn’t minded in
the past too much when her little brother wanted to
tag along with her, but this new little eccentricity
of Vijay’s had made him a serious embarrassment to
her.  She refused at first to take him and was
supported by her mother.  Then Vijay appealed to the
supreme court, and their father insisted that he
should go along if he wanted to.

I soon found out how Vijay’s new interest in
horticulture had developed over the past fortnight. 
No sooner had we gone out into the back garden
together than, as I had suspected he might, he went
over to the nearest flowerbed and started unzipping
his shorts.  “Let’s see how much your flowers will
grow now, Roy,” he called out.

“Don’t you dare!” I thundered at him, causing him to
let go of his trousers in shock.  They promptly sagged
halfway down his thighs.  “Like I told you at the
cinema – you use the proper toilet,” I told him more
quietly.  “Now come with me.”

I marched Vijay inside, with that look of betrayed
trust all over his face.  Even though I knew him, I
could understand why adults thought him so sweet and
found it so hard to do anything but spoil him.  Even
my own parents were leaning rather that way.

I took Vijay into our toilet, away from the girls, and
had a serious talk with him.  “Vijay, it doesn’t
matter if you water the flowers by yourself,” I told
him.  “As long as you don’t do it in places where it
will cause problems, like in the house or on
somebody’s car.  Or even on a tramp.  Not deliberately
– it was an accident that time.”  I could see Vijay
wondering whether to giggle at the memory.  “Or in a
swimming pool,” I added hastily, suddenly having a
vision of what he might do to our pool.

“But it does matter if there are other people around
who don’t like it,” I continued.  “Because that’s very
bad manners.  Do you have good manners?”  He nodded
vigorously and rather insincerely.

“Well, it’s very bad manners to Sandya and your mother
to do it while they’re there,” I told him, but I could
see he didn’t buy that argument.  “It’s bad manners to
the people at your school if you do it while they’re
there.  I don’t mind, but other people do.  So I will
not allow you to water any flowers when there are
girls around.  They don’t like it.”

“Tell me again what girls’ peenies are like, Roy,”
Vijay demanded.

“We can talk about that when I know you have good
manners,” I told him, ignoring the red herring.  “That
would be private talk, and I don’t think your manners
are good enough to keep it secret.  You’d go and tell
Sandya and other people all the secrets I tell you.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” protested Vijay, but I demanded a
bit more proof before I would discuss anything with
him.  Unless I could trust him to keep his mouth shut,
he might blabber all sorts of things about any
conversation we had, and I could get accused of some
rather unpleasant things.

Vijay behaved himself that afternoon, spending a great
deal of time examining Cupid again.  Cupid gave him
ideas, because once I saw his hand go to his zip
before he glanced in my direction.  I stared at him,
and he slunk off quickly into the house.

Out of my presence, though, he took advantage.  I soon
heard via Jenny another story of how the Gupta family
had gone visiting the other Indians they knew,
Surita’s friend and her family, and Vijay had started
watering the flowers there in full view of everybody. 
Sandya said the other family was disgusted, but their
own father just laughed at it as usual.  Surita’s
friend apparently told Surita later that her father
was not going to invite the Guptas to come again.  The
next day I gather he had gone with his mother to the
shops and urinated into a potted plant at the hardware
store.

So when Sandya and Vijay came round that Friday
afternoon after school, I refused to see Vijay.  “I’m
not going to play with you at all today,” I told him. 
“You’ve been watering the flowers in front of your
family and in front of their friends.”

“My father didn’t mind,” protested Vijay.  “He
laughed.”

“You can do it in front of your father, then, if there
are no girls there,” I answered.  “But I told you it
was very bad manners in front of women and girls.”

“Sandya’s a telltale!” Vijay spat out.  “I hate her.”

“Sandya didn’t tell me, Jenny did,” I replied.  “So
you can take it out of Jenny if you like.”  I knew
Jenny could handle him.  “I’ll play with you next time
as long as I hear no more bad stories about your bad
manners.”

Part of the reason why I was so harsh about this was
that I did not want to be blamed for starting all
this, even though I had.  I supposed most other people
would have allowed Vijay to urinate up an alley,
especially when there was no alternative apart from
bursting inside his clothes.  But I had particularly
tried to show him that it didn’t matter, and that had
backfired.

Probably Vijay had already told his father, at least,
a lot of what I had said, and perhaps his mother as
well, although she would keep quiet about it because
of her husband’s attitude.  He may well have told
others.  Sandya, it seemed, had not implicated me at
all, although she might well have been tempted to
blame it all on me.

I heard no more tales about Vijay, although I probed
Jenny gently to see if she had, so I played with Vijay
when we next saw them.  They often visited us,
especially on Friday afternoon, when all our parents
were working.  If Jenny had not liked Sandya so much,
I think we would both have found it rather a nuisance,
as their presence meant that we had to wear our
clothes all the time, or swimming costumes when we
swam.

Sandya could swim but not well, and Vijay hardly at
all.  In fact, they did not enjoy swimming very much. 
Again, swimming does not seem to be part of the Indian
culture.  But they did want to cool down at times, and
insisted on changing into their school swimming
costumes in private when this happened.  I found it
quite tiresome, but knew my responsibilities.  I got
on better with Vijay all the time, but brushed aside
his requests for sex education, preferring to make
sure I was safe.  I didn’t want to start any more bad
habits on his part.

One Friday afternoon, just after Jenny’s birthday, she
decided to go to the shops with Sandya.  I knew they
would be there all afternoon, so I decided to stay at
home.  It was a hot day and at the end of the week I
just wanted a good long swim, in a situation where a
swimming costume was not necessary.  Vijay, for the
first time, decided he did not need Sandya to look
after him and he would stay with me.

I agreed with rather mixed feelings.  I was sure he
would not object to my swimming naked, and would
probably do the same himself.  I was just worried
about what he might report to others, or that he might
decide not only to water the flowers at inappropriate
times but also to walk round stark naked at
inappropriate times.

I had visions of Vijay walking round his house naked,
or trying to swim naked at school, or undressing at
the shops, pretending to be Cupid.  So it was with
some fear of the unknown that I watched Jenny and
Sandya go off to the shops, certain they would not
return for several hours – if not days.  Vijay was
bursting for education, but how much should I give
him?

(To be continued)



WATERING THE FLOWERS (CHAPTER 3)


Vijay seemed rather silent as the girls departed.  He
was obviously not used to being left alone without an
older member of his family to look after him, even
though adults generally seemed to say, “What a lovely
little boy,” and fall all over themselves to look
after him on first sight.

“Well, I’m going to have a swim,” I announced
immediately, longing to get into the cold water on a
hot day.  “Will you join me?”

“I didn’t bring my swimming costume,” replied Vijay in
a small voice as I led the way upstairs to my bedroom.
 My parents always insisted that Jenny and I put our
clothes in our bedroom whenever we took them off.

“You don’t need one here,” I told him casually.  “I
like swimming with nothing on.  You feel so free.  But
it would be bad manners to do that with Sandhya here,
since she doesn’t like it.”

“What about Jenny?” asked Vijay, sounding bemused.

“Jenny likes it too,” I assured him.

Vijay’s face revealed deep shock at the violation of
Indian culture as he had been taught.  “It’s all
right,” I told him, starting to undress.  “It’s just
like you watering the flowers.  Now there’s nobody
else here, you can water the flowers as much as you
like.  And we can swim naked as much as we like.”

Vijay still looked shocked.  Apparently, in his mind,
watering the flowers was fine and great fun, but
actually going naked in public was quite shocking.  I
couldn’t understand this, as his penis was always
clearly visible when he performed his irrigation, and
he never seemed to mind then.

Anyway, he stared at my penis in great fascination as
I finished undressing.  “How did you get hairs down
there?” he asked as I picked up a towel and started
off down the stairs.

“Everyone grows hair there when they get to about
twelve or thirteen,” I said.  I wasn’t at all sure
about my friend Scott when he reached twenty or
thirty, mind you, or Vijay either for that matter.

“Has Surita got hair there?” he asked, wrinkling up
his whole face and looking incredulous.

“Yes, probably,” I replied.

“Has Sandhya got hair there?” he asked next.

“I don’t know, but she will have soon,” I answered. 
“Girls usually have their breasts start growing first,
and a bit later on they grow some hairs down there.” 
Sandhya’s figure seemed to indicate that her breasts
were just beginning to bud, whereas Jenny was still
almost flat.

