SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 1) There are four English junior schools in our Mediterranean country. The ties between them are pretty loose, but they do have a tradition of summer camps. Three of the schools have arrangements with suitable campsites throughout the country, and every summer three camps are held. One is by the sea, one is in the mountains and the third is on the grounds of a farm. They are available for pupils in Years Five and Six, the top two years. In Year Five I was ten years old and eager to go. I would be away from home for eight days, the first time I had been away for more than a weekend. Having been brought up to be independent, I was not concerned about being away from home. I most wanted to go to the camp by the sea, and was very frustrated to find that it was already full by the time I got my parents to send in my application. My girlfriend of that time, Saskia, whom who will remember from other stories (such as ‘The Temptress’), managed to get in, and we were both devastated to find we would be separated. I have always wondered what she did to the unsuspecting boys at the seaside camp. She never would tell me, and whatever happened it was secretive enough not to get into the newspapers. Another friend of mine who has appeared in my stories before was Ernst, the hero of ‘Mr Sausage Man’. He was a German boy whose parents were here on contract, a year older than myself, and proud possessor of the largest penis I have ever seen on a preteen boy. He was normally a quiet, mild-mannered boy who gave the impression of being laid-back or even dopey, but he did have a very unpredictable temper when roused. Ernst had been even later than myself with his application form, as he came from a notoriously forgetful family, and we decided that if we couldn’t go to the sea, we would try the farm camp. The mountains were generally more popular with the children from our school, but I had been there on holiday the previous year, and Ernst was very willing to come along with me to the farm. We almost didn’t make it as a pair, as I got my amended application form in the following morning, but it was another week before Ernst and his parents between them remembered. Fortunately he just managed to get in on time. Only a few of the others from our school were going. The majority of campers, it seemed, would be coming from the wealthy school at Tremontos, on the sea coast, whose pupils would be looking for something different. We were due to depart from outside the city railway station at eleven o’clock on Monday. That allowed time for the children from the three other schools to catch morning trains into the capital. We were to meet them at the station, and from there travel by bus to the campsite. My Aunt Sue was to take me to the station, as my parents were both working. At my urging, she arranged to pick Ernst up at his house, because I knew how negligent his parents were and was afraid they would forget. I was not surprised to have to enter the house to collect him, and found him wandering around dreamily, trying to find his swimming costume. It was a wonder to all of us at school how Ernst actually managed to fit his most prized possession into a swimming costume. One of his favourite tricks was to wipe his penis on his navel, so by all the laws of science, so we claimed, it should not have fitted into a normal swimming costume. The suggestion was that the only way it would fit would be for him to pull his penis down under his crotch and stick it up the back, or else to tie it round his waist. These could cause problems should he have an erection, though. Some bright spark suggested a new invention, a swimming costume with a sleeve. We arrived in time, despite the delay with Ernst. Each camp was run by two or three teachers, helped by several high-school prefects, who were each in charge of a tent of eight children. There were to be four boys’ tents and four girls’ tents. As we arrived, the boy prefects were busy loading all the luggage on to the bus. Most of the other children were strangers to me, with only a handful from our school, and none I knew well. Two I did recognise, although I had never met them before, were the acting twins Mickey and Maxi, who went to Tremontos. They were too snooty to travel up by train, having come in one of the family’s posh cars, but at least the organisers of the camp had insisted they travel the last leg by bus with the rest of us. Two years earlier, these twins had taken part in a major local film about an English millionaire whose grandchildren were kidnapped. The twins became famous overnight, especially among the country’s English-speaking community, and there were often items in our English newspaper about them. They were both very good-looking and photogenic. Mickey had blond curly hair tumbling over his forehead and big bright blue eyes with long lashes and a smooth tanned skin, the sort of face girls fall in love with immediately. Maxi was similar in looks, although less tanned, and with big pouting lips. Both were quite small in size, though Maxi was slightly dumpy around the hips, and this no doubt encouraged adults and prefects to think how cute they were. Unfortunately they had both let their fame go to their heads – or else had been allowed to. Both were bubbling over with confidence, and my first sight of them both was to see them strutting around in public view, smiling and chatting, especially with the prefects, just to make sure everybody knew they were there. Since they were so well known, the leaders spoiled them rotten. There was even a photographer from the local paper on the spot for them, and a number of adults demeaning themselves by asking for their autographs. Mickey, as I soon discovered, always expected to get his own way, while Maxi was convinced she was charming enough always to get what she wanted with a big smile and coquettish ways. There was something about her very similar to Saskia. They had, we discovered, brought an inordinate amount of luggage. Both were dressed up in what I suppose they would call ‘smart casual’. Mickey was wearing immaculate shorts and an open-neck shirt, while Maxi had on a tight slinky black miniskirt and a frilly white top that was low at the neck and slightly transparent, no doubt just to make sure that anybody interested knew that she was wearing a bra. The camp leaders were a couple from Tremontos who were not married but engaged. It was perhaps a mistake to entrust the leadership to two who were still too wrapped up in each other. We did not see too much of them during the camp, as they took a very hands-off approach – although it may well have been hands-on as far as each other were concerned. When they did appear, it was the woman who did most of the work, while the man went around cheerfully with rather a goofy grin on his face. Though there were few organisational errors, it did mean that we had rather a shortage of organised activity on camp and we were able to get up to all sorts of things that normally wouldn’t have been allowed. It was maybe fortunate for all of us that there was no major scandal and the things that did happen didn’t get out too far. Helping them was our own Miss Winrow, our physical education teacher. At least they made a good impression to start with, gathering us around, quietening us down and then checking off all the names. Aunt Sue had said goodbye and departed, pulling with her my cousin Shelley, then aged five and in floods of tears because she couldn’t come with me to camp. That left only a few local parents to see their children off. As soon as our names were called, we were allowed to board the bus. They called the Tremontos names first, Mickey and Maxi first of all no doubt as a tribute to their fame, and that school accounted for almost 40 of the 64 places on camp. The film twins mounted the steps of the bus like royalty, waving to all and sundry. As usual, most of the boys made a scramble for the back of the bus when we got on, where any misbehaviour would be less likely to be observed. Then another school was called before ours, so we were the third of four. Ernst and I boarded the bus, hoping we could find a seat together. As we pushed our way down the aisle through tight masses of children we didn’t know, I did notice Maxi sitting next to the aisle, chatting to a friend with exaggerated feminine gestures. Her legs were together, but inside that triangle formed by her legs and her shirt, tight skirt, a shiny white silky-looking pair of panties was easily visible. We managed to find two seats together, just over halfway to the back. We hopped in and sat down in silence, waiting for the journey to begin. I remember feeling very vulnerable, though not homesick, as I sat there next to Ernst, for some strange reason aware of how thin my clothes were and feeling almost naked in a place where one could not be naked. I was, after all, going into the unknown. It was a comfort to look at Ernst next to me, grinning his goofy grin and seemingly unconcerned. Miss Winrow was in charge of the bus, helped by two boy and two girl prefects. The leaders and the other prefects would be travelling separately in a kombi laded with provisions, as I don’t think there would have been room on the bus for them as well. There were not many goodbyes and fewer cheers as the bus finally got under way, remarkably on time, as most of the children had already left their parents behind at their own home towns. Most of the boys at the back, coming from Tremontos, knew each other well and were soon fooling around, laughing and shouting, and waving and yelling out of the windows at people on the streets. One of the male prefects went to the back to join them, which helped a little in preventing them from going completely over the top. Ernst and I, knowing few of the others, sat mostly in silence. I had a look around, as far as I could see, for some girls who might prove interesting. Two seats in front of us and across the aisle was a small, dark-haired girl who attracted me, despite the tomboy behaviour and clothing. She had on a rather scruffy T-shirt and a pair of white jogging shorts. She obviously had two friends sitting in the seats in front of her, because at regular intervals she would stand up and lean right over the back of that seat to talk to them. She was wearing pink panties under the jogging shorts, which were not opaque, and so whenever she bent over the seat in front they showed clearly through the white material. The second time she did it, the girl across the aisle for her, like many girls concerned for another’s dignity but only too happy to place herself in a superior position, leaned forward and mouthed some words at her. Lip-reading and detective work with hindsight interpreted it for me as, “Tessa, your panties.” Tessa took no notice, if she heard, and kept leaning forward to talk to her friends in front. The other girl learned further forward and gave her a light slap on the bottom, repeating that awful message. Tessa did not turn round, but made a little go-away gesture behind her with her hand. The boys behind her were watching what was going on. With big grins on their faces, they called out loudly, “Tessa, your panties!” Other boys joined in. This made Tessa turn round, face reddened. They all shouted at her again and she looked down at herself, saw nothing wrong, sat down quickly and turned her head away, confused as to what was going on. With a satisfied smile, the girl opposite leaned forward and, pointing at Tessa’s shorts with her hands, outlined the problem. I could see Tessa looking rather uncertain, shocked and vulnerable. Even then, signs of vulnerability in a girl attracted me, but I liked the looks of Tessa anyway. Within ten minutes, though, Tessa had forgotten herself and was leaning forward again, the pink of her panties showing through the all-too-thin material of her shorts. This time the boys behind saw it first. They turned to the rest of us, pointing and calling, “Look!” Then they turned and called out loudly, “Tessa, your panties!” Others joined in from all over the back, and I heard Ernst calling out as well with his silly grin, “Tessa, your panties.” I looked around for the boy prefect, hoping he would put a stop to this, but he was just grinning and letting the incident run its course. Tessa was sitting down again hurriedly, looking confused and embarrassed, but trying to keep her face away from her tormentors. The mockery started up again and I had had enough. I stood up and yelled at all the boys in the back to be quiet. They were shocked into silence, except for one boy, a very big Year Six boy. “Don’t you tell us what to do!” he shouted back at me, leaving his seat and coming up the aisle to hit me. I stood up. He swung his fist and missed. I hit him on the jaw so hard that he flew right to the back on the bus, landing hard right on top of his friends, who had been laughing at me. This shocked all the other boys into silence. Tessa was watching all this in wonder. I turned and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Tessa, I’ll look after you,” I assured her. She give me a timid smile, and then left her seat and came over to me, arms outstretched. There was no room for her next to me, as Ernst was sitting there, so I took her on my lap, and she sat there for the rest of the journey, telling me how strong I was, while I told her how lovely she was. Nobody ever dared tease her again, because they knew they would have to answer to me if they did so. Well, it was such an enjoyable fantasy and it kept me going for a long time on the bus. What a pity it never happened. In between times, I checked out the four prefects on the bus with us. There was Kevin, who was head boy at the high school, good-looking and helping to take a quiet leadership role. Already the girls were interested in him and the boys were admiring him. There was Trevor, who was now at the back of the bus, friendly, but I was angry with him for not protecting Tessa from the boys’ mockery. There was Lisa, a tall girl who seemed quite elegant and self-possessed. She had dark brown shoulder-length hair and I thought she was nice-looking without being really pretty. She wore miniskirts, but had the ability to keep them under control without seeming at all paranoid about it. I found myself respecting her, and had quite a shock late that afternoon when I saw her drop a book, forget herself for a second as she bent down to pick it up, and reveal rather dull, threadbare light blue panties at the back. I would have expected better of her, something more elegant, and I felt disappointed for the rest of the day. She seemed like an idol fallen from her pedestal. Then there was Wendy, who was quite a beauty. She had wavy golden hair and beautiful blue eyes, and always seemed to be happy and laughing. The girls loved to talk to her and the boys were forever showing off in front of her. I admired her and did a bit of showing off as well during the camp. The farm where we were having our camp was less than a hundred kilometres away, but it was a huge bus and the road there was narrow and winding. First of all we had to plough through the city’s busy industrial sites, which in itself took more than half an hour. So we were looking in the end at a journey of more than two hours. It was very hot at this time of year, and the air conditioning was poor. Occasionally somebody farted, and that would cause a major incident. Soon we were feeling hot and sweaty, and the boys in particular became more noisy and quarrelsome. We had travelled for perhaps an hour and a half when the bus slowed down and pulled into a large lay-by. Many of the children thought we were there and they cheered excitedly, grabbing for their bags. It took Miss Winrow quite a while to calm everybody down again. “No, we haven’t arrived, but we are just stopping here for lunch, as I told you when we started,” she said. “We have packed lunches and more drink for you. Now when I point to your rows, I want you to stand up and leave the bus quietly . . .” Outside there was a small oasis in the rather arid hilly landscape. Several shady trees hung over about six picnic tables, two of which were occupied by fellow motorists and their passengers. Needless to say, when they saw us arrive and start disembarking, it took them less than five minutes to make themselves scarce. Miss Winrow started letting us off the bus carefully, one row at a time. I quickly saw that those at the front would be able to take all the picnic tables while we at the back would probably have to sit on the grass. The first girls off the bus did what comes naturally to girls and headed in a group for the toilets, a small ramshackle building near the hedge at the back. I turned my attention back to Tessa. Would I be able somehow accidentally to get to sit near her? I must watch where she goes. As she stood in the aisle and pushed her way forward, I had a careful look at her jogging shorts. When she was standing straight, it was just possible to see her pink panties through them if one looked carefully. It was just when she leaned forward and tightened the seat that they became very visible. But that didn’t stop some of the boys calling out in silly mocking voices, “Tessa, your panties.” I could tell from the tension in her body that she heard them, but she didn’t turn round. I was sitting next to the window, though, and saw as soon as she was out of the bus that she did turn her head sharply and stare at her bottom, to try and see if there really was a problem. But from that angle she probably saw nothing untoward. She headed for the toilets as well with her friends, but other girls were coming back. They formed a group and headed back for the bus, just as Ernst and I were called to disembark. “Miss Winrow, we can’t use the toilets,” I heard their spokesgirl protest, disgust written all over her face. “They smell so *terrible* we can’t even go in! And there are flies everywhere!” This was just the sort of situation that Miss Winrow preferred to avoid. Fortunately for her, Kevin was at hand. “I’ll check them out with Lisa,” he said, heading off with her in that direction. Not that he really needed to, because boys as well as girls were now visibly getting within five metres of the toilets and then turning and heading back, many waving their hands in front of their faces. I suppose it should have been predictable, as public toilets in our country, where found, are the nearest things we have to chemical warfare or toxic waste sites. Ernst and I hung around, also wanting to go to the toilet but also curious as to what would happen. Kevin and Lisa were quickly back, confirming that the toilets were indeed a total disaster area. Kevin seemed to sense Miss Winrow’s unwillingness to get involved, as he suggested, “I think they’ll have to go behind the hedge. Lisa, if you take the girls first, then I can take the boys . . .” “No, no, you take the boys first,” insisted Lisa, also rather embarrassed by the situation. Kevin shrugged and agreed. Most of the boys were still on the bus or just outside it, so he called out, “Look, guys, if you want to use the toilet, these ones here are too bad to use. Just come with me and we’ll sort something out.” Most of us boys waited with him until everybody had left the bus. The driver, a local man, climbed out of the cab and Kevin spoke to him, no doubt asking about toilets. He just waved his hand casually towards the hedge and set off in that direction himself. “Come, guys,” said Kevin, and we followed him. The girls were watching curiously rather than rudely. As usual with girls, there were some who sniggered when they realised where we were going and some who were either uninterested or too embarrassed, who would rather sit out the bus ride with legs tightly crossed. I looked for Tessa, and she seemed to be one of the uninterested ones. Some of the boys, of course, had to show off, and a couple of them called out comments in silly voices such as, “We’re going for a wee-wee, are you coming?” and pretended to shake their penises or walk with their hands clutched to their bladders as if they were going to burst. I moved away from Ernst as he joined in, not wanting to be associated with him at that moment. Most girls treated this with the contempt it deserved. The hedge was perhaps 20 metres behind the tables where the girls were sitting, having bagged their places, and quite thick. When we reached the other side we stared at it, afraid they might be able to see us, and could see the colours of the girls’ clothing but no detail. “Don’t worry, they can’t see you,” Kevin grinned. Most of the countryside behind us was pretty barren, scrubby grassland with nobody in sight. Most of the boys were rather shy about urinating in the open and, like the dog with its lamppost, seemed at a loss without a tree or a bush to use. Probably most of them still urinated in a bush beside the road when necessary, but this was a different situation. I think I was the first to step towards a shallow sort of ditch into the ground, pull out my penis and start urinating with my back to the girls. The others then followed, with about 30 of us standing there urinating or awaiting a turn. I glanced around, curious about the penises of people I was just meeting for the first time. Next to me was Ernst. Ernst had become very proud of what I think he considered to be his only real asset or talent, and was always ready to put on a show. With his usual goofy grin, and looking round to see if he could attract some attention, he confidently unbuttoned his old-fashioned shorts and pulled them down. Like most of the others, I always reached inside my trouser leg to pull out my penis, but since Ernst’s shorts were tighter and his equipment so outsized, it was a physical impossibility. His next step was to lower his harsh German underpants at the front and pull out his penis. Even now, still not quite 11 years old, it was rapidly approaching 20 centimetres in length – larger than most men and horrific on a boy only just beginning puberty - and was still growing. It was thick, too, but still drooped in a broad curve when he pointed it outwards to use on official business. Many boys that age are still not conscious of each other’s genitals, and also many were too nervous at urinating in the open to concentrate on anything else. But I did notice the boy on the far side of Ernst, when he had finished his own business, glancing across at Ernst and doing a double-take. I almost burst out laughing at the size of his eyes. It was always amusing to see people’s first reactions when introduced to Ernst’s penis. Many went into denial, and couldn’t believe it was real. This boy stared again, then giggled, and nudged the boy next to him rather hard, almost causing him to shoot astray as he was still busy. I’m sure Ernst was very happily aware of what was going on as they both stared in fascination at the alien object before them. Ernst, with his bladder now empty, made rather a show of shaking his penis dry, and the extra movement, and possibly the wind it caused, made another couple of boys have a look. One gave a whoop of stifled laughter, and there was a murmur from others. Ernst let it all hang out as long as he reasonably could to attract interest, and then tucked it away again, with a goofy self-conscious grin on his face. His underpants as well as his shorts had higher waists than normal, but I think this was more the choice of his mother for him rather than a conscious effort to accommodate his burgeoning natural resource. As we walked back to the tables where Lisa and Wendy were setting out the lunch packs, I noticed the boys concerned were in a group behind us, whispering with a mixture of awe and amusement. Ernst I was sure was aware of it. He was about to become a folk hero again, the biggest gun in the west, even if he couldn’t help being slow on the draw. Holsters weren’t made for weapons that size. When Kevin returned with the last of the boys, Lisa called the girls for their turn. I saw Tessa join the group and wished I could accompany her, but I couldn’t even catch her eye. Again some of the boys could not let the girls go in peace. “We’ve left a pool for you at the bottom of the ditch,” one boy called out, and “We know where you’re going,” some of them began to chant. At this point Kevin walked over towards them and didn’t need to say anything. They respected him and kept quiet. Seconds later the girls ran back screaming because there was a family of snakes there now. I called out that I knew how to handle snakes, and picked up a big stick that happened to be nearby. I went round the hedge with the stick and saw the snakes, and two of them immediately attacked me. I was almost bitten, but courageously fought them both and killed them. There were two more snakes still alive and watching from a safe distance. I knew that if I left they would come back, but the girls needed the toilet, and Lisa decided it would be safer if I stayed to protect them. Some of the girls were worried about having to urinate with me there, but I smiled at them and reassured them that it didn’t matter. So they came round the hedge again and Tessa was next to me, telling me how much she admired my courage with the snakes. She very willingly pulled her shorts and pink panties down to urinate and all the other girls were thus emboldened to do likewise . . . my fantasises grew wilder and wilder. Back in the real world, boys were giggling and trying to spy on the girls through the hedge. With Kevin there, they did not dare do more than that, and from our position near the tables we could only see moving coloured clothing anyway, without any detail. Kevin also stopped us from vacating the tables left vacant by the girls, which caused a few quiet grumbles. I had hoped to find a place on the grass next to Tessa’s table, but she had been at one of the inside tables and we had to sit on the outside. There were about eight girls who did not go with the others, and I wondered if they had large bladders or whether they were taking a gamble on keeping their legs crossed until reaching camp before they burst. I wondered if Lisa and Wendy would be lowering their panties along with the girls. I had been so concerned with Ernst’s debut on the world stage that I hadn’t noticed whether Kevin or Trevor had joined the boys. The girls came back all together, in one large group, no doubt as greater protection against the jeers of some of the boys. As they appeared, Kevin wisely began to hand out lunch packs so as to distract the vociferous ones. Lunch proceeded with most of the girls at the tables and most of the boys on the grass, a type of sex discrimination that we did not appreciate, although it happened by accident rather than deliberately. Not all the boys, though. The prefects Kevin and Trevor had admiring little girls calling them to share seats so they could sit with them, and I also saw Mickey grinning and chattering away with a group of starry-eyed little fans. I saw Tessa eating and talking with her friends, and I wished with almost physical pain that she would invite me to share her seat with me. But so far, despite my daydreams, I hadn’t even done anything to get her to notice me at all. What could I do to attract her attention? If I were Ernst, or most other boys of my own age, I would have found something really romantic to kick off the relationship, like putting a beetle down the back of her neck and laughing when she screamed. But I had always suspected there might be more effective ways of winning a lady’s heart. Girls are strange creatures, and few have the wisdom to appreciate that the beetle down the neck or the yanking of ponytails are merely the opening shots of an elaborate time-honoured preteen male courting ritual. The problem was in finding those more effective ways. Good manners I knew by now were a start, but they didn’t make the same initial impact as the beetle down the neck. Something quicker, like saving her life, should do the trick. I was off on another fantasy . . . Ernst was grinning next to me. “Look at Wendy,” he said, pointing. I had no idea what he was talking about. Wendy, wearing a rather old-fashioned floral dress, was sitting not far away from us, facing in our direction, smiling and laughing with a group of girls. I could see nothing strange in that. “Her panties, stupid,” grinned Ernst, pointing. I looked under the table rather than on top of it. Wendy’s legs were well apart and a broad strip of white panties presented themselves to our lustful gaze. It was my first view of many during the camp. Wendy wore longer skirts than Lisa, but had clearly never had to endure a paranoid mother telling her to ‘sit like a lady’. She didn’t know how, and was far more careless with her skirts than most of the girls my own age. It was a naivety that I fell in love with. Ernst kept giggling and goggling, and I felt annoyed with his lack of restraint. I moved back slightly in case he started drooling from the mouth and told him, “For goodness’ sake, Ernst, don’t say anything or tell anybody else. I’ve told you before, if you let them know they stop doing it.” Ernst grinned and grunted, rather frustrated in his generous desire to share his simple pleasures with others. But he understood my reasoning. We both sat there in silence, enjoying the unaccustomed view of soft, white, feminine prefect panties. My admiration for Wendy grew. I started drawing her into my fantasies. After all, if you save one girl from being mauled by a rabid wildcat, you might as well save another as well. Anything Superman could do, Roy could do better. Even if she was years older than myself, she was still beautiful, feminine and very vulnerable with her legs apart. Hoping nobody was watching, I put one hand down to give my penis more room. While we were still eating, some of the other boys came up to us. “Hey, what’s your name?” they asked Ernst. Then they sniggered and said, “Brian says you have a great big chop. He saw you pissing with it.” Ernst shrugged, affecting modesty. He knew how to string them along. “So what?” he asked. They gathered tightly around him in a group. “Show us,” they urged him. Ernst had the sense to look around. There were girls and prefects quite close by. They might find themselves involved in the action without wanting to be, and that would spoil Ernst’s show. “Can’t do it now,” he shrugged. The other boys must have realised this was true, but with their silly sense of humour they kept trying to persuade him and made rude jokes about it. I took no notice, as I had suddenly discovered that sitting on the grass was an excellent vantage point for investigating the underwear of other girls besides Wendy. Quite a number of the Tremontos girls were wearing shorts of some kind, though, and I was to discover that English-speaking people from that area generally are more ‘modern’ and liberal than those of us from elsewhere, as it is a cosmopolitan seaport and a tourist centre that can be rather wild at times. Those unsightly blue jeans are rarely worn in our country, I’m glad to say, mainly because of the temperature, except in winter. “Where does it reach up to?” one of the boys was asking Ernst, eyes alight with scientific curiosity. Graciously Ernst put his hand up and indicated the top of his shorts, which were just under his belly button. There were gasps of awe from his admirers. They kept asking questions, trying to find out its history, where it had been and what it had done. Ernst appeared wearily taciturn, but I knew that underneath he was delighted with the attention he was receiving. More boys were joining the group all the time, but when Kevin came over to see what was happening, they sniggered and melted away. As we climbed on the bus I tried to edge closer to Tessa, but annoyingly she was on the far side with her friends and I couldn’t get across without making people wonder what I was doing. Wendy was nearby, though, chatting to a bunch of girls, and as I stood there for a moment watching, she glanced up, caught my eye and smiled at me. I went red from shock, and by the time I had pulled myself together enough to smile back, her eyes were elsewhere again. I cursed myself for making such a mess of it. Tessa was already climbing on to the bus, and I tried to get on behind Wendy, but there were too many girls in the way. Instead I had a rather plump Tremontos girl in front of me in a short pair of shorts, short enough to show the crease under her buttocks at the back. They were baggy, though, and as she reached the top of the steps I could just see the lace-edged hem of her panties inside. We had been instructed to keep to our original seats, so I passed right next to Tessa on my way. I felt my cheeks were red, but prepared myself to smile at her – if I could find the courage. Unfortunately she was looking inside her little bag for something and I had no chance. I wondered if I could accidentally on purpose brush my arm against hers as I went past, but at the last moment I chickened out. No sooner were we on our way again than the boys around us began to clamour round Ernst again, and Trevor reluctantly did his duty and told them to stay in their seats. They leaned over towards us, though, and urged Ernst to satisfy their curiosity now that the girls would not be able to see him. Grinning, Ernst slipped a hand up his shorts, but it was a tight fit, and he assured them that his penis would not come out that way. “Come on, try,” they kept urging him. “All right, pull your shorts down, then. Nobody can see you.” By ‘nobody’, they presumably meant only girls and prefects. Ernst joked with them, and then suddenly said, “I can’t do it now, but I’ll give you something else for now.” He leaned over to one side and produced one of his favourite party tricks, a long loud fart. There were shrieks of laughter from all the boys round us, who quickly moved back and sat down, wafting the air from their noses and cackling with obscene laughter. I felt most embarrassed, in between choking for breath in that confined area. I was used to Ernst’s routine by now, and it had never really amused me anyway. I had to sit there next to him and pretend nothing had happened and I was not involved, never an easy task for a ten-year-old. Fortunately it was not a particularly smelly one and I was sitting next to the open window, so I did not have that to contend with as well. The girls all swung round to see what all the noise was about – the noise made by the other boys, that is, as the explosion itself had not been quite that loud. They were quick to assess the situation, and in typical female fashion made their disgust quite clear, and their opinion of boys in general. I saw Tessa swing her head round and ducked my head out of the way, hoping this time she would not see me in this situation when I would so much rather be saving her life. When I glanced back, she had her face forward and like me was trying to ignore what was happening. “Come on, what’s going on there?” came Kevin’s voice from the front. This quietened things down somewhat, but there was still a lot of sniggering and requests for Ernst to perform a repeat. He shook his head, and I suspect it was more because he was rather in awe of Kevin than for any other reason. It was well after one o’clock when we finally arrived at the farm. We were very hot and rather irritable as well by then. We didn’t see the farmhouse itself, but the bus drew to a halt at the end of a dirt track, almost in between two groups of tents. Just on the far side of the tents was a large area of exciting-looking rocks we could climb. The camp leaders had already arrived and were waiting for us. We climbed off the bus and stood next to it awaiting instructions. I managed to stand about two metres away from Tessa, hoping for some excuse to say something or for her to look at me so I could smile – if that was physically possible when I was so nervous. Miss Tate (later to be dubbed ‘Miss-take’ by disrespectful boys) from Tremontos took charge, introducing the leaders and giving us basic rules. She explained that the camp area was rather in the shape of a diamond. On one side were the boys’ tents and on the other the girls’. Between the two, near where we were standing now, was the dining area, with a cooking area nearby. At the top were the toilets and showers, but the bad news was that they were about a hundred metres away. This was apparently for sanitary reasons. I sincerely hoped they did not smell like the toilets at our lunch spot, or a hundred metres might not be enough. As it turned out, they were perfectly clean. At the bottom of the diamond were the rocks and beyond them the games area. We had already driven past a large rough field, and were now told this was the games area. Fortunately the people who organised the camp were realists and knew that it was expecting a bit much for children to walk a hundred metres every time they wanted to go to the toilet. We were expected to use them to defecate, though Miss Tate did not say so. But for ordinary urination, some trenches had been dug for latrines just beyond our tents. The girls, I learned later, had three narrow trenches for that purpose, with a cloth screen around. Boys got lesser treatment, just one big hole in the ground and no screen. They were all treated with disinfectant three times a day. Then Miss Tate read from a list the names of all the campers and the tents we were in. There was one prefect in charge of each tent. Ernst and I were in Tent Three, with Lloyd, one of the prefects who had travelled by kombi. I was slightly apprehensive to learn that Mickey was in the same tent. Tessa, I noticed, was in girls’ Tent Seven, with Lisa the prefect in charge. While she was doing this, the boy prefects had been unloading the bus. When they had finished, Miss Tate instructed the girls, tent by tent, to collect their luggage and take it to their tent with their leader. Tents Five and Six collected theirs and departed. I watched as Tent Seven collected theirs. Tessa had quite a big backpack to carry, rather than a suitcase, and I saw her struggle to hoist it on her back to carry it that way. After two failed attempts, I plucked up all my courage. The other boys were too busy talking or acting the fool in a quiet way to notice me. I walked nervously over to Tessa. “Let me do it,” I said, trying gamely to force a charming, nonchalant smile as I took the backpack from her. She looked startled, but didn’t protest. I was just hoisting it on to my own shoulders when Lisa came over and took hold of it, pulling it gently off my back. “Thank you, but you’re not allowed to go to the girls’ tents, you know,” she smiled kindly at me. “Let me take it. Come, Tessa.” Tessa went quietly with her without even looking at me. I felt like bursting into tears. My big chance with Tessa, destroyed through petty officialdom! And Tessa hadn’t even smiled at me, she had hardly looked at me! I was rejected. It never occurred to me that the other party might be just as shy and nervous of boys as I was of girls, and I had also taken her by surprise. I just saw my fantasies shattered. I slunk back to the other boys, devastated. I think only Ernst had noticed me go, and I was grateful he was not the sort to ask awkward questions, though he sometimes did snigger quietly. His caveman mentality could never understand anything about courtesy to the opposite sex. The girls finished collecting their luggage, and then the boys had their turn. Most of the luggage had gone by the time they reached Tent Three. Ernst and I, along with six other boys including Mickey, collected our luggage. Mickey had brought about three times as much luggage as the rest of us. We were supposed to bring only bedrolls, with the matting provided for us, but Mickey had to bring an entire luxury camp bed. “Hey, can you give me a hand with these?” he peremptorily demanded of Lloyd, our tent leader. Lloyd, a stocky, thickset boy with dark hair, readily agreed. Like most of the other leaders, he seemed to see the acting twins as superior beings. Lloyd led us to our tent. The ends had been opened to allow a slight breeze to blow through. We went inside and set out our beds on the matting. I found a place in the far corner, and Ernst settled in next to me. Lloyd was not a talkative person, and most of the chattering came from Mickey, who had two friends, or fans, with him from school. They seemed to agree with everything he said and laughed whenever he tried to be funny. Ernst and I felt pretty shy in this tent with nobody else we knew. We had been told that this was siesta time, that once we had unpacked we would rest until three o’clock when we would meet for afternoon activities. We expected Lloyd would be there with us and answer our questions about the camp and help us feel at home. But, after unpacking his luggage, Lloyd simply got us lying down on our bedrolls and said, “Okay, guys, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Then he walked out and left us. He was to do this regularly during camp. We didn’t see much of him. It did not take any detective work to find out why. One of the girl prefects who had also travelled in the convoy, Tara, was his girlfriend. Her tent saw very little of her, either, and nor did anybody else. As I said earlier, the supervision on this camp was not great. Mickey, although the smallest in the tent, dominated. “It’s shit hot in here,” he announced in his rather high voice. He whipped off his expensive shirt and shorts, standing there wearing silky-looking blue and white underpants, also very opulent-looking. Then he flung himself back on his luxury camp bed, a level above the rest of us, who had our beds on the matting. Immediately his two followers did likewise. I was nothing loath to follow suit, feeling as hot as anybody. In fact, all of us stripped down to our underpants and flopped back on our bedrolls, hot and sticky. Ernst stood out, though, in his high-waisted underpants with their huge bulge at the front. One of the other boys looked at Ernst and giggled. He addressed Mickey, also apparently looking up to him as a superior being and wanting to win his approval. “Hey, Mickey, did you see this guy’s knob where we all had a piss at lunchtime?” he asked him with a grin. “It’s huge, I swear!” Mickey’s face lit up. He looked so cute, with his curly blond hair, his big blue eyes, his sweet smile and his smooth beautifully tanned face. But his beauty was only skin-deep. “Hey, that’s right,” he grinned. “And you were the guy who did that fart on the bus. What’s your name?” Ernst told him, grinning proudly and no doubt expecting to improve upon his hero status. But we soon found Mickey didn’t like rivals. “Come on, stick out your knob and let’s all have a look at it,” Mickey ordered him. Happy to oblige, Ernst arched his back, lifted his bottom and pulled his underpants down to his thighs. His penis popped out, in all its glory. Ernst let it lie there, gently curved, pointing towards his toes. The boys rose from their beds and gathered round, gazing at it in awe, in much the same way I suppose that a crowd of sightseers would stare at a whale stranded on the beach. “Gee, it’s big!” exclaimed one of them, in awe and reverence. “How did you grow it so big?” “Manure,” chipped in Mickey. “He wipes his bottom with it every day and that makes it grow.” He went off into peals of rude laughter, and his two faithful followers joined in, joined by the other boys. Ernst grinned sheepishly, but he wasn’t too happy about that comment. “He’s a Martian,” announced Mickey, showing off shamelessly. “He has three legs, like all Martians, and that’s his middle leg. Hey, Ernst, do you wear a sock on it in bed?” Again there was loud, stupid laughter from the others. “Hey, he’s got hair!” exclaimed one of the other boys, pointing. This made Ernst grin again. He had indeed reached puberty early, and there was a little patch of brown pubic hair at the bottom of his loins. I don’t think Mickey liked this. He took off his underpants and strutted proudly up and down the path we had made along the middle of the tent, waggling his penis. “Here, my boys, is a cock any girl would willingly die for,” he boasted, showing off his attributes. “This is real beauty.” One might have expected a tiny, cute penis from such a small boy, but in fact Mickey’s penis was longer than mine. It was quite thin, smooth and pink, bulging slightly near the end where his prepuce was, and ending in a neat little round white spout as his foreskin hung over the end. It sat on top of his little wrinkled pink testicles, and I suppose an impartial observer might have thought that, except for being larger than might have been expected, it was as cute as the rest of him. Or perhaps I should say ‘ignorant’ observer. There was nothing cute about the rest of him, as we were to discover. Mickey waggled it up and down proudly. “Come on, guys, it’s show time,” he announced gaily. “Everybody – undies off and let’s have a look at what you’ve got.” Obligingly his two followers removed their underpants to reveal their own penises. I wasn’t very happy about the mocking way in which things were going, but I had had worse from Saskia. Being basically a peaceful person, though, and by now used to naturism, I removed my underpants without any qualms, as did two of the other three boys in the tent. “Oh, very good,” approved Mickey, wiggling his penis up and down with his fingers as he inspected us all and apparently decided his was the best. “Hey, Mickey, do you still have your bath with Maxi?” grinned one of the other boys teasingly. This was a reference to the film involving the twins, which probably all of us had seen. Continental films, unlike British or American ones, have no qualms about showing naked children, and really the scene involving the twins was very mild. They were shown in the bath together, just from the chest upwards, and then there was a brief scene of them being dried by their rich grandfather’s maids afterwards. Maxi had the towel covering her from the hips downward, so there was nothing exciting there, while Mickey was shown side-on. As the maid was drying him, something could be seen for a brief moment bobbing up and down, but it was not a clear view of his penis at all and nobody could have described it accurately from that scene. “Oh, yes,” grinned Mickey proudly, understanding the connection. “But we’ve grown up now, since we made the film. So we play different games in the bath.” “What sort of games?” one of them naturally wanted to know. Dramatically Mickey gave a half-smile, raised his eyebrows and put his head on one side. He chuckled. “That would be telling,” he said slyly. “Hey, Mickey, does she have any boobies yet?” another boy asked. Mickey again gave his superior half-smile. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” he replied cunningly. “Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure if you do little things for her she’ll oblige. She likes a bit of attention, I can tell you.” “Ernst can stick his cock up her,” suggested one of the boys rudely. “If Ernst sticks that bloody great thing up any girl, she’d burst,” giggled Mickey. He was clearly one of those boys who deliberately swears at times to show off. “Hey, Ernst, make it stiff, let’s see how big it will grow,” another boy encouraged him. Ernst was only too happy to oblige, pleased to be the centre of admiring attention again. He took his penis in one hand and waved it ridiculously up and down. Slowly it began to stiffen, but I knew that actually, when the original was so big, any further enlargement when stiff was hardly noticeable. The boys gathered round again, though, to watch the show. I kept out of it, feeling mildly disgusted. My experiences with Ernst and Saskia had given me enough pornography to last a lifetime, and since then all kinds of obscene behaviour with genitals have turned me right off. Mickey was also not happy about losing his accustomed position as centre of attention. “That’s a big ugly chop,” he stated. “He’ll frighten all the girls off with that, I can tell you. Now here is a cock that will bring them all running.” He showed his own penis off again. But none of the others were paying any attention. Ernst’s penis was now totally stiff and pointing to his chin. “It’s just like the tent pole!” laughed one boy, and the others all joined in, trying to outdo each other for sick humour. “Let’s see you wiggle it,” demanded one, and they all screamed with laughter as Ernst, without hands, slowly wiggled his stiff penis up and down. Suddenly there was a girl’s voice close by outside. It sounded very nervous as she called out, “Hello, may we come in?” The boys shrieked in mock fear and shot back to their beds, grabbing items of clothing to cover themselves. There was a loose corner right by my bed, so I lifted it and peeped outside. Two nervous-looking girls were standing there, looking at our tent. I only had a quick glimpse, as they both looked down and I pulled the canvas back into place before they saw me properly. I did notice that one of them had a piece of paper in her hand. “Two girls,” I hissed. “I think they’ve got a message.” Mickey giggled. “Look, boys, this is what we do,” he whispered. He took his underpants and placed them over his penis, so they just covered his genitals and nothing else. “Come on,” he urged us, grinning wickedly. Then he lay back and folded his arms behind his head, his whole body open to view except for that tiny area on which he had placed his underpants. “Hello, please may we come in?” came the nervous female voice again from outside. “Wait a minute,” Mickey called back, as we all did the same, leaving back with our underpants covering only that tiny area, most of them giggling as they did so. “All right, you can come now,” laughed Mickey. The girls came around nervously from the side of the tent and looked inside the open doorway. Then they screamed and jumped back again, looking shocked. “It’s all right, we’ve got our wee-wees covered,” Mickey assured them in a deceptively kind tone of voice. “Come in. How can we help you?” The girls came closer again, very nervously. Their eyes darted round the tent and looked at all our naked bodies, with just one censored area. One gave a gasp, the other stifled a giggle. Then the one who gasped said, “We – have to give a message to Lloyd.” Presumably they had in those circumstances been able to break the rule about no visiting the tents of the opposite sex. “He’s in the shithouse,” one boy told her rudely. He was on the other side of Ernst, and the girls looked at him uncertainly. Looking in that direction also drew their attention to Ernst. One of them gave a gasp of horror, and then the other saw it too. Ernst was lying on his back with his goofy grin on his face and arms behind his head. Untouched by human hand, his underpants were slowly moving up and down as he wiggled his penis underneath. Both girls gave stifled screams and fled, cheeks bright red. The boys burst into rude, mocking laughter. I did not join in. I felt very bad that Ernst first and then the others should so humiliate and embarrass two girls who were nervous and vulnerable to start with. But I was not brave enough to say so. Ernst was a hero to most of the boys. They threw off their underpants and told him how well he had done, getting the girls running so easily. But I could tell Mickey was not pleased. He liked to be the centre of attention himself. “Oh, sure, that was just rude,” he gave his opinion. “It was so funny,” grinned one of his mates, showing a mind of his own for a change. Mickey felt unable to pick on Ernst at that moment, so he chose somebody else. There was one boy, a large plump kid from one of the other schools, who had said nothing ever since we had entered the tent. No doubt he was feeling lost, as there were no others from his school in our tent. He was lying quietly in the opposite corner of the tent from myself. He had taken off his shorts with the rest of us, but had not removed his underpants. I later found out his name was Brett. “Hey, come on, you,” ordered Mickey, kicking his bedroll. “Take off your undies and show your cock like the rest of us.” He stood there over him, a tyrannical little boy bullying a shy one nearly twice his size. And Mickey, of course, had his two faithful followers to back him up. Brett tried to slink further into his corner and lay there, cowering. “Leave me,” he pleaded. “No, you do what the rest of us are doing,” ordered Mickey arrogantly. “Come on, take them off.” “No – o,” whimpered Brett, as if Mickey had ordered him to run naked through the whole camp. “Do as you’re told, Fatty, otherwise we’ll make you,” snapped Mickey, prodding him with his foot. Brett gave a groan and rolled over on his side, head turned from Mickey. I still feel ashamed that I just let things happen and didn’t step in right away to defend Brett. But I was too much of a coward, like everybody else a bit intimidated by such a famous boy, and afraid he might turn with his friends on me – though I think Ernst would have stood with me. But it is those with no friends who are the most vulnerable. “Come on, guys, we need to get his undies off him,” said Mickey, turning to call over his two followers as he stood there, cute blue eyes bright and his long smooth penis sticking out. Immediately his followers were by his side. “You hold him while I pull his undies off,” instructed Mickey, reaching down towards Brett’s crotch. Seeing no danger in the helpless fat boy, his friends reached down and grasped Brett by the arms and legs. Brett had no idea how to defend himself. He kicked helplessly, but was clearly also scared of having them hurt him. “No, no, leave me!” he wailed as the followers pinned him down on his bedroll and Mickey grappled with his underpants, laughing nastily all the time. I watched in disgust, but also in cowardice, as Mickey dragged off Brett’s white underpants, revealing a sallow, podgy bottom. He tossed them over his shoulder. “Now let’s see what you look like underneath,” he crowed as his friends rolled Brett on to his back. He and his friends burst into screeching, scornful laughter. “Look at it! He’s hardly got a cock at all!” jeered Mickey. “He looks like a little girlie! He’s a freak!” From my position all I could see were Brett’s legs and rounded bottom, all podgy and white. Mickey danced naked around the centre of the tent, crowing with delight. “He’s a freak!” he declared triumphantly. “What a tent we’ve got! We’ve got a freak and a mutant!” And with the mutant jibe, he made his fatal mistake by pointing at Ernst. Ernst had been lying there silently all the time, but I had recognised the signs and knew he was angry at Mickey’s earlier ridicule. Ernst almost always looked so laidback and even dopey, but I knew Mickey was playing with a sleeping volcano. A second later, perhaps inevitably, Mickey went too far, perhaps too eager to establish his superiority over the boy who had taken his place at the centre of the spotlight a couple of minutes earlier. “A mutant!” he repeated, jeering at Ernst. “The three-legged mutant from Mars!” Ernst’s face suddenly went white with fury. With a mouthful of English obscenities, picked up very skilfully during his time with us, though not from me, he leapt to his feet. Mickey, startled, sprang back. His two followers, completely surprised by the transformation of Ernst into a raging madman, backed away immediately. Telling Mickey in undiplomatic and unprintable language what he was going to do to him, Ernst swung his fist wildly in Mickey’s direction. I think he just caught Mickey a glancing blow on the shoulder. Mickey let out a scream and dived for the tent door, disappearing outside still stark naked. Ernst jumped after him but stopped just inside the door, penis bobbing wildly, still white with fury. Then, just as quickly, he let out a deep breath and returned to his bedroll, still smouldering. There was a moment’s fearful silence inside the tent. Mickey’s followers were gazing with big eyes at Ernst, afraid of his anger and obviously had no intention of defending their leader’s honour at that point. The other boys were also staring, not knowing what to do. Neither did I, but in the circumstances I think I did the right thing. I gave out a laugh, pointed outside and said, trying to mimic Mickey’s mocking tones, “Look at Mickey! He’s so scared!” Mickey was standing there in an open space among the tents about ten metres away, white and naked, visibly shocked and staring in our direction to make sure Ernst was no longer chasing him. The noise, of course, had attracted attention. Boys were staring out of other tents and chattering noisily, while the prefects were telling them to stay inside. Mickey affected a laugh, as if it were all in fun, instinctively clutched his penis with one hand, and came back to the tent, trying to strut, but his eyes were very wary, just in case Ernst was still in waiting for him. He came inside, even more afraid of the staring eyes outside than the rest of us inside. A quick glance told him that Ernst was lying back on his bedroll, looking dopey again. Mickey squatted on his bed, breathing heavily, and immediately started putting on his underpants. There were, after all, fewer refuges for the naked. I saw Brett’s cast-off underpants lying next to Mickey’s bed. I rose and went over to pick them up. As I did so, Mickey looked up sharply and fearfully, cringing for a moment as if I were going to attack him. I stared at him scornfully, no longer overawed. I picked up Brett’s underpants and tossed them to him, a bit scared of showing more kindness as I should have done. Brett’s face was wet with tears, but he grabbed his underpants and quickly put them on. For the first time I was able to see a tiny round penis between his legs, though his plumpness no doubt made it look smaller than it really was. “Why didn’t you pricks *help* me?” hissed Mickey furiously at his two followers as he finished struggling into his underpants. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he burst into tears. He couldn’t even do that quietly, as Brett had done, but wailed loudly and heart-wrenchingly. The rest of us didn’t know what to do, but I knew that Mickey was making such a noise that somebody would be on the scene pretty quickly. I thought it wise to slip into my underpants. I think Ernst was now pretty scared at what he had done, and he did the same, putting his prime exhibit back under cover. The other boys took their cue and scrambled for their underpants. Moments later Kevin appeared in the doorway opposite me. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, with a voice of authority. Mickey continued to howl, while the other boys stood as if dumbfounded. Kevin repeated his question, this time with a bit of anger. Finally I decided it was time I took some responsibility, and also if I didn’t Ernst might find himself in trouble. Mickey might tell all sorts of lies about him and be believed. “Can I – come and tell you?” I asked shakily. Kevin nodded. On my way across, through a silent group of boys seething with embarrassment, I grabbed Brett by the arm and told him to come as well. Face still wet, Brett meekly came. Kevin led us to one side and told the other boys firmly to stay inside their tents. Naturally they all watched in avid curiosity, but they stayed inside. Kevin asked first where Lloyd was, and perhaps unwisely I tried to cover for him by saying I thought he had gone to the toilet. Then Kevin demanded our names, and then my story. I tried to put all the blame on Mickey, where it really belonged, without trying to sound hateful about it because I knew the awe in which Mickey was held and didn’t want them to believe whatever he told them instead of me. I didn’t want it to sound too pornographic, either, so I left out all references to Ernst’s prime asset. I just told Kevin that we were lying there in our underpants because of the heat, and Mickey for fun wanted us all to take them off so we were naked. Then he started picking on Brett, who didn’t like that idea, and with his two followers pulled off Brett’s underpants, and then started making fun of Ernst. At this point Kevin looked at Brett, who was staring at him fearfully but nodded in confirmation. I didn’t give details, but did mention the ‘three-legged mutant from Mars’ insult on top of all the others. At this Ernst got so angry he chased Mickey out of the tent, pretending he was going to hit him, and that was why Mickey had been out there naked. Then Mickey had come back inside and cried. Kevin listened, and then wisely called for the boys from the neutral school to give their version, sending me inside. Mickey had stopped howling now and simply sat with his head down, sniffing. His two followers looked like total spare parts. Ernst looked very white with fear. I told him what I had told Kevin, so he could corroborate it and know to put over his story without venturing into the shady world of porn. Shortly afterwards Kevin called Ernst to give evidence, and Ernst returned with a weak smile, which showed he seemed to think he had done all right. Then Kevin called for Mickey, who put on a very woebegone expression and holding his supposedly injured shoulder, no doubt hoping for sympathy. Kevin’s final verdict was awaited with some trepidation by all of us. We never found out exactly what happened, as he was some time with Mickey. During that time Lloyd returned and joined them outside. But I assumed Kevin accepted our story because the three of them returned together, with Mickey expressionless instead of triumphant. I don’t know his excuse to Kevin, but after getting to know him better, I’m sure he explained his behaviour by pleading, “I was just having fun,” and claimed Ernst had hit him. Kevin called me and the three neutral boys outside with Lloyd and asked if Ernst had hit Mickey. We all agreed, more or less, that we weren’t sure but he might just have winged him, which was true, and I added that if he had hit Mickey, there should be a bruise, but there wasn’t. Kevin nodded. Then we returned inside, and Kevin gave us a quiet talk together, telling us that it was not acceptable to tease people or strip them off or hit them, and that if there was any of that taking place, he would fix them. He looked tough, we were in awe of him and we nodded meekly. He was just finishing off when the bell rang for the end of siesta and the start of afternoon activities. Kevin grinned at us. The telling-off was over. “Come on, guys, and enjoy the camp,” he told us. I decided I wanted to grow up like Kevin. (To be continued) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 2) We gathered at the meeting place in the centre of the camp, chattering and excited. My tentmates and I were bombarded with questions from other boys as to what had happened with Mickey, and I tried to tell them, amid numerous interruptions, an even more expurgated story I had told Kevin, leaving out the ‘three-legged’ part or any oblique reference to Ernst’s penis – though other boys were more graphic. Many boys seemed almost stunned to discover that such a celebrity as Mickey should turn out to be a mere human being like themselves and behave in such a way. The whole incident was causing tremendous excitement. Now he was back on the public stage, Mickey did a remarkable metamorphosis from miserable caterpillar to bubbling butterfly. Suddenly his lovely cute smile and charming manner were back, and he headed straight over to the girls, where his fans greeted him with rapture. No doubt he chose his company deliberately, because all the boys were aware of his humiliation a few minutes earlier, but as yet they had not been able to pass on the news to the girls. In any case, girls would be more likely to be sympathetic towards him and disbelieve any stories to his disadvantage, as long as he kept smiling and laughing with them. He had every intention of doing so, it seemed. The boys had automatically gathered on their side of the meeting place and the girls on the other. Mickey was totally in the girls’ half, laughing and joking and chattering in his high-pitched voice as if nothing had happened. There was some overlap between the two groups as some boys who felt able to communicate with sisters or girls they knew were excitedly informing them of the latest news. I edged closer to the girls as well, not to share any information but to look for Tessa, whom I had actually forgotten for a brief while. I finally spotted her with her two friends on the outskirts of the throng around Mickey. Tessa seemed fairly passive but the other two seemed excited about something and were chattering away with others. It was easy to guess the subject of the conversation. I stood there watching Tessa, perhaps too closely. One of her friends suddenly looked across and saw me. Our eyes met, and I immediately looked away in embarrassment. When I glanced back I saw her hurrying over towards me. My heart fluttered wildly. She was going to tell me she had seen me watching Tessa and ask me if I liked her! How would I answer? I felt terrified. I had been spotted doing the unthinkable for a ten-year-old! “Hey, what really happened to Mickey?” she burst out as she came up to me. Her name was Kirsty, I was soon to find out. “Some of the girls say – well, the boys told them – he was in a fight?” I was taken aback. “Well – sort of,” I said. I tried to gather my thoughts. I looked at Kirsty. She had wavy auburn hair across her forehead with an untidy ponytail down the back, brown eyes and a rather freckled face. She wasn’t a great beauty but she did somehow look quite attractive. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a white collar. The thought flashed through my mind that perhaps one way to reach Tessa would be by befriending one of her friends. “Well, what did happen?” Kirsty demanded, unashamedly curious. I forced a smile at her, trying to pretend I was interested in her. I was a bit afraid that if my story was too much anti-Mickey, it might turn her off me. “Well, we were – lying down for the siesta and Lloyd was out of the tent,” I told her. “Then Mickey had – er – an argument with my friend Ernst and another boy, and he called them rude names. Ernst got mad and he chased Mickey and Mickey ran away because he thought Ernst was going to hit him. But it wasn’t really a fight.” Kirsty grinned nervously and licked her lips as she prepared to ask her next question. Behind her I could see the third girl and Tessa – Tessa! – staring towards us. Tessa was looking at me! I began to go red. Then I saw Kirsty starting at me with a strange smile twitching at her lips. She thought I was in love with her! Well, I know now that was an exaggeration, but at that moment and that age it was my immediate thought. My first reaction was no, I must show her that I wasn’t, at all costs! My second reaction was, well, maybe I can play her alone a bit and take advantage of it so as to get an opening to Tessa. Believing I was interested in her gave Kirsty confidence. She smiled and asked, in a softer tone of voice, “Some of the girls are saying – they say some boys told them – that Mickey was naked? And the other boy had . . .” She gave a nervous giggle but kept looking at me, confident that I was interested in her and very nervous about it, because I kept glancing over her shoulder towards Tessa and blushing slightly. “. . . He had – a big thing?” Thoughts were still spinning wildly round my head as I had a split second to work out the best way to take advantage of Kirsty’s misapprehension. “Well, er – look, it – it’s rather private,” I told her. I tried to say more, but I didn’t know what, so it was a good thing she gave me a moment’s respite by pleading with me. Then I knew what I wanted to say. “Look, I can tell you, but it’s rather complicated as well, so I can’t do it now. But I can tell you in private sometime. Just you and – and both your friends. What’s your name?” We shared names, and she mentioned her friends were Susan and Tessa. I acted as if I didn’t know either of them. Susan was a rather plump, plain girl in a small sundress. Susan was still watching us, but Tessa, to my disappointment, was looking around more generally. I had been afraid that Kirsty, whom I was sure thought I was in love with her, might insist on meeting me alone, but in those days I didn’t realise how much girls need to do things in at least twos, especially in new situations and in particularly traumatic circumstances such as when going to the toilet. Kirsty smiled at me and said confidently now, “Thanks, Roy. We must find some time when you can tell me.” Suddenly her knees gave a convulsive jerk, she gave a giggle with her hand to her mouth and then fluttered back to her friends. Not for the first time, I couldn’t understand girls. I saw her talking animatedly to the others, with Susan constantly glancing towards me but Tessa showing less interest. I felt disappointed. With the self-centred thinking of a ten-year-old, I was thinking their interest, or lack of it, was in me, when really it was centred on the situation concerning Mickey. By now Miss Tate was blowing her whistle to get everybody’s attention and check we were all there. The leaders handed out drinks and biscuits to us all. Miss Tate told us we would have half an hour’s free time to explore the campsite, and told us the boundaries to keep within. This included the rocks and also a little stream that flowed down the hill nearby, both of which we boys were longing to explore. After half an hour she would blow her whistle again, and we could choose either to carry on exploring or to go to the field and play some friendly sports. They offered four: football, volleyball, basketball and rounders. I should add at this point that it is quite normal in our English culture in this country for girls to join in boys’ sports. Some of them play them quite well and there are not many girls who would refuse to play altogether, as I understand is the case in some countries. So it was not thought strange to offer these sports on camp for boys and girls to play together. By now Ernst had found me again, and as soon as Miss Tate said we could go, he grabbed me excitedly by the arm and we took off at a sprint for the rocks, along with many of the other boys and some of the girls. I had been planning to hang around and see if Kirsty would suggest a secret rendezvous – with Tessa included, of course – but Ernst gave me no chance, and I didn’t want to protest for fear of revealing the fact that I was meeting up with girls. Already. I was at least glad Ernst preferred the rocks, as it was closer and I would be more likely to encounter the girls. The rocks were pretty exciting for children who liked climbing. They were quite high and some of them needed a bit of skill to climb, but they were not really dangerous and on the whole of camp we had nothing more than scrapes or bumps in the way of injuries there. There must have been about 50 of us in that area to start with, running in and among the rocks, climbing them, climbing the trees that grew in between them and making a terrific noise. On my way I twice tried to look back to see where the three girls were, but had lost them in the crowd. I thought I would just have to put our plans for a meeting on hold until a better time. I didn’t as yet appreciate the power of gossip among girls. Once we were among the rocks, though, I quickly lost myself in this new adventure. Like all the other boys, I wanted to show off my climbing skills, and we vied with each other to be the first to climb a new rock or to get higher than anybody else or to be ‘king of the castle’ and push down everybody else trying to climb our own particular rock. Some of the prefects came with us, and we admired the way the boy prefects, especially Kevin, accomplished with ease the things we younger ones were struggling to do. And I have an abiding memory of looking up to see Wendy standing with some younger girls who were with her on a flat rock just above my head. She had her back to me and a gentle breeze was blowing and making her dress flap at the back. In an awesome moment I could see all of her soft white panties at the back, and up further past her bare skin all the way up to her bra. Then she moved forward out of my line of sight, and the vision was gone. I spent the next half-hour exploring and having fun on the rocks with others, almost forgetting about Tessa, though I did catch one glimpse of her and her friends playing on the rocks. But they were not looking at me and there was no reasonable chance of our getting together for our gossip session. It was not until we heard the long, loud whistle for optional games that I stopped and thought about what I should do and where the girls might be now. Suddenly the urge to get to know Tessa came back and took charge of my immediate need to make a decision. Should I stay among the rocks or go down to games? Most of the other boys, still shouting and full of energy despite the heat, decided on games. “Come on, Roy!” Ernst encouraged me, sprinting with the others back towards camp. I started off, but then stopped. Perhaps I should wait there a few minutes to see if the girls were around, and if not then I would go and join the games. After all, if I went to the games first and found I was wrong, it would be harder to change my plans. As it turned out I was right. The place seemed suddenly quiet now, although there were a few children, mostly boys, scrambling around on the rocks and one or two others, mostly girls, sitting mostly in the shade beside rocks talking. But there was no sign of Tessa and her friends. I wandered around looking for them by myself, though pretending I was still exploring by myself. I climbed to the top of the highest rock, where I could see right across the camp and down to the field. I found I could also see three or four small figures standing around the hole that was the boys’ latrine. I realised that any girl standing where I was would be able to see what I was seeing. It was close enough to recognise, just, who the boys were and what activity they were engaged in, but not to see any detail. Unless it was Ernst . . . Glancing over to the girls’ side, I soon discovered their latrine was hidden behind their screen. It was also partly obscured by an annoying tree, but in any case I found that even from my altitude I could only see the participants’ heads when they were standing upright – and, of course, when they were actively involved they would squat down as girls do so I couldn’t even see their heads. Deciding the three girls – well, one in particular – I was interested in must have gone down for games, I climbed down and began to make my way back to camp. As I was leaving the rocky area, I thought I could just catch somebody calling my name, in what sounded like a girl’s voice. Puzzled, I looked around quickly, saw nobody and kept walking. “Roy!” it came again, louder. This time I stopped and looked more carefully, but again could hear nothing. I had just turned round again when I definitely heard a giggly voice call, “Roy! Over here!” Three words instead of one were enough to make me think it sounded like Kirsty, but I had no idea where it was coming from, unless it was the middle of a rock. Feeling foolish, I stood there and stared around, but apart from a couple of girls on one side talking together and taking no notice of me, there was nobody in sight at all. I was about to give up when suddenly a big but rather scrawny bush between two large rocks started waving about, and Kirsty’s head popped out, at about knee-level. I was so astonished and bewildered that I almost let out a yell. Kirsty’s face started laughing at me. “In here, Roy,” she called. Then she hissed secretively, “It’s a secret cave!” That explained it. I walked over and saw that the two rocks actually overlapped behind the bush, and down at ground level there was a large hidden fissure, large enough for children to get their bodies through. Susan’s grinning head appeared through the gap, just below Kirsty’s. I hoped Tessa was there too. They were both laughing at my confusion. Kirsty looked around to make sure nobody else could see them and then told me, “Come inside.” The heads disappeared. I squatted and peered into the hole. After the dazzling sunlight, I could hardly see a thing. I couldn’t even tell how many people were inside or where I would put my feet. Carefully I pushed my way behind the bush. There was a small dusty-looking rock and I sat on it. Then I put my legs into the hole, one by one, and lowered myself in. “You’ve got white underpants,” giggled Susan, hand to mouth, as I lowered my head inside. “It doesn’t matter,” I shrugged, looking around. At first I could see very little, but then I could make out three figures. Kirsty and Susan were standing in front of me, and behind them was a figure sitting on the ground with her knees up. Yes, it was Tessa. “Hello, Tessa,” I greeted her, trying to force a smile, which is very difficult when you feel very shy. “Oh, you know Tessa?” asked Kirsty, as Tessa gave me a muffled reply. “Of course, it’s from the bus. Everyone was shouting out, ‘Tessa, your panties.’” “*I* wasn’t,” I protested, unable to see in the dark how Tessa was responding. “They were just - stupid people. But I didn’t do it.” “Come on, Roy, sit down and you can tell us about Mickey,” invited Kirsty, and there was a giggle from Susan. “When I can see properly,” I replied, sitting down anyway. I put my knees up, knowing I was probably showing them my underpants again. Once my eyes got used to it, it was not really dark inside at all. After a minute or so I could see them all quite clearly. The ‘cave’ was about three metres long and just over a metre wide on the whole, and just high enough to stand up in before the two great rocks on either side of us met. It was much cooler inside, as well. At the far side there was a long narrow gap between the rocks that let in most of the light. The floor was dry and dusty, with nothing growing there except a few tiny emaciated ferns. Next to me on one side was Kirsty, sitting with her legs crossed. Opposite me on the left was Tessa, one leg tucked under her, the other with the knee up. On the right was Susan, sitting with her knees under her chin and arms wrapped round them. They were slightly apart and, since she was wearing a dress, I could see a thin vertical slice of her white cotton panties and up her skirt as far as her belly button. They bulged quite tightly between her legs, the effect of a large pubic mound. “Come on, Roy, tell us about Mickey,” urged Kirsty eagerly. “And about Ernst. The true story.” “Well, look, it must be a secret,” I mumbled. “You must promise not to tell anybody else.” Kirsty and Susan nodded their heads vigorously, and then Kirsty looked across to Tessa. “Come on, Tessa, promise not to tell.” “Of course I won’t,” retorted Tessa. “I hope it isn’t – bad.” “Come on, Roy, tell us. Right from the start,” said Kirsty impatiently. I started off by telling them how Lloyd left and we all stripped off down to our underpants. They giggled. “What were Mickey’s underpants like?” Susan wanted to know. “Blue and white, rather girlish,” I replied, exaggerating slightly. Then, feeling rather disloyal to Ernst and naively swearing the girls to silence again, I told how some of the boys had seen Ernst’s penis when we were urinating behind the hedge at lunchtime and had been impressed by its size. Then Mickey wanted to see it in the tent and Ernst showed it to him. Kirsty and Susan squealed with laughter, partly through silliness and partly through embarrassment. But Tessa was the one I was watching, and I sensed she didn’t like listening to this sort of thing. She didn’t giggle and she looked quite embarrassed. But I didn’t know what to do about it when I was here to tell the story. “How long is Ernst’s – thing?” giggled Susan, spreading her legs wider and leaning forward with her hand over her mouth. “About – that long,” I replied, spreading my hands but, afraid of embarrassing Tessa, making it a bit shorter than in real life. The other two girls nevertheless squealed and giggled. “What happened next?” demanded Kirsty excitedly. I described how Mickey seemed to be jealous of Ernst’s penis and the attention he was getting, and started being rude about it. When I reached the bit about how Mickey took off his underpants and showed off his own penis, Kirsty and Susan looked at each other, squealed “Ooh!” long and shrill with hands to mouths, and shuddered with giggles. “How long is Mickey’s – wee?” breathed Kirsty, not even trying to hide her fascination. I was tempted to hold out my hands like the fisherman showing the one that got away, but instead gave a fairly accurate estimate of its length. The girls sucked in their breath. “Ooh, he’s so small. I thought his wee-wee would be little and cute,” said Susan. “Like him.” “He doesn’t behave cute,” I told them, going on to tell how we all took off our underpants, except for Brett. I gave him a false name and didn’t mention he was fat, so they wouldn’t be able to identify him. I didn’t mention the two girl visitors who came in and fled, to the boys’ shameful laughter, at the strange movements of Ernst’s underpants. Instead I went straight on to how Mickey and his two followers stripped the boy and left him there in tears. All three girls were appalled, no doubt thinking how they would feel if they were stripped naked like this. Kirsty in particular found it difficult to believe that Mickey could be so cruel. Then I came to the part about how the boys got Ernst to make his penis stiff, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Tessa stood up, pulled at her shorts at the back to unstick her panties from her bottom, and pushed past Kirsty to get to the entrance. “Hey, Tessa, where are you going, do you need a wee?” asked Susan. “I’m going to play games,” was all Tessa said. Without looking at me, she scrambled up through the entrance and disappeared outside. I felt shocked and ashamed of what I had been saying, and very disappointed that Tessa had gone and it was too late for me to stop her. The other two seemed taken aback for a moment, but were too fascinated by my story to let it bother them for long. Kirsty was a bit squashed where she was, so she moved over to take Tessa’s place. I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be white panties as she sat down with her legs crossed. They urged me to carry on. Without Tessa, at least I felt more free to tell of what Mickey said about Brett and Ernst. They were both amused and shocked in turn, seemingly unable to make up their minds which was the correct response. They were more shocked when I told them how Ernst lost his temper, only to squeal with laughter, hands to faces, when I described how Mickey fled outside naked in terror. Kirsty had quite lost her inhibitions now. She was sitting with her knees up and legs apart, giving me an even better view up her skirt than Susan. She was wearing those creamy flesh-coloured panties that at first look as if they might almost be transparent, but aren’t. The soft material was embroidered into little flowers and there was a neat edging of lace around the hems. Now she gave herself a quick scratch through the crotch of her panties and whispered something in Susan’s ear. Susan’s eyes lit up and she nodded. Then Kirsty asked me eagerly, “Do you think – Mickey would show us his – his thing? Between his legs?” She dissolved into silly giggles, joined by Susan. “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him,” I told them. They looked coy. “Roy, we – we don’t know him properly. There are too many girls so we – won’t be able to speak to him. Not in private. Do you – think you could ask him for us?” asked Kirsty, looking at me from the corner of her big brown eyes. “It’s no use me asking him, he hates me,” I told them. “But Roy, please – can you try?” begged Susan. “He might say yes – and he’ll look so cute – without his clothes on!” She dissolved into giggles, and they both buried their faces in their knees as they giggled in the silliest way. That gave me a moment to do some thinking. I would be very jealous if Mickey got involved in a naked show-session, which might well turn mutual, and I would be left out. I would have to think about that, but in the meantime I fobbed off the girls and said, “Well, I’ll try, but I don’t think he’ll listen to me. But you saw his – his penis in the film.” “Oh, thank you, Roy,” they giggled. “The film didn’t show it – properly, though. You could just see it – like this.” They looked at each other, made bobbing-up-and-down motions with their hands and giggled again, hands to faces as usual. Then Kirsty asked, “What happened to Mickey after that?” I was just completing the part about Mickey’s final humiliation when he burst into tears and howled, when we heard a long blast of the whistle in the distance. The girls squealed and scrambled to their feet. “Ooh, they want us in the meeting place,” Kirsty said. “Roy, you must ask Mickey and tell us at supper.” “I’ll try,” I agreed reluctantly. “But remember, don’t tell *anybody* about the things I’ve told you. You promised, it’s a secret. And Mickey will never agree to show you his penis if you tell the secrets about him.” Every mention I made of the word ‘penis’ seemed to cause giggling embarrassment, but I was too obstinate to use the regular baby word. Besides, ‘wee’ would be a highly inappropriate term for Ernst’s appendage. There was nothing ‘wee’ about it. We scrambled out of the little cave and ran down towards the meeting place. I was rather annoyed at the interruption. I had been rather hoping that the girls might decide that a bird in the hand (me) was worth two in the bush (Mickey), and open negotiations to look at my penis. I would have responded in the “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” style, only more subtle and dignified, and we might have been in business. I suppose there was something a little attractive about Kirsty, though maybe not Susan, but I would far rather it had been Tessa. But at that age I still found thrills in that sort of naughtiness. I had a look out for Tessa at the meeting place. She was looking flushed and somewhat dirty, so she had evidently been having a very energetic time. She didn’t look at me, but Kirsty and Susan went over to her straight away, no doubt to tell her about what she had been missing and their dreams of seeing Mickey naked. I wasn’t at all sure I could trust those two to keep their mouths shut, even with my hint that it might mess up negotiations with Mickey. Miss Tate announced the next part of the day’s programme. Already it seemed to me that we had been there for an age. During the next half-hour the girls were to have showers up in the ablutions block, while the boys would have some more free time. That brought silly sniggers from a small number of boys. After half an hour, the boys would have their turn at the showers. Since the male and female showers were separate, we could in theory all have had showers at the same time, were there enough hot water from the furnace, but perhaps the leaders thought that was too risky for the girls to have the boys so close when they were naked. After showers, being clean, we would then walk almost a kilometre to the farmhouse where we could use their swimming pool. That news brought a great deal of approval. We had two set times each day when we could swim there, just before lunch and late afternoon. After that we would return for supper. We had more drinks and the girls went off to their tents to fetch their towels, soap, sponges, perfume, body lotion, make-up, flea powder and whatever else girls need to use when they have showers. Some of us boys had a discussion on our way down to the field about how many items they would be taking, and we must have come up with over 20, getting ruder all the time. Mickey suggested tampons, and was only too pleased to explain to the uninitiated just what these were. There were veiled suggestions that we might be able to spy on the girls taking showers, but apparently someone had already checked it out and found the place impregnable. The prefects organized a quick game of rounders for us. Mickey was not very active in sports, preferring to shout instructions and abuse from as close to the sidelines as he could get. I had time to think over the girls’ request, and my plan to make Mickey reject the request worked out much as I had hoped. “Hey, Mickey, do you think you might do me a favour?” I asked him, managing to catch him one moment when he was by himself taking his sandals off. After the incident during the afternoon the other boys were less desirous of his company than they had been before, although the girls still mobbed him. He stared at me. “Bugger off,” he advised me, scowling. “Why should I do you a favour?” I didn’t answer that, but said, “I’ve met two girls and they like you and want me to ask you if you’ll show them your penis. So – it would really help me if you’d agree.” Mickey didn’t seem surprised or offended, but perhaps flattered that they should want to see his penis. That was what I half-expected, and the reason why I was emphasizing a favour to me to try to turn him against the idea. “Which girls? Why would it help *you*?” he scowled at me. “Kirsty and Susan. You know, the one with freckles and the fat one,” I said, again playing to put him off. He shook his head to say he didn’t know them. “And they – they’ve promised me a reward if you’ll show them.” “Well, they can come and ask me themselves if they want to,” retorted Mickey in his shrill voice. “But don’t you come and think I’m going to do *you* any favours so you can poke them afterwards.” He turned back to his sandals and I walked away, secretly satisfied. After half an hour the whistle blew and Kevin led us back to the tents where we grabbed our towels and went to the meeting place ready for our epic journey. While we waited for all the boys to arrive, we speculated on how it would be totally impossible to get 32 girls through the showers in just half an hour. I learned later from Kirsty that the girl prefects kept telling them, “The boys are coming in 15 minutes,” “The boys are coming in 10 minutes,” and so on, and this was sufficient motivation to have them finished just in the nick of time! Before we left, with the girls still not back, Kevin gave us a quick talk. “Listen, guys,” he said. “I’ve heard a few of you mocking the girls and teasing them at times. I think it’s really pretty cowardly to mock girls who can’t answer you back. So let’s have no more of that, okay?” We all solemnly nodded and agreed, because we all admired Kevin so much. Then he led us on the walk up to the showers. As we arrived, the girls were very hurriedly lining up outside their half of the ablution block. Quite a number had towels around them with bare shoulders, and in my ten-year-old world I wondered if they were naked underneath, and if we would get to see anything. I’m sure other boys were wondering the same thing, but we didn’t say anything because of our respect for Kevin. I did see one small girl adjusting her towel at the front, and caught a quick glimpse of nothing but white panties underneath. Some were still wearing hairnets. It was a different world. I wondered why they were not all fully clothed, but found out later that this was because, unlike the boys, they intended to change their clothes afterwards. From later experiences, I guess that the towelled girls would wear at least panties underneath but would not be likely to wear less than that with boys present. They would not expect their panties to become visible, but wearing them, if nothing else, did make them feel more secure. I looked for Tessa and found her, fully clothed. With her were Kirsty and Susan, both with towels wrapped tightly around them and bare shoulders. Both raised a hand and waved to me, with big smiles. Tessa didn’t, much to my disappointment. “Were those the two girls you were talking about?” I heard Mickey’s scornful voice behind me. I nodded. “Couple of old hags,” was his comment, even more scornfully. I felt reasonably confident he wouldn’t be involved in any Show-and-Don’t-Tell sessions with them. We went inside the boys’ shower room. There was a big communal section of about 12 sprays along one side, with toilets and a bathroom along the other. Between them were some bare boards where we could all put our clothes. Once we were all inside, Kevin shut the door behind us. We all undressed, some more quickly than others. Ernst and I were among the first, with Ernst no doubt eager to display his talents on the world stage. It must have looked a strange sight were an outsider able to see us, with 31 small boys with their small penises bobbing about between their legs and a 32nd sporting an adult-sized appendage. Well, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, as some of the other boys’ penises were quite large, but Ernst’s was in a class of its own. Of course the boys from other tents knew all about Ernst’s talent by now and were eager to see for themselves, although they were careful about it out of respect for Kevin. Looking over from my shower, next to Ernst’s, I saw the leaders getting undressed to shower as well. I was quite shocked to see that Kevin had in fact quite a small penis for one who was virtually a man, though he had a clear mass of light brown public hair above it. Certainly Ernst’s was much larger than his! I had a check round at the other leaders. Only Trevor seemed to have a penis comparable to Ernst’s. He had a big convex penis that was darker in colour, in fact just the same colour as a sausage. As I checked them out I saw Trevor and Lloyd, further across in the showers, looking in Ernst’s direction and having a good chuckle together. Ernst was certainly the centre of attention – though I must say that not all the boys were so interested. Some seemed shocked or slightly disgusted, and tried to ignore it. With his quiet, goofy grin on his face, Ernst smiled at anybody else who met his eye and was obviously enjoying it all. He pulled his penis with one hand and slid his hand up and down it to wash it in the showers, and afterwards flapped it up and down vigorously to dry it. Many of the boys watched in awe or amusement, or whispered to each other out of Kevin’s hearing. Mickey, despite his humiliation that afternoon, could not resist trying to steal the limelight, and marched up and down the place, laughing and showing off, with his smooth handsome penis displayed to all. I noticed Brett in the far corner, naked but with his towel dangling down to cover his penis, trying to pluck up the courage to drop it and nip into the showers. He looked apprehensively at Mickey as he approached, but Mickey was now playing it safe there and ignored him. I have always wished that I had gone over to Brett and befriended him better, as I would have done when I was a bit older, but at ten I was still too immature to handle that sort of thing well. There was actually another boy there, Ian, who was in another tent and quite famous as one of the country’s top tennis players. He was very different from Mickey, though. He was tall and fairly good-looking, with a wiry muscular boy and very well suntanned. You would have thought he would be well sought after by the girls, but he was actually very shy with girls and almost ignored those who tried to talk to him. In fact, he was pretty shy with everyone. I suspect now that it was due to his father, who was determined to make him a Wimbledon champion and made him spend all his spare time from dawn onwards practising his tennis instead of playing with friends. So Ian never learned to socialise and was quite lost at camp – in fact, the only reason he was allowed at camp was that he was recovering from a shoulder injury and couldn’t play tennis for a month. Ian also looked very nervous of stripping off and going in the shower. Like Brett he used his towel to cover himself. He blushed when Trevor, his tent leader, called out, “Come on, Ian, we’re running out of time,” and started stalling by fiddling around in his bag. Finally, with a nervous glance round, he dropped his towel and shot into the showers, keeping his back to everybody as he washed quickly, and then slunk out again. So successful was he that it was not until a couple of days later that I even caught a glimpse of his penis. It was small and white, like Brett’s, and looked quite incongruous on such an otherwise well-built boy. I have often found that the shyest boys about revealing their genitals are those whose penises are either very large or very small. I understand it’s the same with girls about their breasts. I suppose there are three ways of coping with the problem. You can try to behave quite naturally, which is very difficult when you are ten years old. You can take a pride in it and show off, like Ernst, though that’s less easy if you are undersized. My little friend Scott seems to manage that quite well, though – with girls, at least. Or else you can try to hide it from everybody, which is the most dangerous course of all, as it triggers off the common human reaction in others of wanting to see that which is forbidden. When everybody was finished, dressed and (temporarily) clean, we returned to the tents, to find the girls already in their swimming costumes and impatiently awaiting us. We hurried off to our tents to change. As we were all in various processes of nudity inside our tent, one of the boys from a neutral school piped up, “Hey, Lloyd, have you see old Ernst’s knob? It’s bigger than yours.” Other boys also burst in with some comments along the lines of what they had said during the afternoon ‘rest’, but Mickey, his humiliation still rankling no doubt, was uncharacteristically silent, although he did make a show of tucking his penis into his expensive Speedo swimming costume. Lloyd was just putting on his swimming costume, his own penis hanging down like a blunt sausage. (By the way, I never mentioned to the boys in my tent Ernst’s school nickname of ‘Mr Sausage Man’ as I didn’t want to stir things up any further.) Lloyd looked at Ernst’s penis, hanging down most of the way towards his knees, and grinned. “Mine’s normal, but that’s just a freak,” he said. Ernst began to go white as the other boys hooted with laughter. Knowing he was a very short fuse from exploding, I hurriedly burst out, looking at the other boys rather than at Lloyd, “Look, it doesn’t matter, so let’s everybody shut up. Remember what Kevin said.” Reference to Kevin did the trick, as the boys all respected him. They kept grinning, but made no more comments. They did watch with interest, though, to see how Ernst managed to push it all down inside his swimming costume, under cover but leaving a large telltale bulge. We took the