“What breasts?” asked Vijay, genuinely puzzled.  As I
questioned him, I realised that he had probably not
noticed that women tend to bulge at the front, and had
no idea whatever that there could be anything sexual
about it.  I found that my younger friends at the
naturist club who had grown up with naturist families
and had been to the club all their lives were often
completely unaware that some people found breasts
sexually exciting.

I had to do a bit of basic sexual education with
Vijay, but I did not give any hint that girls did not
want their breasts seen, or he would no doubt have
wanted desperately to see them.  Such is human nature.

“Has Jenny got hair there?” was Vijay’s next question.

“Not yet,” I answered.

“But you and Jenny – swim together naked?” he asked,
still incredulous.

“Yes, often,” I answered.  “We don’t think being naked
is anything to be ashamed of.  It’s fun, just like
watering the flowers, but it would be rude to do it
with people who don’t like it, like Sandhya.”

“What does Jenny look like?” Vijay wanted to know.

I misunderstood him and was puzzled.  “What do you
mean, look like?” I asked him.  “You just saw her, in
her yellow dress . . .”

“No, I mean – what does she look like . . . down
there?” Vijay explained himself.  We had stopped by
the open French windows of our lounge before going on
down to the pool.

“Well, like I told you, it’s like a little pair of
lips . . .” I began, then thought of something. 
“Well, I can show you a photograph,” I said.  “Do you
want to see one?  Jenny won’t mind.”

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Vijay, almost jumping up and down
with excitement.  “Show me, show me.”

Having been brought up as a textile until the age of
eight, I can still understand the interest and
excitement of some boys at seeing a naked girl, any
girl, for the first time.  I would have loved to see
Sandhya naked, for example, but not for the sake of
curiosity, rather as an act of intimacy.  Perhaps you
could call it visual sex!  It’s an emotional thing,
not a sexual one, but young boys like Vijay who become
curious about the opposite sex find sexual feelings
overwhelming them for the first time, even if it is
just a drawing.

I pulled my personal private photo album out of my
drawer, with Vijay bouncing up and down, not even
trying to contain his excitement.  I have this album
with pictures in of myself and friends naked, but I
always take care only to photograph those people who
don’t mind it.  I opened it to a large, recent photo
of Jenny and myself at the naturist club.  We were
lying on our backs on two sun loungers and the photo
was taken from beyond our feet.  We were both smiling
lazily, with my penis flopping to one side and Jenny’s
vagina brilliantly clear all the way from between her
legs to the top, even the gentle curves of the skin as
it sloped down the slit clearly visible.

Vijay breathed out something that sounded like, “Wow!”
 With eyes as big as saucers, he stared at it.  He
seemed frozen like a statue for about half a minute. 
Then he reached out a hand and tentatively touched the
vagina in the photo, running his finger up and down as
if he could feel it.

“Does the pee come out from the middle?” he asked
finally, still staring at the photo.  I replied in the
affirmative, so he asked, “What’s inside?”

“Just like a boy’s, there’s a little pipe down from
the tummy, to let the wee through,” I answered,
deciding that was all he needed to know.

“Will Jenny let me touch hers?” he asked.

“No, it’s bad manners to touch people between their
legs, or ask them to do it,” I answered.  Well, not
always, but I didn’t want to attract Vijay’s curiosity
any more.

He gave a kind of groan, reverted to staring, and then
asked, “Have you any more photos?”

“Yes, you can look through the album,” I told him. 
“Most of the photos are of us when we’re naked,
because that’s how we live at the club.”

I stopped myself too late, because Vijay wanted to
know all about the club.  “Are there lots of naked
girls there?” he asked.

“Some,” I said, not wanting to arouse too much
excitement.  “But you won’t be able to go because your
parents won’t let you.”

He thought hard as he stared at one photo after
another.  I sat down in a chair and prepared for a
long wait.  I daren’t leave him alone in case he
decided to ransack the house to look for more.  Then
he said, “You could sneak me into the car next time
you go and my parents wouldn’t find out.”

“We can’t do that,” I answered.  “The club always
makes sure the parents agree before they allow any
children there.”

Vijay looked bitterly disappointed.  Then he asked,
“Does Sandhya look like this?”

“I’m sure she does,” I answered.  “All girls look just
the same, so they’re not very interesting once you’ve
seen one of them.”  Not quite true, and as far as I
was concerned the lack of interest did not apply when
the emotions were stimulated.

“I want to see her!” Vijay burst out, looking at me
appealingly as if I had the power to produce a naked
sister for him.  “And Surita too!”

“No, that won’t be possible,” I told him sadly.  “They
would never let you see them, so don’t think about
it.”  I had no real hope of ever seeing Sandhya naked
myself, so I stopped trying to think about it as well.
 She was too far gone, too deeply immersed in her
culture ever to let me or any other male, I’m sure,
ever see her naked until she was married.  And no
doubt then it would be a real trauma.

Vijay looked bitterly disappointed.  I tried to think
of ways in which he might legitimately see a girl
naked, most likely Jenny, but could think of none.  By
our parents’ instructions, we had both been brought up
to stay clothed in the presence of `textiles’ of the
opposite sex.  Jenny would never have minded Vijay
seeing her naked, but Vijay was never there without
Sandhya, who would have been offended.  Perhaps I
could work something out somehow, but at the moment I
had no ideas.

Vijay ploughed laboriously through the album, making
crooning noises at times, running his fingers over the
pictures and at times asking questions about female
anatomy or making ridiculous suggestions as to how I
might help him to see a real vagina.  Most of them
involved spying, which I would never agree to.  He was
astounded by the pictures of my parents in the album,
but it was Jenny and her naturist friends that
thrilled him the most.

After the best part of a very boring hour for me, he
finally reached the end of the book and asked, “Are
there any more?”

“No,” I replied, lying but out of sheer desperation. 
“I want to go for a swim now.”

“So do I,” he said, following me out the back.  “May I
swim in my underpants?”

“No, you can’t do that,” I told him.  “You’ll get into
big trouble at home when your parents see they’re
wet.”  He wanted to borrow some of my clothes, but I
told him bluntly that if he didn’t have anything of
his own, he would have to swim naked.

“Someone might see me,” he wailed.  I invited him to
show me how that was possible in our hedged-in pool
area, with a gate I could lock for extra privacy.

He kept trying to argue, so I left him and leapt into
the pool.  The sight of me enjoying myself in the cool
water was just too much for him, as I hoped it might. 
“I want to swim,” he finally blurted out, and I
guessed that finally nakedness was implied.

“That’s all right,” I told him, shooting down the
slide, which was always his favourite activity.

“Come with me,” he begged.  Reluctantly I dragged
myself out of the pool and we walked back to the house
together.

When we arrived, he suddenly grew shy again and told
me to wait for him.  He slipped inside and upstairs. 
I almost reminded him that he had no need to be shy of
me and that I had already seen his penis, but didn’t
think that would help.

I must have waited for about ten minutes, calling up
the stairs once.  His frightened voice assured me that
he was coming, but he didn’t materialise.  Then
finally, just as I was deciding that I had no choice
but to go up and fetch him, I saw his fearful little
face peeping round the lounge door.  “Is there anyone
else there?” he asked.

“No, there’s nobody else but me,” I assured him. 
“Let’s go.”  I held out a hand to him.

With little toddling steps he tottered into the
lounge, clearly naked but with both hands clutched
protectively over his groin.  I had to try hard to
stop myself from laughing, he looked so ridiculous. 
He removed one hand to clutch mine, and I led him
gently to the pool area.  He was actually trembling as
he looked around fearfully to check that nobody could
see him.  The dog appeared from among the trees and
Vijay shot behind me and stayed hidden there.

“Dogs are naturists, too,” I told him, again finding
it difficult not to laugh.  “He’s seen all of us and
it doesn’t bother him at all.”

We reached the pool area and I locked ourselves in.  I
dived into the pool and came to the surface, waiting
for Vijay.  He stood on the edge of the pool,
clutching his genitals as if they were about to fall
off and looking too afraid to jump in.

Suddenly I remembered something.  “Hadn’t you better
water the flowers fisrt?” I asked.

“Yes,” he muttered, turning his back on me and heading
for the nearest flowerbed.  I watched as he thrust his
hips and his little bare bottom forward, and could see
the spurt of urine disappearing into the flowers on
the far side.

Then suddenly he screamed and spun around, urine
spraying in all directions until the valve stopped. 
He danced and jiggled, screaming all the time, his
emaciated little penis bouncing up and down in a
frenzy.  “A bee!  A bee!” he screamed, trying to back
away.  I could now see the bee buzzing around him,
directly in front of his penis.  He clutched his
genitals again to protect them physically this time,
still screaming.

“Quick!  Jump in the pool!” I urged him.  I was in the
shallow end, the only part he used as a non-swimmer.

He aimed a desperate swat at the bee and raced towards
me.  But after a couple of paces he gave a hideous
scream and clutched his bottom.  He took a flying leap
at me and almost landed in my arms, howling with pain.
 I almost fell over backwards and pushed him up to
keep his head out of water.  I could feel his penis
brushing my neck as I did so.

He kept howling and trying to clutch his bottom.  I
put his light body over my shoulder to have a closer
look, feeling his penis against my shoulder this time.
 It took quite a while to find the sting because he
was struggling so hard.

In the end I was able to assure him that the bee had
gone and would never be able to sting him again
anyway.  Gradually his crying and kicking lessened.  I
was finally able to lay him on his front on the side
of the pool and remove the sting from the middle on
one of the cheeks of his bottom.

“Bees don’t usually like being watered,” I explained
to him.  “It’s a good thing it didn’t sting your
penis.”  He looked at me in horror.  “Then it would
get all swollen and end up this size,” I continued,
putting my hands about thirty centimetres apart.

Finally he began to giggle.  He turned over and sat
up, completely forgetting how shy he had been of
letting me see his penis on his naked body.  For some
reason, it didn’t seem to matter if it was only coming
out of his trousers while he watered the flowers.

He scrambled to his feet and turned round to
investigate his stung bottom.  His stringy little
penis stuck out, with the little knob on the end where
his foreskin covered his prepuce.  Wet, it gleamed
brightly in the sunlight.  Then, seemingly satisfied
with his rear, he turned back to me and said, “Catch
me!”  Without any warning, he jumped.

It was always one of Vijay’s favourite games to jump
from the side of the pool for me to catch him, but
this time he gave me no warning.  I overbalanced and
we both went under.  He came up spluttering and
howling, having swallowed a good portion of the water
in the pool.

We had a lot of fun for an hour before I heard the
alarm for the gate ring.  That was the signal I had
arranged with Jenny for when we came back, in case we
had to scramble into our clothes in a hurry.  We raced
upstairs, dripping water, Vijay giggling in naughty
excitement, and did just that.

By now he had lost all shyness about his penis.  He
sat on the floor, penis sticking out and tiny brown
testicles bobbing underneath, as he put on his maroon
underpants, and said, “That was fun.  We must do that
again.”

“Would your parents let you do it again if they knew?”
I asked him.  He shook his head and grunted very
definitely.

“What would Sandhya do if she found out?” I asked.

“She’d tell them,” replied Vijay, very definitely.

“Well, we’d better keep it a secret, then,” I
suggested.  “Or we never will be able to do it again.”

Unfortunately Vijay did not have the sense to do that.
 According to Jenny, as reported to her by Sandhya,
she found Vijay running around naked in the garden
spray at home that weekend.  As he refused to obey
her, she reported it to her mother, who passed it on
to her father.  This time Vijay didn’t have an amusing
retort, such as watering the flowers, and his father
forbade him to do it.  I gather he was not very angry
with his favourite son, but he did order him not to do
that again.

So that, I expected, was as far as things would go
with the Guptas.  I had a real liking for the pretty
Sandhya, with her lovely manners and her wide smile
and her flashing dark eyes that showed she had rather
a crush on me, so I was often there when she was, and
of course Vijay was there too.

Jenny sometimes tried to persuade Sandhya to allow us
to swim naked together, but to Sandhya that was taboo.
 She smilingly shook her head whenever Jenny said,
“Please, just once, let’s swim with nothing on.  I
promise you, you’ll love it.”  Besides, I suspected
her body was beginning to develop and she would no
doubt be embarrassed by it.

But I always hoped for it, to the extent of lowering
my standards one day and telling Jenny to pretend I
wasn’t at home, and then try persuading Sandhya to
swim naked, in case my presence was inhibiting her.  I
watched with a thumping heart from behind the
curtains, but Sandhya still would not agree.  I often
saw those lovely gently-coloured panties of hers, but
longed and fantasised about what lay beneath.  I
sometimes got an erection as I longed for the greater
intimacy of swimming naked with Sandhya, sharing our
naked bodies with each other without fear or shame.

Then one day, when we were all round at our house and
taking a mid-afternoon drink, Vijay grinned at me and
said, “Come, Roy, I’ve got something to tell you.”  I
had noticed he had a certain excited glow about him
that day, so I was curious as I followed him down to
the bottom of the garden.

The first thing he wanted to do was water the flowers,
as Sandhya could no longer see him.  Then he gave me a
huge wicked grin and whispered to me, his trousers
still open all the way down the front, “I saw
Sandhya’s wee-wee yesterday.”

My heart gave a lurch and protested it couldn’t be
true.  “You didn’t,” I burst out, feeling insanely
jealous.  If I couldn’t see Sandhya naked, I certainly
didn’t want anybody else to.

“I did,” he grinned.  “It was just like those pictures
of Jenny.  She isn’t hairy yet.  And she looks – funny
– up here.  She has funny lumps.”  He indicated the
chest area.

I restrained my desire to drag off his testicles and
feed them to the dog in a fit of rage.  It sounded
genuine enough.  “How did you do that?” I choked,
hoping that it either wasn’t true or that it was
something I could have a share in.  Even if it meant
spying.  I was that desperate.

“You know how she has her shower early in the
morning,” Vijay grinned wickedly, still whispering. 
“She goes into the bathroom in her pyjamas and starts
the water so it gets hot.  Then she comes back into
her room and shuts the door and takes her pyjamas off.
 Then she takes out her school clothes and puts on her
bath robe and goes and has her shower.”

I listened, my heart feeling like lead.  Vijay
continued.  “So this morning when she went into the
bathroom, I sneaked into her room and hid under her
bed.  When she came in and took her pyjamas off I saw
her.  She was all bare, everywhere.  I could see her
wee-wee.  And when she went to the bathroom I sneaked
out again.”

I felt sick with envy.  Vijay didn’t notice, as he was
too proud of himself for achieving his life’s
ambition.  Obviously I would never get a chance to do
the same thing.

“Vijay, it’s wrong to go spying on people like that,”
I scolded him, knowing full well I would have done the
same on this occasion if I had the chance.  “It’s very
bad manners.”

“Nobody knew,” he grinned happily, impervious to my
rebuke for once.  “I saw it.  It was like this.”  He
pulled down his underpants, dragged his penis to one
side and tried to demonstrate with his fingers what
his sister looked like.  “But, Roy, she has lumps on
her tummy, up here.”  He indicated his chest and his
tiny nipples.  “Like these, only they’re lots bigger. 
What are those?  Is she sick?”

“No, she’s not sick,” I said, feeling very sick
myself.  “I’ll tell you some other time.  But we must
get back to the others or they’ll come and look for
us.”  Without more ado, I turned and marched back to
the girls, leaving Vijay wondering why I did not
congratulate him on his cleverness.

He ran after me, and Sandhya immediately called out to
him to zip up his trousers.  She was not looking at
me, so I tried to visualise her through her clothes. 
I could indeed make out bulges under her dress, but it
was rather loose round the front and I couldn’t tell
how big they were.  And between her legs . . . I felt
almost physically sick.  Vijay had seen, and I hadn’t.
 I was 
insanely jealous.

The Guptas were only there on a one-year contract, and
during the weeks that followed I struggled to come to
terms with the frustration I felt, especially when
Vijay boasted to me every now and then that he had
done it again.  After the second repeat, I shouted at
him, telling him I didn’t want to hear any more of it.

I couldn’t bear it.  I told myself I was ridiculous,
getting so obsessed about seeing a twelve-year-old
girl naked, but I couldn’t help it.  The thoughts
pursued me in every idle moment.  Nowadays I hardly
ever get turned on sexually by a preteen girl,
although I still admire their naked beauty, but
inexplicably this sweet little Indian girl was
different.

I knew that if Jenny couldn’t persuade her, I
certainly couldn’t.  This, I guess, is how some rapes
start, with an unsatisfied male obsession and an
uncooperative female.  But my passion was born out of
love, as it always is, and I could never bring myself
to do anything that would harm the girl I loved.

I would have to use guile, but I could never come up
with a workable idea.  She always changed for swimming
in Jenny’s bedroom and I heard her lock the door each
time – to keep out Vijay rather than me, Jenny assured
me - just as I was desperate enough to think about
barging in on a pretext.  There was nowhere I could
spy on her, were I to stoop so low – and I was indeed
desperate to stoop that low.