long trail up to the farm swimming pool together. For some reason the girls all took off first and the boys followed behind them, so I was unable to find Tessa and walk with her, as I had intended. I did see Kirsty waving at me again, but this time I pretended I hadn’t seen her. It was a beautiful pool and very refreshing after the long hot day. It took me a while to spot Tessa there, but soon saw her jumping off the diving board in a small blue and white two-piece swimming costume. As I rested for a moment on the side of the pool, Kirsty swam quietly up to me from a large group of girls surrounding something of great interest in the middle of the pool. It was not hard to guess what – or rather who - that source of interest was. Maxi was there as well, wearing a tiny little bikini, and at the back it was possible to see the top of the crack in her bottom. She had a number of girls with her as well, and some of the boys were slowly starting to show an interest in her. I found the boys were much shyer in chasing Maxi than the girls were in chasing Mickey, perhaps through fear of ridicule. I enjoyed watching Maxi at times, but didn’t feel inclined to pursue her at all. I like my girls to be simple and natural – like Tessa. “Did you ask him?” Kirsty hissed. “Who?” I asked, but guessing whom she was talking about. “Mickey, of course, silly,” she giggled, and held on to the wall next to me, staring at me and giggling. I paused as if trying to remember, and then said, “Oh, yes, I asked him.” “Well, what did he *say*?” she demanded impatiently. “He got cross and said no,” I replied. She looked bitterly disappointed. She looked away and then turned back to me. “Are you sure you asked him?” she pleaded, looking for a ray of hope. “Of course I did,” I retorted. “I even told him your names.” She gasped and stared at me in horror. “You shouldn’t have done *that*!” she burst out. I made myself look surprised. “Why not? You didn’t tell me not to,” I answered, in the obstinate way of your typical ten-year-old. “You shouldn’t have *told* him,” she accused me, still looking shocked. Without another word she turned back and rejoined Mickey’s fan club, where Susan was waiting for her. Tessa was not in that group, but was running around the pool with fierce energy, diving in, occasionally splashing people in fun and having a great time. She never stopped, so it was hard for me to link up with her at all. Eventually I worked out a plan. I stood by the diving board when there was a small queue and waited. Sure enough, Tessa soon joined the end of the queue and I slipped in behind her. “Hello, Tessa,” I greeted her nervously. She looked back in surprise. “Hello,” she replied, and then turned round to face the front again. “Tessa, sorry if I – I made you feel bad when we were in the hiding place,” I stammered. “That’s okay,” she said, still facing the front. “I didn’t mean to . . .” I began again, but at that moment the boy in front of her sprang off the board and Tessa dashed on and dived in. I felt very disappointed and too shy to try to approach her again. Instead I joined in with the other boys. Most of the pool activity seemed to revolve in groups. Many of the boys were hanging around Kevin, and some round the other male prefects, having water fights and wrestling with them. Almost all the girls were in groups around somebody they admired, if not Mickey then one of their four girl prefects. Wendy was there, wearing a one-piece red swimming costume, in contrast to the more common bikinis worn by many of the girls and all of the other female prefects. I thought it surprising that Wendy, the most revealing of the girl prefects in a dress, however unintentionally, should be the least revealing in a swimming costume. We finished our swim, feeling refreshed but weary, and it was rather an ordeal taking a long walk back to camp again. Again the girls walked on in front and the boys followed. Back in camp, we were all pretty tired and there was nothing like as much noise as usual. The shadows were lengthening into the long summer evening. The meeting place itself had several strong electric lights, powered from the farmhouse, which would make it as light as day when darkness fell, but inside the tents we would use gas lamps. Our leaders told us that supper would be served in ten minutes’ time, so we should collect our eating utensils and wash up for it. I went to the toilet before supper, the big hole dug in the ground near the boys’ tents. Mickey was there, trying to impress boys from other tents by twirling his penis round as he urinated, sending spray everywhere. When he had finished, he dramatically shook off the last drops, stood there with his penis still hanging out of his shorts, and said, “Oh, shit, I forgot my best trick. Look, you take your cock like this” he held the end of his foreskin pressed together with his two fingers “and then you piss. It all swells up and then it explodes big-time when you let go. You can try it if you like.” Two small boys next to him tried it, but when they let go they only found their hands soaked in their own urine. Mickey gave a loud cackle at the way he had tricked them and stalked off. He may have felt clever but he hadn’t increased his fan club. When the whistle blew we went to the dining area. We had proper tables to sit at with long wooden benches, and it was interesting to see what the girls in dresses revealed as they often had to lift one leg at a time to climb over the bench and sit next to their friends. Maxi was again wearing delicate soft white panties, edged with lace, as she had quite a lot to reveal under her short skirt. It was rather a quiet meal, as we were feeling weary. It was after seven o’clock and in the summer we had another hour of daylight. In future evenings we would have an entertainment session, with four tents putting on a skit, there would be singing of English and local folk songs and games. But this time we were beyond it, and the leaders were expecting our tiredness. After the meal, Miss Tate said, “Go back to your tents, change into whatever you normally sleep in, and then come back here. We’ll have a story and some cocoa and then it will be off to bed.” I did not think it would be wise to return to the meeting place wearing what I normally slept in, since it was a textile camp and a naked boy would have caused something of a stir. Instead I just hauled out a loose pair of shorts and put them on for pyjamas. Since it was still hot, most of the boys just wore shorts or pyjama bottoms with nothing on top. Most of the girls wore nighties with panties underneath, many of them easily visible. It struck me as strange how during the day they tried to keep their panties hidden under their skirts and few would dream of deliberately showing them – accidentally, of course, is another matter – but many seemed to have no problem with walking round in the evening with most of their panties hanging down under their nighties. Perhaps part of the solution lay in the boys’ response, as the boys seemed to regard this as nothing other than acceptable nightwear and made no comments. We did, however, look a few times at Maxi, whose top did not reach down as far as her panties, which were very frilly and feminine with transparent lacework down the sides. A few of the girls, including Tessa, wore pyjama shorts and tops rather like the boys. I passed Tessa in the line for cocoa and nervously said, “Hello, Tessa.” Again she looked at me, slightly surprised, and said, “Hello,” but that was all. We sat down on the grass in a semi-circle to drink our cocoa and listen to the story, which was read by Linda, one of the girl prefects. The prefects were still in their day clothes, and Linda wore a rather large tank top, which helped to show that she had quite large breasts. These ‘bedtime’ stories were educational ones on Great Lives of the Twentieth Century, this first one being about Sir Winston Churchill. I suppose the aim was to quieten us in preparation for sleep, if quietening was necessary, rather than stir us up with an exciting adventure story. By the time I had had my cup filled with cocoa, Tessa had already settled among a crowd of girls on the far side of the semi-circle. Since I couldn’t sit near her, I found a place opposite her, just in case, I’m ashamed to admit, I might be able to see her vagina up her pyjama leg as she sat there. I didn’t, though I got close once when she moved her legs and I had a glimpse of white skin further up her groin. Ernst and I had just settled down when I heard a voice saying, “Oh, hello, Roy!” in obviously feigned surprise. It was Kirsty, with the grinning Susan tagging along behind her. I was quite happy with their company up to a point, but wondered if they might soon become a nuisance. Kirsty was wearing a short nightie with tight white panties clearly visible underneath. Susan’s nightie was slightly longer, but quickly showed baggy pale yellow panties when she sat. Kirsty giggled and asked, “May we sit with you, Roy?” I nodded reluctantly, afraid others might accuse me of having girlfriends, and they sat. Almost immediately, Kirsty whispered in my ear, so no one else could hear, “Roy, please ask Mickey again.” “It’s no use,” I replied firmly, not bothering to whisper. “He won’t do it. He got cross, so it’s a waste of time.” “Oh, please, Roy?” murmured Kirsty, trying a sweet-little-girl pleading act. “Maybe you – could do something good for him, and he’ll do this in return?” Beside her, Susan giggled to show her agreement. I shrugged my shoulders and tried to fob them off. “Well, I’ll see, but it might take some time,” I told them. “He has girls around him all the time.” Jealousy prompted that last remark. “Thanks, Roy,” said Kirsty lovingly, her hair trailing irritatingly on my bare shoulder all the time. I worried about whether others might be watching me. It’s bad enough to be accused of being in love with a girl when it’s true, but when it isn’t true it’s worse still. I put my knees up and wrapped my arms around them while Kirsty had a whispered, giggly conversation with Susan. Then her hair dangled on to my shoulder again. “Roy, is that Ernst sitting on the other side of you?” she whispered. I nodded. “Roy, do you think . . ?” she began, and then turned her head away to giggle. “Roy, if Mickey won’t do it . . . would Ernst?” She giggled again. Now that really was playing with fire. What decent, modest girl would ever want to see a monstrosity like Ernst’s penis? Viewing should be for adults only, and even then with a government health warning and the signing of an indemnity form. “It’s not a pretty sight,” I whispered back with a grin. Susan had put her head very close to listen, and both girls covered their mouths tightly and giggled. Then Kirsty whispered back, “We don’t mind.” I was beginning to feel like a pimp. But I was also getting the glimmerings of an idea that might be of personal benefit. My heart started thumping a bit. I replied, “I’ll ask him, then. But not now.” The girls gave muffled squeals. At this moment Kevin called for silence and introduced Linda, who was going to read to us. Kirsty had one last whisper in my ear. “Do you think he’ll say yes?” I nodded, and there was a stifled gasp from Susan behind me. Linda turned and looked in the direction of the noise, quite audible as everyone else had fallen silent, and both girls turned bright red. I wondered with a twinge of hurt why they hadn’t asked me for a display. But I consoled myself with the thought that Mickey was famous and Ernst was freakish, whether he liked it or not, whereas I was normal and held no particular interest for them. The attraction of Ernst was the same sort of attraction that make people pay money to see the bearded lady or the elephant man or little dwarfs at the fair, although this was greater in that it had the ‘naughty’ factor attached to it as well. The story lasted about 10 minutes, and was often punctuated by yawns from us tired children. As it came to an end, we were instructed to wash off our cups in the bowls of soapy water provided, and return to our tents to sleep. The summer sun was just dipping below the horizon. I yawned, stretched out my legs in front of me, stretched my arms above my head and clambered to my feet. “Goodnight, Roy,” came with loving smiles from my new-found admirers, with Kirsty giving me a knowing look and adding, “Don’t forget. Is he hairy?” “Wait and see,” I told them, and they gave shocked squeals as if I were the one saying something rude. I went over to wash my cup. I had just finished and was about to walk back to my tent when Rosie, a pleasant sensible girl from Year Six at our school, touched me lightly on the shoulder. She pointed at my shorts. “Roy, just be careful with your shorts when you’re sitting,” she said rather nervously to me. “People might be able to – to see inside.” Embarrassed, she gave me a quick smile and hurried off. I suppose she was trying to be kind and I knew she wasn’t trying to make me feel bad. I suddenly wondered how many other girls had been able to see my genitals that evening as we were listening to the story. My attention had been mostly on Tessa, so I hadn’t noticed anybody watching me. But on the other hand, Tessa hadn’t noticed me watching her either . . . I walked back to the tent in silence with Ernst. As we prepared for bed, I surreptitiously sat on my bedroll the way I had been sitting on the grass in the meeting place and felt around with my hand to discover what was in and what was out. I could feel my testicles easily, but my penis was still up and presumably out of view. Probably only my scrotum had actually appeared in public. I decided I had better wear tighter shorts in the evenings in future. I well remembered that incident a couple of years earlier, related in my first story, where the girls in my class had chanted at me, “We saw your wee-wee,” for weeks afterwards. Since then I had become a naturist and it didn’t bother me so much nowadays – but any revelations should be strictly intentional on my part. Only much later did I realise the irony of a situation where I had been hoping to see up Tessa’s pyjama shorts and all the time people had been able to see up mine. I was still working out a plan regarding Kirsty and Susan’s desire to enter Ernst’s Chamber of Horrors. I wanted a part in it, and I didn’t see why the girls should get something for nothing. I couldn’t speak to Ernst now, as it was the sort of discussion we could only do in private. So I would sleep on it, and see if the plan that was formulating in my mind still seemed reasonable in the morning. (To be continued) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 3) It was already light when we awoke the following morning. I think we had all slept very heavily after such an exhausting first day. The wake-up whistle would be blown at seven o’clock, we were told, and we should assemble for breakfast at half-past. We were still of the age, though, when we woke quite early and got up almost immediately, whatever the circumstances. Only Lloyd remained in bed, seemingly dead to the world. He hadn’t gone to bed at the same time as us the previous evening, but had stayed clothed and presumably gone off to meet the other leaders, for whatever reason, once we were all asleep. So it was not too long after six when Ernst and I were urinating side by side into the pit just beyond our tents. Ernst had his usual dopey expression on his face, but I knew that he was proudly showing off to the other boys who were involved in the same activity. Again he was unable to push his penis out through the leg of his pyjama shorts, so he stood there with those shorts around his knees, penis far out in front of him and idly waving it about as he did his business, causing the other boys to draw back in mock alarm. When we finished, I muttered to him, “Ernst, I need to talk to you alone now, okay?” He nodded, and we wandered off into the bushes. I told him about Kirsty and Susan and their morbid request. He gave his slow grin, enjoying his fame. “Are those the two girls who sat next to you during the story last night?” he asked, and I confirmed it. I anticipated Ernst’s response. “Are they going to show me their wee-holes as well?” he asked crudely. “I’ll tell them,” I promised. “And just in case there’s a problem when we do it . . .” I outlined to him my solution if the girls didn’t want to perform at the last minute. As expected, the two giggling girls were on to me as soon as I arrived at breakfast. “Did you get Mickey for us?” they demanded. “Not a chance,” I told them. They pouted, very disappointed. Then Kirsty gave her usual giggle and whispered, “What about Ernst?” “He says he’ll do it,” I told them. They gave little squeals, pressed their hands to their mouths, looked at each other with big eyes and made gasping noises. “When? After breakfast?” asked Kirsty breathlessly. “Yes, and – and Tessa too, if she wants,” I said, unable to see her. “But he won’t let people see it for nothing. He says you must do it as well.” It seemed they hadn’t anticipated this at all. They looked genuinely shocked rather than delighted as they squealed with their hands to their mouths, eyes big and gasping. Same behaviour, but it was easy to tell the different feelings behind it. “I’d never let a *boy* see my fanny,” breathed Kirsty, and then gave another squeal as she hadn’t intended me to hear that. “Me neither,” shuddered Susan. I felt deflated. My plans had come to nothing after all. “See if – if we can pay him something else,” pleaded Kirsty. “Or if we can do him a favour or something.” “Look, it won’t work that way,” I told them crossly. In an inspired bit of psychology I added, “Ernst won’t care. He’ll just do it for those other girls instead.” “What other girls?” demanded Kirsty, seizing my arm. “I’m not telling,” I replied. “I wouldn’t have told them your names either if you had done it first. They can tell you afterwards if they want.” The moment I said it, I realised that last comment was a mistake. The emphasis would have to be on keeping quiet about it. If the leaders heard about any peep shows we would be in trouble. And I wasn’t sure if I could trust these two giggling Gerties to keep their mouths shut. “Are they going to show Ernst – themselves?” asked Kirsty hurriedly. “That’s always the condition Ernst makes,” I told them. “But look, I want some breakfast. And don’t come and sit next to me or people will think you’re my girlfriends.” Again, as I said it, I realised that was not a good idea either, as I would have liked them to sit with me – but with Tessa. I couldn’t see Tessa at all. When I had breakfast, sitting next to Ernst, I could see the girls sitting across from us. They were talking earnestly with their heads together and kept shaking their heads. Tessa listened at first to what they were saying, but then took no further interest. If they were indeed discussing Ernst, Tessa did not want to join in. In a way I was glad she was not that kind of girl – but on the other hand I was desperate to get to know her by any means possible. I told Ernst what had happened and he shrugged. He wasn’t likely to budge. He had been tricked more than once at school by girls who promised to reveal their charms to him if he showed them his ‘sausage’, as they usually called it, but failed to deliver the goods. He would not let himself be tricked again. After breakfast we had half an hour to wash our utensils and clean our tent for the inter-tent competition, a half-hour we boys always hated, and then we returned to the meeting place for the next announcement. Kevin was in charge now, and he told us that there was also to be a sports competition. Boys’ and girls’ tents would be paired off, making a total of four teams, who would play each other at football, rounders, basketball and volleyball. The pairing worked as from Tents One and Five onwards, so I was secretly thrilled that my Tent Three was paired with Lisa’s Tent Seven. The downside was that it also included Kirsty and Susan, but I already knew that I would encounter them often enough if I were to get to know Tessa. Our first match was to be played immediately: we were to play the combined Tents Four and Eight at football. Lloyd and Lisa were our leaders, but they were not to play themselves. Since there were 16 in a team, the plan was that four should sit out every match, basically taking it in turns to sit out one match in every four, but the leaders were given discretion to allow any whiners or wimps to sit out more often if they wished. We chose the name of Hawks for ourselves, while our opponents gloried in being the Eagles. Excitedly we went down to the field for the football. As usual I tried to position myself as close to Tessa as possible, ready to smile nervously and say hello if she looked at me. She was wearing a T-shirt and loose light blue shorts, but seemed to have had the sense this time to wear white panties underneath. At any rate, they didn’t show through, even when she bent over. Lloyd and Lisa told us we could each choose one sport to sit out on over the next two days, when we would be playing the Eagles at all four. When they asked for volunteers to sit out the football, most of the girls put their hands up, including Kirsty and Susan. Tessa kept her hand down and was clearly keen to play. So 12 of us went on the field for the match. Ernst was a pretty good goalkeeper, and with me supporting his claims to Lloyd, he was chosen for that position. Mickey, pushing himself, talked Lloyd into making him a forward. Tessa, bursting with more enthusiasm than I had seen from her, begged to be another forward, and was duly given a position there, which drew some grumbling from the boys, who saw this as a prime position. She was obviously something of a tomboy. I wanted to be a forward as well, more to be close to Tessa than for any other reason, but was made a midfielder. We did not have a strong side. Brett was lazy and tentative, while Mickey was useless. He spent most of his time shouting at the rest of us in his shrill voice or giggling. Whenever he tried to kick the ball, if he made contact at all, it seemed to come off the side of his foot, which did flummox the opposition for a few minutes until they realised how hopeless he was. On one occasion he kicked at a ball rolling towards him with his right foot, only for the ball to bounce off his left. If the ball was coming towards him at any pace, he would simply perform what we later called his ‘matador trick’ and dodge elegantly out of the way. His two followers were not much better, and the only really good player on the side, apart from Ernst, was Ralph, one of the boys from a minor school, who kept losing his temper at the rest of us. I was no great player, though I could do the basics, but Tessa was at least as good as I was. She didn’t keep to her position very well, but she chased the ball furiously all over the field. Another problem was that, with her being a girl, the other boys were reluctant to pass the ball to her, although she was doing a better job than most of them. I took my opportunity and said to her during a brief pause in the game, “Tessa, when I get the ball, go running down the field so I can pass to you.” She nodded, and I did that a few times, when I got chance. Most of the time, when I did get the ball, the other side was on to me so quickly I didn’t have time to look for her and pass. At half-time we were two-nil down, and would have done worse were it not for Ernst’s good work in goal. I mentioned this as we sat on the ground eating half an orange each. Mickey retorted, “That’s not surprising since he’s got three legs.” His followers tittered. I saw Ernst’s lip tighten, but otherwise he ignored them. With Lloyd present, Mickey no doubt believed he was safe. “Tessa’s the best of the girls,” I put in nervously, hoping both to prevent any possible trouble and to win favour with Tessa. “And Mickey’s the worst of the girls,” put in Ernst suddenly. Mickey looked totally taken aback. In a flash I saw some sort of explosion was imminent, though I didn’t know how it would come with Mickey. And if there was a public row between the two, would Ernst get fair treatment from the prefects, who had been so indulgent towards Mickey? Perhaps the best way would be to unite forces against Mickey, so I spluttered, “Yes, Mickey, you need to spend more time kicking the ball and less time shouting and blaming everyone else. Doesn’t he, Ralph?” I called on the best player in our side, whom I could see was inwardly seething at the incompetence of the rest of us. He was quick to vent his frustration on Mickey. “Yes, I can’t even pass the ball to you because you miss it and mess it up,” he burst out angrily. “And all you do is giggle about it. Look, if you can’t play, get off the field and let one of the girls take your place. Even they’d be better than you.” There was a murmur of support from the other boy in our tent who was Ralph’s friend. Unfortunately Ralph then turned on Brett and told him to move his arse and stop being so scared of tackling, and the spotlight turned away from Mickey. Lloyd at this stage stepped in and told us all to be quiet and just do our best in the second half. I was still mad when we went on to the field for the second half. This time I told Tessa to pass the ball to me whenever she got it, as the other side was keeping the ball away from me. She did so, and I dribbled it up the field, too fast for the opposition, and slammed it into the goal before they could blink. That plan worked superbly. Tessa was good at getting the ball, and I would just wait for her while she passed to me, and in the second half I scored one goal after another until we won the match ten-two. I was the hero of the team, and Tessa wrapped her arms round my waist as we left the field and told me I was wonderful. Another glorious fantasy went down the tubes as Lloyd told us to take the field and the real second half began. Distracted by my daydream, I forgot what I wanted to tell Tessa about passing to each other and lost my chance. Well, perhaps I should be thinking more about passing to Ralph, but Tessa was prettier. Or she would be if she didn’t wear shorts all the time. Disaster struck about two minutes into the second half. The opposition were racing away with the ball towards our goalmouth while I pursued them in vain. Ernst came running out to try to intercept the ball, and their forward unleashed a powerful kick. The ball flew straight at Ernst and hit him right between the legs. Making the sound of a bull elephant in distress, Ernst collapsed to the ground, where he lay writhing in agony and still howling. Another forward tried to boot the rebound into the goal, but only succeeded in kicking it out at the back. Ernst lay there on his side, hands clasped between his legs, still roaring. Everybody ran up in consternation or fascination to get a closer look. Girls screamed when they realised the exact location of the injury. Behind me I heard Mickey laughing. “Right in the goolies!” he cried in his shrill voice that could be heard all around. “Oh, good shot!” His shrill laughter filled the air. It was the stupidest thing he ever said and did on camp. I sensed an immediate chill among the girls who had gathered round. They looked at him, aghast that anybody should say such a callous thing. Girls seem naturally to be sympathetic towards anybody who gets hurt, and boys who do not share these feelings quickly lose their regard. Even Mickey seemed to sense he had gone too far, and he just grinned weakly and shrugged his shoulders. I was quickly on the spot, helping to form a group around the fallen warrior, who was gasping desperately for breath and trying not to cry amid hideous groans. Lloyd came running on, trying in vain to flex Ernst’s body. “How was he hurt?” I heard Kirsty’s concerned voice behind my shoulder. She and Susan had been sitting on the sidelines doing much more talking than watching, and it was not surprising that they had missed the vital moment. “One of their players kicked the ball right into him,” I explained. “It was an accident.” “What are goolies?” asked Susan, brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Does that mean his wee?” “Well – not quite,” I tried to explain. “Just – underneath. You can – ask him to show you when he’s better.” Even now I was hinting at reopening negotiations about a secret meeting. “It means his balls,” sniggered Kirsty, informing her friend. “Roy, are his balls as big as his wee?” “Find out for yourself,” I shrugged. “Are they going to examine it?” giggled Kirsty, watching the casualty scene with interest. These girls’ sympathy hadn’t lasted too long before being overwhelmed by curiosity. “No, it doesn’t need that,” I assured her. “It’ll get better in a few minutes.” Right now Lloyd was picking up Ernst and carrying him over to the sidelines. Lisa looked hurriedly around for a substitute, and the first candidate her eye fell on was Kirsty. “Kirsty, we need you to take Ernst’s place,” she told her. “Come and join in, please.” Kirsty looked as horrified as if she had been asked to do a striptease. No, I lie – I should have said *more* horrified, I’m sure. “I don’t know how to be a goalkeeper!” she protested. “You don’t have to be a goalkeeper, Roy or somebody can do that,” replied Lisa. “We’re a player short, so we just need you to play.” “But – my dress will get in the way,” Kirsty protested. “You can take it off,” suggested Susan with a giggle. “Tuck it in, then,” suggested Lisa. “But – Susan’s better than I am,” argued Kirsty, trying to rat on her friend. Susan was taking no chances and she was already on her way to the sidelines, so Kirsty had no choice. I have always secretly fancied myself as a goalkeeper – not permanently, but just as a change from my usual fantasy role of fearsome striker – so I allowed myself to be put in goal. Once again, my fantasies let me down. Three more goals passed me during the next ten minutes or so, and I felt terribly upset that I was putting on a poor show in front of Tessa. I felt very relieved when, after the third goal went in, I saw Ernst bounding towards me, fit again and eager to get back his regular job. Kirsty was equally relieved, and she slipped off the field with her purple skirt still tucked half-heartedly into her panties. She tended to wear longer, fuller dresses, almost of knee-length, which would flap around during sports, whereas the girls who wore shorter skirts for games didn’t have the same problem. About half the girls were still wearing skirts of one sort or another to play, some of them simple tennis dresses, and presumably they were not too worried about the occasional revelation of their underwear. We eventually lost six-nil, despite the teamwork I had tried to establish with Tessa, causing both Ralph and Mickey to yell at me a couple of times that I should have passed to them instead. Mickey’s verbiage was, I think, just for show, as even he must have realised that he was pretty incompetent in dealing with balls. He came off the field with his reputation in tatters. The rest of us in his tent had quickly seen what an unpleasant, loud-mouthed wimp he really was, and now the girls of Tent Seven had found out first-hand that he could be very callous, and no doubt their incredibly effective grapevine had already passed on the message that the film star was not as cute as he looked. “Well played, Tessa,” I said with embarrassment as we came off. “Thanks,” she said, giving me only a glance. I wondered if she didn’t like me, and wondered if that was the result of what I had said about Mickey and Ernst in our secret hiding place. As we walked up to the meeting place for drinks and biscuits, Ernst drifted away to talk to some other boys and immediately Kirsty sidled up to me again. “Roy,” she began seriously, looking downwards. “Will Ernst’s – thing be any different after his accident?” “What do you mean by different?” I asked. “Well – I mean, will it be – swollen or bruised or – anything else different?” she asked. “It could be,” I replied guardedly. Sensing that this matter had seized her interest, I added, “It could be – all swollen and purple. You’ll have to ask him.” “*I* can’t ask him!” she protested, giggling, while Susan behind her joined in the chorus. “*You* ask him for us.” “No, I’m not going to do that,” I told her cunningly. “You refused that meeting we were talking about, so I can’t go asking him now when you’re not serious.” “Would he – still show us?” Susan put in timidly. “Well, I’m sure he would,” I replied, certain that Ernst would never turn down the chance to shock two silly girls, especially if he was going to be treated himself in return. “But he always makes the same condition. You’ll have to show him yours as well, and I know you’re too scared to do that.” The girls fell away slightly, shuddered and looked at each other nervously. A battle was going on between curiosity and inhibition, and I was desperate to find out which would win. “It’s not that we’re scared,” Kirsty protested, definitely scared. “It’s just – well – it’s a big thing to ask someone. And we don’t know him.” “I’ve told you, Ernst doesn’t mind,” I said, and the conversation broke off as we lined up for drinks and biscuits. Miss Tate announced that the rest of the morning would be free time again, as she knew we wanted to explore the campsite some more. Cheers showed approval. Most of the interest was centred on the nearby mountain stream, and I was keen to go along with the others and explore it. And so I would – unless Kirsty took the plunge. (With Ernst, I mean – not into the stream.) I had a mutter to Ernst during drinks and told him we might have a deal. I suggested he keep away from me for a few minutes, and then if nothing happened within two minutes after we were allowed to go, I would join him and we would go off to the stream. Then I hung around near Tessa, hoping in vain for another chance to get to know her. Curiosity was gradually winning the battle with Kirsty. Straight after drinks she hurried over to me again and took me aside. “Roy, if we show Ernst – ourselves – do we have to take our clothes off?” “Look, you can do as much or as little as you like with Ernst,” I replied. “Whatever you do, he’ll do as well, I promise you. If you take your clothes off, he’ll take his off.” “I don’t want – quite that much,” Kirsty sniggered. Them she presented another problem. “But we – we don’t even know Ernst. I mean, we know who he is, but we’ve never talked to him, even.” It seemed crazy to me that they were even thinking of getting together, just the two of them, with a boy they had never spoken to for such a delicate matter, but this was the first indication they had thought of the problem, once the meeting had really entered the realms of possibility. “Well, I can come too,” I suggested. “I can show you mine, if you want.” (Stop here for nervous giggles.) “I don’t mind. And you’ll need me to organise everything and make sure it all goes properly.” The two girls whispered together. Then they shuddered and blushed. “All right, Roy – we – we’ll do it,” agreed Kirsty, looking a bundle of nerves. I didn’t ask her when, as I suspected she might put it off. So I said, “Okay, then, you and Susan go straight up to the cave now. I’ll come with Ernst in about five minutes, so nobody sees us going together. All right?” They nodded, tight-lipped. Then Kirsty suddenly put in, “Would it – be all right if we showed him our boobies instead?” “It’s the same thing – if you show Ernst yours, he’ll show you his,” I grinned at them, seeing the disappointment and uncertainty in their faces again. Still, if they went through with this, it was entirely from choice. “We’ll go now,” Kirsty assured me, as she took Susan by the arm and they walked away, so close as to be touching each other, in the direction of the cave. Triumphant, but also feeling nervous, I found Ernst. He gave his usual dopey grin when I told him we had a deal. I gave him a few quick words. Knowing Ernst’s weaknesses, I advised him to play it cool, and not to stare or make comments that would embarrass the girls. He could leave it to me to organise everything, as his honorary manager who just hoped to share in the profits. And I gave him instructions on just how much he was to do. There were a few children scrambling around the rocks when we arrived, but most of them had gone down to the stream. We waited until the coast was clear, and then I led Ernst through the hidden entrance into the secret cave. We heard a muted nervous squeal and giggle before we even saw them. Kirsty and Susan were standing at the far side waiting for us, hands nervously over their mouths. They didn’t say anything as Ernst came in and stood next to me, so I thought I had better run the proceedings. Our eyes were still getting used to the change of light. I was feeling very nervous myself, and surprised I felt shy about exposing myself to them as well. I had been a naturist for more than two years by now, but had done very little of this kind of activity in the textile world, except of course with Saskia. “Well, first of all we just get down to our underwear,” I began nervously. I thought small stages would be easier for the girls to handle. “I’ll go number one. Then you girls go two and three, and Ernst will go four.” “Yes – I mean, no, let Ernst be two,” faltered Kirsty. “Then we’ll go at the end.” Ernst shook his head firmly. “Look, you two started this meeting, so you must do it first,” he told them. “I’ve been tricked by girls before who say they’ll do it afterwards and then decide they’re too scared.” “Ernst’s right,” I agreed hastily. “I’m going first so that will be your guarantee that Ernst’s going to do it. If you do. I promise.” “Otherwise we forget it,” added Ernst. He certainly sounded as if he meant it, and the girls clearly believed him. Kirsty nodded and whispered, “All right.” “So I’m number one,” I said, pulling my shorts down to my knees and standing there in my brief white underpants. The girls stared, sniggering nervously. At my age any telltale bulge was negligible. “Now it’s your turn and then Ernst,” I told them. Kirsty looked at Susan. “Come on, Susan, you do it now,” she told her. “No, you!” protested Susan, seemingly shocked by the treachery of her friend. “Look, Kirsty, it should be you because you were the one who set it all up,” I told her. “Don’t mess Ernst around, or he may decide he’s not going to do it.” “All right, I don’t care,” replied Kirsty, which if true made me wonder why she had ever made a fuss. She lifted the front of her skirt to show the same sort of whitish flesh-coloured embroidered panties that she had been wearing the previous day. Ernst nodded his head in appreciation. “Very ladylike,” he said. I thought it better if Ernst kept all his comments to himself and had told him so before we started, but Kirsty didn’t seem to mind this one. “Now you, Susan,” said Kirsty, making it sound like an accusation. She dropped the front of her skirt, so I immediately pulled up my shorts. We had agreed that we would contribute in equal measure. With a quick look round and a giggle, Susan looked demurely downwards and then lifted the hem of her skirt, to reveal her white, rather baggy cotton panties. Then, fairly quickly, she lowered it again. Both girls shared a giggle and then looked expectantly at Ernst. “My turn,” he agreed confidently. He took a second or two to undo his belt and buttons, and then pulled down his shorts, revealing his full pair of underpants with a helpfully high waist. The girls gave muffled gasps as they looked, and I could see them staring no doubt at the misshapen bulge in the front. Ernst gave them a few seconds to gawk, and then pulled his shorts up again, but didn’t bother with the buttons, leaving a slither of white visible. I wondered how the girls would take the second round, but the sight seemed to have whetted their appetites and heightened their excitement. “Now you again, Roy,” said Kirsty, actually starting it off. I should have done it properly, pulling both my shorts and underpants down to my knees, but I felt strangely shy. So instead I just reached inside the leg of my shorts and pulled out my penis, just as I do when urinating. Again there were the muffled squeals and giggles, the clasping of hands to mouths, as they leaned forward and stared at my penis for the first time. Then Kirsty said, “It’s not very big.” “It’s the same as for most boys my age,” I told her. “Except for me!” boasted Ernst proudly, grinning broadly. “Now it’s your turn, Kirsty, if you want to see Ernst’s,” I reminded her, putting my penis back home. Kirsty gave a little squeal and put her shaking hand on the hem of her dress. She lifted it to reveal her panties again, and then removed one hand. With it she did just as I had done, shakily pulling aside the leg of her panties. I wished then I had pulled my clothing down properly so she would have had to do the same. Her vagina, the black gash down the middle of her crotch, was just beginning to sprout tiny dark auburn hairs in a little ridge on either side, with a few wisps spreading out at the top. It had to be a quick look, because very hurriedly she let the elastic snap back and smoothed her skirt down over it. Susan, next to her, was looking very white but trying to grin gamely. “Come on, Susan,” urged Kirsty bossily, still blushing but more confident now her own ordeal was over. Susan lifted her skirt and pulled aside her panties at the leg. All I could see was white flesh before she hurriedly put it back again. “Hey, I didn’t see anything,” protested Ernst undiplomatically. “Show me properly.” “Susan’s is mostly underneath,” explained Kirsty. I already knew that often happened with plump girls. “Come on, Susan, do it properly so they can see.” Susan’s eyes filled with tears for a moment, and I felt a pang of shame. Probably she had been persuaded into it by Kirsty and she clearly didn’t like this part. She opened a wider area of her panties this time, and I was just able to see a little slit among the folds of flesh that covered her pubic mound. “We’ve done it, so now it’s your turn, Ernst,” announced Kirsty brightly, the stress still evident as if unsure she could trust Ernst. “Okay, here we go,” grinned Ernst. “This is – Superknob!” So saying, he pulled down his shorts to his knees, gave himself a pat on the front of his underpants, and then pulled them down too. His penis swung down and wobbled in front of him. Both girls let out screams and clasped their hands to their mouths, backing away as if afraid it was going to attack them. Then Kirsty gave a silly giggle, and a moment later was suffused with laughter into her hands. Susan joined in. I realised I should have warned silly girls like this not to laugh, as I had already seen this was often their first response when they didn’t know what else to do. “That’s it!” snapped Ernst, putting his penis away again and adjusting his clothes. “It’s over now.” He turned and walked back to the little entrance. “Hey, wait! Can you show us where you got hit this morning?” Kirsty called to him, unaware that anything was wrong. “No,” retorted Ernst, and in a moment he had scrambled up and departed. Both girls now realised they had offended him and stood there looking rather startled. “It’s stupid to laugh like that,” I glared at them. “If you laugh at any boy’s penis, he’ll get cross.” “I couldn’t help it,” protested Kirsty, and she giggled again. “It was so funny when it just came down like this – boop!” She demonstrated with her hands, and both of them had another convulsion of giggles. “But we didn’t get to look at it properly. He put it away before we were ready.” “Well, you put yours away very quickly,” I reminded them. “We didn’t,” muttered Kirsty, in the tone of one who is telling a lie and knows it. “Yes, you did,” I insisted. “Let’s go.” I started heading back. “Roy, do you think – you could ask Ernst if he’ll do it again? Properly?” asked Kirsty from behind me. “I try do later, but he’ll only give you what you give him.” I was now standing outside, dazzled by the bright sunlight, as the other two came through after me. “So if you want to look at his penis for half a minute, you must let him look at your vaginas for half a minute.” Even at this age, I took I pride in using the proper names rather than ‘baby words’. Both girls looked rather disconcerted by this. I could see Susan shaking her head. “Ask him,” Kirsty repeated, but she didn’t sound confident. I headed off down towards the stream, without caring whether the girls were following me. The noise from that area was easy to hear, and I was sure I would find Tessa there as well. The stream tumbled down a smooth rocky slope from the hillside, and I followed it down. Boys were throwing pieces of wood and anything else handy down it to see them go. Then it evened out into a small, shallow pool, besides which there was a large area of bare earth and small areas of sand. Then came another slope, a gentler one, before it evened out again, and this time there was a large area of sand. It was almost like the seaside, and most of us were still young enough to enjoy playing in it. Several of the leaders were there joining in as well or just laughing at the efforts of the children. Looking for Tessa, I scrambled down to the bottom. There was nothing of interest in the middle section, the bare earth, so most of the children were playing in the sand or paddling in the stream or trying to dam the stream. I couldn’t see Tessa there, but it was so crowded it would have been difficult to find anybody. The sand was very light and fine, but it was in a little sheltered valley so it didn’t blow away easily. After a futile hunt for her, while trying to make it appear that I wasn’t looking for anybody, I decided to go back to the top again. It was altogether too crowded down here for my liking. There were about 15 of us at the top. “This would make a good slide,” I told the others. “Let’s grab our swimming costumes and have a go.” “We can’t,” one of them told me gloomily. “We asked Kevin, and he said he was sorry, but the costumes would collect sand and mud and then we would mess up the farmhouse swimming pool.” “Well, we don’t need swimming costumes either,” I told them. I didn’t know if what I was about to do would be allowed, but if I started something it might be difficult to stop, whereas it would be easy to say no. And nobody else seemed brave enough to consider it. I stripped off my shorts, and then my shirt as well so it wouldn’t get wet. To mild murmurs of protest, as there were several girls there as well, I clambered over to the stream wearing only my underpants. I sat on the rock, slid sideways into the stream of water, slithered a little way down, gathered speed, and then landed with a small splash in pool below. “Hey, that looks like fun!” I heard a voice say, among the general murmuring. “It’s great!” I assured them, scrambling up the slope for another turn. By the time I went back for my third turn, several other boys had also stripped down to their underpants and were following me. The news seemed to spread. Other boys joined us from below, and soon it became too much of a good thing, with a long queue forming for a turn. We were all in our underpants, with none of the girls having the courage to join us. None of them? Suddenly, as I was scrambling up again, I noticed one of the laughing figures whizzing past me on its way into the pool. I turned, took another look, and recognised Tessa! She was wearing only a pair of white panties. I didn’t know where she had been before. I pretended to be examining an imaginary cut on my foot, waiting until Tessa caught up with me. Then I looked up, as if in surprise, beamed at her, and said, “Hey, Tessa, glad you’re joining us. You’re the only girl brave enough, I think!” “Yes, this is fun,” she laughed as I followed on behind her now. But I could hear some of the other, fussier girls murmuring their disapproval. I made a point of keeping close to Tessa now, following her closely down the slope and pretending that bumping into her at the bottom was all an accident. But she didn’t mind, and in the fun of it all we were laughing and chatting as if we had known each other all our lives. I was thrilled. More of those at the bottom came to join us, and finally some of the other girls dared to take off their outer clothes and join in the fun. The leaders came to see what was happening, but they just laughed and didn’t try to stop us. Tessa grew bored with the long queue, and suddenly disappeared. A few minutes later I just managed to catch sight of her scrambling down towards the sand, fully clothed again. I had another turn, to make it look as if I wasn’t following her, and then I followed her. There was much more room in the sandy area now, and I found Tessa digging a hole along with Kirsty and Susan. Kirsty called out to me, giving me the excuse I needed, and I joined them. It was an exhilarating morning. We finally returned to camp when the lunch bell rang, but I wasn’t feeling very comfortable. The sand particles were very fine, and they had got inside my clothes. Under the crotch was the main area, as the sand worked its way down into my underpants, and I could tell, from the surreptitious scratching that went on when others thought nobody was looking, that they were suffering from the same problem. The afternoon programme would start with the siesta, followed by a time when each tent would prepare a skit for the evening entertainment. Then would come a little more free time, followed by a volleyball match against the Eagles. After that we would take our showers, have our swim and then return for supper. As soon as we got inside the tent we stripped down to our underpants again. Although it made shade for us, the tent seemed to hold the heat almost like a greenhouse. Again Lloyd settled us down on our bedrolls and excused himself to go and do whatever private matter he had to go and do. No sooner than he left than Mickey gave a wriggle on his bedroll, pulled a face and said in his high-pitched voice, “Shit, I don’t know about you guys but that sand from the stream has got all into my cock.” He was talking to his two faithful followers, who stuck with him although they did seem to have lost some respect for him, but I usually got the impression he intended the rest of us to hear as well. “Me too,” said one of his mates, and most of the rest of us joined in. Mickey in the meantime was pulling off his underpants and going over to the tent door to shake them out, quite happy for anybody to see him this time, although that was not likely unless somebody from another tent was actually putting his head outside and looking around. His followers quickly pulled off their underpants and did likewise. I hesitated for a moment. After all, Kevin had not actually told us not to go naked inside the tent – perhaps he had forgotten or perhaps he just thought it didn’t matter. So I pulled off mine too. Others in the tent were stirring. “Come on, Ernst, show us your hosepipe again,” grinned Ralph, on his way to the door. Ernst grinned and slithered out of his underpants, again causing comments of admiration from the others. Mickey glowered but said nothing. He clearly did not like anybody else to be the centre of attention, but he was now too wary of Ernst to make any comments. His policy from then on seemed to be to ignore Ernst. Mickey returned to his bedroll and lay on his back, his long elegant penis flopping back on to his body. “Every time I go to the shithouse I’m going to piss sand,” he complained, scratching and shaking his testicles. His foreskin was closed over the end of his penis, almost in the shape of a duck’s bill, and he now pulled it back so his little pink prepuce was exposed. “I’ve even got sand up my pisshole,” he squeaked, making his followers giggle. With his fingers he started identifying the offending grains of sand and pulling them off as best he could. Within moments his penis was stiffening. “Look at my cock,” he urged his followers, but I felt sure he was trying to steal the limelight back from Ernst. “Imagine if I poked a girl with sand up my cock. She’d get it up her fanny and they’d be hatching baby bits of sand!” He went off into squeals of silly laughter, joined by his friends, who were also working at making their penises stiff. I tried to ignore him with contempt. I stood up, took my cup and went over to the supply of drinking water in each tent. It was easily replaced, so I put some water in my cup and returned to my bedroll. I quietly got on with the job of cleaning out my penis with the water. Some of the others soon caught on and did the same, but not Mickey, who was not about to borrow anybody else’s idea. “Hey, Ernst, you need to use a bucket, not a cup,” grinned Ralph. Ernst grinned lazily back, recognising this as good fun and not an insult. “He’d need a whole swimming pool!” giggled the other boy from Ralph’s school. At this stage I noticed Brett in the opposite corner. He was looking uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to be the odd one out again and the possible victim of more persecution. He had quietly removed his underpants and was busy cleaning out his little penis in private. I thought I saw him pulling it to try to make it temporarily a little larger. Mickey was having great fun masturbating. His stiff penis was now pointing towards his chin and he was continually making obscene comments to keep his equally stupid friends in giggles. “Hey, Mickey, you’ll have to show your piss like that in your next film,” put in one of the others. “It’s going to be a sex film,” piped up Mickey. “Then I’ll show you what I do with Maxi in the bath.” “They should feature Ernst as well,” laughed Ralph. “Imagine showing a thing his size in a film. It could only be a horror film!” The whole tent all went up in laughter and Ernst grinned happily, working away at getting the sand out from under his foreskin. “Hey, Ernst, you can do it the easy way. Just put it in your mouth and suck the sand off,” suggested one of Mickey’s followers, so far forgetting himself as to acknowledge Ernst’s existence. Again this caused squeals of inane laughter. I just kept out of it all, wondering what would happen if Kevin was attracted by the noise and came in to find a tent full of erect penises. Mickey was winning back attention to himself with cheap amusements as he talked to his penis. “That’s right, little Percy, you sit up and beg for uncle like a good little boy,” he crooned. “You’re missing Maxi, aren’t you? Never mind, uncle will look after you and you’ll be busy again soon.” I found it quite disgusting, and even more so when some of the other weak-minded boys tried to copy him, stroking and shaking their penises and talking to them in silly voices. We lay on our backs with our penises pointing upwards, although Brett still had his bare bottom towards us. Mickey however had clearly decided to ignore Brett as well, though he did include Ralph and his friends in his senseless chatter now and then. Mickey kept his penis upright for as long as it would stay, with his two wrinkled pink testicles hanging underneath, and continued the obscene chatter. I kept an eye on my watch, and just before the whistle for the end of siesta was due, I slipped on my underpants. I waited until Mickey and his acolytes were shrieking with laughter at some vulgar comment he made, and then whispered to Ernst and the others to do the same. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, just before the whistle, Lloyd walked in, to find the three of them lying there, shrieking with laughter and their stiff little penises in full view. I had hoped Lloyd would deliver a good sharp lesson, but unfortunately he was not up to Kevin’s standard. “Hey, guys, what’s this about?” was all he said. “Cut it out, okay? We need to be planning our skit for tonight.” Perhaps he should have been thinking himself of an idea instead of getting up to some skittish behaviour or whatever with Tara. Instead, we had to put up with one of Mickey’s ideas, which had himself in the leading role, naturally, and was so crummy I won’t bother to repeat it, even if I could remember it properly. He did have the temerity to suggest to Lloyd that we included a sex scene, but presented it as a joke. Lloyd, I could tell, was beginning to get some idea that Mickey was not quite such an angel as he looked. It was after this, during the next round of drinks, that I had another call on my services. For now, Kirsty was not trying to contact me again. I had not so far had the dubious pleasure of even speaking to Mickey’s twin sister Maxi, nor had I tried to do so. But now, as I left Ernst and tried once again to arrange a totally accidental meeting with Tessa, I found Maxi by my side. “Hello, Roy,” she began, smiling very sweetly. Like her brother, she knew just how to turn on the charm when required, but I was very wary. “Hello,” I replied noncommittally. “Roy, some of the girls are saying that your friend Ernst has a very big – thing between his legs,” she began, smiling up at me. This sounded very familiar. “Oh,” I commented, my mind working fast. Did I really want to get involved with Maxi? Next to Maxi was her friend, a Swedish girl I came to know as Rika. Rika was tall and so blonde that her hair was almost white. She had quite an attractive face, but the most noticeable things about her were her long legs. They were quite thin but very shapely. Perhaps I might just like to get involved with Rika? “Is it true, I mean?” asked Maxi. “I can’t give away secrets,” I hedged, but grinned, giving I suppose circumstantial evidence that it was true. “One of the girls says she’s seen it,” continued Maxi. I should have known Kirsty wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut! “She’d better be careful she doesn’t get into trouble, then,” I commented. “No, I mean, is *that* true?” Maxi persisted. “Look, we could – get into trouble for talking like this,” I protested weakly. One part of me wanted to take this chance if it came, even to encourage it, while the voice of common sense told me not to get involved with any more girls I couldn’t trust. “Will you ask Ernst for us, if he’ll show it to us as well?” continued Maxi, ever so sweetly. “Why don’t you ask him?” I suggested. I was still trying to satisfy the voice of common sense by making all sorts of excuses, hoping to shut it up to the point whereby I could ignore it and throw caution to the winds. Maxi giggled. “Girls can’t ask boys they don’t know for things like that,” she smiled. “And you’re his friend. Roy, be a darling and ask Ernst for us, will you?” She laid a hand on my arm, shattering the normal taboo which forbids boys and girls between the ages of about eight and puberty from making any kind of physical contact beyond the accidental, or the more socially acceptable methods of touching such as the pulling of hair or slapping of faces. “I’ll try,” I agreed, and then realised I needed to do a little more work to shut up the voice of common sense. “Look, I’m sure Ernst will do it, but he always makes a condition with girls. You have to show him yours as well.” Maxi giggled again. “He’d better not make any conditions with me,” she sniggered, acting the prima donna already. “But he can ask me if he wants.” She gave me a push. “Go and ask him now.” I duly went to find Ernst. His reaction was predictable. “It’s the same conditions as before,” he said, trying to hide the light shining out of his eyes at the prospect of seeing Maxi naked. “And I don’t want any silly girls laughing again, or else they can forget it.” But the attraction of Maxi certainly made him willing to take the risk. I went back with the message as usual. “Just like I said, he says you must show him yours,” I told her. “And Rika, if she comes.” Rika, a bit to my surprise because she seemed a shy girl, nodded. But I later came to realise that Swedes tend to look differently at nudity. “He doesn’t make conditions with me,” Maxi said firmly, though still playing it sweetly. “He may ask me if he wants, but he doesn’t tell me what to do.” “All right, he asks that you’ll – show him yours,” I altered the script. “He can ask me himself when he sees me,” Maxi said snootily, ignoring the fact that she had insisted on asking him through a go-between and now demanded that Ernst ask her directly. “And one more thing,” I added. “He says if – either of you screams or laughs” I just stopped myself from adding ‘or tries to chop it off’ “when you see it, he stops straight away. Okay?” “Of course we won’t!” protested Maxi indignantly. “All right, if he’s ready, let’s go, then.” “Now, you mean?” I asked, surprised at the speed of it all. Glancing around, though, I saw all the other campers going off for their free time, mostly to the stream. “Of course,” insisted Maxi. “Where can we go?” (To be continued) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 4) It was only about five minutes later when Ernst and I, trying to hold back our excitement, made our way to the little secret cave that was now our headquarters for clandestine meetings. We told the girls to watch us from a distance and then follow us slowly, so nobody would see us together and suspect us of any illegal activities. I had told Maxi I would also be in on the act and playing my part, and she didn’t object. It took a few minutes of waiting before we finally saw the tiny Maxi and the tall Rika making their way towards us from the direction of the girls’ tents. I couldn’t imagine what they had gone there for, and just hoped it wasn’t to boast to the other girls. When they had come close enough to see where we were going, we wandered casually over towards our hiding place. We scrambled down inside and awaited the two girls, trying to get used to what seemed almost like darkness after the brilliant sunlight. But it was not really dark inside, just the contrast that made it seem that way, and after a couple of minutes we could see as well as outside. We were still adjusting when the girls let themselves down into the cave. I saw a short pair of legs appear, with something white at the top. I couldn’t quite distinguish any detail yet, but forced myself to be patient – I would be able to see all I wanted of Maxi’s panties in a few minutes’ time. Then Rika’s long slim legs appeared as she slithered in after Maxi. Maxi seemed much more composed than Kirsty and Susan had been, putting her head on one side and smiling at Ernst as she said hello to him in her most charming way. I then began to go through the programme, wondering if we would need to start with just underwear or whether Maxi would want to jump in at the deep end. “Look, I’ll go first,” I said. “Then you girls can do it, and Ernst does it at the end.” Maxi interrupted me with a flap of the hand. “No, no, we’ll do it my way, I’m organising it,” she told us sweetly but bossily. “Ernst, I believe you have something to show us?” I almost broke into laughter at her silly affected film-star manner. It was rather wasted on Ernst. “Has Roy told you the conditions?” he asked her. “I don’t make conditions,” Maxi shrugged. “I just want to see if it’s true what the other girls say.” “Look, if I show you, you must show me yours,” said Ernst firmly. “I’ve had girls try to mess me around before, so I don’t do it any more without these conditions Roy’s told you about.” “I told you, I don’t make conditions,” repeated Maxi, turning her shoulder towards Ernst. “Now I’ve asked you to show me and Roy says you’ve agreed. Then it’s Roy’s turn. If I like what I see, we can go from there.” “No,” objected Ernst, getting annoyed. He always did have rather a caveman attitude towards girls and, attracted though he was to Maxi’s looks, I could tell he was most unimpressed with Maxi’s arrogance. “Roy told you – he goes first, then you two, and then I do it.” “That is not the way I plan,” Maxi told him coolly. “Well, you can piss off then!” Ernst snorted in disgust. He turned on his heel, scrambled out through the entrance and disappeared, leaving the three of us inside feeling rather shocked. I looked at Maxi. She was standing there with her mouth open, but as soon as she saw me looking at her, she composed herself and smiled. “My, he’s so strong,” she smiled. I presume she meant ‘forceful’, if she had known the word. “Roy, tell him to come back.” I hesitated. Maybe that was the way to deal with Maxi, to be forceful and not allow her to dominate. “Tell him yourself,” I retorted. “I’m not your slave.” I realised straight away that it wasn’t realistic to expect her to tell Ernst herself, not at that moment anyway, and I might have to back down on that one. She too must have been thinking, as she was quiet for a moment. Then she said slowly but deliberately, “Roy, I – think Ernst has - misunderstood me. Would you please be a dear and tell - ask him to come back so we can – discuss things?” This sounded more reasonable. I agreed and scrambled outside, wondering where Ernst would have gone. I think he had been expecting me, as he came out from behind a bush about 20 metres away and grinned as I walked over to him. “Is she sorry yet?” he asked me. I realised that he had read Maxi better than I had. “Yes, but she won’t say so,” I answered. “She says you misunderstood her, and wants you to go back so she can boss you around again. Or she says discuss things.” “All right,” shrugged Ernst, with his deceptively dopey look. He went ahead of me back to the cave and scrambled inside, while I followed. “Thank you, Ernst,” I heard Maxi say as I landed inside again. “Ernst, I think you misunderstood me. I just wanted to discuss how we were going to do it. If Roy wants to take part, he can do it first. You said you wanted to be last?” “Yes, I’ll do it last so I know you won’t cheat me,” replied Ernst, always the caveman rather than the diplomat. “Ernst, we won’t cheat you,” Maxi assured him in her sweetest, most tinkling voice. “All right, we’re not scared. We’ll do it next, and you can do it at the end if you’re shy.” “I’m not shy, I just don’t like being cheated,” said Ernst, clutching his belt, and I thought for a moment he was going to pull his shorts down on the spot and prove he wasn’t shy. “And that order is what we were saying all the time.” “You just didn’t understand me properly,” Maxi told him sweetly, without explaining what she meant. Since we had got agreement on that point, I wasn’t going to argue it any further. I decided that I should let the girls – or rather Maxi, since Rika was very much a sleeping partner – resolve the problem I had been pondering. “All right, Roy, you can start,” Maxi permitted me graciously. “Do you want – just to do underwear first? Or the whole lot?” I asked. Maxi smiled, and I guessed that maybe she hadn’t thought of doing it in stages. “Oh – just underwear first,” she said. “And remember, nobody must laugh or – or say silly things,” I said, speaking as if for myself instead of Ernst. “Oh, of course not,” snorted Maxi, suddenly getting bossy again. Then she smiled and said more softly, “All right, you can go now, Roy.” I put my hands on the waist of my shorts and pulled them down to my knees, revealing my white underpants. Maxi stared, smiling, and then said, “Aren’t you going to take your shorts off? And your shirt?” It looked as if she wanted the whole thing. I stepped out of my shorts and removed my shirt, until I was wearing nothing but my underpants. I felt slight uncomfortable as Maxi looked me up and down. Rika didn’t appear particularly interested in my body. Then I said, “Now it’s your turn, Maxi.” Maxi’s confidence dipped slightly. “Rika’s doing it first,” she said, passing the buck. “Come on, Rika.” “I don’t mind,” said Rika quietly with her Swedish accent. She undid the belt of her light blue dress and then unbuttoned her dress at the front. In a moment she was stepping out of it, wearing only a tiny pair of pink panties, small enough to reveal the top of her groin. I could now see the full length of her awesome long legs. Her body was thin enough to show her ribs. She was wearing no bra, with her little breasts about the size of a large coin and sticking up like little rounded pyramids. She stood simply before us without trying to hide herself, and I suddenly realised that, although she was lightly tanned, she had very indistinct tan lines, even to the edge of her panties. The outline of her school swimming costume was just visible, but otherwise she looked to have an all-over tan. “Now it’s you, Maxi,” put in Ernst, obviously eager to get moving. “I don’t mind,” smiled Maxi kittenishly, although I suspected she was a little more shy than Rika. She was wearing a white top, again thin enough to give a glimpse of her bra underneath at the back, and a patterned skirt. First she slipped off her top, showing a frilly little bra underneath that looked quite flat at the front. Then she unbuttoned her skirt at the side and slipped out of it. Underneath she was wearing frilly lace panties, very revealing. It was one of those pairs of panties that showed flesh through the material without revealing any detail inside, although I could see the colour almost down to the crotch. If thongs had been around in our country in those days, no doubt she would have worn those. Suddenly I guessed why she went back to her tent before coming up to the cave. It must have been to change into a sexier pair of panties. Maxi looked at us both with a sly smile on her face. “Hey, that’s sexy,” Ernst could not resist saying. Maxi looked pleased, although I guessed there was a touch of embarrassment as well. Even the most brash textiles seem to feel awkward taking their clothes off, and in an unfamiliar situation even a naturist like myself does not feel as free. It took me a few seconds to take in any more details, as I had been concentrating on her panties. She was not exactly fat, but her front was still in the little-girl rounded shape and her ribs were well covered and invisible. “Now you,” Maxi smiled at Ernst. He obliged, removing his shirt and shorts, and the nakedness of the rest of his body seemed to emphasise how out of place his full-sized underpants seem when the modern trend is for briefs, whether male or female. In his case, though, it was necessary, as he would have been extremely cramped for space inside a pair of briefs. We stood there, smiling rather foolishly and looking at each other in our underwear. Maxi kept staring at the huge knobbly lump in Ernst’s underpants with naked curiosity. A noise from two boys outside made us start and reach convulsively towards our clothes, but they passed by without knowing the cave, or ourselves, were there. “Are you ready now, Roy?” Maxi asked sweetly. “The final act.” “All right,” I grinned, trying to act casual. I pulled down my underpants, taking them off this time. My still small, still hairless penis popped into view. I stood up and tried to look unaffected. Maxi was looking at my genitals with a small smile on her face. “Now I suppose it is me?” asked Rika. Within a second she was slipping out of her pink panties and tossing them to one side. Her vaginal area was smooth and lightly tanned, tanned enough to show up the little rows of tiny fair hairs along the side of her vagina itself and at the top. The vaginal lips folded over smoothly inside the slit, but I could not tell from my angle of vision whether it was possible to see inside. Ernst looked her up and down, fortunately keeping himself from licking his lips. Then he turned to Maxi and looked at her expectantly. She gave a small giggle and wriggle, again showing that secretly she wasn’t as comfortable and assured as she pretended. Then she smiled with all the assurance that she could muster and began to show off. She put her hands on the waistline of her panties and slowly began to move them from side to side, slithering them slowly downwards all the time. She had a considerable tan line and the flesh underneath her panties was very white. Slowly her panties creased downwards until the depression of her loins, with little blue veins running through, appeared, the two points of the entire area which comes in the shape of a V. Her eyes gleamed at us. “Boys would die for what you are about to see,” she smirked, trying to act nonchalant. Then she turned round, with the top of her bottom and the top of the crack in her bottom now visible. She was trying to be as sexy and alluring as possible. Again she wriggled, pulling her panties down until the main bulge of her bottom appeared, and then far enough to expose the whole of her smooth white backside. Then she slickly slipped her panties down her legs, stepped out of them and turned to face us with arms spread out to the side, as if to say, “Here I am, aren’t I lovely?” But a smothered giggle gave her away. Her little rounded tummy gave a slight roll of flesh before descending to her loins. The pubic mound, hardly visible with Rika, was quite prominent with Maxi, and her little vagina, with well-rounded white lips, stood out clearly until it curved away under her crotch. I thought a tiny sliver of clitoris was just visible inside. There was no sign of any hair growth. Maxi looked very pleased with herself. Then, with a wide smile, she pointed a finger at Ernst and said, “Now it’s you. Let’s see if you’re as – as big as they say.” “There’s still your bra,” Ernst pointed out. “That doesn’t matter, we’re not doing that,” replied Maxi. “Hey, naked means naked,” insisted Ernst. “I’m not doing any more until you’ve finished.” Maxi stared at him, and I could see her mind whirling. I thought for a moment she was going to make a petulant protest. Then she seemed to give in. She looked from him to me and then back again. “Remember this is all a secret,” she told us. “You promise not to tell anybody about all this.” I thought she was about to say she was not in a position to handle hundreds of requests. “Of course,” we both agreed, and I added, “You promise too.” Maxi gave her promise, for what it was worth, and then reluctantly slipped out of her bra. There were actually signs of sunburn underneath, suggesting she had been trying out an unaccustomed topless sunbathe recently, but that was about all that could be seen. Her chest area looked slightly rounded, as it often does with girls who are well padded, but the nipples were smaller than mine. There was no evidence of puberty at all – and it later struck me that this was the connection with the promise she extracted from us. She didn’t want us going round telling everybody that Maxi wore a bra that was totally wasted on her. Ernst gave his dopey grin and peeled off his underpants. His penis came swinging down and kept swinging as it dangled in front of them. Rika looked surprised, but it was Maxi who rather like Kirsty gave a squeal and jumped back, hands pressed to her chest rather than her mouth. “Ooh, Ernst!” she squealed. “That is – a monster!” Ernst grinned in pleasure as Maxi stared at it in awe, open-mouthed. He obviously enjoyed her admiration. “Oh, Ernst,” Maxi began again, then giggled, but in astonishment so Ernst was not offended. “Mickey must be so jealous! He keeps saying he’s got a big one, but – he can’t make his that big even when it’s stiff.” Ernst looked even more pleased to be classified as far superior to Mickey. Then Maxi put out her hand to touch it, and Ernst pushed it away. “No touching,” he told her. “Make it stiff for me, then,” pleaded Maxi. “Come on, Ernst, I want to see it when it’s hard. When you’re a real *man*.” “What are you going to do for me, then?” bargained Ernst. Maxi thought for a moment, and then smiled. “I’ll show you inside,” she offered, putting her fingers on her plump little vagina and making as if to spread it apart. Ernst nodded, and then she said, “We’ll all do it. Come on, Roy, you do it first.” I wasn’t too sure I liked that idea. I had never masturbated in public before – in fact, the only time I have ever masturbated much at all was just after I reached puberty for about a year or two. Then I grew bored with it and have hardly done it since. But I couldn’t really pull out now, and the rewards offered me were great. So I nodded, took hold of my penis, minute compared to Ernst’s, and began shaking it up and down. Slowly it began to get longer, then harder. I kept pumping and concentrated my eyes on the bodywork of the two girls in front of me for inspiration. Steadily it stiffened, lengthened and lifted. I kept pumping until it was rock-solid and pointing towards my chin. Neither of the girls seemed unduly interested in my penis, though. Rika, being Swedish, was probably used to anything to do with nudity, while Maxi presumably had seen Mickey’s longer penis perform the trick on numerous occasions. I wondered what other tricks she had seen Mickey’s penis do. “Me now,” said Rika willingly. She bent her knees, thrust her hips forward, placed her fingers on the lips of her vagina and pulled them apart. She did not have a wide vagina, but when she spread it I could see her white clitoris revealed down the middle, with what seemed like thin lines of tissue on either side. I noticed that Ernst’s penis was beginning to rise slightly of its own accord, and resisted the temptation to tell him jokingly to wait because it wasn’t his turn yet. Maxi gave her cat-like smile again. She kept her knees straight but spread them apart, pushed her hips forward, and then like Rika put her fingers on her vagina lips and pulled them apart. Her clitoris was so clearly visible that it was like a tiny penis hanging down. The rest of the interior was juicy and pink. Then she turned her smile on Ernst. Most of the work had already been done untouched by human hands. Ernst’s penis by now was almost horizontal, and it took only a few more pumps for him to get it pointing skywards. “May I touch it now?” she asked him sweetly. “If I can touch yours,” responded Ernst. “Oh, yes, we can all do that,” smiled Maxi. “We can touch each other and Rika and Roy can touch each other as well. If they want.” She reached out her hand and put it thoughtfully on Ernst’s bulging penis. “Come on, sit down,” he told her. Giggling, she moved her skirt and sat on it, spreading her legs apart to open her vagina again for him. I looked at Rika. She smiled shyly at me. I have never been keen on having girls laying hands on my penis. I would, though, have liked to investigate Rika, but didn’t know how she would feel about it. She nodded. But just at that moment, there was a long blast on the whistle, far away but clear. We all jumped and stared at each other, transformed in a split second from bold sexual explorers to startled children frightened of being caught doing something naughty. “Quick! We must get back!” I exclaimed, panicking and leaping for my clothes. Maxi recovered most quickly. Being who she was, she had no doubt gained confidence that she could avoid trouble better than most people. “We don’t have to rush,” she reminded me. “That’s a pain. Ernst, we’ll have to meet some other time.” Quickly we scrambled into our clothes, with Maxi refusing to be rushed. “We girls will go first, and then you boys wait until we’re out of sight before you go,” she instructed us. “We’re ready and you’re not,” I told her, trying to be forceful. “You can come when you’re ready.” Ernst and I scrambled out and headed for the meeting place at full speed. It was only our guilt that had made us hurry, because there was plenty of time. We quickly slowed down and sauntered in with the others, hearts thumping inside us as we were sure everybody must be able to read our thoughts or our faces. But nobody seemed to notice anything odd, and the guilty feelings subsided. Our volleyball match against the Eagles is best forgotten, although our defeat was not as heavy as our football defeat had been. Mickey was again giving instructions bossily while doing little himself apart from getting in the way, and I grinned as I wondered what he would say if he knew what Ernst and I, his sworn enemies, had been getting up to with his sister. As before, Kirsty and Susan showed their reluctance to take part but then persisted in getting in everyone’s way on court. Tessa as usual gave it her best shot, but she was rather too small for a game like this. Every time she did something useful, I came out with, “Well done, Tessa” or “Good shot, Tessa,” just to prove to her and everybody else that I had no interest in her. Strangely, it didn’t work, except with Tessa! She ignored me most of the time, but occasionally did give me a very brief, small, shy smile. Did she dislike me a bit or was she just shy? Then we followed the usual routine, with showers, a swim and supper. After supper we had the first part of our evening entertainment, with each tent putting on a skit to entertain the others, followed by a singsong. Then we returned to our tents to change into our pyjamas - I wore a tighter pair of shorts this time as I thought it best to keep exposure to the cave – before returning for our cocoa and bedtime story. Kirsty hadn’t spoken to me since that episode in the cave. I wasn’t unduly bothered, but I did wonder why. I suspect now that it was simply that she thought I was in love with her and was playing me along, waiting for me to make the next move. She now went around as if I didn’t exist, though when I came near her in order really to be near Tessa, she quietly moved away, and Susan and Tessa would go with her. She was probably hoping for a big gesture from me, which was most frustrating, as she was messing up my chances with Tessa. So it was that I did not have any further chance to make contact with Tessa that day. The next morning followed the usual pattern to begin with. After breakfast and tidy-up, we had our rounders match against the Eagles, which meant we were wiped out again. I suppose it was easiest to draw up a programme with the same two teams meeting at all four sports before moving on to play other teams, but if we had to get thrashed every time it would have been easier to get thrashed by a different team each time, instead of the gloating Eagles every time. The sports did give me a better chance to talk to Tessa, though, even if she still didn’t respond much. I gave her the benefit of my limited knowledge of batting tactics when we were batting, but didn’t have much chance in the field as I was put on third base and Tessa, the only girl to be considered worthy of a place on the bases, on first base. She did quite a good job and could certainly catch well. There was one amusing – or infuriating – incident when a batter hit a ball towards Kirsty, who was lurking in the outfield and trying to hide behind second base. It wasn’t too hard a hit, but she couldn’t get out of the way, gallantly though she tried. The ball bounced immediately in front of her as she turned her head away, and then somehow bounced straight up her skirt. She squealed and clutched herself, apparently trapping the ball, but was unable to free it. As she struggled with it, the whole team yelling at her, it dropped out, she trod on it and fell over. In the meantime the batter had completed a home run. Our team didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at Kirsty, and most of us did both. Lisa thought it was funny more than anything, and called out, “Kirsty, you can’t catch the ball in your knickers, you know.” This caused more laughter, but when I looked at Kirsty I could tell she was trying not to cry. Immediately I felt her vulnerability and shouted out, “Come on, that’s enough, let’s get on with the game.” I turned away without trying to see if Kirsty would flash a grateful glance at me. At the age of 10 I hadn’t yet got it all together in handling situations like this, though moments later I wished I had been able to exchange smiles with her. Then she might give me a better chance of getting through to Tessa . . . After games and drinks we were to go on an outing, about which we had known since the first day. So we were to have no free time that morning, although this time there were no girls queuing up for Ernst’s services. We were to visit the local branch of the Natural Culture Centre, or whatever it is called in the local language. This was mainly for tourists, but I suppose it was of some educational interest to us expatriates as well. We had to go back to our tents and change into our smartest clothes for the visit, and this meant girls wearing dresses or skirts. In local culture females are still generally looked down upon if they wear shorts or trousers, although many in the urban centres are starting to do that more often, in line with world trends. For me, I have always enjoyed the beauty and elegance of girls in shapely skirts or dresses, so I regret the growing ‘dumbing-down’ of feminine clothing – if it can now be termed feminine at all. I was particularly interested to see what Tessa would look like. As we gathered at the bus, I kept a lookout for Tessa, at the same time noting certain other girls who had looked real tomboys so far on camp but were now into dresses for the first time. Finally I saw her coming from the girls’ tents, along with Kirsty and Susan, who always wore dresses anyway. Tessa was wearing a simple dark blue skirt with a white T-shirt and looked for the first time properly a girl. I had deliberately placed myself on the side of the girls’ tents in the hope that I might intercept them as they came up, but Kirsty again led her friends around the side, away from me and clearly deliberately avoiding me. I felt this was rather hard after I had tried to stand up for her during rounders, though to be fair she might not have heard me or realised I was doing that. But I didn’t realise that she was just playing hard to get, or so she thought. We scrambled on to the bus, and I was able to check out Tessa’s panties straight away. She was again sitting behind Kirsty and Susan, but somebody had apparently trodden on her sandal so, like a five-year-old, she lifted a knee to adjust her sandal, showing plain but attractive white panties of the sort she had shown at the slide the previous day. I was unable to find a seat near her, but Ernst was already seated and calling to me to join him. The bus ride took just over half an hour, and this time, having settled into camp, we sang a lot of the time on our way there. We had a tour and a series of mini lectures about local culture, and near the end we went into a large hall to watch a local dance exhibition. These dances looked simple and exciting, with men seeming to enjoy them as much as the women. I was secretly wishing I could try them out. It came with a sudden thrill, then, when the woman who was guiding us round turned to Miss Tate and asked if the children would like to try it now. Many of us expressed pleasure, but we hadn’t realised the implications – boys and girls would have to dance in pairs, and we hadn’t quite reached the stage in our development where that was permissible in the company of our peers. Miss Tate, in charge, accepted the offer on behalf of us all, but she did not handle it well. “All right, children,” she trilled. “First of all, we – how do we start?” she asked, turning to the tour guide. “Oh, always the boys? All right. Boys, you must all choose a girl as your partner now.” With most boys our age, this proposal naturally went down like a lead balloon. While many of us might secretly like the idea, we had not yet reached the stage where we were prepared to admit it. There was a sort of muffled communal groan of protest from us boys, and no movement whatever to take up the offer. The leaders quickly set us an example. Lloyd grabbed Tara by the arm and led her out on to the floor, while Kevin immediately did the same with the blushing Wendy. The other leaders also paired off, while in the meantime a few of the more liberated girls who still liked him tried to catch Mickey’s eye. He for one seemed willing to get started, looking round eagerly, but I guessed that the girl he would have preferred to partner was no longer interested in him after his comments on the football field the previous day. I stood there, feeling my cheeks burning and glancing towards Tessa, who was only about three metres from me. She was not looking in my direction. I wanted very much to go over and seize her before anybody else beat me to it. Not that I saw much evidence of that happening. Maxi caught my eye, but I quickly realised that it was actually Ernst’s eye she had been aiming for. But I had no wish to dwell on this at that moment. 32 boys stood there in dumb embarrassment, waiting for one of their own number to take the initiative. Like many others, no doubt, I would have gone with Tessa if only somebody else had gone first. Somehow the officers didn’t quite count. “Oh, come on, don’t be so silly,” chided Miss Tate, just making matters worse. “There’s a partner for everybody, boys, so hurry up, or else we’ll let the girls choose, or just pair you off with anybody.” “Perhaps we can just start the music and they can join in as soon as they’re ready,” suggested Kevin more wisely. “Oh – er – all right, then,” agreed Miss Tate. She turned to the tour guide, who immediately called for an exciting, catchy local tune to be played. This gave me a bit more courage. Looking round, I saw some of the other boys were slowly on the move, several of them towards Maxi, who in turn was on the move towards Ernst. I sensed Kirsty, next to Tessa, was looking at me, perhaps experimenting with telepathy, but Tessa wasn’t looking at me at all. I gently took her by the wrist, and she looked up at me in surprise. Nowadays I would teasingly have said something like, “Excuse me, Madam, but may I have the pleasure of this dance?” I wasn’t mature enough then, though, so I just blushed furiously and asked, “Shall we – go?” Tessa stared at me, then seemed to blush slightly, smiled and nodded her head. Feeling highly embarrassed, I led her on to the dance floor, encouraged only by the sight of two or three other boys who had decided to take the plunge with their girls. It’s difficult to dance when you feel so embarrassed, but gradually I got down to it and began to enjoy myself. Tessa obviously did as well. She was soon laughing from delight, as in the exuberant way of the locals we were dodging each other and swinging each other round by the arm. I sensed rather than saw other pairs pluck up their courage and take the plunge, and after a few minutes the dance floor became rather crowded. We went into the second dance, and by now more than half of us children were dancing and enjoying it, while the others stood by looking like spare parts and no doubt wishing they had the courage. Again it was lively, a bit too lively, perhaps. As we were dancing, one of the bigger boys stepped back without looking and trod on Tessa’s foot just as she was in motion. She went down with a cry, twisting her ankle and collapsing to the ground. “My ankle!” she cried out, sitting there in pain, one knee in the air and panties fully exposed as she clutched her ankle. But now was no time to enjoy the scenery. She was obviously in a lot of pain, trying not to cry. She tried to struggle to her feet but could not put any weight on her leg. Somebody else almost trod on her, and I saw she needed to get over to the side out of the action. I went behind her, grasped her round the shoulders and under the knees and heaved her up into my arms. “Thanks, Roy,” she gasped, amid pain. She was not very heavy, and I carried her for about two metres. Then, to my fury, Trevor had seen what was happening and barged in, taking her from my arms and carrying her off himself. I felt furious and frustrated. Couldn’t these older people lay off and let me play the hero just once? Trevor sat Tessa on a chair and examined her ankle, while I stood by glowering. Tessa was paying attention to him, telling him where it hurt, but he didn’t seem to have too much idea what to do about it. He should have left it to me – not that I had much idea what to do practically either. Then Wendy came over and had a look. She dashed off somewhere and came back in a couple of minutes with a cloth wrapped around ice, which she in turn wrapped around Tessa’s ankle. It all seemed to me rather too much fuss. Finally they seemed to decide she would live, and left her with promises to be back. She had long since been surrounded by Kirsty and other girls, though, giving me very little chance to get close to her, with no opportunity at all to put my arm round her, talk lovingly to her and kiss her better – although naturally my fantasies were working overtime. The only good thing about it was that it gave me an excuse for not actually doing it, apart from shyness. After a few minutes there seemed to be a communal female decision by Leigh’s supporters to retreat to that well-known long-term communal female sanctuary, the toilet. Laughing and struggling, they hoisted Tessa up clumsily with her arms round the shoulders of Kirsty and Susan, and they staggered off together to that wonderful Shangri-La. (Or should I say Shangri-Loo?) None of them, not even Tessa, took any notice of me, leaving me totally deflated. Miserably I sat there alone while the second dance ended. I noticed that Ernst was dancing with Maxi – well, he was welcome to her – and also with interest Mickey, a flighty female in tow, deliberately moving next to her and saying something angrily into her ear. She shrugged her shoulders and carried on dancing with Ernst. The second dance stopped and the tour guide announced that there would be one for us. I look around, totally disgruntled, and couldn’t see any girl I fancied to dance with. Nowadays I would have made the best of a bad job and found a shy wallflower to make happy, but right then I was both too depressed and too shy to do that. Then suddenly a pair of shapely legs appeared in front of me and I looked up. Wendy, taking a break from Kevin, was looking down at me and smiling sweetly, asked me, “Roy, that’s such a pity Tessa was hurt. Will you take me instead?” Well, this was different! I tried unsuccessfully not to blush as I smiled at her and thanked her. She held out her arm to me, and we went on to the dance floor together. She was great fun and knew how to do it well. We were both laughing and panting when the dance finally finished. Again I tried my best to behave like a man, I thought, and thanked her as we cleared the floor. I headed for Tessa, who had returned and was sitting among her friends. As I approached, though, I saw them all turn and crane their heads somewhere over to the left. I turned and had a look as well, as I could hear loud, angry voices. Mickey and Maxi were the participants. I learned later that Mickey had said something to her as she left the floor with Ernst, and she had told him to shut up. As he responded, she slapped his face and shouted at him. He tried to hit her, but she rained down slaps on his arm. The leaders were already beginning to head for the scene of conflict, and almost with one accord Tessa’s inquisitive friends rose and scuttled over to gain ringside seats. Tessa was suddenly left alone, as she sat there with one leg out in front of her and legs revealingly apart. I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. I sat down beside her and gained her immediate attention. She wasn’t particularly interested in the catfight. I asked her how her ankle was, and she said it wasn’t too bad but it was hard to walk. I kept talking while the film twins were almost forcibly separated by Kevin and Lisa, surrounded by fascinated spectators. Miss Tate was leaving it to them, trying instead to sweep the children towards the door for the restaurant where we were to have our lunch. I made a courageous decision. “Come on, Tessa, let’s get a good seat in the restaurant,” I told her, standing up and crouching down in front of her. “Get on my back and I’ll carry you there.” “All right,” she smiled with a giggle, her eyes lighting up with what looked like amusement. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. As I pushed myself to my feet, I felt her legs pushing at my side and I tucked my arms round them. I struggled to push myself upright, but managed, and then headed for the restaurant. She breathed into my ear those three little words every boy loves to hear: “Gee, you’re strong.” Too embarrassed to look at anybody else, I entered the restaurant, headed for a table by the window and backed to a chair, letting Tessa down gently on to it. She thanked me shyly as I took my seat next to her. There were only a few other children in there yet, persuaded inside by Miss Tate. I was busy chatting to her when the others began to come in, shepherded in by Miss Tate and the leaders. They were noisy and excited after the impromptu sawdust-weight boxing match between the twins that they had just witnessed. The twins did not join us yet, as Kevin kept them outside to have a few words with them. There were four seats at the table, and quickly Kirsty came flapping over to join us, followed by Susan. “Ooh, Tessa, Roy, that was so exciting!” she exclaimed, forgetting that she was supposed to be ignoring me. “They were so cross! I wonder what they were fighting about!” I could have made a good guess, but kept quiet. Miss Tate was trying to quieten everybody down, but without much success. Lunch was taken in a noisy, excited atmosphere, with local food, tasty and otherwise, comprising the menu. Our table of four was excitedly discussing the twins still, with Kirsty doing 90 per cent of the talking and Susan the rest. Neither of them liked Maxi (“she’s so stuck-up”), and they had now found out what Mickey was like, so she was very critical of them both. After about five minutes Kevin came in with the twins, both of whom were still looking quite upset, and there was a moment’s silence as everybody craned their necks to see what would happen. There was no privacy for either of them as they slunk over to tables where they thought they would be welcomed, only to be bombarded with questions. Kevin had to go over and tell the others to leave them alone. After lunch we returned to the bus. As soon as the order came to leave the restaurant, Kirsty barged in with Susan, got Tessa to hang on to their shoulders and helped her out to the bus. I felt quite frustrated, as I had been hoping to pay the hero and carry her on my back again, but I must admit I was also a little relieved, as carrying a girl on my back among others of my own age was an invitation to ridicule. I had largely escaped it earlier because the twins had caught all the headlines. Should I sit next to Tessa on the bus? Did I dare? I struggled with my feelings as I entered the bus some way behind her, and decided that if she looked at me, if she invited me, if there was nobody else next to her, I would. It was a coward’s way out. I felt sickened as I pushed my way down the aisle past Tessa’s seat, to find Kirsty chattering away to her from her seat in front with Susan as usual, taking all her attention, so I passed unnoticed. The spare seat was there, I should have taken it, but I just chickened out. As soon as we returned to camp, it was the compulsory rest period. Mickey was rather subdued and sullen, but he usually was now in his own tent, knowing what we thought of him. He did burst out in one eruption of bitterness, though: “Let me tell you guys, Maxi has no boobs at all. She wears a bra but she’s got nothing underneath it. She just *pretends*!” Ernst and I already knew that, although it may have been news to the others. Rest was followed by preparation for our evening skit. Then we gathered as usual for our afternoon drinks and biscuits. I looked around for Tessa, but couldn’t see her. Kirsty was around, though, and speaking to me again. “Hello, Roy,” she beamed at me. “Why didn’t you dance with me this morning?” I was startled. “Well, I – I didn’t think you’d want to,” I stammered out. “You hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday.” “You didn’t ask me,” she accused me. “If you’d asked me, Tessa wouldn’t have been hurt.” “That wasn’t my fault, David wasn’t looking where he was going,” I defended myself, but she was probably right. If I hadn’t chosen Tessa, she probably wouldn’t have danced at all. “But where is she? I mean, I want to see how she is.” “Miss Winrow took her to the sick tent,” explained Kirsty. Miss Winrow was in charge of first aid at camp. “She’s going to see what she can do about it. I don’t know when she’ll be out again.” I was feeling pretty depressed about the whole situation now. My dancing had gone wrong and now Tessa was laid up in the sick tent and I couldn’t even speak to her. I had been hoping during our free time to be able to get to know her better. But at least I did carry her on my back when she needed me. “Anyway, you’ll be able to see her sometime,” Kirsty assured me gaily. “But for now . . .” She drew close and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go up to the cave again.” I stared at her. She had a cunning gleam in her eye and gave a suggestive giggle. “But you know, you – you laughed at Ernst last time,” I told her. “I don’t think he’ll do it again. Not with you.” “I don’t want to see Ernst again,” she giggled, hand to mouth. “His – thing, I mean. It’s so - big and ugly. I meant – just us. Not Susan, either, but just us two. Okay?” I thought quickly. I hadn’t expected this. It would be nice to play by the stream again. But Tessa wouldn’t be there. She might be there other times, but she wouldn’t be there this time, and I might never have another chance with Kirsty, who might just be exciting. “Okay,” I finally said. She beamed. She had finished her drink already, but I hadn’t. “Look, I’ll go first, and then you come in two minutes,” she told me, laying a hand on my arm for a moment. She skittered off, dress flapping, returned her cup and then shot off in the direction of the rocks. I gave her two minutes before following. As I was walking towards the cave, I noticed Ernst ahead of me, and it took me just two seconds to realise that he was heading for the same place by a slightly different route. I jogged to catch up with him. “Hey, Ernst, where are you going?” I asked him. He looked disconcerted to see me. “Just – up to the rocks,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t like Ernst to be less than open with me, and I could almost ready him like a book by now. I quickly guessed what he was doing. “Are you having another meeting with Maxi?” I demanded. He looked startled. “Did she tell you?” he responded sharply. “No, I guessed,” I told him. “Because – because I’ve already – I mean, Kirsty fixed up a meeting with me. She’s in the cave already. Waiting for me.” “Oh, shit!” he grumbled. “I’m not going in with that stupid female again.” “Well, maybe there’s somewhere else you can go,” I told him. “I mean, Kirsty was there first. She’s in there now.” I assumed that Maxi would be behind Ernst, for some reason, and I happened to have guessed correctly. He stood and looked around uncertainly. “Well, I – I’ll have to tell her,” he muttered. He looked at me crossly, and then turned round and headed back towards camp. I watched him go rather nervously, wondering what would happen and afraid that Maxi might throw a fit and demand the cave for herself. In the event, nothing happened, and I learned later that she knew of a better place for two – it was too small for four – and I gather those two had quite a few more secret meetings before camp was over. Feeling slightly unsettled, I continued my journey to the cave and slithered inside. “You took your time,” came Kirsty’s voice from within. “I just met Ernst. But he’s not coming here,” I told her, hoping it was true. I didn’t tell her the rest of the story. “Sit down and let’s talk,” invited Kirsty. As my eyes grew used to the shadows, I could see more clearly that Kirsty lying on a pile of loose soil and sand that she had built up, within touching distance of me. Her knees were up and her legs were apart. Her skirt was up far enough for me to see her navel. I didn’t think it had got all that way up by accident. Kirsty giggled as she saw me looking at her, adding to my suspicions. She still wore those embroidered panties, with a big flower in the crotch. These were a gentle violet colour and I found them strangely attractive. Joining in the spirit, I lifted my bottom and slipped my shorts down my legs, over my knees and off my legs. Kirsty giggled again. “What are you doing that for?” she asked. “Well, that’s what you’re doing,” I pointed out. “I don’t know what you mean,” she giggled, making it quite clear she did. We sat and talked for a while – or rather, Kirsty did. She talked about her tent, mostly, the girls there, gossiping about them, telling me which boys they liked, and all sorts of other secrets that they had no doubt discussed in good faith that nobody would split on them. Occasionally she would ask my opinion, but mostly she just chattered away. I wondered where all this was leading. Suddenly she straightened a little and asked me, “Roy, did – did Maxi have a meeting with you and Ernst?” I was just about to nod my head when suddenly I remembered my policy of secrecy. “I – I can’t tell about that,” I replied nervously. Or, as I would have said jokingly nowadays, “All our dealings with our clients are strictly confidential.” “Well, I think she did, because she’s whispering about it,” said Kirsty, with a twinge of jealousy. “She was telling about Ernst’s – thing, and she must have seen it.” Obviously Maxi’s description of Ernst’s major attribute matched Kirsty’s own observation. “She said – you were all – quite naked in here,” went on Kirsty. “And when I asked Rika, she said it was true. And she said you’ve got an all-over suntan – you know, hardly any lines for your swimming costume. So she must have seen you.” “People need to shut up about it before the leaders find out and there’s trouble,” I said uncomfortably. “We only do it in private,” Kirsty assured me, unintentionally including herself in this. “Not when there are leaders around.” “But there may be a telltale there who will tell the leaders about it, or say something the leaders will hear,” I muttered. “I told them they must stay quiet,” Kirsty assured me, this time completely incriminating herself without realising it. I might have known she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about her experience. All the time she had one hand down and was rubbing it up and down the crotch of her panties. I kept trying to avoid it, but in the end I had quite a good stare as she ran the tips of her fingers up and down over the spot where her vagina was hiding. She saw me and giggled. “What are you staring at?” she sniggered. “Nothing,” I replied instinctively, the typical preteen response. And then I asked, “What are *you* doing?” “Nothing,” she replied, and then burst into louder giggles. Then she added, “I often do this when I’m just sitting. It feels all funny.” I grunted in reply. Presumably she expected more of a response, because she paused, and then asked me slyly, looking at me from the corner of her eye, “Do you want to try it?” “I don’t – do that to myself,” I muttered in reply. “No, I mean do it to *me*,” she giggled. “It’s quite ticklish. I want to feel what it’s like when somebody else does it.” I hesitated, reluctant to get physical. “Doesn’t – Susan do it for you?” I asked. “No, Susan doesn’t do it properly,” Kirsty giggled, pulling her skirt higher to expose her white stomach. “Just try it.” I did feel curious. Against my better judgement, I leaned forward, put out my hand and put my fingertips on her panties, just above the crotch. They felt soft and silky. Just below my fingers was the outline of a large flower, a raised part of the same material. “Shall I rub the flower?” I asked. Kirsty gave a squeal of laughter. “My flower!” she giggled. “That’s what I call it sometimes – my wee, you know. Roy, I didn’t think you’d use a rude word like that.” “I didn’t know it was also called a flower,” I protested, annoyed with embarrassment but still aware that she was teasing me. “Yes, just rub it with your fingers,” Kirsty told me, lying back and folding her hands across her bare midriff. Gently I ran my fingers downwards, over the embossed flower and right round the corner under her crotch. She squirmed and giggled. “Ooh, that feels so funny. That feels *good*!” she squealed, spreading her legs wider. “Roy, do it again. Lots of times.” I ran my fingers up and down over the place where her vagina was. I couldn’t feel it underneath the material, which was quite thick, though soft and smooth. Perhaps I could just feel a slight depression in the middle. Kirsty wriggled and giggled, head back and eyes shut, stuffing her fingers into her mouth to try to smother the noise. Then she blurted out, “Stop!” and pushed my hand away. I stopped. She lay back for a moment, eyes shut, with a beatific smile spread over her face. Then she opened her eyes, looked at me and giggled, face red. “Ooh, that felt lovely,” she exclaimed, with a shudder of delight. She went a little redder, looking at me from the corner of her eye. She stuck her fingers over her mouth and whispered, “Roy, just once more. Put your finger inside and do it.” “Inside your – your panties?” I couldn’t believe it. Kirsty nodded and giggled. I hesitated, and was lost. Nervously I reached my hand down to the crotch of her panties and slipped my forefinger under the hem, just where the tendon was. I saw the white puffy skin that formed the outside of her vagina lips as I pushed the elastic back, and I could feel smooth skin under my finger, wobbling slightly when I rubbed it. “Further up,” she told me. Pushing my finger further in, I moved it upwards. I could immediately feel her vagina, the slit under my finger, and also the light downy hairs just beginning to grow. My penis moved in sympathy. “Try it,” she urged me. Fingertip on her vagina, I began to rub up and down very gently. “Ooh!” she squealed, jerking suddenly. Then she relaxed, but still kept wriggling as my fingertip massaged the soft, smooth, fluffy lips of her vagina inside her panties until she eventually gasped, “Stop! Stop now!” I withdrew my finger, which felt quite damp, moving it enough to give me a glimpse of the tiny dark hairs that were beginning to line the opening. She lay back panting and smiling, the material of her panties stretched tightly over her vaginal area. Reflectively she stuck a finger inside, perhaps to make sure I hadn’t messed up her hairstyle, giving me another glimpse of the little line of down and the black slit of her vagina itself. “Let me do it to you now,” she said, scrambling to her knees. “No, it – it doesn’t work with boys,” I protested, but she would have none of it. “Let me try,” she insisted. “You must be fair.” I couldn’t really argue with that, although I have never really liked anybody else playing with my genitals. Reluctantly I lay back while she crouched beside me and put her fingers gently on the little bulge in my underpants. “Ooh, I can feel it,” she giggled. Using just one finger, she ran it up and down as if drawing a line with a pencil. It tickled, and to my shame I felt my penis beginning to respond. “Ooh, it’s wriggling!” she squealed, going into fits of giggles, and I felt like dealing with her as Ernst had done. She took the end between two fingers, my underpants providing no protection, and squeezed it gently. “There you are, Roy, it works even better with boys,” she smiled at me. Then she paused, removed her hand and asked, “Roy, would you like me to kiss you?” I did find her attractive enough to like the idea, but a ten-year-old boy may not say so. So I just replied gruffly, “If you like.” Faced with such overwhelming enthusiasm, she paused, and then said, “All right.” She bent her face towards mine and gave me a rather sticky kiss next to my ear. She crouched there beaming at me, her face flushed. Then she asked, “Are you going to give me one?” “If you like,” I replied again. Then I decided to hold out for a little more. “But I – I don’t like doing it with clothes on,” I said. It was pretty feeble, but Kirsty bought it, perhaps because she had that end in view anyway – no pun intended! “Everything, you mean?” she checked, hand to mouth and face red. I nodded. “All right,” she sniggered. “But you go first.” I slipped out of my shirt and then told her, “Your turn.” During our previous session, we had not ventured into the top half of the body, and she was a bit disconcerted. Even the bottom part had been done very quickly, by Kirsty at least. She gave a shudder and involuntarily pressed her elbows and forearms close to her chest. “No, you finish it first,” she told me. “That’s not the way we’ve been playing it,” I told her. “Come on, you do it now and then I’ll finish it.” She gulped, and then, still crouching, she undid her buttons and slipped her dress off over her head. Her chest was white and freckled. She didn’t wear a bra, telling me later it was ‘too hot’. Her breasts were only just beginning, soft little dull pink areolas, about the size of a large coin, sticking out like tiny pyramids with little button nipples on the end. “My boobies aren’t very big,” she murmured with embarrassment, trying the old art of self-depreciation. “They look pretty, though,” I assured her, and she looked dubious. “Maxi won’t show us her boobies, so I don’t think she has any,” Kirsty said, looking down as if examining her own. “Even though she wears a bra. She never takes it off so we can see. And Tessa looks just like a boy still.” Then she suddenly looked at me and spoke eagerly. “Did you see Maxi’s boobies? Does she have any?” “It’s all private,” I reminded her with reluctance, shaking my head. After all, if I told her about Maxi, she would immediately suspect I would tell others about her as well. Kirsty gave a sigh. Then she said, “Come on, now, it’s your turn. Finish off.” I duly lifted my bottom from my seating position and pulled off my underpants, as I had done with my shorts. I slipped my shorts under my bottom to sit on while Kirsty, hand to mouth as usual and trying not to giggle, examined my penis. “It’s much better looking than Ernst’s,” she told me, perhaps in response to my compliment about her tiny breasts. “His is – a monster. I just wanted to see if – if it was really as big as – as people were saying. But it’s ugly. Yours is just small and – and neat.” I wasn’t sure I liked the ‘small’ bit, but it certainly was small by comparison with Ernst’s. “Your turn now,” I reminded her. She looked cunningly at me. “All right,” she said. “But first you must tell me about Maxi’s boobies.” I suppose the easy way out would have been to tell her I never saw them, but outright lies don’t come easily with me. We had an argument, but Kirsty remained adamant that she would not budge unless I told her. So I found a way out. With my palm flat and facing my chest, I moved my hand straight up and down to indicate flatness. “Is that Maxi?” Kirsty queried. “I can’t tell you,” I grinned, but made it pretty obvious that it was. Kirsty smiled and sat on her dress. Nervously she leaned back, lifted her bottom and slid her panties off. I first saw the crack in her bottom and then, between her legs, the little bulge of skin that was her perineum, with the vagina at the top of it. Keeping her legs together, she slid her panties over her knees and then off over her feet. Then she tucked her knees under her chin and sat there with her legs together, only the tiny bulge of her perineum visible. She grinned at me. “I can’t see anything there,” I grinned back at her. “You were going to kiss me, remember?” she reminded me primly. “All right,” I agreed, rolling over and leaning towards her with my penis dangling down. As I leaned towards her, she opened her legs and I put my head between her knees to give her a kiss on the cheek. She gave me a big smile with burning cheeks. “You kiss nicely,” she told me, giving me one in return. I didn’t tell her that I had had plenty of practice and I was looking forward to serving Tessa in the same way. I moved back to my place, looking down at her vagina. There were those tiny dark brown hairs with the touch of deep red that I had just felt on either side, smaller than the hairs on her arms. Then there were a few straggling strands of the same colour at the top. Kirsty saw my gaze and giggled. “You don’t have any hairs yet,” she teased me. “Boys don’t – till they’re teenagers,” I told her. “Can you do the splits?” So saying, I spread my legs wide, opening them up with my little penis and testicles dangling down the middle and looking lost. “You’ll see my clitty if I do that,” Kirsty giggled. I had been rumbled. She hesitated. “I want another kiss,” she sniggered. I gave it to her, and she obligingly spread her legs wide, looking down to examine the effect on her vagina. It screwed up almost into a little hole, with the little rows of hairs now forming an oval shape as they were forced apart in the middle. Her white clitoris appeared at the top, and underneath more tissue glistened in the half-light. Then she giggled and shut her legs again. “That was awesome,” I grinned at her. “You have such a lovely body.” She beamed in delight. Then she looked down at my penis and asked, “What does it – *feel* like?” “You can touch it,” I told her. “As long as I can do the same to you.” She nodded. Then she put out her hand and pushed my penis with her finger. It shifted at her touch. “It’s soft,” she told me. Emboldened, she took it between her fingers and, as I feared, it began to lose its softness. “Ooh,” she gasped as she could feel it swelling and hardening between her fingers. She let go. “What’s happening?” Fortunately when she let go my penis began to shrink again. “It – happens sometimes,” I told her, adding, “Sexy girls make it that way.” She flushed and smiled again, watching it return to its floppy self. Then I said, “My turn now. Lean back so I can reach it.” She was clearly tense as she leaned back. “You did it before, though,” she reminded me, as if hoping I might decide that was enough. “That was with your panties on, though,” I told her. “But I won’t do anything bad.” I rubbed the lips of her vagina gently with my fingertips, making her shudder and smile. I could just feel the soft, light hairs under my fingertips as I did so. Then I moved further upstairs. Her legs were not far apart, so her clitoris was not visible. But I gave her an extra little tickle at the top, making her shudder and give a little squeal of pleasure. Then I ran my fingers over the little spreading hairs at the top. This was as far as we got. I knew the whistle was about to go for games, and didn’t want to have to rush off in panic again, spoiling the intimacy. I had been keeping an eye on my watch, and after a little more fondling I reluctantly pointed out that we had better been getting dressed for our return to the real world. (To be continued) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 5) During drinks I caught up with Ernst and asked him what he did about his secret meeting with Maxi. “We found another place,” he grinned. “It’s more – closer.” His English was still not perfect, but I understood he was well satisfied with the situation as it was smaller and then more intimate. For the next day or two, Ernst hardly spoke to me. All I can say is that Ernst often walked round the camp as if in a world of his own, looking like a cat that has a lifetime supply of cream, and we were not in each other’s company as often as usual. It would be some time before he told me anything of what was going on between him and Maxi. Tessa arrived at tea, limping but not badly now, and helped along by Lisa, who I thought paid her far too much attention instead of leaving her to me. I never managed much more of a “Hello” to Tessa with Lisa hanging around to make sure she was all right. I got the impression Tessa too thought a bit too much fuss was being made of her injury. It was games next, our final ritual slaughter by the Eagles, this time at basketball. Tessa clearly couldn’t play. I had played in all the matches so far, so it was really my turn to sit out, and I went and quietly reminded Lloyd of that fact on our way down to the field. Ernst had also played in all the matches, but he was keen to play again while Brett and several girls, like Kirsty and Susan, were not, so he was allowed to play in this match as well. Kirsty and Susan had both missed two matches, so much against their wills they were required to play in this one. Since they did their best to keep out of the way of the ball, we were hammered at basketball as well. I hardly noticed, though, as I made the most of my opportunity with Tessa. I followed behind her and Lisa, waiting to see where she was going to sit. Lisa called a boy to fetch a chair for her, but Tessa said firmly that she was all right and sat down beside the court, legs crossed and panties showing. I soon found that she regularly sat this way, and surprisingly, after the fuss on the bus coming out to camp, hardly anybody seemed to notice. I certainly did not object. I was afraid that Lisa might insist on staying with her, but fortunately she moved away to find Lloyd and chat with him. “Hello, Tessa,” I greeted her, seating myself beside her. I couldn’t see her panties from there, but I was now more concerned with getting to know her. “Hello, Roy,” she greeted me, face quite bright. She didn’t sound badly shy, but she didn’t talk much – especially for a girl. Tessa probably took a day to say as many words as Kirsty usually did in five minutes. My heart feeling warm but nervous, I began to chat with her as the slaughter commenced on court. Although it was again one-sided, there was plenty of entertainment for those of us who liked to see girls in short skirts leaping for the ball. Kirsty and Susan were, of course, not guilty of this, but I doubt whether it was inhibition that prevented them. I chatted a bit to Tessa about the game and the camp in general, and asked a few questions about her school. She responded in a friendly way without supplying too much herself. Then suddenly she turned to me and asked, “Roy, why did you choose me to dance with this morning?” To my chagrin, I felt my face going red, and Tessa was still looking at me. She wasn’t stupid, so she must have guessed the reason. But all I could say was, “Well, I – I like the way you play games, so I – I thought you’d be fun to dance with.” She nodded. “And you were,” I added. She nodded again, and turned her attention back to the court. I didn’t feel happy about being so devious, and it was easier when she wasn’t looking at me. “And I – I think you’re pretty,” I forced myself to add. She turned and stared at me in surprise. I gave her a blushing grin. “Especially in a skirt,” I told her. “You look – much prettier than in shorts.” I don’t know whether this had an effect on her, but after that Tessa usually wore a skirt around camp instead of her shorts, and I kept making a point of complimenting her on it. I must add that this was not just so I could have continued access to her panties, but because she really did look more attractive and feminine in dresses and skirts – as I believe all girls do. She didn’t know what to say, so she turned away again, and I suddenly noticed that she too was blushing a little. This gave me confidence. I quickly checked to make sure that nobody was within earshot, and then finally said, “And I – I like you. I like you a lot. I – was hoping we could be friends.” Smiling more broadly than I had seen her before, she turned to me again and nodded her head enthusiastically. “I’d like – to be friends with you,” she told me. And after a pause, “Thank you.” Then, after another pause, “But just friends – not boyfriend and girlfriend or anything.” “Oh, no,” I assured her quickly. “Just friends.” There was a period of silence as we both seemed somewhat shocked by the confessions we had made, totally outrageous for self-respecting ten-year-olds and carrying with it a virtual life sentence of peer ridicule were this ever leaked to the grapevine. Fortunately these confessions were made between two consenting preteens in private, so there were no witnesses – though, of course, the mere fact that we were even sitting together, let alone talking, was enough to make others jump to logical conclusions. The weather by now had become unusually humid, and we suspected that one of those occasional flash summer storms was brewing. We didn’t know if it would hit us or not, but we were a bit apprehensive about the possibility of being in the middle of one with only the canvas to protect us. There was no sign of it yet, but the sky became rather hazy and the humidity increased as we had our showers and then our swim. Tessa was fit and keen enough to swim as well. A wind was beginning to blow up as we had our meal and then evening entertainment. It was quite a warm wind, but we were all rather worried, and Miss Tate warned us that if the storm seemed imminent we would all need to return to our tents early and stay there. She assured us that we would be safe, the canvas would keep out the water and there was not likely to be any flooding in this area. But at our age we were most concerned about the thunder and lightning, and there was no way she could help us with that. It was actually during the meal that I sensed another storm going on in the background. During afternoon drinks I had seen a couple of boys from another tent looking at Maxi and sniggering. I wondered at the time, from their gestures, whether they had heard from Mickey or somebody else in our tent that she had no breast growth yet. Now Kirsty was first with the news during the meal, sneaking up to me as we lined up for our pudding. “Maxi’s been telling us about Mickey,” she grinned at me, with Susan next to her again and grinning over her shoulder. “She says he’s only got a tiny, tiny thing, so small you can hardly see it. Is that true?” So Maxi was taking her revenge on her twin brother, was she? I suppose it was only to be expected. I wondered what to say. I didn’t want to tell a lie, but neither did I want to come out on Mickey’s side. “Come on, Roy, is it true?” Kirsty asked me eagerly, her breath hot in my earhole. I hesitated still, while she kept urging me. Finally I replied, “I – I can’t tell you.” “Why not?” she burst out, looking offended. “You must have *seen* it sometime – when you have your showers or when you change for bed or when you do a wee together into your big hole . . .” She giggled, hands to mouth. “What’s the matter, Kirsty?” asked Lisa, who had come up behind her. “Nothing,” Kirsty assured her hurriedly, blushing and scurrying away, looking guilty. Lisa looked at me, eyebrows raised to see if there was a problem. “She can be a bit of a pain sometimes,” I mumbled, and that seemed to satisfy Lisa. Kirsty made another effort to get the vital information out of me during the evening meeting, but there were too many others around and it was not difficult to deny her this time. Miss Tate, perhaps overanxious, sent us off to bed rather hurriedly that night. I had much greater access to Tessa, now that she had decided we could be friends, and for the first time was able to say goodnight to her. Though, of course, not with the kiss I had fantasized about. The storm was actually a long time in coming, and we went to sleep thinking it had passed us by. But then we were awoken in the depths of the night by the rain lashing down, brilliant lightning and crashing thunder. Despite Miss Tate’s assurances, rainwater did start running through our tent, but fortunately the sleeping area was raised and drained, so it never became more than damp underneath our beds. Lloyd put the lamp on and we huddled here in our beds until the storm passed, which was probably less than 20 minutes. Mickey cowered under his blankets, whimpering from fear, and Ernst couldn’t resist the temptation to ask him if he needed Maxi to hold his hand. Lloyd went over to put an arm round him and Mickey clung to him tightly, head buried under his pillow still. It was at least less frightening in the light, and finally the thunder and lightning rolled away and the torrents of water suddenly became almost a trickle. Relieved still to be dry, although also quite a bit colder, we settled down in our beds again. It didn’t take me long to get to sleep again, but I gathered that Mickey spent a long time crying and pleading with Lloyd to sleep with him for protection. Lloyd kindly but consistently refused, no doubt aware of the implications some people might draw from it had he agreed. We were still up early the following morning, and everything looked very different after the rain. Instead of a mixture of bare earth and straggly grass among the tents, it was muddy and even slippery in places. But the sun was shining brilliantly again, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and we knew that after a few hours it would all harden again. Still, we were excited and noisier than usual as we went off for breakfast. Mickey did not join us, and it turned out that Lloyd had served him with breakfast in bed. Tessa was actually waiting for me at breakfast, with a smile on her face. Her shyness with me seemed to have gone, and she was hardly limping. She was keen to play in the sports, but not quite ready yet. We were relieved that we would no longer have to play the Eagles, and were hoping the Falcons were not so strong. This time we would be starting with volleyball. I hadn’t the courage to ask to sit out again, or everybody really would have been mocking me for being lovesick. Mickey made a miraculous recovery, no doubt keen to play up to his public image, or whatever he conceived that to be – so that was bad news for our team. I played, we lost again, but only narrowly this time. The Falcons were not as strong as the Eagles. Wendy was one of the leaders in this team, and Maxi was among the opposition. She and Mickey glared at each other frequently, but at least did not try to use words or fists this time. I noticed Ernst visibly showing off to her, but I couldn’t criticise, as I was showing off to Tessa, often turning round to see if she was watching my best shots. She usually was, and she would smile and clap at me. Wendy squatted next to her at one point, presumably to see how she was, and I missed a shot in the game as I was watching the curve of Wendy’s thighs underneath and the rounded hem of her soft white panties. For a girl her age, Wendy seemed delightfully unaware of the treasures she sometimes displayed. After the match and refreshments, Miss Winrow, who was in charge of first aid, called Tessa to the tent to have another look at her leg. Tessa went with reluctance, sure she was well enough, while Kirsty button-holed me. “Come, Roy, let’s have another meeting,” she giggled, with a gleam in her eye. That was better than nothing, I felt, with Tessa unavailable, and I thought I might as well make the most of it, as I hoped in future to spend our free time with her. But Kirsty was attractive and it gave me a thrill to be so close to a girl when so few girls were willing to share their charms so intimately. I went up to the cave first, and Kirsty soon joined me. Beaming with pleasure, she gave me a smacking kiss as soon as she arrived inside. Then she slipped out of her dress, standing there in her flesh-coloured embroidered panties of the day as she awaited my approval. I duly gave it, and slipped out of my outerwear. Again she wanted a little foreplay, I suppose you could call it, before we went naked. We snuggled up close together in the far corner of the little cave, and she wanted us to rub each other again between the legs through our underwear. Then she rose and sat down between my legs, facing away from me but leaning back against my body, her head resting on my shoulder and her hair constantly getting in the way of my face. She placed my hands on the waistline of her panties and it was obvious what she expected me to do. I ran my fingers up and down the crotch of her panties again, making her shudder with pleasure. Then, when she had settled down, I moved my hands upwards, rubbing her tummy, and then up to her little rubbery breasts. She gave a little squeal as I put my fingers on them. They were wobbly, but underneath it was a little more solid in the manner of jelly. Gently I rubbed them with my fingers, while she giggled and shuddered. Later she nervously decided the time had come to remove our underwear. This time we sat face to face, and she constantly dropped her eyes to study my penis and testicles in detail. I was quite happy to enjoy the sight of her little pointed nipples and her little developing vagina, with its little line of tiny auburn hairs. This time she did not seem to want to get my penis excited, so I had to be satisfied with the visual. Finally time was up, and we got dressed before the whistle went. It was like returning to the real world after an age away, with all the sunshine and the noise and excitement of the campers after the peace and shade of the cave. There was some excitement among the boys, too, and I wondered what it was. I had to ask around. “We went down to the stream to play,” one of them told me. “And you should see that patch of clay, it’s all wet and sticky! So we started playing in it and some guys started throwing it. Kevin stopped us, but he said it was good fun and he was just worried about us getting our clothes dirty. Then he said he would try to fix up a big mud fight in teams. Hey, that’s going to be great!” Many of the boys were watching Kevin in conversation with the adult leaders. Miss Tate looked dubious, her boyfriend was amused and Miss Winrow looked rather shocked. But I could see Kevin seemed to be winning Miss Tate round. There was an expectant hush among the boys as Miss Tate blew the whistle after drinks. She announced that there would be a change in the morning’s programme, as Kevin wanted to organize an ‘activity’ for the boys. She didn’t specify what it was. The girl leaders would be taking the girls for a separate activity in the woods, hunting for flowers. “Are the boys really going to play in the mud?” Tessa asked me. “I think so,” I told her. Tessa’s eyes shone with excitement. “I want to play in the mud too, that’s such fun!” she exclaimed. “I can’t go on the walk anyway, so maybe Kevin will let me join.” Immediately she limped over to Kevin. With boys all around him, it was difficult for her to gain his attention. Finally I saw him bend down to listen to what she had to say. I could see him smiling and shaking his head. Tessa came back to me with tears in her eyes, looking most indignant. “He said no, this is just for boys!” she protested. “That’s not fair!” If she had been Maxi, she would no doubt have been on her mobile phone to her lawyer pleading sex discrimination. I couldn’t understand why not at first, but then I began to wonder. All I could do was sympathize, while Tessa went to Lisa, her tent leader, to get her on side. Lisa looked sympathetic, but she too shook her head smilingly. I understood later that the reason for this was that she was worried about Tessa hurting her leg some more. The girls went to their tents to collect things they needed for their hike, while Tessa still protested that she couldn’t walk properly. Lisa promised to keep with her and help her if she couldn’t keep up, which was not what Tessa wanted at all. Kevin then called the boys around him. We were noisy and excited. “All right, guys, go to your tents and grab your towels and soap,” he told us. “We’ll all need showers afterwards.” “What about our clothes?” one boy asked. “Don’t worry about that,” Kevin assured him. There was a low murmur as some of us began to catch on. I heard one boy ask if we were going to play naked, then, but Kevin just laughed and quietened him. Presumably if so, he had not told Miss Tate and the other leaders, though I never found out just what he did say about that aspect. We got ready with great noise and excitement, and finally trooped off with Kevin and the other boy leaders to the war zone. I was fascinated to see when we arrived how the whole area had now become a large plain of greyish wet clay, with puddles here and there, and covered in footprints made by the boys earlier. Kevin headed straight for the rocks by the side, away from the stream, and began undressing. Excitedly we followed suit, able to skirt around the mud to get there. There were some boys who didn’t want to take part, but Kevin didn’t pressure them, just reminding everybody that they must get undressed if they wanted to take part, for the sake of their clothes, and to keep the mud away from the clothing area. “In 30 minutes’ time, Tents One and Two challenge Tents Three and Four to a mud fight,” Kevin proclaimed, now naked and grinning broadly. There were roars from us boys as we took up the challenge and started posturing at each other. “Until then, guys, you can have fun, but no throwing of mud until we’re ready to do battle.” I think Kevin understood we would want some time to play first before the major event. So we spent our half-hour rather like time at the beach, wallowing in the sticky mud, which was black underneath, building mud castles, rolling in it and getting ourselves filthy. Mickey, of course, had to show off. He scooped up handfuls of mud and daubed them all over his penis and testicles. Then he strutted up and down among us, looking a weird sight with his white body and black genitals. Some boys laughed, others ignored him, depending on their opinion of him. I learned later that he had been strutting among boys from other tents, pulling his muddy penis and announcing in a silly way, “Hello, I’m a freak, my name’s Ernst.” But of course he didn’t dare do that anywhere near Ernst or myself. In the end, I heard, Kevin came over and told him to stop his pornography and either play like the rest of us or ship out. It was good to hear of one of the leaders prepared to tell the twins where to get off. Ernst and I played together for a while, but he still refused to talk about Maxi. We began digging a hole as deep as possible, and I must say Ernst looked a highly amusing sight, on his knees, bending right down to scrabble in the hole as it became deeper. Some of the other boys were in fits of giggles behind him, to see his testicles and large penis dangling down through his legs from the back, almost to his knees as he dug. One of them pretended he was going to reach through Ernst’s thighs and pull his penis, but of course he didn’t dare. Finally Kevin blew his whistle and called out, “The big battle starts in five minutes! So, when you’re ready, line up in your teams!” We were all ready for that now, so most of us left what we were doing immediately and took up our positions. We were ready and yelling insults at the opposition in fun in well under five minutes, so Kevin began the countdown ahead of time. “Three – two – one – ZERO!” On zero, we all flung our handfuls of mud, and kept on throwing. Almost immediately I was hit on the side by a large dollop of soft, sticky mud, but there were so many missiles flying through the air I couldn’t even tell where it came from or who did it, and I lost sight of many of my own missiles. The worst hits were those that hit you on the top of the head, because it stuck in your hair and would be very difficult to get out. I’ve no idea how long the fight lasted, but it was total mayhem and everybody got plastered in mud from head to foot, leaders as well. It was getting very difficult to recognise people. At one stage I thought it was Ernst standing next to me hurling mud at the enemy, and it was only when I turned to speak to him and saw that the muddy penis was altogether too short that I realised I had a case of mistaken identity. In the end the result was an exhausted draw. Both sides had their ‘wounded’, boys who were so tired, yet happy, that they withdrew to the sides to watch, still laughing and occasionally spitting out mud. There were two or three genuine wounded, including Mickey, who took a complete faceful of mud hurled at point-blank range by another boy who was so muddy I couldn’t recognise him. I couldn’t believe it was accidental. Mickey howled, and Lloyd had to come over and guide him off towards the stream, as his eyes and whole face were completed submerged in mud, with the only recognisable feature being an open red mouth whose volume was turned right up. I think Kevin realized we were getting weary as he finally blew a long blast on his whistle and declared his side the winners. There was no reason for saying so, as both sides had about ten warriors still throwing when they could summon up the energy, so he was only joking, and his announcement brought a fresh volley of mud from our team. But in the end we all sank to the ground, laughing, few of us recognisable and few of us with more than a few square centimetres of skin showing through the mud anywhere on our bodies. Kevin allowed us time to relax and relive the thrills of the morning, before finally ordering a retreat to the showers. First we washed off the worst of the mud in the stream, with the usual high degree of horseplay, and then we collected our clothes and began the march to the showers. Kevin and most of the others just wrapped their towels around their waists as we walked, but I didn’t even bother. The girls were far away, as I explained to the others, and in any case I was still too muddy to be recognised from any distance. Thus assured of anonymity, several other boys, with naughty grins, took off their towels and minced along happily naked in full public view – except that there was no public to view us there. Ernst was one of them, and I didn’t bother to point out that he was not quite as anonymous as the rest of us. It took a lot of hard work in the showers to get rid of the thick, sticky clay, and we were all astonishingly pink with scrubbing by the time we finally emerged for lunch. The girls had returned and were eager to know what we had been doing. They found us surprisingly cagey, as Kevin had asked us to try not to let anybody else know we had done it naked. But there were girls, of course, who had to ask what we were wearing in the mud, and they must have guessed the answer from the giggles and evasion they got in reply. Tessa still looked very disappointed. She had really been longing to play in the mud. “All we had was a long walk to look at flowers, and I had to stay with Lisa part of the way because I couldn’t walk that far,” she complained. “I really wish I could have had a mud fight with the boys.” I didn’t explain to her the real reason why girls had not been allowed to join us. Instead I sympathised, but then suddenly an idea sprang to mind. “Hey, Tessa, I know,” I suddenly said, dropping my voice to a whisper. “What about if – if we sneak out of our tents after lights out tonight and go over to the mud together? We can play in it together then. Can you do that?” Her face suddenly brightened. “Ooh, that would be lovely!” she exclaimed. “But what if we’re caught?” “We won’t be, if we can sneak out,” I told her. “I’m right next to the corner, so it’s easy for me. Can you do that?” Tessa shook her head, but then said, “I can just explain I’m going to the toilet.” It doesn’t take much reflection to realise that this was one of the most stupid ideas I’ve ever had in my life. I still wonder today how such an utterly stupid, totally impractical idea could have had such exciting consequences. I must have been born under a lucky star. I spent the rest of the day in a world of my own, thinking about, fantasising about what Tessa and I were going to do after lights out that night. I didn’t even work out the details or anticipate problems, I just thought of Tessa and myself, alone at last, together. She had said yes! Tessa did have a couple of details that she required answering, though. “What are we going to wear in the mud?” she asked at afternoon tea. “I – don’t know,” I answered, not willing to tell her what I hoped would be the truth and hoping she wouldn’t ask what I wore that morning before I was ready to tell her. “I’m just going to wear an old pair of panties,” she answered, quite unashamed to say so. “But how are we going to get clean afterwards?” “Well, we can wash the mud off in the stream,” I answered unconvincingly. “Or maybe we can go for a shower.” “We’d get caught then,” objected Tessa, but she didn’t sound too bothered about it. “How are we going to see in the dark?” was her next question. “I’ve got a torch.” “So have I,” I answered. “And the moon is about full.” In my eagerness I glossed over the fact that it would still be very hard to see, although I knew it very well. I just assumed we would find a way and that it would be worth it. Our conversation was interrupted by Kirsty, who came over smiling brightly and immediately launched into her most exciting topic of conversation. “Come on, Roy, tell us about Mickey,” she urged me. “Maxi keeps telling everybody his thing is so small you can hardly see it. But when we saw – him in the film, after having a bath, you – you could just see something waving up and down, and that must have been his thing.” She giggled. “I wish we could get the video, then we could pause it at the right place and see what it really looks like. But it seems larger there than what Maxi’s saying. Is she lying?” “It comes out all blurred,” I told her. “What does Maxi say about that?” “She just says – it isn’t proper on the film, it looks bigger than it really is,” answered Kirsty. At this point Tessa quietly disappeared, clearly quite uninterested in Mickey’s elusive penis. “But, Roy, you know what it looks like, you’ve seen it every day, haven’t you? Tell us the truth.” “You’ll have to ask him yourself,” I told her, deliberately teasing her, while at the same time unwilling to restore Mickey’s reputation. I turned away, trying to follow Tessa, but Kirsty grabbed me by the arm. “Come on, Roy, tell us the truth about Mickey’s thing,” she burst out. In her excitement she said it louder than she intended, and several boys around us heard, turned their heads and laughed. Then I heard Mickey’s shrill voice right next to us, demanding, “What’s that stupid talk about me?” Kirsty whipped round, saw Mickey standing there and gave a squeal. She dropped her empty cup, slapped her hands to her mouth and turned bright red. For the first time she had temporarily lost her voice. But Mickey was really angry. “I’m sick of all these lies about me,” he squeaked, his face also red as he let loose at Kirsty. “Maxi just tells lies, it’s all lies. Don’t listen to that little bitch.” Aware of a grinning audience, I put in, “Well, you started it by telling everybody she had no breasts. So she was just looking for revenge.” “Keep out of this,” he snapped at me. Then he suddenly seemed to change his mind because, without stopping to draw breath, he went on, “Come on, you tell her. My cock’s bigger than yours, isn’t it?” “Hey, come on, you lot, stop that,” came Kevin’s quiet but firm voice. “What’s the problem?” He wandered over towards us, so the spectators quickly and quietly faded away. Almost without knowing it, we found ourselves separated, Mickey slipping away in one direction, Kirsty disappearing in another, while I headed for the area where I had last seen Tessa. I found her by the table and began chatting to her again. We both wanted to talk about our expedition that night, but didn’t want others to hear, so we slipped away towards the side. Perhaps this was a mistake, as Kirsty quickly found us again. She was very giggly. “Ooh, Roy, I didn’t know Mickey could hear us,” she sniggered. “He’s so cross. Please, you must ask him to show us his – his thing.” Mickey had presumably been watching to see if we would come together again, as he sidled up next to Kirsty, causing her to squeal and blush as she had done before. But I don’t think he had heard what she was saying, though he could guess. “Are you gossiping about me again?” he hissed in his squeaky voice, taking care not to draw attention to himself. “Just cut it out.” “It’s just – Maxi . . .” began Kirsty, and then dried up. “I told you, don’t listen to that bitch,” Mickey told her nastily. “Come on, Roy, you can tell her, my cock isn’t at all tiny. It’s just a nasty little lie. It’s bigger than most boys’.” Hands over her mouth, Kirsty almost had a giggling fit, so embarrassed was she. “Tell her, Roy,” demanded Mickey angrily. I wasn’t going to give him any support. “Look, if you want her to know, you show her yourself,” I told him. “You know I can’t do that, there’s nowhere we can go in private,” Mickey retorted crossly. “Yes, there is, there’s a little cave near the rocks,” suddenly put in Kirsty, very eagerly. “We can go there. I’ve been there before – with – with Roy.” I groaned, and wished I could have thrown something at her. It was our secret place, which we had agreed not to reveal to anybody else, and here was Kirsty, blurting it out to Mickey of all people. “All right, we’ll go there, then,” said Mickey aggressively. “And I’ll just show you, then you can tell all the girls that Maxi’s a liar. Let’s go now, it’s free time coming up.” Kirsty flushed and her eyes lit up as she beamed with excitement. I guessed at that moment that I was a poor substitute for Mickey, although she was happy enough to use me when the film star was unavailable. She nodded vigorously and then turned to me. “Come, Roy, let’s take Mickey,” she said excitedly. “Hey, he’s not coming,” objected Mickey. “We just do it together, right? Let’s go, everybody’s moving off now.” “Oh, I – I want Roy to come,” blurted out Kirsty, suddenly flustered. “He – he’s used to it. Come on, Mickey, let Roy come as well.” I wondered why Kirsty was so eager to have me along with her, when her real interest was clearly only in Mickey. Looking back nowadays, I suppose it was just the usual need for girls to do things and go places in pairs, and since Susan wasn’t much in evidence these days – frightened off, I suspect, by being persuaded to reveal herself that first time – I was the best, the only, available substitute. I suppose I should have been honoured to have her look to me for security, even though I was a boy. Mickey didn’t like the idea, and I suppose if he had pushed hard enough he would have persuaded her to do it alone with him. Perhaps he was just keen to get the event over with, or perhaps he really thought Kirsty wouldn’t agree without having me there. Possibly he was looking forward to proving that his penis was longer than mine. However, after one effort to change her mind, he said ungraciously, “Oh, all right then, if you need Roy to hold your hand.” Kirsty clasped her hands under her chin and gave a squeal of delight with a big smile. “Ooh, let’s do it then, quickly!” she exclaimed, as if afraid that this was a final offer that would expire in five minutes’ time. “Mickey, Roy and I will go first and you watch us, and then you can follow us.” “All right, get on with it,” shrugged Mickey, displaying none of the brilliant charm that he had shown in his film. In fact, we only saw that on camp when he was trying to impress the girls or the leaders. He could certainly turn it on very convincingly when he wanted to, but the rest of us kids soon discovered what he was really like. Kirsty grabbed me by the arm, as if I were indeed a girl, and we headed off in the direction of the rocks. As soon as we were out of Mickey’s hearing, I told her off for giving away our secret cave. “It doesn’t matter,” she shrugged it off. “Now Mickey knows, he can come with us every time we go.” I suspected from her tone of voice, though, that she was preparing to dump me if she found Mickey agreeable and ‘safe’. “I don’t want him with us every time,” I protested. “He’s a real creep and he hates both Ernst and me.” “But he’s so cute,” sighed Kirsty, as if that were all that mattered. “He – he’s famous, and – and he wants me to see his thing!” I sighed and didn’t try to argue with her. We went up to the cave, Kirsty looked back to check that Mickey was watching us, and then we slipped inside. For the first day or so of camp, Mickey had been followed everywhere he went by adoring girls, and such a meeting would not have been possible then. Nobody was following him now. I suddenly realised how much he must be missing the adulation, and now Maxi’s rumours about the size of his penis, though it was his own fault, were a further blow to his ego. He was presumably desperate to win back a bit of respect. I had to remind myself that he had only himself to blame, or I might even have started feeling sorry for him. A minute or so later Mickey came slithering into the cave, legs first, bright blue underpants visible for a moment up the loose legs of his shorts. “Gee, I didn’t know there was a cave here,” he said. Kirsty stood there and giggled, while Mickey seemed to be waiting for her to take the initiative. So I said rather bluntly, “Come on, Mickey, take your shorts off.” “But I – it’s got to be fair,” he blurted out, as if he had suddenly thought of it. “We’ve both got to do it. If I show you, then you must show me your pussy as well.” Kirsty gave a squeal and a giggle, and then went red again as she nodded. Then, for some reason best known to herself, she said, “Roy, you must do it first, so Mickey will – will know I’ll do it too.” “Yes, then she can see that my cock’s bigger than yours,” Mickey sneered provocatively. “I don’t mind,” I shrugged. I might as well go the whole hog. I stripped off my shirt, and then slipped out of my shorts and underpants so that I stood there naked. I’m sure Mickey know from Kirsty’s lack of anticipation that she had seen my penis before. Mickey grinned, and some of his old arrogance came back. “My turn now,” he told Kirsty authoritatively. “Turn round and I’ll tell you when you can look.” Kirsty giggled, put her hands over her eyes and turned round. Quickly Mickey turned his back on me and crouched over, hands round his front. It took no great brains to figure out that he was pumping his penis, to try to make it look a little bigger when Kirsty saw it. “Are you ready yet?” came Kirsty’s rather tremulous voice after about five seconds. “Nearly,” said Mickey, still working hard. Then he said, “You can look now.” Kirsty turned round and stared, mouth open and cheeks burning under her flat palms. Mickey was facing her, holding his penis out from the leg of his shorts. He had worked it up in that short time so it was a little stiffer and thrust forward a little, but it wasn’t obvious what he had been doing unless you had seen him doing it. The little bulge at the end and the spout of surplus flesh were clearly visible. When Mickey showed off, he always made a meal of it. “Kirsty, you are the first girl in the camp to see the cock that will one day be world-famous,” he squeaked in his high-pitched voice. “This is the cock that girls will die for, all at your service. Now tell me, is this the tiny little thing that Maxi was lying to you about?” Kirsty gave a squeal, giggling and sagging at the knees. “Ooh, no, it’s bigger than Roy’s,” came the smothered words from beneath her fingers. “It – it’s quite big. I didn’t think – but it’s not as big as Ernst’s. You should see Ernst’s thing – it’s gi-normous!” “I’ve seen it and it’s a freak, a monstrosity,” sneered Mickey. “But my cock is immortal. And it’s all at your service.” He was still standing there with it thrust out of his shorts, while I was still naked. It was only some time later that I wondered if he preferred that method of display to full nudity so as to hide the fact that he had no pubic hair. “I want to – may I – touch it?” asked Kirsty, with great daring, pointing a trembling finger towards it. “If it’s – at my service.” “Only when you’ve shown me yours,” said Mickey firmly. “We agreed.” Kirsty’s hands went up to her face again and she gave a little squeal. Then she moved her hands down, to reveal her blushing face, and whispered a giggly, “All right.” She lifted her skirt, revealing that her embroidered panties were a very pale egg-shell blue today, and pulled aside the material rather clumsily. Her by now familiar vagina, with its little lining of pubic hair, came into view. Mickey’s greedy blue eyes stared at it as he bent over for a closer look, with a lascivious smile around his mouth. His penis was now safely back home. “Mmm – nice panties, nice hairstyle,” he approved. Kirsty gave a giggle and dropped her skirt again, removing her fingers. “Now you must let me touch your – your thing,” she told him. Mickey looked at her calculatingly. “So now you can tell all the girls that Maxi’s a liar,” he challenged her. “And I’ve got a big one.” She giggled and nodded. Mickey duly pulled out his penis again, though by now it was a little shorter and more floppy than on its previous appearance. Kirsty gave a giggle and then prodded it with her finger, making it bounce slightly. “Ooh,” she commented profoundly. “You can make it stiff if you want,” Mickey offered, no doubt eager for the chance to display a larger model. “How do I do that?” Kirsty wanted to know. “I thought you’d have done that with your boyfriend,” sneered Mickey, indicating me. “You just – pull it a bit and squeeze it a bit and rub it a bit, and it starts going hard.” He pulled back his foreskin for a moment, showing her his little purple prepuce, and then slid it back again. “All right,” agreed Kirsty gingerly. She took hold of the end of Mickey’s penis, just behind the bulge of his prepuce, and pulled it nervously. “Ooh, it’s like elastic,” she observed. She let go, and then took it by the middle and shook it. Mickey’s penis began to respond, and she giggled. As she kept prodding and pulling it, it began to swell, and in next to no time it was long and hard and pointing towards the big rock above. Kirsty suddenly let go and took a step backwards, as if afraid of what she had done. Her hands went to their familiar position, covering the bottom part of her face. “Now let me show you what my cock cam do with your pussy,” grinned Mickey. I couldn’t believe he really intended to try to have sex with Kirsty there in front of me. I think it was more likely that he was just trying to show off and might have got close, perhaps rubbed his penis against her vagina, just to do something that I hadn’t done with her. But Kirsty didn’t give him chance. “That’s – fine for today,” she blurted out, sounding scared. “Next time, maybe. Thank – thanks, Mickey.” Pushing past us both, she hustled over to the entrance and scrambled through it. She had not even got outside when Mickey turned on me, his face scarlet. “It’s all your fault, you bloody fool,” he screeched at me, taking me by surprise. “Why the hell couldn’t you just tell everybody yourself that my cock was big? Now I’ve had to – to go through all this of showing a stupid girl my cock and I wouldn’t have had to if you’d told the truth about me!” “What do you mean, it’s my fault?” I argued, startled by his treachery. “It’s not my business what Maxi says about you. It’s your fault for telling everybody she has no breasts anyway. And you seemed to be having a very good time there with Kirsty.” “Of course I wasn’t!” he shrieked, his shrill voice almost hurting my eardrums. “Do you think I’d do this if I didn’t have to?” He continued to hurl invective at me until I clenched my fists and stepped forward, ready to hit him. He suddenly looked scared for a second and stepped back hurriedly. But as soon as I lowered my fists and headed for the entrance, he started shouting invective at me again. I had been pretending, of course, sure he was easy to scare. I scrambled out angrily, and was surprised to find Kirsty right there waiting for me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She could hardly have missed hearing Mickey yelling at me, and what female gossip would ever tear herself away from such a scene without waiting until the end? Kirsty was looking shocked. “He’s so rude!” she exclaimed in horror. “And he called me stupid!” “Well, now you know what kind of a creep he is,” I told her grimly. In the heat of the moment I came out with a very mean plan. “Kirsty, don’t tell anybody he’s got a big penis now. You can tell them you saw it and it’s just as small as Maxi says it is.” She gave a giggle and nodded her head. “It’ll serve him right,” she agreed. She linked arms with me again as if I were a girl. “I’m glad you were in there with me, Roy,” she confided. Then she turned her head and looked at me with big, awe-filled eyes. “But Roy, I – I saw his thing. I really did, I saw his thing! And he’s famous!” She could hardly have been more captivated if she had seen an alien’s penis. Miss Tate had actually banned us from going to the mud that afternoon, because of the likelihood of getting covered with it again. So Kirsty led me towards a shady little copse where the less energetic girls liked to sit and talk during the hot afternoons. On the way I was already feeling guilty about my suggestion to Kirsty, but I felt too insulted to go back on it. No sooner had we arrived than Kirsty spotted Susan, dropped me like a hot brick and went trotting over to her. She sat down next to her, giving a brief and colourful exposition of her panties as she did so, and whispered excitedly into her ear for about ten seconds. Susan gave her slow grin and giggled. They whispered together for about ten seconds, and then Kirsty leapt up revealingly and found another girl to whisper to. I just stood there, the only boy in the area, feeling like a spare part. At this point the whistle went for the beginning of games. We played baseball against the Falcons, and again lost by only a small margin. Kirsty had to play this time, with Tessa also insisting on playing, but Kirsty found plenty of time to move around whispering and giggling to all the other girls there. The reckoning finally came at suppertime. I lined up with my plate for the main course, while Kirsty caught up with me and stood behind me. She was chattering away in her usual style when I spotted Mickey approaching us, looking absolutely furious. He ignored me at first and rounded on Kirsty. “The girls are all saying you’re telling them I have a tiny cock like Maxi says,” he accused her, his voice more squeaky than ever and his eyes flashing with rage. “What the hell are you saying about me?” Kirsty flushed and shrivelled up immediately. “It wasn’t me – I mean, I didn’t – it was Roy who told me to,” she protested, taking the coward’s way out. Mickey looked aghast and stared at me. I didn’t get a chance to defend myself. “I might have known it was *you*,” he screamed at me, swinging his fist. I just saw it coming and moved my head, so he caught me a glancing blow on the forehead. But he was obviously no boxer and his round-arm swing gave me time to move and probably wouldn’t have hurt me much anyway. He was on to me immediately, beating at my shoulders with his feeble little fists. He was smaller than I, and I had little trouble in slapping my fist on to his shoulder and pushing down hard as he came at me again, sidestepping as I did so. I was amazed at how easily he staggered past me and then went down flat on his face in the dust. He rolled over, turned his face to the sky and let loose an enormous howl. In the shock of the moment there was dead silence for about two seconds. On the stroke of two, Mickey caught his breath and howled again, long and loud. On the stroke of four, there was a burst of loud female laughter from nearby. Glancing over, I saw Maxi standing there, mouth wide with delight and spouting forth her hilarity. On the stroke of five, the leaders were on the scene. Kevin took charge. Before I had time to draw breath, I was marched off over to one side, while Lisa picked up Mickey and, on instruction from Kevin, led him after us, still howling but less loudly. Kevin demanded an explanation. “He was hitting me,” I explained. “He started it, you can ask Kirsty because she saw it all.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I realised that Kirsty might not prove a very reliable witness. “I didn’t hit him, I didn’t want to do that, but I gave him a push to keep him away and he fell over.” “Why was he hitting you, then?” demanded Kevin. “He told Kirsty to tell everybody I had a small cock, and it’s not true!” sobbed out Mickey, loudly and angrily. There was a round of sniggering behind us, and Kevin waved away a host of disappointed non-paying spectators who wanted to be where the action was. Then he called out, “Where’s Kirsty? Kirsty, come here.” White-faced, Kirsty obeyed. Kevin quickly took her to one side to hear what she had to say. From what ensued, I gather that he got a very garbled story about the reason for the fight, if you could call it that, but she was adamant that Mickey had started it. After a bit more investigation, it was my turn again. Kevin told me basically that he had heard a lot of silly talk among the children about penis size, it was rude, and there was to be no more about it. I got a real telling-off and a stern warning about spreading nasty stories, or being responsible for the spreading of them, which I suppose I deserved. Then I was sent back to humanity feeling pretty subdued. Mickey presumably got it worse than I did, as he didn’t appear again until bedtime. Kevin fortunately seemed fully aware by now of Mickey’s true nature. Mickey was nothing if not resilient, though, and when he did appear at bedtime he was as cocky as ever, as if nothing had happened. After all, he had an image to live up to – now and again. I hated this distraction, as I was trying to concentrate on my planned evening with Tessa. I was tempted at one stage to cancel it, aware that I had just been in trouble once and it would be all the worse for me if I were caught breaking bounds on the same day. But the thought and sight of that sweet little Tessa were too much for me, and I told myself I couldn’t take the coward’s way out. Besides, I couldn’t disappoint Tessa, who was so eager to play in that mud . . . It seemed an age as I waited in our tent after the evening entertainment, impatiently, yet desperately hiding my impatience, for lights out. Finally we were all in bed and Lloyd switched off the lamp. Heart thumping, I waited quietly. After about five minutes, Lloyd quietly rose and sneaked off to his evening rendezvous. There was a sleepy giggle from Mickey and I heard his comment, “Old Lloyd’s gone off for his evening poke.” After another five minutes or so I heard several different sets of steady breathing around me, but I couldn’t be sure everybody was asleep. I especially needed Mickey to be asleep, because he would be the one most likely to say or do something if he knew I was sneaking off. I decided I would use Tessa’s excuse of going to the toilet, but I would rather be unobserved. I could wait no longer. Slowly I eased myself out of my bed. Earlier that evening I had secretly uprooted the tent peg by the corner so I had room to sneak out. Very slowly and carefully I began to worm my way through, stopping to listen several times. There was no change in the noises inside the tent. Finally I found myself in the cooler air outside, with everything still silent around me. I could hear voices and giggling from Tent Four next door, but that didn’t affect me and the lights were out everywhere. I skirted the area of the tents and made for the big rock not far from the dining area where I had arranged to meet Tessa. I tiptoed towards it, looking around cautiously although I was out of sight of the tents. Somebody might be sneaking around in the dark. We had arranged to meet round the far side, which was further out of view. I was just tiptoeing round there, wondering if she was there yet, when I heard a muffled voice and a giggle from round there. I froze, and listened hard. I could hear a voice again, a fairly deep voice, and I suddenly recognised it as belonging to Lloyd. Then there was a female voice answering, undoubtedly Tara. So this was where they met, and I had almost walked into them! I was just wondering what to do when a dark shadow suddenly appeared on my left and something touched me on the arm. I gave a gasp and almost jumped out of my skin. Then I could just make out Tessa’s face in the moonlight. She giggled to see she had startled me. “Come,” she breathed. She led me away in the direction of the stream. As we left the camp area, she gave a quiet chuckle and whispered, “That’s Lloyd and Tara there. I nearly walked into them, and so did you.” My heart was pounding fit to burst with the excitement of this adventure with Tessa now. We made our way with difficulty towards the stream, almost losing our way in the unfamiliar dark, bright though the moon was. We kept putting our feet on stones that we would have avoided in daylight, and once or twice Tessa gave a gasp of pain as her ankle must have hurt her. It was more difficult still as we approached the rocky banks of the stream and had to make our way down the narrow path to the mud area. “Oh, no,” Tessa suddenly exclaimed just behind me. “I’ve forgotten to bring my old panties to play in.” “It doesn’t matter,” I told her, heart in my mouth with hope. “I’m just going to go in with nothing on, like we did this morning.” “But we’ll be – naked,” objected Tessa mildly, in a tone more of puzzlement than anything else. “It doesn’t matter,” I told her again. “Nobody will see us in the dark.” “All right,” she agreed readily enough, surprising me a little by her lack of concern, and causing excitement to flood back into my loins. But there was a disappointment awaiting us. In the moonlight I could just see a dark open area where the mud was. But when I knelt down to feel it, I discovered it had dried in the sun. It was quite hard on top, with a dry cracked crust. “Oh, no, it’s dried up,” I exclaimed in dismay. Tessa too gave a groan of dismay. “That’s not fair,” she moaned, sounding most upset to be robbed of her opportunity for the second time that day. She bent down and hammered the dry clay in frustration with her fists. Then she pulled off a lump. “It’s – a bit wetter underneath,” she said. It was, too, though perhaps it was more sticky than wet, and it also felt quite warm still. I didn’t want to give up, and certainly she didn’t. “Let’s try it,” I hissed. “Let’s put our clothes on this rock.” I was just wearing shorts, while Tessa was wearing pyjamas. Without any giggling, delay or any sign of embarrassment that I could notice, Tessa began to pull off her pyjama top. It took me only two seconds to slip my shorts off and stand there naked. I didn’t want to stand there watching her – or rather, to have her think that was what I was doing – so I turned round and made my way across the mud flats. It was indeed hard on top and sticky underneath. I tried to find my way to the area that had been wettest that morning, a shallow depression, and found as I had hoped that was a bit better. There was still some water underneath the crust, but not very much. I looked down at myself, to see my penis strange and white in the moonlight. Tessa was making her way towards me, naked but apparently uninhibited, but the area between her legs was all in shadow. I picked up a handful of thick clay as she approached, laughing at her and pretending I was going to throw it. She kept coming, and then jumped at me. I swung my hands round and slapped the sticky clay on her back, smearing it downwards. She laughed in delight and pushed me. I staggered, and she bent down and grabbed my leg. As she pulled, I slipped over backwards and sat down in the warm, sticky hole I had just dug. Tessa was on top of me, laughing, grabbing handfuls of clay and smearing them on to my chest and my side. Some got on my penis by accident. I fought back, rolling her over and laying her on her back in the mud. Still I couldn’t see the precious area between her legs in the pale, shadowy light, but I smeared her with mud. We stood up and threw mud at each other, trying to keep our laughter quiet. Tessa threw quite hard at me, not always accurately, while I tried too hard I think to be gentle with her, desperate not to hurt her. But it wasn’t really as much fun as it sounds, as the clay was a bit too hard and too dry. The best of it had gone. Still, we enjoyed ourselves for quite a while before we finally sat down, facing each other and laughing. The clay was sticking all over our hands and most of our bodies were smeared with it. We moved closer together and talked, getting to know each other, every now and again stopping to scoop out some clay and daub it on the other. “I wish I could see what I looked like,” laughed Tessa after a while. “So do I,” I agreed, only realising a moment later what I had said, but Tessa didn’t seem to think anything of it. “I mean, we must both look so funny. Let’s go up to the showers and see if we can take showers. Then we can see what we look like.” “I hope there’s nobody there at this time,” Tessa agreed. “But we need to get really clean, or people will know where we’ve been tomorrow morning and we’ll get into trouble.” We got to our feet and made our way over to the stream, our footsteps heavy in the newly unearthed clay. We found a flat area where the water ran slowly and rolled in it, getting as much dirt off as possible. I leaned down and grabbed Tessa as she rolled, tickling her. She laughed, and attacked me. The two of us rolled together in the water, our naked bodies pressed against each other, Tessa’s body still warm and soft and slippery as it pressed against my chest, my side, my thighs, even my loins. I felt a warmth of excitement in my loins as if I was ready to burst. Finally we lay there with the cool water flowing over us, panting for breath. Tessa was lying sprawled almost on top of me, her wet slippery skin pressed against my chest, one arm across my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around her as best I could, one arm over her back and the other resting on her bare bottom. I hadn’t meant to put it there, but she didn’t object at all, so I let it stay. The moon was almost dazzling as it shone down on us, and the only sound was our panting breath and the gurgling of the stream. I think we could almost have gone to sleep there. But finally Tessa gave a sigh, stretched herself and clambered slowly to her feet. “I’m sure we’re still dirty and need the showers,” she said. “Oh, no! We forgot to bring towels. And soap!” No, it certainly hadn’t been a very practical idea on my part. I had been so wrapped up in my romantic ideas that I had never given the practical aspects a thought. Still, we were stuck with the situation now and had to do the best we could with it. Feeling more exposed now we were naked, we moved carefully up among the rocks, up the stream, and then headed for the showers. It was easy to see because the building was the only place, apart from lights in the dining area and near the toilet holes, where the electric lights were left on all night. We scuttled among the trees, and as we drew nearer the lighted building we became more nervous, aware that if anybody was around at this time, they might see us against the light. “Shall we shower together?” I whispered hopefully. “If you like,” Tessa answered without hesitation. “Let’s do it in the girls’ side. There’s a bolt on the door we can pull so nobody can come in.” I didn’t know if the boys’ side had a bolt as well, but I was happy enough. My big fear had been that somebody would come, even at that time of night, and catch us, and there would be nothing we could do to stop them. When we drew close to the girls’ side, I suggested we crawl along the ground to get inside so our shadows wouldn’t be visible. The rain had settled the dust, but in any case we were dirty enough anyway. The open door stood at the other side of a little clearing about ten metres away. We would have to cross that, exposed by the light shining through it. As we were entering the girls’ side, Tessa went first, and I saw her little dirty bottom from behind as she scrambled her way, as low as she could go, across the last ten metres and in at the entrance. If the light had been outside rather than inside the building, I would have had a view to remember. Heart in my mouth, I scrambled after her. The inside of the girls’ toilets was similar to the boys’, except of course there were no urinals. The showers were lined up along one side. We stopped and looked at each other inside, and I’m sure with Tessa it wasn’t to view me naked but to see how dirty I was. Tessa had greyish-black stains all over her body, especially her face. Downstairs I could just see the indentation of her vagina, but she was still very muddy down there. My penis was also almost unrecognisable under the remains of the mud. Even the flowing stream had not washed off the evidence. We looked at each other and laughed. “Look, there’s some soap!” exclaimed Tessa, picking up a large bar that presumably one of the girls had left behind. “We can get clean now!” “We’d better bolt the door first,” I suggested, nervous of being caught by any girl who decided she needed to defecate late at night. I examined the door quickly. There was indeed a rusty old bolt on the inside. I swung the door shut and then tried to fix the bolt. But it was not properly opposite the old socket and I couldn’t force it home. Tessa came to help me and we heaved together, but in vain. Then suddenly I stopped. I heard a female laugh not far away. We froze. Somebody was coming – and since sane people don’t generally laugh alone, we could expect at least two visitors. (To be continued) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 6) “Quick! We must get out!” I exclaimed. I didn’t know who was coming, but this was the only place they could come to, it could only be somebody from camp, and since it was female laughter it was logical to assume they would be coming to the female ablutions – where Tessa and I were. She at least was in the right place, even if at a dubious time and very dirty, whereas my presence in the female ablutions would not be so easily explained, even if I were clothed and clean. A mistake in the dark, perhaps? Unlikely. I felt too guilty to risk trying it on. The walls were high, but there were gaps at the top. I might just be able to scale a wall and scramble over, but it would be risky. Tessa certainly couldn’t with her sore ankle and I couldn’t leave her in the lurch. Then the obvious idea came to me. I could lock myself in a toilet cubicle. “Roy, in the toilets!” hissed Tessa urgently, clearly having the same idea. She nipped inside a toilet cubicle down the far end and stood there with her face around the door, urging me to do the same. I heard more laughter outside and also the sound of a male voice. Immediately I guessed who it was likely to be, as I shot into the cubicle next to Tessa, shut the door behind me and bolted it. Sure enough, it was Lloyd and Tara, talking and laughing as they visited the ablutions. In a moment I could make out the words they were using. “No, Lloyd, I said no,” came Tara’s voice rather anxiously from just outside. “Maybe someday, but not yet, not at camp. If somebody finds out, we’ll be in a hell of a lot of trouble, and Linda’s coming up as soon as she’s got her towel. Now go on, you shower in the boys’ side and I’ll see you afterwards. Go on, I need the loo or I’m going to burst!” I heard some grumbles from Lloyd and the two apparently parted. I heard Tara push the door open and call out, “Hello, anybody here?” Perhaps finding the door unusually shut had made her suspect there was somebody there already. My heart was in my mouth, because if she checked the cubicles and found two of them locked, we might have a problem. But girls who are going to burst aren’t concerned about that. I heard a cubicle near the door slam, a quick slither of textile material coming off, and the sudden splashing of urine in a toilet bowl, accompanied by a heartfelt sigh of relief. When the splashing stopped, there was a tearing of toilet paper and then the flush. The door banged open, and at the same time there was the noise of somebody arriving. There were too little “Oohs,” perhaps from two girls who had almost collided, and then came Linda’s voice, “Oh, it’s you, Tara, you startled me.” At the same moment came the distant splashing of water turned on in the boys’ section. Lloyd was presumably taking a shower. I felt amazed that anybody, even a leader, could take two showers in one day – or, on this particular day, three. I knelt down on the toilet floor to look at what was happening under the small gap at the bottom. I did not dare go right down to ground level in case they should look in my direction and see me watching them from the floor. At first I just saw the bottom part of the two girl leaders, from the thighs downwards. I was too scared of being seen to look further up. The showers were along the wall to the right of my cubicle. I saw the legs and skirt hem of one girl step over to a shower in the middle. The skirt went up a little, almost but not quite to her bottom. A moment later water came cascading down. The legs stood there for perhaps 20 seconds. I guessed it was Linda, recognising her skirt, and she had reached upwards to turn on the taps for a shower and was then checking the water to adjust the temperature. The other pair of legs joined her at the next shower head, closer to us, and the same thing happened, only this time first the owner bent down to straighten the wooden frame that covered the floor under the shower. I was just in time to catch a sight of Tara’s white cotton panties at the back before she straightened up again and turned on the water. With that sight came the anticipation of what would be happening in the next few minutes. I felt a tingling in my penis and my bladder suddenly felt very tight. I clutched my penis just before I wet myself – or rather wet the floor, since I was still naked and carrying my shorts with me. The two pairs of legs left the showers running and walked down to the benches on the opposite wall. As I watched, both turned round, bottoms sat on the benches almost simultaneously, and a foot was raised on to the bench. Hands went down to remove shoes and socks, and I had a clear view of two pairs of white panties, Linda’s looking the frillier of the two. Confident in the knowledge that no male eyes could possibly see them inside the girls’ shower area, they took no trouble at all to guard their panties from view. Shoes and socks removed, the legs stood up. I could restrain myself no longer. I had to risk being seen. Moving my head back a little to lessen the chances of my being spotted, I pressed it down against the floor so I could see both girls from head to foot. At that age I didn’t realise that as long as I kept my head out of direct light, the dark shadow under the door would make it virtually impossible for anybody outside to see my face even if they were looking very carefully. It was pitch dark inside the cubicle, so I was safer than I thought. I stared, terrified that the girls would look this way and see me, ready to jerk my head back immediately if they should look in my direction. Tara was wearing a dress, so her hands went up to her neck to undo her buttons. Linda was wearing a skirt and blouse. She slipped off her blouse, revealing a swollen frilly white bra hanging down her front, and then began to slip off her skirt. She stood there for a moment in her frilly white underwear and then began to remove that as well. I panted for breath. In the meantime Tara was stepping out of her dress, showing again her plain white panties with a smaller bra above. The bras came off, and then both slipped out of their panties. They were chatting to each other all the time as they did so, and everything happened so fast I couldn’t take it all in. I wished I could use a slow-motion replay to celebrate that first view, but I was to have plenty of time to savour the pleasures just unwittingly revealed to me. It was too much for my eyes to take in as they walked over to the showers, facing me as they did so. I just had an overall view of breasts and public hair, and it all happened too quickly and overwhelmingly for me to concentrate on any detail. They stepped into the showers, still chatting away, but the noise of the water drowned out their actual words. If this had happened at the naturist club, I would scarcely have noticed their bodies, apart from a brief, fairly cold scientific appraisal of what was on offer. But this was a different world, a textile world, and here were two teenage girls who always kept themselves well covered and whom I had never seriously expected to see naked at all. Suddenly I was here in the right place at the right time, and what had until now been forbidden and unimaginable was happening right in front of my eyes. It was almost too exciting to bear, and I clutched my penis desperately as I crouched on the floor, feeling I was about to burst with excitement. As the two girls faced each other and chatted in the showers, Tara had her back to me, displaying a white bottom and bikini lines. I realised that, from the conversation outside, this was something even Lloyd had probably not seen yet. Linda was facing me. As the boys in camp with an interest in that sort of thing had already noticed, she had the largest breasts of the four girl leaders. They hung down a little like two large white melons, and wobbled as she moved. I watched in fascination as she washed them, and they bounced all over the place. She had a large bush of light brown pubic hair further down, which covered her vagina. I was impatient to see Tara in similar detail, but I had to wait until they had finished showering, as she had her back to me most of the time, although I did get occasion glimpses from the side. And at one stage Tara spread her legs to wash under her crotch and then, legs still apart, bent a little to wash down her thighs. Between her legs I could see just a little tuft of darker brown pubic hair as she bent. Finally the girls finished their showers, turned them off and walked back to the benches. They picked up their towels and began to dry themselves, facing in my direction most of the time as they continued to chat. With the water off, I could now hear what they were saying, but I was so fascinated by the scenery I can’t remember anything of their conversation. Tara had smaller breasts than Linda, rather pointed, and the dark brown pubic hair I had glimpsed earlier. There was a slightly darker line down the middle where her vagina was. I stared in awe as she squatted slightly to dry herself between her legs, rubbing up and down vigorously at her pubic hair to make sure that was dry. My only regret was that it was not Wendy. She was my favourite, and I really wished she had been there as well. Do I have a lucky star? Tara and Linda were just beginning to dress after drying themselves when I heard more voices outside. The door was pushed open, and in walked Lisa and Wendy. My heart suddenly felt fit to burst out of my chest. Could it be – were these two now coming for showers as well? As the door opened, Tara and Linda quickly backed away towards the corner, aware that they could be seen from outside with the light on. Laughing, they grabbed their towels to cover their half-dressed bodies. “Ha, caught you in your knickers!” laughed Lisa as she came in with Wendy close behind. “We’ve got all the campers out there to watch you two!” “At least we’ve got good quality panties to show them,” smiled Tara in return, dropping her towel as Wendy closed the door. “Not those raggedy old things you wear, Lisa.” “Do you really think I’m going to waste my best designer panties at a scruffy camp like this?” laughed Lisa in return. “Come on, let’s have a look at them,” grinned Linda, reaching out a hand and pulling up Lisa’s skirt. I just had a quick glimpse of something white before Lisa, squealing and laughing, pulled away and minced around the room holding her skirt tightly around her thighs. “Hey, do you remember those silly games we used to play at junior school, pulling up each others’ dresses?” laughed Tara, slipping her dress on over her head. “That was so naughty, but it was fun!” “And do you remember that time old Miss Disbury was looking out of her study window and saw us?” giggled Linda. She put on an affected pose and a old, stern voice. “Girls, I would have you know that is most unladylike behaviour, and it is hardly appropriate for my school. You will in future treat each other with greater respect.” “If you do it again, I will confiscate your dresses,” added Lisa in a similar tone, and they all shrieked with laughter. “Oh, she didn’t say *that*!” exclaimed Tara, still laughing. “And the moment we left her office, we did it again – like this!” She shot out a hand and lifted Wendy’s skirt at the back, showing the entire rear of Wendy’s white panties. Wendy squealed, startled, and pulled it down again. Laughing, Linda pulled up Lisa’s skirt again, and I had a better view this time of off-white panties, before Lisa turned back and returned the compliment. For a few seconds the four of them were little girls again, lifting each other’s skirts and squealing with laughter. But they were older now, and I had only just started believing my eyes when they collapsed together on the benches, laughing helplessly. “Oh, if the kids could see us now,” cackled Linda, slapping her knees in hilarity. “They’d think we were crazy! Imagine their little eyes goggling as they stare at Lisa’s panties, wondering if they’re going to fall to pieces at any moment.” “Well, we don’t go round showing the kids,” Lisa reminded her with a smile. “Except for dear Wendy here. Hey, Wendy, didn’t your mother ever tell you to sit like a lady? I saw you sitting there during the bedtime story with your knees up and your arms around them, and your little panties sticking out at the bottom. If I saw them, others must have seen them, too.” Yes, including Roy. But I didn’t want Wendy frightened off. Wendy was smiling, but her cheeks were red. “It doesn’t matter,” she shrugged, embarrassed. “I bet you forget as well sometimes.” “You are the most forgetful of us, Wendy,” chimed in Linda. “Remember Miss Disbury – “ (she put on a bossy adult voice again) “‘Sit like a lady, my girl.’ And the moment she disappears, what do we do? Pthttt!” She pulled a raspberry, spread her legs wide and lifted her knees high, giving me a full view of the gusset of her panties, and the four girls all collapsed into helpless giggles. The subject changed, and they chatted for another couple of minutes. Then Linda and Tara stood up and took their leave. “Enjoy your shower, girls,” Linda wished them as they opened the door and walked out. “And if I see little Mickey wandering around, I’ll send him up your way.” “No, thanks,” laughed Wendy, backed up by Lisa. She went over to the showers the other two had just vacated, and turned on the nearer one to her – which was the further one to me. Anticipating what was coming, my penis spurted before I could grab it. I crouched there on the floor, clutching it tightly in my fist, while Wendy reached up to turn on the shower. Lisa joined her, turning on the one nearer to me. I just couldn’t contain my impatience as they stood there testing the water before doing any more, and I groaned aloud. It can only have taken about five seconds as the first two had warmed them up already, but it seemed like an eternity to me. I was utterly desperate to see that gorgeous laughing blonde Wendy undressing for her shower. It was hard controlling the noise of my breathing as the girls, chatting away as girls always seem to, left the showers running and returned to the benches. They sat down to remove their shoes and socks, again believing they were unobserved and so taking no trouble to hide their panties. Then came the vital moment as they stood and began to unbutton their dresses. Lisa was the quicker of the two, and she slithered out of her dress, showing a very utilitarian bra underneath, together with those old panties the girls had laughed at, both an off-white colour. She was peeling them off as Wendy was still removing her dress, which also had a fiddly button to undo at the back by her neck. I just remember a blur of white body and black pubic hair as Lisa walked over to the toilet first, as my eyes were straining at Wendy, cursing the button at the back which must have taken five more unending seconds for her to undo. Then finally she managed to slip her dress off. I had caught an occasional glimpse of a bra strap before, and twice the inside of her bra under her armpit via a loose sleeve. But this was the first time I had seen it properly, small and tight. And I was also able to see in their entirety her soft white panties. But within a moment in real time, a never-ending eternity to my impatient eyes, they too were gone. She slipped off her bra, revealing broad breasts that from the front looked like little more than the chest of a muscular boy, except she had larger areolas. Then, more awesome still, she slipped off her panties, tossed them on to the bench and also began to walk towards the toilets to my left. Her vaginal area was exposed to me in all its glory. She had a tangle of hair there almost as golden as that on her head, perhaps a little darker, but not as thick. I don’t know whether it had never fully grown or whether she trimmed it, but it was not very clear to see against the white of the loins, and it was quite easy to identify her vagina through it, blurred through it was due to the criss-crossing of the hair. I felt so dizzy with the excitement I felt I was going to faint. This awesome, delightful goddess was finally exposed to me, so unexpectedly, in all her beauty, a treat that was the more awesome because I had never seriously imagined it until a few minutes earlier. I was so glad to see that her body was not overdeveloped, breasts small, not too much hair downstairs, still something of a little-girl look about her. That has always been the sort of girl I prefer. Lisa emerged from the toilet as Wendy went in, and she went over to the shower. I saw her from the side as she took her soap and began to wash, catching a glimpse of black pubic hair. I could hear nothing from Wendy in the toilet with the showers running and Lisa’s toilet flushing, but I felt glad. I felt that would have been a little too undignified for this young leader I had worshipped from a distance. She came out and my heart and bladder responded again as she headed for her shower. I was most uncomfortable, crouching there on the floor, chin touching the ground, one hand resting under my head to soften that floor, the other regularly grabbing my penis as it kept trying to spurt liquid. But I wouldn’t have changed that position for all the luxuries in the world, seeing what I was seeing. I gazed at my beautiful Wendy, standing there naked in the showers and facing me as she chatted to Lisa, water cascading over her hair and shoulders, down her body, over her broad breasts and right down into her pubic hair and down her legs. She was totally awesome, completely overwhelming. I felt as if my heart would burst with love for her. Finally they considered themselves washed, and switched off the showers, turned their backs to me and walked back to the benches, dripping water. They took their towels and began to dry themselves. For the first time I studied the unclothed Lisa. She was tall and quite thin, her breasts small but firm-looking, and her pubic hair was thick and black, giving no glimpse of the vagina it was hiding. As they were drying themselves, I could hear what they were saying to each other again now the showers had stopped running. “No sign of *little Mickey* yet,” laughed Wendy, but the way she said it implied she disliked him. “Jolly glad, too. He’s a horrible child,” was Lisa’s verdict as she spread her legs and dried underneath them. “Yes, when I first saw him I thought he seemed so sweet – Maxi too,” said Wendy, standing tall and rubbing gently under her breasts with her towel. “But it didn’t take long to see what they’re both really like. You can see why they chose them for the film – they’re small, they look so cute and they’ve plenty of confidence. But really, they’re just spoilt brats! Maxi is *so* fussy about everything in the tent – everything must be perfect, everybody must do what she wants. I really need to be stricter with her.” “It didn’t take Mickey long to get into fights, so the other kids soon found out what he’s like,” said Lisa. “On the very first day he had that bust-up with that German boy, whatever his name is. Then did you see, at tea today, Roy clouted him. Kirsty in my tent assured me that Mickey had started it all, but she got very muddled when I asked her what it was all about. But Roy seems quite a gentleman, so it probably wasn’t his fault.” “Yes, Roy seems a really nice kid,” smiled Wendy. It thrilled me to hear my goddess’s good opinion of me. “Like you say, he seems quite a little gentleman, while most of the other boys are – well . . .” “Savages. Cavemen,” laughed Lisa, finishing it off for her. “Mickey can turn on the charm when he wants, he’s brilliant at that, but we know what he’s really like now. And another thing about Roy. Most of the boys here are still too young, the testosterone hasn’t hit them yet, so they’re just not interested in girls, apart from some of them who are just plain silly. But Roy really does treat them like a gentleman, he knows how to relate to them.” I swelled with pride, and wished Wendy had said that. “Yes, he always seems to be with your Kirsty,” observed Wendy. “Well, I think that’s more Kirsty chasing him than the other way round,” replied Lisa. She spread her towel on the bench and sat on it, without troubling to dress. Wendy gave her pubic hair a careful