It was Sandhya’s very shyness that aroused such a
desire in me, I think.  One night I actually dreamed I
was having sex with her and awoke to find my rock-hard
penis jerking wildly and pumping all over my sheets. 
I felt ashamed of the dream and the ‘accident’,
especially because I had never consciously imagined
going so far as to have sex with her.

Less than a month was left before the Guptas’
departure, and I was trying in vain to come to terms
with the fact that I never would see Sandhya’s
beautiful naked body.  I had visualised every
centimetre of it by now, many times over.  It was
harder than ever when Vijay whispered gleefully in my
ear again one day, “I saw Sandhya again this morning!”
 I told him fiercely I would hit him if he ever
mentioned that again.

One day Jenny said wistfully, “I wish Sandhya would
swim naked with us, just once before she leaves.  It’s
hard to think of her as a real friend.  Do you think
we could take her to Santo Boladora?”

I had actually thought of taking Sandhya and Vijay to
Santo Boladora, the place with the streams and pool
and waterfall where we had gone on the day I first met
my girlfriend Marina and her brother Scott – many,
many times.  (By the way, I did introduce Scott and
Vijay, who shared rather the same fascinations with
their own penises, but Scott was now far more
interested in girls than in small boys.)

“Wish we could, but she’d never swim naked out in the
open,” I told her, gloomily realistic.  I didn’t think
I could stand the idea of taking her to a place like
that and having her refuse to perform.

We had been on one previous picnic with them, to a
place where there was a small stream, but Sandhya
wasn’t interested in any swimming and she stopped
Vijay before he even thought about it.  My devious
mind wondered what she would do when she needed to go
to the toilet, but she quietly disappeared somewhere
so private I had no chance of seeing her.  

And all the time I was deeply ashamed of my
uncharacteristic infatuation.  It was just the love I
had for her, combined with the lure of the forbidden. 
Other girls I had loved in the past I had always
managed to lead to nudity sooner or later, bit by bit.
 But I couldn’t even get Sandhya to take the tiniest
step.

“Let’s try asking her on a picnic there, anyway, if
you’ll drive us?” Jenny suggested.  “I bet I could get
her to swim naked when we got her there.”

I never believed it for a moment.  “I bet you can’t,”
I countered.

“How much?” Jenny wanted to know, no doubt wondering
if I meant it.

“Ten thousand,” I offered.

That was quite a lot, and Jenny’s eyes grew wide.  “Do
you mean it?” she asked.

“Sure, if you don’t tell anyone about it,” I grinned
at her.

“I’ll do it!” she promised, slapping my hand.  It was
a lot of money for me, too, but it would be worth it
many times over, I thought, if she could arrange it
and take responsibility for it.  I was in a win-win
situation.  I would either get my hearts’ desire or a
lot of money.

Then she made the mistake of telling my parents that
we wanted a picnic with Sandhya (Vijay went without
saying) at Santo Boladora.  I realised straight away I
should have anticipated that and stopped her.  They
immediately forbade her to take Sandhya there, as
Sandhya was not a naturist and my parents knew very
well that we swam naked there.  They didn’t want any
trouble with the Guptas, who had already associated me
with Vijay’s sudden mad desires to water the flowers
and run around naked, although the Gupta parents had
never spoken to me personally about it but my parents
had warned me to leave that sort of thing well alone
with them.

“Well, you won’t be getting your money, then,” I
teased Jenny, trying to persuade her to come up with
another plan.

“Yes, I will,” she said, although she sounded
doubtful.  But next day she came to me to tell me she
had a plan.

“Will you drive us to the big game farm on Saturday?”
she asked.

“All right, but have you given up on your bet?” I
asked her.

“No,” she grinned.  “I’ve got a plan.  I won’t tell
Mum and Dad, and I won’t tell you either, so you won’t
get blamed.  But just do what I tell you on Saturday,
will you?”

I agreed, and tried in vain to persuade her to reveal
her plan.  Needless to say, I was in a rare state of
tension until Saturday.

We set off at about half-past nine on Saturday.  Vijay
for once was wearing shorts, a new venture to him that
was not altogether approved by his mother.  Sandhya
was wearing a pink sundress that emphasised her slim
figure, and came down almost to her knees.  Jenny had
been trying to get her to wear her dresses shorter,
and this was one of the shortest I had seen her wear. 
Again, her mother did not approve, but her father
seemed to like it and that was what counted.

I had my own car by now, rather battered but
mechanically reliable.  Like almost all cars in this
country, it was required to have a rear-view mirror on
both wings, and also one inside the car.  As I had
done with the mirror inside my parents’ car on that
day I first met Marina and Scott, I bent it downwards
the night before so I could keep an eye on what was
going on in the back seat.  Jenny, by the way, was not
actually aware of this.

It was well worth it.  We started off with the other
three in the back, as Jenny and Sandhya wanted to talk
and Vijay was too young legally to sit in the front. 
Sandhya sat in the middle, as Vijay wanted to sit next
to her rather than Jenny.  My car has a hump down the
floor in the middle for all the wiring, and the person
sitting in the middle has to sit with legs slightly
apart, one on each side of the hump.

It was perfect for me.  Sandhya sat there with her
legs apart and my mirror trained there.  She was
wearing a delicate pale lilac colour of panties this
day, and they were very easily visible all the time, a
lovely sight.

We had just started off and were on the road when
Jenny suddenly said to me, “Oh, Roy, I forgot to tell
you, we’re taking Melanie as well.  I invited her
yesterday.  Sandhya, you’ll like Melanie, she’s a
friend of mine from class.”

And a friend from our naturist club, I was very well
aware.  So Jenny had decided to bring in some
reinforcements.  I was very happy to agree and, as I
suspected, Jenny had forgotten to tell our parents as
well, in case they suspected what we were up to.

Melanie was a rather plump, jolly girl with untidy
blonde hair falling down almost to her shoulders.  She
was wearing a short flowery dress and her white
panties, full and rounded, were easily visible as she
scrambled into the car.  She sat in the front next to
me.

She had evidently been primed by Jenny.  On our
journey out of town, she chattered away to me happily,
and at one point started talking about the naturist
club.  Then almost immediately she stopped, drew a
breath and changed the subject.  Jenny had clearly
told her what was going on, but I wasn’t sure yet. 
There wasn’t much naturism possible at the game farm.

We drove out into the countryside, with a
fifty-kilometre trip before us.  Melanie, with her
round happy face and blue eyes, kept chatting to me in
the front while Jenny and Sandhya talked in the back. 
Vijay as usual said nothing.  He was nowadays very
chatty with me, but usually only when we were by
ourselves.

About twenty kilometres out of town, we drove through
a large and quite thick wood, in a hilly area.  Not
far into it we crossed a small bridge with a busy
stream rushing under it, over a rocky bed.  Jenny and
I both knew this area well, because whenever we were
passing this way we would stop the car and go into the
wood to play in the stream – naked, of course.

As we crossed the bridge, I saw Jenny, who was on the
right-hand side of the car, point deliberately to the
stream on the left-hand side and say, “Look, Sandhya,
look at that stream!”  As Sandhya turned to look,
Jenny, sitting behind Melanie who was in the middle of
talking to me, poked her urgently in the back.

I immediately had an idea of Jenny’s plan, given away
as Melanie had clearly forgotten her cue.  Melanie
suddenly broke off what she was saying and blurted out
rather too quickly, “Ooh, Roy, I’m sorry, please stop
the car here.  I – I need to go to the toilet. 
Badly.”

Realising that Jenny had plans for us at the stream, I
stopped the car immediately, without question. 
Sandhya looked rather surprised at the suddenness of
it all as I pulled on to the grassy verge by the side
of the road.

“I’ll come with you, Melanie.  I also need to go,” put
in Jenny.

“Me too,” put in Vijay.  “I want to water the
flowers!”

Sandhya immediately responded with, “No, Vijay, you
don’t,” but that excuse from Vijay was always
believable.  Vijay opened the door and burst out, just
as the other two car doors opened.

Rather taken aback by the speed of things that left
within five seconds only herself and me in the car,
Sandhya was slow in reacting.  Then she made a late
grab at Vijay but he had already gone.  The other
three marched off among the trees together, heading
back towards the stream, without a word to Sandhya. 
It was clearly part of the plan that she shouldn’t go
with them then.  I had no idea what the next part
would be.

Sandhya had a quick dither about whether to stay in
the car or go chasing after them.  Then she appealed
to me.  “Roy, they shouldn’t do it – together,” she
said.  “Not the girls with Vijay.  It’s bad enough
doing it – outside!”

“It doesn’t matter, Jenny can handle it all right,” I
replied, turning round and smiling into her tense
face.  “At least Vijay isn’t watering the flowers
beside the road.”

She didn’t think it was funny, staring after the three
of them as they gradually disappeared from view.  It
was very silent out there, with only bird noises to
break the silence.  Then Sandhya said, “I think he –
may want to do it with them.”

“Jenny can handle it, but I don’t think the girls will
mind,” I said, causing her to look shocked at the
thought of boys and girls actually urinating together.
 I smiled gently at her.  “Why are you so bothered
about it?” I asked her.  “People in India often have
to go to the toilet out in the open, don’t they?”

Sandhya’s face reflected some inner turmoil.  Then she
said, “It’s just – in our culture boys and girls don’t
do it in public.  Or together.”

“Well, in our culture we don’t really worry about it
too much,” I replied.  “Besides, they’re going
somewhere private.  When you’re living in a different
culture, wouldn’t it be a good thing to accept what
people in that culture do?”

Sandhya was silent for a few seconds, and then
shuddered and said, “It seems so rude – to me.”

“Haven’t you ever needed to go to the toilet when
you’re outside and you don’t have a proper toilet?” I
asked her, thinking of the previous picnic when she
quietly disappeared for a while.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured, looking
quite embarrassed.

I waited a few seconds and then said, “Different
cultures can be a problem, I know.  I’m not trying to
change your mind, but everybody needs to think about
whether every part of their own culture suits them, or
whether there are things in another culture that might
be better.  I think our culture is a lot freer than
yours.  There seem to be a lot of things in your
culture that you can’t do and we can.  So I can see it
must be difficult for you when you see how free we
are, and you feel happier with all your sets of
rules.”

“We don’t really have so many rules,” Sandhya
whispered, looking at me with a rather troubled
expression in her deep brown eyes.

I thought of something.  “Will you let me give you a
hug?” I asked her with a smile.

Sandhya leaned back hard in her seat and opened her
eyes wide with shock.  I wasn’t sure that Indians
could blush, but her lovely smooth light-brown skin on
her cheeks did look much brighter than usual.  Very
shyly she shook her head and said, “We – can’t.”

“Well, our culture is freer than yours there as well,”
I smiled at her.  “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll never
do anything to you that you don’t want me to.  And
I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to.  We
don’t mind hugging and kissing people we like, our
friends and so on.  It’s a way we often show we like
somebody very much.”  I grinned at her still shocked
face.  “So if you change your mind about that part of
your culture, please let me know, because I like you
very much.”

She blushed again, looking quite startled at my
confession, and sat still, staring at me while I
smiled back.  I could tell this sort of talk wasn’t
what she considered part of her culture either, so I
said nothing more.  Again I could sense her inner
turmoil.  I had known for some time that she had quite
a crush on me, but didn’t know how to express it.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before
Jenny, by herself, appeared among the trees.  “Here
comes the next part of the plan,” I said to myself.  I
hoped it would not be anything that offended Sandhya.

Jenny came up to the car and asked me, “Roy, could we
stay here a little while, please?  We want to explore
the stream.”

“Where’s Vijay?” asked Sandhya, but Jenny pretended
not to hear.

“That should be fine,” I agreed, as Jenny had earlier
instructed me.  “It’s always exciting to explore. 
Sandhya, let’s go and have a look at it.”  I noticed
that Jenny had not spoken to Sandhya ever since
Melanie had asked me to stop the car, which Sandhya
might have found rather strange or even upsetting.

“Vijay’s with Melanie at the stream.  It’s not far,”
Jenny answered her friend at last, obviously feeling
that now she could communicate with her again.  “Come
and I’ll show you.  It’s great!”

“All right,” Sandhya whispered, and climbed out of the
car as I locked the doors.  Jenny affectionately
linked arms with Sandhya as she led us through the
trees.  At least linking arms with another girl did
not seem to be offensive in Sandhya’s culture.

Almost immediately we could hear happy shouts from
Melanie and Vijay above the running water of the
stream.  I had a suspicion as to what we might find,
and I had to think of Sandhya’s most likely reaction
and how I could counter it.  I was right.

Just ahead of me Jenny and Sandhya turned a corner
round some bushes and the stream was in view ahead of
us.  It was about three or four metres wide, running
rapidly through a rocky bed.  About ten metres further
along was a little pool, with the water still flowing
rapidly through it.  In that pool, chasing and
splashing each other, were two naked children.

Sandhya gave a gasp of shock.  She broke free from
Jenny and scrambled quickly down towards the pool. 
She stood on a rock next to the pool and shouted above
the noise of the water and the children.  “Vijay!  Get
out and put your clothes on!  You mustn’t!”

Vijay was about two metres away from her, in the water
and out of her reach unless she waded in.  “Go away!”
he shouted rudely at her, his little brown penis
sticking out diagonally and the water on it gleaming
in the sun.  “I’m just having fun!  Go away!”

Sandhya reached out for him, but couldn’t make
contact.  She slapped her knees in anguish.  “We’ll
get into such trouble!” she cried out.  “You must stop
it and get out!”

I came over and tried to take charge of the situation.
 “Don’t worry, Sandhya,” I said quietly, standing next
to her.  As I was not on a rock, our heads were about
level.  “We’ve just been talking about different
cultures.  When Vijay is with the rest of you, he must
obey your rules, but he wants to join in when he’s
with us.  But he should have asked permission first.”

“We’ll get into such trouble from our parents,” said
an agonised Sandhya, unshed tears in her eyes.

“No, we won’t, because I won’t tell,” Vijay shouted at
her.

“You must come out, Vijay.  You can’t do this,”
Sandhya pleaded.

She reached out for him but Vijay backed away.  He
splashed some water in her direction and she would
have fallen off the rock if I hadn’t caught her as she
tried to avoid it.  “I’ll splash you if you try and
stop it!” he threatened.

Behind us, Jenny had been taking her clothes off.  Now
wearing only her brief white panties, she turned on
Sandhya, frustrated that her plan apparently was not
working out as she had hoped.  “Oh, Sandhya, you’re
such a spoilsport!” she accused her crossly.  “You
never want to join in our fun!  Just leave Vijay
alone, because he knows how to have fun and you don’t.
 I want to be your friend but you won’t share our
fun.”  She turned away, pulled off her panties and
leapt into pool.  Melanie fell on her and they rolled
over into the shallow water together, shrieking with
laughter.

Sandhya looked appalled, helpless and distressed, and
my heart went out to her.  I reached out to put an arm
round her, and then remembered it might offend her. 
Vijay was still glaring at her, so I told him off. 
“Don’t you be rude to Sandhya or splash water,” I
ordered him, and he cringed.  “You shouldn’t have gone
in there naked without asking permission.”

“Come and sit down here, Sandhya,” I said gently,
taking up half of a large rock halfway up the bank. 
Her eyes brimming with tears, she obeyed, turning her
head away from the three naked infidels in the pool.

“Sorry, I didn’t know they were going to do this,” I
told her.  “But do remember, it’s our culture, so the
girls can if they want.  But Vijay shouldn’t have done
something that offended you.  And Jenny shouldn’t have
shouted at you.”

“Can’t you stop them?” she asked me, pleadingly.

“Well, with something like this, you’re living among
our culture, so sometimes you have to put up with the
things we do here,” I told her.  “But they should have
thought more about your feelings first.  I want to
swim too, because I’m hot.”  She stared at me with big
eyes, clearly wondering if I too would be naked.  We
had never told her, on instructions from our parents,
that we were naturists.

“But I don’t want you to feel bad,” I continued.  “You
can go back to the car so you won’t see us if you
prefer.  But I hope you’ll stay with us, even if
you’re too scared to join in.”

Sandhya looked rather frightened and bewildered.  She
clearly didn’t know how to answer.  Then she said, “I
don’t want to watch.”

“That’s all right, I understand,” I replied, smiling
at her and taking a gamble.  “Come with me and we’ll
go back to the car together.  Then I’ll lock you
inside so you’ll be safe, and we’ll come back to you
when we finish.”  I stood up and started off slowly in
the direction of the car.

Sandhya followed me reluctantly, looking anxious about
something else now.  “How long will you be?” she asked
me.

“Oh, only about an hour or two,” I replied cunningly. 
“Don’t worry, you’ll be quite safe in the car.”

Faced with the devil or the deep blue sea, Sandhya
didn’t know what to do.  I called out to Jenny to tell
her I was taking Sandhya to the car.  Jenny glowered
at Sandhya, frustrated that her plan had apparently
failed and she would therefore have to pay me a large
sum of money, and then turned away.  I set off back
towards the car, with Sandhya trailing unhappily
behind me.

(To be continued)



WATERING THE FLOWERS (CHAPTER 4)


I thought out my next move as we walked.  We weren’t
far from the road when I reached a decision.  I turned
and asked her, knowing the answer very well, “Has
Jenny ever asked you to swim naked with her before?”

Sandhya nodded, and then said, “A few times.  But I
always said no.”

“I think that’s why she’s so cross with you,” I
answered.  “She doesn’t understand.  You see, in our
family, it’s a bit like hugging.  Somebody’s naked
body is very private to you.”  I could sense her
shudder.  “But in our family, it’s part of the love
and trust we have for each other, and our friends.” 
Mentally I classed Aunt Sue and Shelley as the
`family’ I was talking about.  “It’s just a way,
really, of showing we’re giving everything we have to
somebody else in love and trust and friendship.  So
when you refuse to swim naked with Jenny, she thinks
you’re refusing to be really close friends like she
wants with you, that you’re rejecting her.”

Sandhya didn’t reply, and I tried to read her thoughts
as we reached the car.  I unlocked it, but she was
reluctant to enter.  “It feels so hot!” she exclaimed,
and it did seem like a furnace inside.  Being an old
car, there was no air conditioning.

“You can wind the windows down,” I told her.  “But you
have to watch out for insects flying in.”  She looked
unhappier than ever, and I felt rather a heel.

Then she said, “Would it be all right if – I came near
the stream, but just stayed where I couldn’t see – you
all?”

I looked thoughtful.  Then I said, “That should be
fine, but we’d have to be very careful.  There are a
few snakes in these woods” – she gasped – “but they
run away from people when we move about.  But if
you’re sitting still somewhere, it might be a bit
dangerous.”

Sandhya looked quite hopeless, as if she was going to
be hanged whatever she did.  I waited.  Then she said,
“I don’t want Jenny to be cross with me.  I do really
want to be very good friends with her.”

“She just doesn’t understand how scared you are of
being naked,” I answered, trying to toss a little bait
every time I spoke.  “Melanie is another girl who just
likes playing naked when she can, like many other
people in our culture.  But we don’t do it in public. 
Just with our families and close friends, and then
it’s something very special.  But Jenny doesn’t
understand you don’t want to be friendly that way.”

“I do want to be friendly,” she murmured, her mind
still in turmoil.  I could sense part of her was
willing to make the effort, but her cultural
upbringing was standing there sternly with a whip and
telling her “Never!”

I waited.  All was silent, except for the birds and
just very faintly intermittent shrieks of laughter
from the stream.

Then Sandhya said, dragging the words out with great
reluctance, “I – think – I mean, this car – it’s so
hot I’d die.  Might I just sit - near the pool while
you all swim?  But – I don’t want *you* to swim.”

“Why not?” I asked her, knowing the reason.

She didn’t know how to answer at first.  Then she
said, “I don’t want to – don’t – don’t you – feel bad
about girls seeing you?”

“Seeing me naked, do you mean?” I replied with gentle
bluntness.  “Not at all, when it’s you.  I feel like
Jenny does about you.  I really want to share
everything I have with you, and have you swim with us.
 But I know how you feel, so I don’t want you to feel
bad.  I’d love to have us all swim and share together,
you and me and the others, just as the closest friends
do in our way of life.  I’m very sorry you can’t share
it, but I understand.”

Confusion still registered all over her face.  She
stood for quite a long time by the car, with the
occasional other vehicle roaring past us.  I waited
patiently, sensing her inner battle and longing for
the right side to win.

In the end she looked up at me timidly and asked, in a
very small voice, “Do you think it will be all right –
if I just swam in my panties?”

I have a stock answer to that question that I pull out
now and then.  I try to mix acceptance and
thoughtfulness in my response.  “Yes, you’re certainly
free to do that,” I answered hesitantly.  “But it does
make people know you’re shy, and that’s always a bad
thing to give away.  And you know it isn’t healthy to
wear wet panties afterwards.  It’s actually much
healthier to swim naked than to wear swimming
costumes.”  I was adapting my usual reply a little to
cater for her fetish about health.  “So you’d need to
take off your panties afterwards until they were dry
before wearing them again.  Is that all right?  They
dry quite quickly in this heat.”

Sandhya nodded immediately, I think more grateful for
my acceptance of her way of escape than anything else.
 “I’ll talk to Jenny and try to get her to
understand,” I answered.  “She really wants you and
her to give everything to each other, but I’m sure
she’ll understand why you’re scared to go that far.”

“Well, I – I’d just feel so awful to be outside
without my clothes,” she murmured.  “And Vijay – may
tease me.”

“I’ll deal with him if he tries that,” I promised. 
“But you know, when you feel scared, the best thing to
do is to act as if you didn’t mind at all.  I know
some girls try to hide themselves and they giggle
because they feel embarrassed, but that shows everyone
you’re scared and silly people may try to tease you. 
So can you handle that?”

“I think so,” she whispered, not sounding at all sure.
 She looked most uncomfortable and I felt really
guilty about having played a part in putting her in
that position.  I looked down at her and imagined what
she looked like under those clothes, but then these
feelings were swept away with a great feeling of love
for this poor lovely vulnerable girl who was trying so
hard not to be vulnerable.

She looked up at me suddenly, catching me standing
there adoring her.  She flushed and looked away, and
it was my turn to feel embarrassed, as I was sure she
realised how I felt about her.

“Tell me when you’re ready to go back,” I whispered to
her.

She gave a sort of shudder and looked down at herself
as if she too was imagining what she would look like
without her clothes.  She paused for about five
seconds, and then looked shyly up at me, tried to
smile and said, “I’m ready.”

We walked back towards the stream, and Sandhya clearly
preferred me to walk in front of her.  We had gone
about thirty metres into one of the most overgrown
parts of the path, when she suddenly said to me in her
gentle voice, “Roy, please wait.”

I turned to look at her, about five metres behind me. 
Her cheeks were flushed, and she gulped and said to
me, “Roy – if you want to – to hug me, it’s all right.
 But – please – not hard.”

I beamed at her.  “I’d love to,” I whispered.  I
walked gently back to her and knelt down, which made
her rather taller than I.  I held out my arms, put
them round her back and gently drew her to me.  She
leaned against me and put her arms round my shoulder,
stiffly and awkwardly, as she was obviously quite
unused to this.  I was tempted to kiss her, but
decided I had better not, and would wait until next
time before asking permission.

“That’s lovely,” I smiled at her as I stood up.  She
didn’t reply, but she had an embarrassed smile on her
face as she looked shyly away from me.  We resumed our
journey.

We were almost there when I heard Sandhya asking me
again to stop.  She was looking really frightened, and
again I felt guilty.  “Roy, I – feel bad about – Vijay
seeing me taking my dress off,” she whispered.

“Hasn’t he ever seen you do that before?” I asked. 
When she shook her head, I thought, “Little does she
know!”

“Do you want to undress behind this rock?” I asked
her, and again she nodded.  “Shall I go and talk to
Jenny, then, and tell you when I’ve finished?” I
suggested.  She thought, and then nodded again, head
down.

I looked at her long slender neck, so soft and
attractive.  I put the palm of my hand there and
rubbed it gently.  She jumped slightly, but then
looked at me with a tremulous smile.  “All right, I’ll
do what I can,” I whispered.

I walked round the rock and down to the pool.  Vijay
was trying to build a dam from large loose rocks while
the girls were chasing and splashing each other
gently.  They stopped as they saw me, and Jenny asked
rather contemptuously, “Has Sandhya gone back to the
car?”

“No,” I answered.  “Listen a minute.”  Talking quietly
in case Sandhya was able to hear, I spoke to Jenny,
which made Melanie and Vijay come over to eavesdrop.

“Jenny, Sandhya really wants to join in, but she feels
terrible about taking her clothes off outdoors,
because she’s never done it before and it’s against
her culture,” I whispered, while two other pairs of
ears were flapping.  “But she asks if she can try
swimming in her panties to start with.”

“She should stop being silly and be naked like the
rest of us,” Melanie said, offhandedly rather than
unpleasantly, and rather too loudly, so I was afraid
Sandhya might hear.

“You know, Melanie, you’ve been so wonderfully lucky,
growing up so you can enjoy the freedom of being a
naturist, haven’t you?” I told her, and she nodded
reluctantly.  “Sandhya’s been told all her life it’s
wrong, so that’s why it’s so difficult for her.  If
you can help her, and accept her when she swims in her
panties, she may feel brave enough to take them off
later.  Jenny, can we try that?”

“All right, to start with,” Jenny agreed reluctantly. 
“But if she doesn’t take them off later, I’ll never
speak to her again.”

“Then it wouldn’t work next time,” I told her.  I
explained how, from my own experience, other girls
would only go so far the first time, but after they
had thought about it and come to terms with their
fears, they were more likely to go further next time.

“She shouldn’t be shy,” retorted Vijay.  “I don’t mind
people seeing my peeny, even girls.”  He waggled it
about, to prove his point.  The naturist girls looked
at him with a degree of contempt.  That is considered
unacceptable behaviour by us naturists.  “I’ll laugh
at her in her panties until she takes them off.”

“Vijay, come over here.  I want to talk to you,” I
said firmly, gripping his shoulder quite tightly,
enough for the fear to register on his face.

I marched him a few metres down the stream and then
turned to face him.  “Vijay, when you see a girl in
her panties or naked, it is very, very bad manners to
laugh or to tease her or say anything at all about
it,” I told him very sternly.  “It makes the girl feel
bad about your manners.  It will also mean that she
will make sure that you will never see her naked or in
her panties again.  So we must all pretend we don’t
notice anything and not even look at her – or any
other girl – when we don’t have to.  If we say things,
then it will never work with girls.  Do you
understand?”

He nodded dumbly, and I was just turning back when
suddenly a wicked grin flashed across his face. 
“Roy,” he said, with a teasing note in his voice for
the first time.  “Roy, you want to see Sandhya’s
wee-wee too, don’t you?”

He had a big gloating grin on his face now, and it
took all my self-control not to slap it off.  “Don’t
be so rude!” I scolded him quietly but fiercely,
unable to deny what had presumably been obvious to him
when he had told me about how he had spied
successfully on her.  I shook his shoulders until he
gave a sob of fear and his teeth rattled.  “Don’t you
dare say *anything* to Sandhya or I’ll belt you,” I
threatened him, but was afraid I had made my desire
even clearer.

“No, no, I won’t, I promise,” he trembled.  I left him
and went back to find Sandhya.

Anxious to make her feel as safe as possible, I called
from behind the big rock, “Sandhya, may I come now?”

“Yes,” came her voice feebly.  My heart racing,
although I did not expect to find her naked, I walked
round.  She was standing there, looking terrified, but
she had taken off her dress and was now holding it
down the front of her body.  Down one side I could
just see a line of brown skin, with pale lilac-covered
panties around her waist.

“Roy, I – I haven’t got anything on over – here,” she
trembled, indicating her chest area.

“Well, to us that doesn’t matter,” I assured her as
casually as I could, but feeling pleased, having
expected at least a vest there.  I carried on talking
as if that matter had been dealt with and she was now
ready.  “Do you want me to go first, or shall we go
together?”

“You go first,” she answered, trying to smile and
lowering her dress a little, but without the courage
yet to uncover her chest in my presence.

“All right, come then,” I said, flashing her a final
smile and walking back round the rock, hoping she was
following.  “Vijay, may I help you with your dam?” I
asked loudly, trying to attract attention away from
Sandhya.

I saw the others’ eyes widen as they looked behind me,
which told me Sandhya was following me.  Jenny said in
a rather unnatural voice, no doubt as a result of her
harsh words the last time she had seen her friend,
“Sandhya, come and join us.”

I moved to one side and started undressing.  Sandhya,
forcing a game smile, walked in front of me and
lowered herself warily into the pool.  She had her
back to me, and I admired her slim, shapely, smooth
light-brown body, with her short black hair hanging
down to her neck and her thin shoulder blades visible.
 Her soft lilac panties covered her bottom.  I felt a
strong urge to know what her chest looked like, but
knew I would have to curb my impatience.

Moments later, I was naked and joined Vijay.  I went
the far side so I was facing in the direction of the
three girls, but Sandhya kept her back towards me, I
am sure because she was too embarrassed to look at me
when I was naked.  The other two girls obviously felt
a little awkward with her, but they did their best.

Vijay behaved as well as I could have hoped, saying
nothing and stealing only covert glances at his
sister.  Then, trying to glance at her again from
behind, he put down a large rock on his finger and
howled with pain.

Instinct took over for Sandhya.  She spun round and
waded hurriedly over to see what had happened.  As she
massaged his fingers, with the other two girls staring
over her shoulders, I greedily filled my eyes with her
beauty.

For her age, she was quite tall and shapely.  Her
little brown breasts emerged from her chest like two
little stately pillars, with small points on the end. 
The skin looked so soft and smooth and perfect.  She
looked like a statue of perfection – or would have
done had her whole body been visible.

“Has he got any fingers left?” I asked jokingly,
trying to get Sandhya to face up to my naked body.

Vijay had stopped wailing, and Sandhya half-glanced
towards me and said, “I think he’ll be all right.” 
Clearly she was not yet ready to face me.

We enjoyed ourselves in the pool for quite a while. 
Jenny soon decided that they should all have a water
fight with me, four against one.  I noticed Sandhya
still kept in the background as we splashed furiously,
laughing and shouting all the time.

I took it as a matter of personal pride to put up a
good fight, but I could not guard in all directions at
the same time.  When Jenny scrambled round behind me,
and Vijay and Melanie charged at me from the front, I
could not fend them all off.  They dragged me on to me
back in the pool, while Sandhya stayed on the
outskirts, smiling and looking embarrassed at all
those naked bodies writing together in the water.

Since Melanie had been a member of our naturist club,
along with her family, for about three years now, I
had never noticed what she looked like naked before,
but at this point, knowing that I would be writing
about this adventure for my readers if it were to end
successfully (I keep quiet about my failures!), I
suddenly thought I had better be able to describe her
for those who were interested.

Melanie was a little on the plump side, but well
padded rather than fat.  Like most girls slightly
plumper than average, her breasts seemed to appear
earlier than the slimmer girls, but were just at the
stage of looking fleshy and hanging down slightly. 
Her vagina, also well rounded and padded, was
half-hidden between her legs, but the top was usually
visible, well fleshed on either side.

As we played, I noticed with a thrill of excitement
now and again Sandhya would give her panties a little
pull at the waist.  I sensed she was feeling an urge,
as I’ve known girls have at times, to pull them off,
and in my experience in the end they usually do.  I
was sure Sandhya’s time was nearly ripe, however
culture-bound she may have been.

Then all was ruined.  I heard a cheery shout from some
rocks about twenty metres downstream.  Looking up, I
saw two of the local teenage boys, Mediterranean
stock, hailing us cheerily.  They were not surprised
to see us playing naked, as that is quite common
practice for them in their own rural streams.  Those
of us who were naked stood and stared at them, while
Sandhya, in her panties, ducked down behind me and
lowered as much of her body into the pool as she
could.

“May we join you?” one of them shouted, in the local
language.

“Please wait till we finish,” I asked them, to which
they asked, “How long?”

I looked round at the others.  Sandhya was seriously
embarrassed, and I knew straight away that whatever
happened now, she would not be swimming naked this
time.  “Ten minutes,” I replied, trying not to make it
sound too much like a groan.

“All right,” they replied, sauntering off.

I quickly explained to the Guptas what was happening,
as they had not yet been in the country long enough to
know much of the local language.  Sandhya hardly
listened.  As soon as she was sure the boys were out
of sight, she gazed around her desperately to make
sure we were private again, and scuttled out of the
pool, crouching low, and behind the rock to her
clothes.

The rest of us followed more slowly, myself bitterly
disappointed.  My only hope was that Sandhya would be
removing her wet panties and be as careless about her
skirt as usual.  If she didn’t remove them, I would
have to apply some subtle pressure.  Jenny also looked
very disappointed, as she would not now win her bet
with me.

As I was pulling up my shorts, Sandhya emerged from
behind the rock, wearing her dress but carrying her
soft lilac panties.  My heart thumped wildly again in
the knowledge that she was now naked under that dress,
if I could only have a chance.  “How shall I – dry
these?” she asked, indicating her panties.

“Oh, we can just put them in the car,” I answered,
trying to sound casual.  “They’ll dry, but it might be
as well to leave them off for the rest of the day.”

“I – don’t want to leave them off at the game farm,”
murmured Sandhya uncomfortably.

“You can put them on the back windowsill of the car so
the sun will shine in and dry them,” piped up Melanie,
helpfully but most annoyingly.

Sandhya nodded more happily.  “Come and sit down until
we’re all ready,” I suggested hopefully, indicating a
rock not far from my face.

Sandhya edged over and sat, but to my disappointment
she was all too conscious now of being naked
underneath, pushing down her skirt hard with one hand
as she sat.  I kept an eye out for her as the rest of
us finished dressing, ashamed of myself for being so
obsessed by a younger girl.  “Let’s go,” I said in the
end, but again she rose with her skirt carefully
clutched to her thighs.

I was aware of Vijay contemplating me with interest,
and I could tell he was reading my thoughts very
clearly.  I avoided his gaze, knowing he would give me
a big wicked grin and I would then find it very
difficult not to clout him.

We walked back along the path towards the car, Jenny
leading the way, and with Vijay and myself at the
back.  I was feeling bitterly sick inside to have
those local boys ruin my chance and was desperately
afraid that now I would carry my frustration to the
grave with me.

Then suddenly Vijay, next to me, gave a loud screech
and tumbled to the ground, yelling, “My head, my head!
 Sandhya, my head!  Something hit me!”  I crouched
down next to him, shocked and surprised, while he
rolled around on his back, clutching his head.

Sandhya turned back in an instant, crouching down the
far side of him and exclaiming, “Vijay, what happened?
 Where does it hurt?”

Vijay rolled over on the ground to face her, shouting
out, “Here, on my head!  It hurts, it hurts!”  I
stared at his head, trying to find some telltale mark
where something had apparently struck him, but could
see nothing as his fingers clasped the place
apparently just above his ear.

Then I noticed that he was not crying, and his eyes
were in fact wide open and staring.  In an instant I
followed his gaze.

Sandhya, in the excitement of the moment, had been
caught quite off guard.  She was kneeling opposite me,
with one knee on the ground and the other raised.  And
in the middle I could see a large area of smooth light
brown flesh.

In the middle of that was a long black slit, with the
flesh folding gently into it.  At the bottom I could
see a slight bulge as it met the loose skin between
her legs, and then it ran smoothly upwards, with
little sign of a mound on her smooth body.  Just as
the flesh folded into the sides of that exquisite
vagina, I could see little soft downy black hairs just
beginning to grow.

It was every bit as beautiful as I had expected.  I
can see it now, the smoothness of that lovely skin,
especially as it folded softly into her long slim
vagina, and I just longed to reach out my hand and
fondle it gently, lovingly.  Instead I pushed my legs
together and doubled over as I strove to control
myself.

Sandhya’s hands were gently probing the side of
Vijay’s head, trying to find the spot of pain. 
“Vijay, what happened?” she repeated anxiously.

Vijay’s little eyes were greedily feasting on the same
vision of delight as mine.  His mouth was open in an
almost ecstatic type of grin and was virtually
drooling.  I had no doubt now that he was not hurt in
the slightest.  “I don’t know,” he almost chuckled. 
“Something hit my head.”

Sandhya now squatted next to him, her hands still
feeling tenderly, and she was clearly puzzled that she
could find nothing.  Down between her thighs I could
see that loose feminine skin where it met her bottom,
and the line of her vagina down the middle of it.

Then she suddenly seemed to remember herself, and
slammed her knees down sharply to the ground,
instantly cutting off my view.  She glanced sidelong
at me, but I had already switched my eyes to Vijay.  I
must never let her know what I had seen.

“I can’t feel anything,” she said, puzzled and
apparently satisfied that her brief indiscretion had
gone unnoticed.  She did not seem to suspect that he
might have seen up her skirt as well.  “Does it still
hurt?” she asked her brother.

“I think it’s a bit better now,” replied Vijay, slowly
sitting up and feeling the side of his head.  He
looked in his sister’s direction, but her skirt was
now covering all areas she would have found
embarrassing.

Still keeping her legs together, Sandhya used one hand
to push herself up so that she was standing.  Vijay
immediately tried to go too far, flopping back down
again on his back, but when Sandhya bent over him
again she had one hand tucked into her skirt between
her knees.

Vijay, realising the game was over, struggled to his
feet with an artificial groan, while she helped him. 
“Do you need Roy to carry you?” Jenny asked him.

“No, I think I’m all right now,” he groaned.  Then, as
Sandhya turned her head away, he flashed me his
biggest, wickedest grin.  He knew what was going on
all right, the clever kid.  He had set it up
deliberately, and he obviously knew that I had shared
the same vision as he had.  Despite myself I grinned
back at him, grateful to him for arranging what I had
feared I would never see.

I could not get the grin off my face as I followed the
others back to the car.  As it came in sight, I
suddenly realised that I might have had the chance to
see what I so desired even without Vijay, if Sandhya
would again sit in the middle on the back seat – as
long as she didn’t realise she was visually vulnerable
there.  But I would not have been able to see as
clearly as I had with Vijay’s help.

When we arrived at the car, Sandhya asked me if she
could sit in the front this time.  Thinking quickly, I
replied, “Well, I think you should be next to Vijay,
in case his head hurts again.  If he’s all right, then
you can sit in the front on the journey home.”  Unseen
by the others, Vijay flashed me another meaningful
wicked grin, but I think it was just in memory of his
trick back on the path rather than any suspicion that
I had my own plans.

She seemed satisfied by this, so we got into the car,
Jenny in the front seat this time.  My heart was still
beating in anticipation, and sure enough it never
occurred to Sandhya that anybody might be able to see
up her skirt there.  She sat again in the middle with
her legs a little apart, and it was difficult to
concentrate on my driving.  The view was not very
clear, with just a murky black line visible most of
the time, but I eagerly lapped up all I could see.

In half an hour or so we arrived at the game farm. 
The doors burst open and the others sped out towards
the entrance, where there were glass cages containing
snakes and other reptiles.  Sandhya stayed in the car,
while I waited to make sure the doors were all locked.

“I – need to put on my panties now,” she explained to
me with some embarrassment, looking at me out of the
corner of her eye and taking her panties off the back
windowsill.  “They’re dry enough now.”

“All right,” I agreed, and then added reluctantly,
“I’ll wait for you.”  I turned my back and began to
saunter away, but with my heart still thumping.  I had
seen what I wanted, but such was the attraction I
still felt, the desire for more intimacy I still
needed, that I was still not satisfied.

“Roy,” she called out after me in a moment.  “I – I
nearly swam without – my clothes, but then those boys
came . . .”  She trailed off.

I turned back and faced the car.  Sandhya appeared to
be huddled up in the far corner of the back seat.  I
did not dare to bend over and look inside, but instead
replied, “That’s all right.  You’ve a right to – do
things in private if you want to.”

I waited, wondering if this was Sandhya’s way of
showing trust in me.  After a short pause, she spoke
again.  “Roy – please tell me about the game farm.”

Cunningly I did not try to peer inside the car, but
instead leaned my elbow on the roof and began to tell
her about the place, deliberately keeping my voice
low.

“Sorry, Roy, I can’t hear,” I heard her say.  This was
what I wanted.  I bent over and looked at her inside,
continuing my answer as I did so.

She was sitting in the far corner, looking very
nervous.  Her knees were on the seat and those soft
lilac panties were around her ankles.  As she
listened, she continued to pull them up rather
awkwardly.  Then, as she reached her thighs, she
lifted them, opened her legs, raised her bottom and
pulled her panties up.

As I had on the path, unknown to her, I had a
magnificent view of that elegant long vagina and her
smooth tender skin.  This time she knew all about it
and, as girls often do when they trust and love a boy,
she was deliberately offering me her nakedness.  With
difficulty I kept talking, but we were both aware of
what I had seen.

Of course, according to the unspoken rules, I could
not say anything.  But I looked into her fearful brown
eyes and smiled as warmly and lovingly as I could as
she wriggled on the seat, adjusting her panties.  She
slid out of the car next to me and I smiled down at
her.

“Another hug for a lovely girl?” I suggested.  Shyly
she nodded.  This time I felt her arms around my waist
a bit more confidently as I hugged her gently but
warmly, as rich a thanks for he trust as I could
manage.

“A kiss as well?” I breathed into her ear.  She
stiffened for a moment, paused, and then nodded with a
little smile on her lips.  I lowered my head and
planted the tenderest of kisses on her cheek.



I have a new photo in my private album.  It shows the
little Cupid in our back garden, with a spray of water
erupting from its penis into our fishpond.

Next to Cupid is a little boy with a brown skin and a
wicked grin on his face.  His trousers are down at the
front, with a skinny little brown penis sticking out
and a spray of urine erupting into our fishpond.  I
allowed him to do it just once in order to pose for
the photo.

I have no such photo of his sister, but those
beautiful scenes, especially the one in the car where
she finally yielded me her trust against all her
cultural instincts, will remain imprinted in my mind
for ever.

The End



	
	
		
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