rub to remove any remaining droplets of water and sat next to her. “I think the one Roy’s really interested in is that little Tessa – you know, the one who was getting teased on the bus because her panties showed through her shorts. I saw him trying to help her with her luggage when we arrived here – for a boy of ten, that’s almost unheard of! He seemed pretty shy to make contact with her, actually, but he tried to do it in a sensible way, and they seem to have – well, found each other now and I suspect they’re quite close.” I almost laughed with the irony of it all. Yes, Tessa and I were much closer than Lisa suspected – to each other and to them! “Have you got a nice bunch of girls?” asked Wendy. “Oh, yes, on the whole,” answered Lisa, sitting back and crossing her right shin over her left thigh, leaving the black mass of pubic hair clearly in the background. “Kirsty is rather a little madam at times, the village gossip who knows everybody’s secrets, and she is such a liar! Over-active imagination, perhaps I should say. I’ve never known a bunch of girls that age talk so much about – well, sexual things, and it’s mainly because of Kirsty, I’m sure.” “What does she say?” asked Wendy. “She has a thing about penises,” replied Lisa with a giggle, her tone of voice showing a smidgen of amused contempt as well. “She says that the German boy – Ernst, isn’t he called? – she says he has a massive penis.” “I think the boys started that,” commented Wendy. “Yes, well, according to Tara, who says according to Lloyd it’s true,” went on Lisa. “But my Kirsty, of course, claims that she’s actually seen it. They think I don’t hear them chattering, of course, but I do. She won’t say where or how, but insists she has. But I don’t think many of the girls believe her. And then tonight one of the other girls told me that Kirsty claims she’s also seen Mickey’s penis and that it’s very tiny.” Wendy laughed, but sounded a little embarrassed. “Well, that’s just what you’d expect, I suppose, because he’s so small himself,” she smiled. Little did she know. “But maybe we should have words with Madam Kirsty, because she shouldn’t be going round talking like this, at her age. It can’t possibly be true, so she’s lying as well.” “Oh, there are no bicycle sheds here to hide behind, like at school, so she probably takes boys off to the rocks or somewhere, a different boy at a time, and they examine each other there,” laughed Lisa, her tone of voice showing that she meant this as no more than a joke. “The bicycle sheds? Did you actually go behind the bicycle sheds with a boy?” Wendy asked her, laughing and sounding a bit incredulous. “Oh, yes, I did once in Year Six,” smiled Lisa, happy to talk about it. “You remember Tony?” Wendy nodded, looking surprised. “I went there with him after sports one afternoon. My pubic hair was just starting to grow” – she gave it a rub and a scratch - “and I felt so frightened but I just had to show some boy I was growing up. So we went there and did it very quickly, we just pulled our pants down to our knees and had a look at each other and that was it. He had no hair then. Didn’t you?” “Well – not at school,” giggled Wendy, turning slightly red. “I do remember, though – when I was about eight, I was in the bedroom of the boy next door, and his mother nipped out to the shops for a few minutes, and we had a quick game of doctors and nurses. He pushed my – my vagina with his finger, though, and it was a bit sore, so I stopped him and wouldn’t do it with him any more.” “I wonder if these kids play those sort of games?” mused Lisa. “But really, I just can’t believe Kirsty has seen two boys naked here in camp. I agree, if I hear any more I’ll have a few words with the little lady.” I couldn’t help grinning. Kirsty’s tally was at least three boys so far on camp. “And we’ll keep a bit of an eye on her, and see if she really does sneak off anywhere,” added Wendy. “Actually, talking of – well - penises, did I tell you I saw Roy’s penis the other night?” asked Lisa. She gave a giggle. My heart did a flip. “On the first night of camp, actually. When the kids came for their bedtime story he was wearing a very loose pair of shorts. He was sitting next to Kirsty and he had his knees up like this and wrapped his arms round them” she demonstrated, “and down at the bottom I could see his little testicles hanging down. Kirsty was next to him and she was acting a bit silly, I think. “He sat there like that all the time, and then at the end of the story he had a good stretch and pushed his legs out in front of him” again she demonstrated, “and the leg of his shorts went up, and you could see his penis right inside.” “Oh, you’re so lucky,” Wendy told her enviously. “I think boys are so cute that age when they’re naked. They haven’t any hair yet and their penises are – well, just so small and cute. I hope Roy didn’t have a big ugly one like Ernst! I don’t want to imagine him that way.” “No, it looked quite normal,” Lisa assured her. “But he’s worn different shorts in the evenings since then, so you can’t see anything. Maybe he realised what he was doing.” “Oh, no, Lisa, I’ve missed my chance,” groaned Wendy with a smile. “I’d have given so much for a glimpse of his penis – they’re just so cute at that age. And he may not even mind – I heard one of the girls say he’s a naturist.” “He won’t get much chance to be a naturist on this camp,” laughed Lisa. “Come on, Wendy, when you see him tomorrow, you can just go up to him and say, ‘Excuse me, Roy, could you take your clothes off for me, please?’, and I’m sure he’ll be only too pleased to oblige, being the little gentleman he is. He likes you, Wendy, I’m sure of it. I’ve seen him watching you sometimes.” “Oh, no, I can’t do that, I’d get sent home in disgrace if I started – well, if I started behaving like Kirsty, if she were telling the truth,” smiled Wendy. “Ooh, I just wish you’d – told me that first night. You know, I just feel so – so soft for these little boys when I see them naked.” “Well, you’ll have lots of chances when you’re a nurse,” Lisa replied. “You can just say, ‘Take your clothes off, my boy,’ and they’ll have to obey whether they like it or not. Maybe you’ll have Roy as one of your patients.” “It’ll be too late then, he’ll be big and hairy by the time I qualify,” smiled Wendy. “Besides, I’d never want to embarrass any boy or force them to undress for me. It’s just so sweet, though, when sometimes you get those, even that age, who will change their clothes when you’re there and think nothing of it.” “Well, Roy might be one of those,” suggested Lisa. “You’ll be able to come back tomorrow and tell me if he’s circumcised.” “No, we don’t get situations like that in this camp,” sighed Wendy. “I mean, all the changing is done in tents or in these showers.” “Ask Kirsty for a few tips,” laughed Lisa, joking. “I can just see you and Roy sneaking off into hiding during free time tomorrow and playing doctors and nurses.” “You really do want me sent home!” accused Wendy, shaking with laughter. “Well, you’ll just have to hope you can catch him having a wee behind a bush then or something,” smiled Lisa. “I caught one of the boys the other day up at the rocks – I just saw him from the back, though, and he put his equipment away and scurried off bright red!” “You have all the luck,” sighed Wendy wistfully, but she was still smiling. “Still, I don’t suppose we should be thinking about little boys naked at our age. But they look so cute then, before puberty. When they get big and hairy – well, they just look ugly.” “Maybe you can get a look at Ernst and see what size his equipment really is,” suggested Tessa light-heartedly. “One of the girls who goes to the same school says they call him Mr Sausage Man. But she says she’s never seen it, and doesn’t want to. But when have you ever seen an older boy naked – past puberty?” “Only my brother,” replied Wendy. “I wonder if they think the same way about us – that we’re cute when we’re small and hairless, and then turn ugly when we get our breasts and pubic hair and have our periods and so on?” “I doubt it – they’re only interested in sex,” answered Lisa cynically. “Not boys like Roy, I’m sure,” said Wendy. “I just wish he was ten years older – I’d have loved to have him asking me out for a date and so on. I can imagine him bringing me flowers and opening the car door for me and – well, just holding hands without trying to get me to bed with him and all that sort of thing. He just seems the sort of thoughtful boy who would do that.” Overwhelming feelings of love for Wendy were gushing into my heart by now and I could hardly control them. In my then immature way I was convinced that Wendy was in love with me just as I was with her. I wished so much that Lisa go away and leave Wendy alone, still naked of course, and then I thought I would burst out of my cubicle, also naked, and we would fall into each other’s arms, and then of course a big ugly tramp would burst in and try to get off with Wendy, and I would protect Wendy and hit the tramp so hard he would get knocked out and run away and . . . I had completely forgotten Tessa for the present. All the time Lisa and Wendy had been sitting on the benches facing me, but I was well back in the dark and out of their view. But mine was heavenly – Wendy with her golden curls around her loins and through them the darker line that was her vagina, with the brighter pink skin at the bottom without hair. Lisa’s thicker mass of pubic hair obscured her vagina most of the time, but every now and then she would spread her legs a bit or lift one up, and it was just possible to see her vagina, larger and wider than Wendy’s I’m sure, appearing at the bottom, and that large pink area of skin that formed her perineum. But now, while I was still feasting my eyes hungrily on what was an incredible sight to a ten-year-old, even a naturist one, they decided it was time to move on. They began to talk of some of the other children, but as they did so they walked over to the mirrors on the side wall, side on to me, and began to pay attention to their hair. This as always with girls took quite a time, and then they finally reached for their clothes and began to put them on again – bras and panties, then dresses over the top. I felt totally exhausted. I still crouched there uncomfortably on the floor, unwilling to miss a moment of the sight of my goddess, even when she was clothed. But finally, without ceremony, they picked up their towels, opened the door and disappeared into the night. I slumped against the wall of the toilet, quite drained. Then suddenly my bladder came into action, and I just managed to catch my penis before it spurted on the floor. I staggered on to the toilet seat and let it go, a greater relief than I had ever known. I had just finished when I heard Tessa’s whisper from the next cubicle. “Roy,” she hissed. I answered, and after a pause she whispered again, “Roy, do you think they’ve gone?” “Yes,” I panted. “We – can come out now.” I heard her unbolt her door as I flushed the toilet and then staggered out into the open, like a drunkard leaving the pub and tottering into the street after his umpteenth pint. Tessa was standing there, naked and dirty. She stared at me. “You look terrible!” she exclaimed. “Are you – all right?” I tried not to groan and nodded. “Just tired. And it was so uncomfortable in there.” “I thought they’d never go,” continued Tessa, who obviously didn’t share my sentiments. “And they sat there talking for such a long time. But they said some nice things about you, Roy! They like you, I think – especially Wendy.” I nodded briefly and changed the subject. “Shall we shower now?” I suggested. Tessa looked thoughtful. “I hope nobody else comes,” she said. “But the teachers can use the showers in the farmhouse, Lisa told me – so they won’t be coming. But I’ve had an idea. We can take some of the wire from one of the window catches and use that to wire the door shut. Then nobody will come in and catch us.” “They’ll know somebody’s in, but they won’t be able to find out who,” I said, knowing that even such an occurrence would provide us both with a problem. “But I’m sure they won’t come. Let’s do it!” Again I was willing to gamble for the delight of showering with Tessa. I couldn’t quite reach the wire on the window catches, used when the catch was broken. “Let me climb on your shoulders,” suggested Tessa resourcefully. I crouched down, listening all the time in case somebody came. Tessa put a leg over my shoulder, wrapped her arms under my chin and then put her other leg on. I gave an involuntary shudder in the knowledge that her little vagina was pressed against the back of my neck now. Slowly I pushed myself upwards until I was standing, very shakily, with one of Tessa’s arms round my neck and the other pressed against the wall. “It’s no use, I can’t quite reach,” she told me. “Get down again and I’ll have to stand on your shoulders.” This time it worked. She stepped carefully on to my shoulders, planting her muddy feet right next to my face. She wobbled and I wobbled, but we kept our balance. Then, struggling to stay balanced and helped by the wall, I hauled myself slowly upwards again. “Nearly there,” Tessa told me as I was trying to straighten my knees. “Just a bit more – got it!” I heard her untwisting the wire and then she called down, “We can go down now.” I couldn’t resist temptation any longer. I put my head up and looked. For an instant I saw Tessa’s dirty legs above my head, meeting at the top, with the indentation of her vagina just evident among the dirt. She was looking down at me, and she gave a squeal as my movement made her feet slip. Her left foot slipped right off my shoulder, and she dropped the wire and grabbed hold of the window sill to save herself. As I reached up to try to help her, her hands slipped and she fell right on top of me. I think her bottom landed hard on my face and I went crashing to the ground, with Tessa on top of me. She landed straddling my body, fell forward straight on to my penis and legs, pushed herself up and let out a laugh, which she immediately stifled. Then she rolled off me quickly and turned to look at me, afraid I might be hurt. “Roy, are you okay?” she asked me urgently. “I’m sorry.” I felt badly bruised, but had to play the macho role. “I’m fine,” I wheezed, struggling to push myself to my feet while I was aching all over. “Are you all right? I – I just managed to catch you, but it was a bit too quick to do it properly.” “Yes, thanks. You really kept me from falling, but I didn’t want to hurt you,” she replied. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” I groaned, feeling as if my back would never be the same again. “I’m just glad I – stopped you from being hurt.” “Let’s get on quickly now,” suggested Tessa practically, skipping over to the shower Lisa had used and switching it on. She then nipped over to a nearby shower and returned with a large piece of soap left behind by one of the girls. I turned on the shower that Wendy had been using, thrilled by the thought that I was standing in exactly the same place as my naked goddess had been standing perhaps half an hour earlier. The water was almost immediately warm. I stepped into it, as Tessa was already lathering her body and the clay was beginning to come off. I could only stand there waiting for her to finish. Her lovely little body glowed in the electric lights, soft and shiny. Her chest was quite flat still and her nipples tiny. She worked down from her chest, chatting to me now and then, but she was never a very talkative girl. Then she spread her legs, bent her knees, put her hands down and started working on the clay still on the skin between her legs. She was facing me, quite unashamed. Her little vagina was smooth and well rounded, a delight to behold. I felt I had to say something and burst out foolishly, “Do you – often shower with boys?” She looked up at me, surprised, still soaping with her hands. “No,” she answered. “Why?” “Well, you – don’t seem to mind me being here. When you’re taking a shower, that is,” I bumbled. “No, well, you’re not silly about it,” she remarked, as if that was all there was to it. And I suppose it did say everything, and I was so pleased. She trusted me completely. I was still beaming with pleasure while she washed her legs and feet, and then rubbed her hands hard on the soap, working up some more lather. She held out her hand with the soap in it, and as I reached out to take it, she stepped out of her shower and into mine, planting her soapy hands on my chest and wiping them all over it, laughing with glee as she did so. I dropped the soap, taken by surprise, and then reached out to grab her in fun. I grabbed her slippery smooth skin under the armpits and tickled her. She squealed and dropped to her knees, laughing. Then she reached out her arms and grabbed me tightly round the knees. I lost my balance and fell backwards, putting out my hands behind me to break my fall. I was sitting, she was kneeling in my shower, facing each other and laughing with the fun of it all. She jumped on top of me, grabbing for the soap and trying to soap me again. I was bigger and stronger, so I rolled her over on to her back, tickling her as best I could. I accidentally tickled her tiny nipples as she rolled and laughed, but she didn’t seem to notice. She gave a sudden gasp of pain amid her laughter, and I quickly remembered how fragile girls are, even tomboys, and stopped being so rough. I suppose all boys want to leave girls in no doubt as to their strength. As I attacked her tummy, she spread her legs in an attempt to sit up. I could see the whole length of her vagina between her legs now, with a little V shape at the top where her clitoris appeared. It was gone in a moment as she rolled over, but I leaned forward and pinned her down again. “Give up?” I laughed at her. “Yes, I give up,” she laughed at me. With the water still pouring on to my back, I stood up and allowed her to rise as well. I suddenly wondered if we were making too much noise and might attract attention, but I could do nothing about it, as she jumped forward and wrapped her arms round my neck, wrestling with me. As we probably both knew I would, I wrestled her to the ground again and we lay there together, laughing and spluttering, her slippery soft wet skin under my fingers all the time. In the end we were both tired. The thought suddenly came to me of what might happen if somebody heard us and came to investigate us, a naked boy and girl rolling on the floor together. I got to my feet with some unease and carried on soaping myself with the soggy piece of stuff that was now the soap. “Your back’s dirty,” Tessa told me. “Shall I wash it for you?” I agreed, and stood there as she took the soap and washed my back firmly all over, her hands going down right to my bottom without any apparent inhibitions as she cleaned me off. “Now let me wash your back,” I told her. She turned round, presenting her smooth back with a patch of brownish-white for a bikini top and a much whiter patch for the bottom. Apparently she did not always use a top, but she certainly didn’t need one. I soaped and rubbed her lovely smooth, slippery back, and didn’t seem to mind at all as I ventured downwards and cleared a few smears she had left on her bottom. We had no towels, so when we had finished washing we walked about or sat on the benches and chatted on and off until we were dry. Tessa’s lovely little body glowed in the electric lights and her face glowed as she smiled more widely and often than I had seen her do before. The talk gradually slowed as I think we were both feeling very tired. Eventually, with the greatest reluctance, we slipped our pyjamas back on again. Listening carefully and rather fearfully, I unwired the door and we slipped guiltily into the open again. We were silent as we found our way back towards camp, which was very difficult until our eyes had adjusted to the darkness again. We avoided the big rock where we had first intended to meet, although I was sure Lloyd and Tara would not be there any longer. But we came to the place where we had to part and go our different ways. “I wish you could come into our tent,” whispered Tessa, sweetly, wistfully and naively. “Me too,” I agreed. “Maybe – when we leave camp you can come and stay with us or something.” “That would be lovely,” she breathed, and I could see her smile in the moonlight. “You’re my best friend.” I was just digesting that when suddenly she threw her arms round my neck and gave me a big wet kiss next to my ear. Before I had time to respond, she said, “Night,” and her shadow flitted off towards the girls’ tents. I wandered back to my tent as if in a dream. I should have been thrilled at what Tessa had said and what she had done, but it was seriously tempered with regrets that I had not responded properly, that I hadn’t been quick enough to tell her that I loved her or able to return her kiss. Then thoughts came flooding back of Wendy, and all she had said about me. She liked me! Maybe she even loved me! What could I do about it? And I had seen her naked! That was so awesome I still could hardly believe it. She had shared her nakedness with me, though she didn’t know it, and I longed to do the same for her. She wanted it too – but how could I ever do that? I could never have a shower with her. I felt so mentally drained and exhausted, such a mixture of emotions, that when I sneaked back into my silent tent and slithered into bed, I went under the covers and shed silent tears into my pillow. So much done, and yet so much I hadn’t done, that I wanted to. But it didn’t take me long to get to sleep. Not surprisingly, I woke feeling tired the next morning. The previous night’s activities seemed like a strange but beautiful dream, and I had no idea how I was going to face Tessa and Wendy that day. At breakfast I looked out for them both. Tessa and I looked at each other and smiled, she looking as embarrassed as I probably did. We didn’t even try to sit together. I didn’t know how to handle it properly, and I’m sure she didn’t either. I kept looking at Wendy, wearing a pretty dress as usual. I tried to imagine her as I had seen her the previous night, naked, small broad breasts, golden pubic hair, vagina down the middle of it – and I couldn’t. I suddenly began to feel very guilty about having spied on her, although I didn’t plan it. She suddenly turned and caught my eye, and smiled. I tried to smile back, but felt myself blushing and turned away. I felt more guilty than ever. She was my goddess – and I had spied on her, and she didn’t even know it! I had to put things right. I had heard her say she wished she could see my penis, and I really felt she ought to, to make up for the sin I had committed against her. But how could I possibly do that, without doing something she might think rude? Kirsty wasn’t going to be put off. She came bustling over and pushed in next to me at the breakfast table, chattering away when I wanted to be left alone. Then, when she had the chance, she whispered to me, eyes gleaming, “Free time, usual place?” And usual activities as well, no doubt. I didn’t really feel like another session with her right now, wanting as I did to put things right with Wendy or get together with Tessa again – or else just to be left alone. So I said, “We can’t. I heard Lisa and Wendy talking last night. Lisa says she heard you telling the other girls you saw Ernst’s penis and Mickey’s penis. She said she was going to keep an eye on you and see what you were doing.” Kirsty stared at me in shock, her face bright red and hands to her mouth. Too late she realised she should have been more careful. “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I hope we won’t be in trouble.” Then she looked across to where I knew Lisa was sitting, not far away from us. I didn’t look, afraid I might incriminate myself as well if Lisa saw me. Kirsty turned back to me, sounding very scared. “She’s watching us! We may be in trouble.” “She doesn’t know for sure,” I reassured her. “But she will do if we go off in private again. I think we must keep away from each other in free time for a day or two, until she’s forgotten. And you must keep your blabbermouth shut.” “I will, I will,” Kirsty assured me, which I didn’t believe for a moment. Tessa and I did find each other during free time that morning, and we went together to play in the sand by the stream. We didn’t talk much. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was still feeling very guilty about spying on Wendy. I thought I had worked out a plan that afternoon, and was turning it over in my mind, unable to think of anything else, when Ernst grabbed me, excited. “Hey, Roy, guess what?” he grinned. “Tomorrow morning I – with Maxi – we’re going to do it.” “Do what?” I asked, preoccupied. “You know – poke,” he assured me. “She wants to, she’s excited about it too. We nearly did right now, but she said there wasn’t time. So she says we must do it tomorrow.” “You mean – you’re going to have sex with her?” I blurted out. He nodded, a huge grin of excitement on his face. I was appalled. I could easily imagine what damage a penis the size of Ernst’s could do to a vagina the size of Maxi’s. He could cripple her, and the consequences for him would be terrible as well. It would be like mating a Great Dane with a Chihuahua. “Ernst, you mustn’t,” I pleaded with him. “You – you’d burst her. Your penis is too big for her. Then you’d get into big, big trouble.” “No, I won’t, because *she* wants it,” he hissed at me. “She won’t tell anybody. She said she – she wanted to do everything with me tomorrow. And we will.” I shook my head and tried to dissuade him, but it was no use. So I put it to the back of my mind as we had our showers and then went off for our usual swim in the farm pool. Tessa and I had not had much contact during the day. I think we were both too embarrassed by the intimacy of the night before, but we did chat and play a bit. A lot of the time I kept out of Wendy’s way, ashamed and guilty about spying on her, though I did watch her from a distance. Somehow I felt I couldn’t even talk to her again until I had put that right. During swimming I finalised a daring plan to do that. It took a lot of courage for me to do it. Trembling with nerves, I sidled over to her as we walked back to the camp after swimming. Wendy had not been swimming with the rest of us, as she had scraped her leg during our free time that morning and had a clean bandage on it. She was surrounded as usual by the girl campers who admired her, but she turned and smiled beautifully at me as I approached. “Hey, Roy, you’re cold!” she exclaimed, seeing me trembling. “Come!” She held out an arm. I slithered over to her and she put an arm round my shoulders and rubbed my back. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked me. “Well – mostly,” I answered. “I’m just – a bit worried about one thing. I – I’d like to ask about it – er – in private sometime. Is your leg all right now?” “Yes, certainly,” she smiled. “Girls, you go ahead and I’ll catch you up in a minute. And my leg is getting better now, thanks, Roy.” With groans, the girls went on ahead, Wendy having to shoo some of the more curious ones out of earshot. Then she looked down at me, smiled as we walked along slowly, and asked, “What’s the problem? Do you think you’ve got flu?” “No,” I answered. “But I – I’ve got a pain – not a bad one. It – it’s just under my legs.” I sensed her start slightly in surprise. “It seems a bit swollen and I’m worried about it. I mean, I can play games all right, but it gets sore.” “You’ve probably just strained something,” she replied, but she was not quite at ease. “No, it – seems different from that,” I told her. “It seems swollen. I – I know I should take it to Miss Winrow but she gets embarrassed too easily.” Miss Winrow was the first-aid officer. Wendy giggled. “So – I don’t know if any of the other leaders might be able to help. Best somebody who’s going to be a doctor or a nurse, who might be able to see what’s wrong and – and won’t feel bad because it’s under my legs.” I blurted all that out very awkwardly and hoped I hadn’t made a mess of things. “Well, I think there’s only me, I’m going to be a nurse,” she replied. She did look embarrassed, though! “I mean, I could help you, but – if it’s in a private place I don’t want you to feel bad.” “I don’t mind, I’m used to it. And I trust you,” I added. Wendy laughed, but her cheeks were red. “That’s very sweet of you,” she replied. No doubt she was at that moment battling with a terrific dilemma. “But – people might think the wrong thing if I – examined you,” she went on. “It could cause a lot of trouble, because some people might think it was wrong. I mean, for a girl like me to examine a boy like you.” “I won’t tell anybody, I promise,” I assured her. “I just want you to have a quick look and see if it’s all right, that’s all. I can’t see properly down there, but it feels swollen.” She asked me distractedly if I had hurt it at any time, and I told her I hadn’t. I didn’t realise then how much pressure I was putting her under, and the implications for her if somebody found out she had been examining me in the way I was asking her. I’m sure that inside she was feeling, “This would be my wish come true, but if I got caught I could be in very serious trouble.” “We can just go inside the first-aid tent and you can look very quickly and tell me if it’s all right,” I urged her. “If you keep the flap down nobody will see and I promise I won’t tell. It will only take a few seconds for you to look.” Wendy wavered and then said, “Oh – all right, I – I’ll have a quick look when we get back.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Look, I’ll go to the first-aid tent as soon as we get back. And you can just follow me inside, and say you want some cream for a strain if anybody asks you. That’s probably all it is, and I’ll put some cream on anyway. But – we must be careful, because if – people think the wrong thing about us, I’ll get into such trouble.” I agreed, and Wendy said she had better catch up with her girls. I trailed behind. I saw her heading for the first-aid tent near the dining area as soon as we arrived back, sending her girls to get changed and ready for the meal. Heart thumping, I hung around for about 20 seconds and then followed her. Children were heading for the tents and none of the adult leaders were in sight. I slipped inside. She was waiting for me inside, but she jumped when I slipped round the tent flap. “All right, Roy,” she said very nervously, reaching over and slipping a string between the flaps to delay anybody trying to come in. “We’d better be quick. Now where is it?” I stood in front of her, still trembling a bit. My fingers felt clumsy as I undid the drawstring in my costume and then pulled it down past my knees. My penis and testicles were still cold from the pool water and had shrunk, so they were small and smooth. I hoped Wendy would approve all the same. “It’s underneath,” I said, widening my legs as much as my costume would allow me. I noticed Wendy was clutching her hands together so tightly they were white. “Just feel – underneath and see,” I urged her. “No, Roy, I – I mustn’t touch you,” she said in a shaky voice. “But it – doesn’t look swollen underneath to me. Where does it hurt?” “Just here,” I told her, putting a hand under my testicles and lifting them up so she could see better. I felt with my own fingers. “It doesn’t feel as swollen as it did this morning,” I told her. “Maybe the cold water in the pool has brought down the swelling,” she suggested. “See how it is tomorrow morning. Look, pull your costume up again and I’ll give you some cream for it.” So saying, she turned and went over to a medicine chest lying on the ground. She hesitated tellingly for a split second and then bent over the chest. Her dress automatically lifted at the back and I could see her soft white panties. She pulled a tube out of the chest and then stood up, self-consciously straightening her skirt at the back and saying with an embarrassed smile and slightly flushed cheeks, “I guess I shouldn’t bend over like this.” Was she trying to draw attention to what she had done, presumably deliberately, or did she just feel she had to say something? In any case, she knew I must have seen her panties, perhaps her gift to me, not knowing I had already had one. I felt I had to respond, so I came up as usual with, “It’s all right, it doesn’t matter,” smiling at her in what I hoped looked a strong, comforting way. “Thank you, Roy,” she smiled at me, with more confidence. “Now do pull your costume up, and take some of this cream. Just rub it underneath when you get back to your tent, and then some more when you get up tomorrow morning. Then we’ll see how it is. Okay?” “Thanks,” I said, and immediately took the cap off the tube. I squeezed some of the cream out on to my hand and started applying it under my crotch while Wendy urged me again to pull up my costume, no doubt afraid that somebody might try to come in and catch her with a naked boy. Then I remembered something Lisa had said the previous evening. “Do you think maybe it’s – because I need to be circumcised?” I asked, looking up at her. She blushed again and I wished I hadn’t said that. “No, I – you’ll need to ask your doctor,” she said. “But I don’t think that’s anything to do with it. Now you must go – come on, Roy, pull up your costume and you can finish that in your tent. Please, or somebody may come in.” I thought I had put her through a bit too much, so I pulled up my costume and headed past her for the tent flap. On the way I paused, turned, smiled and said, “Thanks very much, Wendy. I feel better now.” She beamed lovingly back at me. I was sure she must be thrilled at having her wish to see me penis fulfilled, and I certainly felt less guilty now. She stepped over to me, said, “That’s all right, Roy, you really are such a fine little boy,” and put her arm round my shoulders and back. I wasn’t too happy about the ‘little’ part of it when I wanted her to admire me, but I accepted the thought behind it and felt I should respond. Still smiling at her, I put an arm round her waist and squeezed. I pressed my head against her shoulder for a moment and could smell something attractive – not perfume, possibly some kind of powder, but something I liked that was special to my goddess. “Oh, Roy!” she exclaimed, and before I knew what was happening she bent her face down to mine and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to go for broke. I reached up, put my arms round her neck and returned her kiss. “Ooh!” she laughed, and then suddenly she looked worried and let go of me. “Er – Roy, I . . .” she began. She struggled with herself for a moment, and I was concerned to see the look of concern on her face. Then she said, “Roy, I – I’ve been silly. We shouldn’t have done that. Look, I – I mean, if anybody finds out, I – I’m going to be in trouble. Roy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it, and please, don’t tell anybody what happened – anything about what happened in here. Okay?” I was shocked to see her looking upset when I wanted her to be happy. “No, don’t worry, it’s all right,” I assured her hastily. “It doesn’t matter, none of it. I promise, really, I won’t tell anybody, I won’t get you into trouble. It’s a secret, I promise.” And I have kept that promise right until now, when it no longer matters. She gave a crumpled smile of relief and believed me. “Thanks, Roy,” she said warmly. “It – it’s good to know you. Now you’d better be getting back to your tent.” Her smile warmed again and her eyes shone at me. “All right, and thanks – and it’s a secret,” I assured her again as I left and headed for the tent. On the way back again I had mixed emotions, but they were mostly positive. I had absolved my guilt by showing her my penis – and the thrill of kissing each other! But I wanted to make her happy, I didn’t want her to worry, and I was afraid she might still feel bad about both incidents in the tent. If anybody else found out, she would be in trouble. I knew I would never tell anybody else, and hoped she would believe me and trust me. The more I thought about it, the more urgently I felt the need to know what she told Lisa about it, as I was sure she would. The time and place for that would probably be the same as the previous evening: in the girls’ showers. I felt I really must go back again and hide in the same place as before, to hear what she said to Lisa about me. As long as she didn’t confide in Lisa first – but there was scarcely time for that, with supper ready right now. And, of course, there was the added sideshow of watching her and the others taking their showers. I was very preoccupied for the rest of the day. I was cautiously pleased to see Wendy looked very happy during supper, and gave me a special smile on occasions when our eyes met. But I still wanted to hear what she had to say to Lisa. I felt tired and ready for bed, but I was burning with too much curiosity to consider giving up my plan. Again I waited a few minutes until all was quiet and everyone seemed asleep, and then a bit longer because I knew I would have more time as I was not meeting Tessa first this time. Then again I slunk out of the corner of the tent and made my way up to the ablutions block, avoiding the rock where Lloyd and Tara were likely to be. Without Tessa I felt even more nervous and exposed about going into the girls’ side of the ablutions block with the lights on inside. I waited a long time to check all was silent, and then scuttled across the exposed area and inside. I immediately went into the same cubicle where I had been the previous evening, locked it and sat on the floor to wait. I allowed myself to doze off, knowing that on that hard floor I wouldn’t sleep deeply and the girls would wake me when they came in. That was what happened. I suddenly heard voices and laughter as if from a distant land, and woke up with a fright. It took me a few seconds to gather my wits, and then the anticipated excitement woke me up properly. I put my head down in the darkness to peer under the door. All four girls were in together tonight. My immediate feeling was one of dismay, because I didn’t know whether Wendy would want to tell her secret to all four. They were turning on the showers and then going over to the benches to undress as before. I had seen them do the same thing the previous night, so this was no novelty or excitement for me – except, of course, Wendy, as I had developed such a crush on her. Virtually ignoring the others, I watched, fascinated again, as she slipped off her dress and stood for a moment in her white bra and her usual soft white panties. Then, as she took those off, her small broad white breasts were again exposed to my view, and her white loins with their light covering of that golden blonde pubic hair and her darker vagina showing through. Annoyingly but I suppose expectedly, she was obscured by the other girls for most of the time in the shower. With four of them showering at the same time, everything in my vision seemed to be a mass of moving white arms and legs with white torsos in between. The chatting and laughter seemed to be magnified with all four of them there. Finally they turned the showers off and went to dry themselves and dress again, still chatting and laughing, quite certain they were in total privacy. And I began to feel guilty again for invading it, this time deliberately. Would Wendy hate me if she knew? I watched Wendy with fascination as she dried herself, gently rubbing her broad breasts, which hardly wobbled, and then more vigorously up and down on her pubic hair and between her legs. Then she spread out her towel and sat down on it, still naked. A few seconds later Lisa did the same. As this a good sign? Tara and Linda began to dress, and at one point Tara asked them, “Aren’t you going to dress?” “Not yet,” smiled Wendy. “Lee and I are just going to stay here and chat a while.” Was she looking excited, as she prepared to talk about me? I wasn’t sure, but at the centre of my own world I imagined so. After what seemed to be an age, the other two finished dressing and left. Wendy and Lisa looked at each other for a moment and laughed gently. Then, after a pause, Lisa asked, “So what is it you’re so desperate to tell me?” “Well, not desperate,” laughed Wendy. “It’s just the most amazing thing. Remember last night we were talking about Roy, and you said you had seen his penis, and I just wished casually-like I could see it as well?” Lisa nodded. “Well, today it actually happened!” “No!” exclaimed Lisa, laughing in disbelief. “Wendy, what did you do?” “Well, I didn’t do anything,” Wendy laughed, putting her foot up on the bench and wrapping her arm round her knee, giving me a clearer view than ever of the length of her vagina. “He actually started it – I just couldn’t believe it! And he wanted somebody who was going to be a doctor or a nurse! I wonder if somebody told him I’m going to take up nursing?” And she told Lisa all about how I had persuaded her to give me an examination. “And really, it did look so cute,” she finished. “It was a bit smaller than I expected, but – I suppose you could say well shaped and a nice shade of pink. Nothing ugly, just what you’d expect from a nice boy like Roy.” I presume Wendy didn’t realise that the male organs shrink when cold. I wonder if it would be possible to make a thermometer out of them? You know, measure your penis and you can tell what the temperature is. But I suppose other factors may interfere with accurate readings! “That sounds incredible!” exclaimed Lisa, although she seemed to believe her friend. “So is he circumcised, then?” “No, he isn’t,” answered Wendy. “And it was strange – he spoke about that too. He asked if I thought his soreness meant that he needed to be circumcised, but really there couldn’t be any connection. He said he was sore underneath – under his testicles. Really, they were cute, too – just in a tiny little pink bag, you know, and not even very easy to see.” Shrunken by the water, though she didn’t appreciate that. I wished I had been able to find a time when my genitals were their normal size. Lisa looked surprised and thoughtful all of a sudden. “He said that?” she asked. “You know, this whole thing happens the day after we were discussing it, and he mentioned being circumcised like I did. I wonder – I don’t suppose . . .” She lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose he went to the toilet last night at the time we were showering and stood outside listening to us, do you? I mean, it really is pretty coincidental.” Wendy looked startled. After a moment she said in a bemused voice, “I wonder if he did?” I silently cursed myself for having brought up the circumcision bit. Lisa looked around the room suspiciously. “At least he wouldn’t have been able to see in,” she concluded. “You know, that could have been what he did. He heard you wishing you could see his penis, and I’m sure he has a crush on you – like all the boys – and wanted to give you a treat.” Wendy was shaking her head, smiling, though. “I think that might be too much of a coincidence too,” she smiled. “I don’t know whether anybody would be able to hear from outside, anyway, and it’s awfully exposed, isn’t it? Anybody standing with their ear up against the wall outside would have the light on them and could be seen very easily.” “I suppose so,” shrugged Lisa. “Well, maybe he’s just psychic and can read your thoughts. Come on, Wendy, try this. Imagine you and Roy together – and you look lovingly into each other’s eyes, you wrap your arms round each other, and you kiss. Keep wishing for that, and see if he’ll do that to you tomorrow.” Wendy gave a little squeal and blushed. “Oh, Lisa, you mustn’t tell, because I was so silly, but – we’ve already done that!” she exclaimed. “I – don’t think I was quite myself. You know, I felt so amazed that a boy would actually let me see his penis like Roy did. I just felt he had shared something very precious with me and trusted me. And I – I felt I had to share something with him too. Well, I – first of all I bent over to get this cream from the medicine chest and he must have seen my panties.” “That’s nothing, he must have seen them before since you flash them around so much,” Lisa teased her. “No, I don’t!” retorted Wendy with a little squeal of indignation. “But he was so sweet, you know, he just said, ‘It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.’ So I – just gave him a hug and he gave me one. Then I really lost my head and gave him a kiss as well, and he gave me one too – such a lovely kiss.” She touched the spot on her cheek. “Oh, Lisa, he really is such a gentleman, such a lovely little boy! He really made me feel good.” My heart swelled with pleasure. Lisa laughed. “Now *you* really have a crush on *him*!” she declared. “Well, I – do wish . . .” began Wendy, and then stopped. I was left forever wondering what she wished. “You must just hope now he won’t go round telling everybody about it all,” Lisa put in seriously. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t, he promised me,” returned Wendy. “I – I do think I can trust him. I was so scared after I’d done it, because I’d just got carried away. But he promised it would be a secret. I’m sure he wouldn’t give me away.” “Is he going to let you examine him again tomorrow?” Lisa asked. “I don’t know . . .” Wendy replied, looking a little worried. “I suppose it depends on how the soreness is. I really couldn’t see any swelling or anything under there.” “Probably his penis does all the swelling when he thinks of you,” laughed Lisa. “Oh, Lisa, don’t make it – sound dirty,” Wendy protested. “No, it’s just – well, I really think he’s sweet and he seems to like me as well. It’s something – quite special, I suppose, but there’s no sex in it. I bet he’s never even thought of – well, seeing me naked or anything.” How little she knew me! “I bet he’d spy as soon as anybody if he got the chance,” said Lisa. “So how does his penis compare to Mickey’s and Ernst’s, and all your other boyfriends?” “Oh, don’t be silly,” Wendy scolded her, laughing again, but now the conversation left me and went on to other children in the camp. They chatted for another ten minutes or so before getting dressed again and leaving me alone in my cubicle, hugging my knees tightly and thrilled to the core. I had made Wendy happy. She trusted me and I would never give her away. Tired out, I went to bed happy that night. (To be concluded) SUMMER CAMP (CHAPTER 7) Tired though I was, I did not sleep well that night, thanks to Mickey. He decided he wanted to go to the toilet at about three o’clock in the morning. Getting out of his bed, he managed to tread on most of us on his way out. I hope that part was just clumsiness rather than deliberate nastiness. But I wouldn’t bet on it. I rolled over and tried to get to sleep again, which wasn’t easy when a couple of others were busy telling each other what an idiot the local film star was for waking us up, and themselves waking others up in the process. Lloyd woke, and was just quietening us all down again when we heard a lot of distant screaming. The screams went on for at least ten seconds, and then became howls. Everyone in the tent was now awake. Lloyd told us to stay in bed, and he got up and hurried outside to investigate. Some of the others crowded to the tent flap and looked outside, curious and chattering to each other. I groaned and stayed in bed, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting much more sleep. Later on we found out, as one or two of us had guessed, that it was Mickey. It seems that he was in the process of relieving himself into the latrine when he slipped and fell in, feet first, and ended up sprawling on his bottom in the sewage below. His response was to scream and howl the place down. The usual frothing pool of urine at the bottom of the pit must have dried up somewhat during the night, but it was still very muddy, at least. Kevin had to take him to the showers and wash him off at that time of night. We were just trying to get to sleep again when Mickey returned, clean but still sobbing. “I was pushed!” he insisted from the start. “Somebody pushed me!” But nobody believed him, and an investigation brought no knowledge from any of the tents of anybody else outside at that time of night. It became a camp joke. People would walk past the glowering Mickey for the rest of camp sniggering in a squeaky voice to mimic his, “Somebody pushed me! I’m all covered in wee!” Some of the girls who had worshipped him at the start of camp were now giggling and saying, “His thing is so small he couldn’t find it in the dark, and he fell in looking for it!” Further ridicule about the alleged small size of his penis drove Mickey too far. During free time that afternoon, a group of several girls was taunting him about it. With no leaders in view, he lost his temper and pulled out his penis to show them that it was, after all, of a presentable size. But the girls told their tent leader, who was Linda in this case, and she reported it to Kevin, who had another private interview with the culprit. Ernst went round telling everybody with heavy-handed humour that the punishment for Mickey would be confiscation. It was the final humiliation for Mickey. Even his two faithful followers decided he was a liability they could no longer afford, and dumped him. For the rest of the camp he slunk around by himself, an outcast. Tent leaders soon stepped in and told those who still kept tormenting him to leave him alone, but it was too late. Before the end of camp I was feeling very sorry for him. So was Wendy, and she took it on herself to befriend him and build him up a bit again. I felt a bit jealous, but realised that she was only doing it through soft-heartedness rather than any sort of affection for him. I kept in regular contact with her and was sure I was the one she really loved, in my ten-year-old view of the world. She did ask me that next morning how my strain was. Much as I would have loved another session with her, I realised that it might be courting trouble, so I beamed and told her, “It’s much better, thanks. That cream seems to be working fine.” I did offer to show her, but she smilingly declined. After our free time that morning, we went to the field for games as usual. I noticed Ernst was looking very sour, so I asked him what the problem was. “Girls! Traitors!” he snorted. “Maxi tried to trick me!” I had been so involved with my own affairs I had completely forgotten about his intentions with Maxi. I suddenly felt alarmed, but then realised that his mood would have been different if he had actually burst Maxi, as I thought likely. I asked for further enlightenment. “Said yesterday she wanted sex,” he snorted, making sure no one could overhear us. “But that was a lie. She just wanted to play with my – my cock, that’s all! She made it all stiff, and she laughed and pretended we were going to do it. But we never, and when I tried she said she’d scream. Said she’d do it when she was ready, and kept playing with me. But then she said the whistle would go and we had no time, and she left me! I asked her about next time and she just said she’d think about it! I don’t believe it. I’ll never go with her again.” I hadn’t too much time for sympathy, but I can’t say I was surprised. I had been surprised to start with that Maxi had suggested it, knowing the relative size of the objects in question – it would have been like trying to mate an Irish wolfhound with a toy poodle. Knowing Maxi as I did, I might well have suspected trickery if I hadn’t been so preoccupied. Now Ernst had had his ambition of losing his virginity crushed, and he would have to look for somebody better suited to him – in every way. Otherwise the next day was pretty uneventful, partly because I was very tired. Tessa and I now found it much easier to talk together again now more time had elapsed since our close encounter of a muddy and watery kind with each other, and we developed our friendship. Several times as we were sitting or chatting together I noticed Wendy or Lisa looking at us with the condescending smile on their faces that says, “How sweet.” Kirsty in the meantime was in and out of my life, but had also found another boy she liked. I don’t know whether she managed to get him into the cave as she had done with me, not to mention Ernst and Mickey, or whether she even tried, but I wasn’t aware of their getting up to anything suspicious. Perhaps the knowledge that Lisa was keeping an eye on her kept her under some restraint. It was the day after that that our next big adventure took place. We had another outing planned, this time to a different farm quite some distance away, and we were to be travelling on trucks of hay. That night we hit the edge of another storm. The thunder and lightning were stayed quite distant, but we had a quick downpour of rain, which made us all grumble. The next morning it was still unusually misty early on, but began to clear up after breakfast. With the outing coming up, Kevin told us all to keep away from the mud. During the free time in the morning, before the hay carts arrived, Tessa and I sneaked off together. This was nothing but a desire to be alone together, so I must disappoint readers by telling them that we just wandered a little way out of camp, over to the boundary, where we could be away from everybody else and just sit quietly together under a tree and talk. It was a lovely quiet time where we could develop our friendship. As we talked, or enjoyed moments of silence since Tessa was not in Kirsty’s class as a chatterbox, side by side without quite touching, we could hear the noise of the campers in the distance, but otherwise a rare silence, with the occasional draught of wind or bird noises. Finally we heard the whistle in the distance, summoning us all for the outing. We sat for another minute or two, reluctant to move. Then Tessa looked at me with her lovely brown eyes and quietly planted a kiss on my cheek. I looked furtively around, saw nobody, and kissed her in return. I wrapped my arms round her and we hugged quickly and warmly. Then we wandered innocently back into camp, pretending we had not been engaged in such subversive activities and had merely met up by accident. On the way back, we saw Kirsty flapping towards us, with Susan in tow. “Roy, Roy, where have you been?” she squealed. “We’ve been looking for you!” This was sudden interest on Kirsty’s part after there had been little between us the previous day, but it was not unusual for her. “Why were you looking for me?” I asked, avoiding the question of where we had been. “We were just talking about Mickey and thought you could tell us more,” Kirsty replied, grabbing me by the arm. “Come.” She started to lead me up the hill and away from the meeting place. There were two issues I wanted to speak to her about. Firstly, I thought there had been a bit too much curiosity about Mickey, and since I still felt guilty about encouraging her to tell the other girls his penis was a size one instead of a size six, I didn’t want to tell any more tales about him. Secondly, I wanted to ask why she was leading us away from the meeting place when we were about to go on an outing. In retrospect, I made the wrong choice of the two issues to take up with her first. In further retrospect, the way things worked out, I’m glad I did. “Look, why do you keep wanting to know things about Mickey?” I remonstrated with her as she guided me off course. “I’m fed up with Mickey and I don’t want to talk about him any more.” “But you know more than we do because you’re in the same tent,” Kirsty insisted. “You were there when he fell into the – the hole. What did he look like? Was he all covered in – in – you know?” She giggled with her hands, as usual, to her mouth. “I didn’t see him until next morning, when he was clean,” I told her. “They say Kevin washed him off in the showers and brought him back. But I didn’t even see him come back into our tent because I was turned over trying to sleep. But there was a still a bit of a smell in the morning.” I was starting to ask why we were going in this direction when Kirsty started up again. “What did he say when he came back?” she wanted to know. “Was he crying? Did he say anything else besides, ‘Somebody pushed me’?” “I wasn’t listening,” I told her. “Look, we’re supposed to be going to the meeting place. Why . . .” She butted in with slightly rephrased questions, trying to wheedle the fascinating information out of me. In the end, the awkward conversation was broken by Tessa, who tugged Kirsty hard by the sleeve and said, “We’re supposed to be going down to the hay carts. Why are you taking us up here?” “I need a poo before we go,” Kirsty announced, and then suddenly giggled as she remembered too late that she was in mixed company. “Don’t you want a wee-wee as well? There’s plenty of time, they always tell everybody to go for a wee anyway. Come on, let’s go, and while we’re walking, Roy, you can tell me more about Mickey.” “I’ve nothing more to tell about Mickey,” I insisted. We were most of the way to the toilets by now and I didn’t really need to go, but I might as well. Tessa was saying she needed to go too. With Kirsty still pestering me for information, I took the opportunity to nip into the boys’ side. As I stood fiddling with my shorts at the urinal, Kirsty stuck her head round the door with her usual giggles. “Ooh, I wondered what a boys’ toilet looked like,” she said, no doubt having checked there were no other boys in sight. “It’s just like ours, except you have that funny drain thing there. What’s that for – do you wee into it?” I glared at her and was trying to think of some sharp retort when somebody, probably Susan, grabbed her arm and helped to pull her outside. Kirsty could be very sweet and good fun at times, and a real pest at others. So far that morning the pesky side was in control. I emptied my bladder of what little was there, and then waited outside for the girls – or more specifically for Tessa. I wouldn’t have bothered if she hadn’t been in there. I could hear the girls talking, especially Kirsty’s louder voice, and gradually got the impression from the tones of voices that there was some problem inside the girls’ toilets. I couldn’t begin to guess what it was, but hoped Tessa would hurry up and come out before Kirsty did so we could get moving again. Finally Tessa did appear at the door, calling to me. “Roy, Cherie’s stuck in the toilet,” she told me seriously. “The bolt seems to have jammed and she can’t get out.” I wasn’t quite sure who Cherie was. I knew all the girls by sight, but there were one or two insignificant ones whose names I hadn’t learned yet and hadn’t come across in games or any other activity. Kirsty appeared next to Tessa. “Roy, go and tell Miss Tate a girl is stuck in the toilets,” she ordered me, flapping about a bit. “Quick, before we get left behind.” “Roy may be able to help,” put in Tessa. Left to myself, I would have gone to get help. But here we had Tessa’s suggestion countering Kirsty’s order, so I took Tessa’s side. If Tessa thought I could help, I wanted to show off my capabilities to her. “Yes, maybe I can do something,” I told her, walking towards the entrance that I knew so well. “No, boys can’t come into the girls’ toilets,” sniggered Kirsty. “You went into the boys’ toilets,” I reminded her, pushing past her as I went in. “That was – just to see what it was like,” Kirsty excused herself. Susan was standing at the far side, near the cubicles where Tessa and I had hidden. “She’s in here,” she told me, indicating rather obviously the one closed cubicle door there. “Hello, who’s in there?” I called out as I went and stood by the door. There was a moment’s silence and then a timid little voice answered from within, “It’s me – Cherie.” There was a sniff. “The door’s stuck and I – I can’t get out.” “I’ll go in and fix it,” I assured them all. Then I remembered the gentlemanly ways I was trying to hard to cultivate with girls at that time, and asked, “Cherie, shall I come in and fix it for you?” There was another pause, and then a whispered, “Yes,” from within. I looked around but, just as before when we wanted to reach the soap, there was nothing to stand on. “Look, I’ll jump up and grab the top of the door,” I told the other girls. “Then you’ll need to push my legs so I can get up and over the top.” They agreed, so I jumped and grabbed the top of the door with my hands, trying to pull myself up like a chin-up. I felt several pairs of hands grab my legs and push, so it was quite easy for me to scramble over. “We saw your underpants,” came Kirsty’s triumphant voice from below. I glared down at her, losing patience. “Look, you show your panties all the time,” I exaggerated, “but I don’t tell you because it doesn’t matter!” Then I looked down inside the cubicle. At the far side was the girl I had suspected was Cherie. She was quite a small girl, with rather close-cropped fair hair and big green eyes. She was rather pretty, really, except that her two front teeth were a little large for her and her bottom lip protruded slightly. She was a very quiet girl, shy, usually to be found reading books or drawing pictures. Her dress was in dark green and white. For a shy girl like her, this must have been a very embarrassing experience, and she certainly looked very nervous at the sight of a strange boy climbing over the top of the toilet door to reach her. She wasn’t crying, but she looked most unhappy and shrank up against the far side of the wall. The sight of her vulnerability brought out the best in me, as usual. “Hello, Cherie, are you all right?” I asked her as I scrambled over and dropped rather clumsily on to the cubicle floor. Her lip trembled, but she nodded. “It’s stuck,” she whispered, pointing at the door. I was confident that I could fix it, but I couldn’t. Somehow the catch, unnecessarily complicated, had jammed and nothing I could do would make it budge a millimetre. The holder was screwed in tightly and without a screwdriver there was nothing I could do about that. I tried pulling on the handle, heaving so fiercely that Cherie was scared it would break off and I would go flying on top of her, but that too was very well screwed in. I tried again on the bolt, but had no luck. “Come on, Roy, we’ll be late for the outing,” urged Kirsty from the far side of the door. “Everything’s screwed in too tightly and it needs a screwdriver,” I told her. “Pity my dad isn’t here because that’s his favourite drink,” I heard Susan snigger. “Can you get her out over the top?” Tessa asked. “Maybe you can lift her up like you did with me.” “When did Roy lift you up?” came Kirsty’s inquisitive voice. Tessa had spoken without thinking about our illegal nightly activity. “On the rocks,” I called back hastily. “I think I’ll have to. If I get her on top, you must help her down the other side.” I turned to Cherie, who was looking very apprehensive. “I’ll help you over the wall,” I told her. “I – I can’t do that,” protested Cherie, looking frightened. “Shall I fetch help?” Tessa asked. I should have told her to run and tell Kevin, because he was big and strong enough to lift a little girl like Cherie over the wall easily, even if he couldn’t open the door. But as always I wanted to play the hero myself. “No, I can do it,” I told her. I turned to Cherie and smiled at her as comfortingly as I could. “Listen, don’t worry, I’ll look after you,” I told her. Cherie looked slightly comforted, but I think it was just my caring tone of voice rather than the situation. At least we had a little help here from the props. I put down the toilet lid and turned round to face the door. “Stand on the toilet and climb on my shoulders,” I told her. Looking back, I saw her put her leg up, showing her white cotton panties for a moment, and then stand on the lid, nervously and with one hand on the wall. I moved back until I was right next to her. “Now climb on,” I told her. She held on to my head tightly and put a leg round my side. I saw her knee under my armpit and said, “No, that won’t get you high enough. You must stand on my shoulder. I’ll hold your legs.” “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I’ll fall.” “No, you won’t, because I’ll hold you,” I said again, more confidently than I felt. “I can’t do it,” she insisted anxiously. To cut a long story short, I tried having her sit on my shoulders, which was the best she could manage. I had to crouch while she got on and I had an embarrassing struggle standing up with her on top of me, swaying as I tried to push myself up with the help of the toilet seat. This got her very agitated and calling out urgently, “Please, put me down, I’ll fall!” “Come on, Roy, we’ll miss the outing!” Kirsty urged me. “No, we won’t, because they’ll count everybody and know we’re missing,” I told them. “I’ve nearly done it.” I hadn’t, actually, but wasn’t prepared to admit it. The way I eventually succeeded was to have Cherie stand on the toilet seat and then help her to step up and stand on top of the cistern. There was a big pipe leading down from the roof and she hung on to it tightly. Then I climbed up on to the toilet seat myself. Her waist was about level with my shoulders and I told her to climb on to them. I held her and she held the pipe as she climbed, but in this position she could now reach the top of the wall if the neighbouring cubicle with the hand that was not clutching the pipe. I gradually persuaded her to hold on to the top of the wall with both hands. I held her legs with one hand and the pipe with the other and, with nervous panting of breath and pushing from me, she finally managed to sit on top of the wall, with a horizontal pipe there to hold on to. Her panties must have been very visible during these manoeuvres, but I was so involved in the task and desperate to be the hero that I didn’t even notice! She looked very nervous as I let go of her and she held more tightly to the pipes. I leapt from the toilet lid on to the wall next to her, and then down the far side. I put the toilet lid in position there, and stood on it so I could reach up to her. The door was open and the other girls were of course crowding in the doorway to see what was happening. I held the pipe with one hand and reached out to Cherie with the other. “Come on, put your arms round my neck and I’ll catch you,” I told her, standing in the way of Kirsty, who was fussing to come in and help. Having come so far, Cherie had no alternative but to obey. Nervously she swung one leg over the wall, and then reached down with one arm to put round my neck. Using my free arm, I wrapped it round her back and pulled her gently. She gave a frightened gasp and slithered into my arms, sending me staggering. But I kept my grip on the pipe and my arm tightly round Cherie. We were squeezed together and I felt her warm cheek against my neck for a moment as she clung there, before she hastily moved it. “That’s it, don’t worry, I’ve got you now,” I whispered to her, loving her vulnerability and the closeness to her. I slackened my grip and she slipped slowly on to the toilet lid next to me. But I didn’t let go until she had stepped safely down to the ground. The other girls had laughed and squealed as Cherie had fallen into my arms and we clung to each other, and now they laughed and cheered as she reached the ground safely. As girls often do, they gathered round and gave her a hug. She was still trembling. “Now we must get down to the carts,” asserted Kirsty. “Wait, I’ve hurt my leg on the wall,” whispered Cherie. This quickly elicited more sympathy from the other girls, although there were only a couple of small scrapes, and we lost more time while they gathered round and washed and comforted. Finally we left the toilets and walked quickly down to the meeting place, not wanting to get into trouble but with a good explanation. About halfway down we began to sense something was wrong. It was too quiet. We began to look at each other in shock. “They must have gone!” exclaimed Kirsty. “Roy, you told us they’d count us all and wait for us, but they’ve gone without us!” We broke into a run, but sure enough the campsite was deserted. I led the way as we ran along the track to the corner and looked down the road. Far in the distance we could see two of the carts trundling onwards, but they were too far to make out the figures who must have been in the back, on the hay. But we ran and shouted and waved our arms in the hope that they would see us and return. Kirsty was in tears, and Susan also was drizzling quietly. “Roy, you said they’d count us!” wailed Kirsty. “But they’ve gone and left us all behind, and they haven’t even noticed!” I was bewildered, as I had on a similar occasion at school sneaked off with Saskia on an outing, and hurried back to find the teachers had counted, taken names, found us missing and were just about to start looking for us. I could not understand how the leaders at this camp had been so careless as to leave us behind. Hadn’t they counted? As I discovered later, it was mostly due to a couple of simple misunderstandings. The carts had arrived early, which is always unusual in our Mediterranean country with its loose values of time. Apparently the driver of the first cart, when loaded with children, set off straight away, and everybody thought he was just turning the cart round. Instead he disappeared off down the road and was out of earshot before anybody noticed, so nobody knew how many were on that cart or who they were. Trevor and Linda were on that cart, but they did not have the sense to tell the driver to stop and wait. Miss Tate tried to sort things out then by sending the remaining leaders to check all over and make sure nobody was left behind. I think it was Lloyd who was posted to check the toilets, but he either didn’t, or didn’t do so properly. It seemed everyone was accounted for, and Miss Tate did not want to get too far behind the first cart, so they set off in the belief that we were all there. If anybody wondered where we were, they no doubt expected us to be on another cart. I stood there feeling helpless, alone except for the girls. Alone except for the girls? Well, maybe that wasn’t so bad after all! Was this an opportunity? Kirsty was crying freely and Susan quietly. “We’re stuck here by ourselves all day and we’ve missed the outing!” snivelled Kirsty. Cherie looked worried and guilty, no doubt feeling that it was all her fault. But Tessa seemed to agree with me. She looked at me with an excited smile on her face. “Roy, we can play in the mud now! Properly!” she exclaimed. “Yes, I suppose we can,” I grinned, suddenly realising that this was indeed an opportunity I could exploit. “Play in the mud?” queried Susan, looking at Tessa, rather shocked. “Yes, like the boys did the other day!” grinned Tessa brightly. “While we had to go on our walk, they were all having fun and they wouldn’t let the girls join in. But we can do it now, can’t we, Roy? We’ve got the whole camp to ourselves!” “I wanted to ride on the hay,” sniffed Kirsty. “They may come back!” protested Susan. “Roy, they may find we’re missing and come back to pick us up.” I thought about that. “Miss Tate said it takes well over an hour to get there,” I recalled. “So even if they miss us straight away when they get there, and even if somebody comes back in a car to look for us, that will be two hours. We’ve got plenty of time.” “Yippee!” exclaimed Tessa, bouncing up excitedly. “Come on, Roy, let’s go in the mud!” She grabbed my arm and started pulling me. “I want to go on the outing,” moaned Kirsty. “I’m frightened here by myself.” “You’re not by yourself, I’m looking after you,” I told her proudly. “We’ll be fine, I promise. Look, all the stuff is in our tents and they haven’t even left anybody to guard it. So we’re quite safe here.” “I trust you, I know you’ll look after us,” smiled Tessa, leading me firmly back towards camp, beyond which was the stream and the mud. The other girls tagged behind us, looking distraught. Cherie moved up beside me for a moment as we passed the meeting place, and whispered, “I’m sorry, it was all my fault.” She looked at me miserably out of the corner of her big green eyes. She was almost my age, but I felt very much like a big brother and protector. I reached an arm round her back and said, “No, it wasn’t your fault, it was just an accident that could have happened to anybody.” She didn’t reply or look at me, but just touched my hand with her fingers for a moment. “Tessa, what are you going to *wear* in the mud?” asked Kirsty practically, recovering somewhat and catching us up. “You’ll get into trouble if you get your clothes muddy.” “I’m not going to get them muddy, I’ll take them off, of course,” answered Tessa, as if it were a stupid question. “You’re not – going to go *naked*, are you?” asked Kirsty in horror. “Of course, it doesn’t matter!” retorted Tessa. “Nobody will see us.” “But Roy’s here, and he’ll see you!” protested Kirsty, as if what was done outdoors by the stream was a much worse crime than what was done indoors in the cave. “I don’t mind Roy seeing me,” shrugged Tessa. “He’s my friend and I trust him.” “Roy, are you – going in the mud as well?” asked Kirsty. “You bet – if it’s good for playing in,” I answered. “The sun isn’t hot yet, so it should still be muddy.” On the way Kirsty, again being practical and recovering remarkably from her upset, nipped over to the store tent and brought with her a five-litre bottle of drinking water. We reached the stream and clambered over the rocks to reach the mud. Tessa gave a squeal of delight. There were small pools of water all over the place, and with a little mixing it would obviously be very high quality mud indeed. Cherie looked mildly shocked. “Are they going to play in *that*?” she asked Susan, who nodded. Tessa scrambled over to the rocks and began throwing off her clothes. “Come on, Roy!” she encouraged me. I had just reached her by the time she pulled off her panties and stepped into the mud, naked. It was slippery and she tried to do it too quickly. With a squeal and a laugh, she slipped backwards and sat down with a splat in the mud. There were more squeals from the female audience, of mingled shock and amusement. I had my clothes off quickly and was joining her as she slipped and slithered her way across to what looked like the muddiest patch of all. “Roy, how could you?!” I heard Kirsty exclaim, but I could tell she was not as shocked as she pretended to be. “This is great!” I laughed, glancing at the girls. I think Kirsty was actually trying not to smile, while Susan was inscrutable with her fingers stuffed firmly to her mouth. Cherie was standing with her mouth open, looking astonished to see me naked in the presence of girls. It was a good thing Ernst wasn’t with me. No doubt he also thought I was on one of the other carts. I have always thought that my normal, unspectacular penis is the best sort for inducting tender young girls into the brave new world of nudity. It is less likely to frighten them than most other male genitalia, but Ernst’s was a totally different story, likely to give a delicate girl nightmares for years afterwards. As I was still looking at them, a wet piece of clay flew past my chest. Before I could turn, another caught me on the outside part of my bottom. “Come on, Roy, mud-fight!” shouted Tessa. She was jumping up and down and spraying clayballs, like snowballs, vaguely in my direction. She was not the most accurate of throwers, so I scored more hits than we did as we flung clay at each other, laughing. I tried to make sure I didn’t throw too hard, as I knew even tomboys can be surprisingly delicate at times, but I aimed low and kept splattering my ammunition on her legs. I developed the cunning tactic of throwing just as she was in the act of throwing, and then laughed at her as it made her throw even more off target. Getting frustrated, she suddenly picked up a large handful of clay and came running at me. Taken by surprise, I backed away, but slipped and fell on my bottom. I’m not sure how Tessa managed to reach me without falling herself, but in a moment she was on top of me, laughing and slapping her large dollop of mud joyfully onto my shoulder and smearing it all over me. To the accompaniment of squeals and laughter from our spectators, I grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her down on top of me. We rolled over, laughing, and squelched in the mud. Tessa was on her back now, knees up and a relatively clean little vagina easily visible as he kicked out playfully at me. I was on top of her, scooping up mud and slapping it all over her tummy, but keeping it off her face and genitals. She grabbed my arm and held it tightly. As I tried to wriggle free, I felt a large slap on mud on my back, accompanied by more female laughter. Looking up, I saw Kirsty standing there, wearing only her flesh-coloured, flower-embroidered panties. She was just out of my reach, laughing at me as she picked up another handful of mud to slop on to me. I grabbed some mud and stood up quickly, while she dropped her mud and backed away. “No, Roy, no!” she laughed. “You’ll get my panties muddy!” “If you come in wearing them, that’s your problem!” I returned, slinging mud at her legs and trying to keep away from her panties. As I threw it at her shins, though, a few small pieces flew up and landed on her panties. “No, Roy, you’re making them muddy!” she squealed in horror, turning her back and trying to run to safety. But she slipped and fell on her side, giving a wail of despair as one side of her panties contacted the mud. I stopped throwing, and Tessa seemed to have surrendered, as she scrambled out of the mud and stood with the other girls by the side, anxiously inspecting the damage and moaning at me. “It wasn’t my fault,” I told her. “You mustn’t come into the mud if you don’t want to get muddy.” “You should have taken them off,” giggled Susan. “Well, maybe I will,” retorted Kirsty rather surprisingly. “It looks like fun – but I don’t want to fight.” “You don’t have to fight, you can just play,” I told her. “But if you start putting mud on people, they’re going to put it on you.” “That was just to help Tessa,” she excused herself. “But I just want to – try playing in it. Come on, Susan, let’s try it.” “You go first,” sniggered Susan, as courageous as ever. I looked at Cherie. She immediately looked away from me – after all, decent girls are not supposed to look at naked boys. Besides, I had discovered that I was rather like Ernst had been now, with muddy legs, muddy stomach and genitals still relatively untouched by mud. Tessa, now coming towards me with a happy grin on her face, was similar, with a large white patch around her vagina. In the meantime Kirsty was going over to the stream. She stood carefully in the running water to wash her legs, and then got out. With her legs clean, she began to remove her panties, not very easy over her wet skin, and leaving a trail of mud behind down her thigh. She bent down to wash her panties carefully in the water, showing under her bottom that long slit like a zip fastener as her vagina appeared to join with the crack in her bottom. Cherie was looking very concerned, and indeed astonished. Kirsty turned round, facing me naked, and looking a strange sight with her white chest and the large pink areolas of her little sprouting breasts. She laid her panties on a rock in the sun to dry, and then said, “Come on now, Susan, let’s play.” “Roy, let’s see if we can build a castle in this,” Tessa called me, and I turned away without looking to see if Susan was responding. I knew from experience that the less interest I showed, the more likely girls were to take the plunge. I crouched down by Tessa and helped her scoop clay together and shape it into castle forms, which wasn’t really possible as it was still a bit too damp to keep its shape. I had positioned myself side-on to the other girls and could see activity out of the corner of my eye, but couldn’t make out what it was. I exercised self-control and restrained my curiosity, conscious of my image as a boy who wouldn’t spy on the girls. Once they truly accepted that image, I had already found, most girls couldn’t care less what I see of their bodies. “It’s not working,” complained Tessa. “It’s too wet here. Let’s go somewhere drier.” “You can come over here if you like,” Kirsty invited us. “I’m digging a hole with Susan, and we’re making a hill from what we take out.” Tessa and I went over to have a look. Both girls were now naked, squatting and digging over at the side where the clay was drier. Susan glanced up at me, forcing an embarrassed smile, bent low over the hole so I could only see her bare back, and I kept my eyes well away from her. Cherie was standing nearby, looking as if she wished she were a million kilometres away. “Let’s try,” I agreed, squatting down beside the hole and digging into the thick clay with my hands. Tessa squatted next to me, our knees up as we scrabbled between them. When she was in that position I could just see a sliver of her clitoris between the lips of her vagina, while my penis and testicles were hanging down in full view. Kirsty knelt and dug, with her vagina hidden between her legs until she straightened herself up, a movement which just revealed the top of her vagina and her tiny patch of auburn pubic hair. Susan soon gave up, moving back and sitting on the firm raised ground at the side. “Come on, Susan, help,” Kirsty urged her, and I glanced up as Susan told her friend there were too many stones. Susan was now sitting quite comfortably with her legs apart, her plump vagina lips clearly visible with her deep black slit in between, curving round underneath to meet apparently with the crack of her bottom. Soon it was too stony for us all to dig, but Tessa decided she could make clay animals. Except for Cherie, we all scooped up clay and began to make little models. Cherie sat miserably on a rock in the shade nearby, and the others ignored her. I looked up and smiled at her once, but she blushed and looked away, no doubt embarrassed by my nakedness. From where I was squatting, she would have a full view of my genitals. “Come on, Cherie, join in,” urged Kirsty rather bossily. I saw Cherie shrivel up a little inside and shake her head. “Don’t be shy, it’s all fun, it doesn’t matter,” Kirsty urged her again. “She doesn’t have to,” I put in, trying to take the pressure off Cherie. I had started learning how to be cunning. “Come on, Kirsty, you can’t force her.” Kirsty shrugged and went back to her model, as she tried to make a ballerina out of clay that was much too coarse. My elephant was much more appropriate for the material we were using. I felt thirsty, so I stood up after a while and went over to take a drink from the bottle of water that Kirsty had brought with us. It was in the shade nearby, not far from Cherie, and I noticed she wouldn’t even look at me as I had my drink. I wondered if I should talk to her, but thought it better to wait. I was aware, though, that we daren’t risk spending too much time in the clay, in case somebody came back to look for us. As I finished my drink, though, I heard Cherie say, “I wish I could play as well.” With the wisdom of my additional years now, I realise that she was really looking for somebody to talk her into doing what she really wanted to do. I looked at her, but she still had her head turned away from me. None of the other girls were looking at her, so I guessed she had been talking to me. So I answered encouragingly, “Well, you can, come and join in.” She shook her head shyly, confirming that she had been addressing me, even though she still avoided looking at me. “I – I’ve never played – without clothes before,” she murmured. “I’m too shy.” “I’m sorry about that,” I told her. “But I know how you feel. Two years ago I went to a naturist place for the first time, and I felt so shy and scared when I had to take my clothes off. But I soon got used to it, and now I just love it. I feel so free, and – and it’s just great to be with other people when we all trust each other. But I know people feel very shy before they try it.” Cherie gave a sort of shiver and didn’t reply. I wondered what else to say, but wisely decided to keep my mouth shut and let the thoughts settle in. Reluctantly I went back to join the others in the clay. “Let’s bury Tessa,” I suggested, and the others laughed. “All right!” laughed Tessa brightly, and she lay down on her back. We picked up piles of clay and began to plaster it all over her. Her sweet little vagina was fully exposed now, small and neat, gently rounded lips peeping out from between her legs and a hint of what had probably been what I call a buttonhole vagina, a slight rounding of the hole at the top usually seen in younger girls. Thrilled with love at this intimate view of my favourite girl, I could hardly tear my eyes away from it as I covered her legs with clay. Fortunately nobody was watching me as the others were plastering her upper body with clay. Finally Kirsty slapped clay over her loins and her vagina, almost the last part of her body to be covered, disappeared. Kirsty suddenly looked up at me and asked, “Roy, do you think – it’s all right to put clay on there? It won’t get – inside?” My knowledge of the specific characteristics of female genitalia was very weak in those days, but some quick thinking gave me a logical answer. “I – should think it’s all right,” I said. “I mean – when you have a bath, your bathwater doesn’t go inside, does it?” “No,” giggled Kirsty, and that seemed to settle the matter. She and Susan firmly patted down the clay that now covered all of Tessa except for her head, and then turned to me. “Now it’s your turn,” she said. “You can lie down next to Tessa because I know you like her.” She sniggered. “All right, but there’ll only be two of you to do it now,” I agreed, with a bit of cunning. “Cherie, can you give Kirsty and Susan some help in covering me up, please?” “Yes, Cherie, please come and help,” put in Susan kindly, taking her cue from me. Kirsty also put in some encouragement, and added with a silly giggle, “You’ll get a close-up of Roy’s thing, too!” I saw Cherie hesitate, nervous and undecided. So I said, “Cherie, you can do my legs, Kirsty can do my middle and Susan can do my top.” I promptly lay down on my back next to Tessa, deliberately not watching Cherie. “Quickly, Cherie, it’s fun,” urged Kirsty, kneeling down and scooping up some clay to slap on my tummy. There came a sound from Cherie that was probably a timid, “All right,” and from the corner of my eye I saw movement from her. She was probably unbuttoning her dress. My heart thumped so fast I was afraid Kirsty would notice, but she just slapped some mud on my belly button and dug for some more. I tried to look unconcerned as Cherie slipped her dress off and then her panties, quite quickly now she had decided to take the plunge. “That’s better!” proclaimed Kirsty bossily as Cherie stepped cautiously off the path and on to the mud, heading for my feet. She shot me a nervous glance, but I moved my eyes away quickly in case I should put her off. I didn’t look in her direction until she squatted by my feet to dig up some mud, with a nervous giggle. At first I could only see what was almost a side view, as her bent legs hid the secret between them from my greedy eyes. I did see that her chest was as flat as Tessa’s, with the tiniest of areolas and nipples, hardly visible. Then she moved to go round the other side, where there were greater quantities of the damp clay, and as she stepped around my feet I caught a glimpse of her delicate little vagina, smooth and flat. The girls worked away, with Susan the closest to my head. I would have preferred to have had Cherie up there, but thought the proximity to my eyes might have put her off. Susan now seemed quite unashamed, and I made the interesting discovery that she did in fact have a few tufts of pubic hair, a very light brown, and visible only from close up. Within a few minutes I, like Tessa, was covered in black clay from neck to foot. Well – not quite. It had been a mistake to entrust my middle section to Kirsty. There was a tiny bit of me still not covered, as Kirsty had left my penis uncovered. The girls all stopped decorating me. Then Susan said nervously, “Kirsty, just finish the job. That looks rude.” She waved a hand slightly in the direction of my exposed penis. Kirsty gave one of her silly giggles. “I don’t want to do that, he might get mud inside him,” she excused herself. “The bathwater doesn’t go in so you can cover it up,” I told her. The thought struck me that I was glad I hadn’t been circumcised, as I wasn’t too sure of the effect of the mud had the hole in my penis been exposed, but it was safely tucked away under my foreskin. Kirsty giggled annoyingly again. “I – don’t want to touch it,” she gave as her unconvincing excuse this time, looking down on it all the time. I could tell Cherie was feeling most uncomfortable. But Susan finally said, “You don’t have to touch it,” and slopped some mud over it. The girls now stood back and looked at the two of us lying side by side under the mud, laughing. Cherie’s little vagina was easily visible as she stood there, unconcerned now as well, although she did allow one hand to stray close to it, as if feeling she must give it some protection. “Now they can get married in the mud,” Kirsty felt obliged to contribute, along with the obligatory giggles which were always part of the package. The sun was very hot now and the clay was rapidly drying up. Tessa moved, and pieces of dried clay fell off her. Then Kirsty suddenly gasped and asked, “Roy, how long have we been here?” Instinctively I moved my arm to look at my watch, knocking most of the dried clay off, suddenly worried as it seemed we had been there for about two hours. The glass was covered in mud, so I had to free my other arm to clear it. “Just over half an hour!” I exclaimed in surprise. We had done do much in that time that it had seemed more like two hours. “I think we’d better go and shower now,” suggested Tessa, sitting up and losing most of her clay. “Just in case somebody comes back quickly.” “Imagine if Kevin came back and found us all naked,” squealed Kirsty, acting silly again. “Ooh!” She pushed her thighs together and thrust a hand over her pubic hair, just as if Kevin had indeed arrived on the scene and she was covering herself. “We’d all get into such trouble.” She laughed louder than ever. Tessa and I both got up, our skins black with mud, while Kirsty and Susan were pretty muddy as well. Cherie’s arms and legs were muddy but she had only a few smears on her white little body, on which the tan lines from her swimming costume stood out clearly. “How are we going to get from here to the showers?” Susan suddenly remembered, thinking of the problem for the first time. “We go naked!” I grinned. “We’re way out here and nobody will see us at all!” “Ooh, no, I can’t do that!” wailed Kirsty. “You do what you like, then,” I told her, washing my hands off in the stream and picking up my clothes. “Come on, Tessa.” And I set off with her up over the rocks, heading for the showers. I looked back to see the others slowly following. I noticed Kirsty’s panties were still drying on the rock and she had forgotten to pick them up, but she was chattering away to Susan non-stop, and I couldn’t tell her right then. Within a moment I had forgotten. I had no inhibitions at all about walking through the grass and the trees naked as I headed for the showers. It was just like our naturist club. Tessa looked a little nervous, but seemed happy to be with me. Giggling from behind suggested there were still plenty of inhibitions. Kirsty and Susan were scuttling along with hands and clothes fluttering over personal areas, while Cherie came along in the rear with her dress pressed firmly against her chest and hanging down to hide her body. Joyfully I broke into a run, and Tessa, laughing, ran with me. There were giggles from behind, and the others began to run too, not wanting to be left behind. Our laughter, now through the sheer joy of this daring experience, grew, as our jubilant throng approached the showers. I entered the shower room, and was immediately shouted at by Kirsty. “Hey, Roy, you can’t go in there, that’s the girls’ side!” “He’s been there before!” Tessa called back instantly, and I knew she was thinking of that late-night shower we had taken together a few days earlier. “I know, but he can’t have a shower there – with us,” complained Kirsty, thinking Tessa was talking about my rescue of Cherie. “Of course he can,” answered back Tessa, and I was relieved she remembered not to give the game away about our late-night shower. When the other girls entered Tessa and I were already turning on the water, using only the cold tap at this time of day. Even that water felt quite warm. The piece of soap was still there, and Tessa grabbed it first. “Ooh, Roy, I think I’m even dirtier than I was the other night,” she said, and then slapped her hand to her mouth as she had forgotten again. I glanced round, but the noise of the water had stopped the other girls from hearing what she had said. The other night, though, the clay had been drier all the time and we had spent a while in the stream. “Roy, if you wash me, then I’ll wash you,” offered Tessa. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. She came over into my shower and I began, with only my hands to scrub. I ignored the comments of Kirsty in particular as I rubbed my hands and the soap firmly up and down and all over her smooth, soft little body, while she laughed and occasionally chatted. Then she washed me, especially my back. When we had finally finished, I turned to find Kirsty next to me, grinning at me. Water dripped from her, and there were droplets on her tiny breasts and the little bit of pubic hair she had. “Roy, I can’t clean my back, please help me,” she said. She turned and presented me with her back, which I scrubbed with my rather tired hands as best I could. There was some mud on her bottom still, and she giggled as I washed her little rounded buttock cheeks. When I had finished she thanked me and returned to her own shower, stopping short of asking me to wash her front. The others were not to be left out, although they were rather more shy about asking. Susan naturally had a rather solid, podgy back, firmer than I had expected, but her bottom was soft as I finished the job down there. Cherie hesitated and stood there looking at me, dripping water. I sensed she was too shy to ask, so I asked her, “Cherie, do you want me to wash your back as well?” She nodded, and moved into the shower with me. I felt very tender towards this shy, sweet girl who had finally taken the plunge to go naked into the mud. Gently I rubbed her back clean, murmuring into her ear now and again as I did so. It was less dirty than the others, as most of the mud had been on her arms and legs. It didn’t take me long, and at the end I asked her hopefully, “Anywhere else?” She thought, and then turned round and said, “There are some marks on my tummy I can’t get off.” I knelt down in front of her to deal with those. They were very small marks, although there was one smear at the top of her groin that I had to remove carefully. Her tiny sweet vagina was just visible to me under the curve of her loins and she didn’t seem at all bothered now to have me see it – in fact, perhaps cleaning her front was just an excuse to help her present herself to me in the open trust that preteen girls sometimes show. Perhaps it is their equivalent of sex, although there is nothing sexual about it, but just the gift of showing me their body, or in lesser cases their panties. “There, now you’re beautiful again,” I teased her as I finished. “Thank you,” she whispered, but didn’t move away at first. I could tell she wanted to say something else but was shy about it. Finally she said quietly, “Roy, thank you for – helping me out of the toilet. And you were right – up there at the mud. It – doesn’t feel so bad now. Now I’m used to it.” “Good, I’m glad of that,” I smiled. I turned off the shower and we joined the others. We had no towels, of course, but there was a big ray of sunshine pouring in over the walls, so they were standing in that and trying to dry themselves in the sun and with handkerchiefs, of all things. “Roy,” said Kirsty, grinning precociously as I went up to them. “I *dare* you to go back to camp naked.” “All right,” I agreed straight away. I had been thinking how nice it would be to do just that, when nobody from the rest of the camp was around. “And I dare you to join me.” Kirsty squealed and giggled, but I suspected that ‘naughty’ wish, as she no doubt thought of it, had been in her mind also. “All right,” she sniggered. She turned to the other girls and said, “Let’s all do it! There’s nobody here, and it’ll be such fun!” “Ooh!” squealed Susan, hands to mouth. But she was grinning, and the naughty look on her face showed she was thinking the same thing. “I’ll do it,” grinned Tessa happily. Of all the others, she was by some way the closest to a naturist, not too concerned about nudity and unaffected by the silliness of Kirsty and Susan. “What about you, Cherie?” asked Kirsty. Cherie made a noise that was perhaps a suppressed giggle. “I will – if you will,” she agreed. She had certainly made remarkable progress that morning. “Right, let’s go, then!” I shouted, omitting the futility of trying to dry myself without a towel. “Race you to the meeting place!” Before they had time to think, I picked up my clothes and raced out of the door and ran at full speed down the slope, towards the camp meeting place. I had a good lead while the girls no doubt hoped somebody else would be second, and by the time I arrived, naked for the first time, in the open at our meeting place, the others were a good 50 metres behind me. Tessa threw her arms in the air and gave a yell of exuberance, while Kirsty and Susan laughed and screamed quietly, if that is not a contradiction in terms. The quiet little Cherie just smiled beautifully as she arrived with the others, panting for breath. “Ooh, this feels so funny!” grinned Kirsty, instinctively putting one hand over her vagina as she looked round. “Just imagine, all the camp was here only an hour ago! I wonder if there has ever been anybody else naked in this spot. Probably not for hundreds of years!” Susan looked at me and gave a giggle. “I want to see the boys’ tents,” she whispered. “Ooh, yes, let’s do that!” decided Kirsty. “I’ve always wanted to see inside the boys’ tents. I bet they’re so messy! And we’ll be naked too, and they’ll never find out.” “Well, you can see inside our tent, but – I don’t think it would be good to look at all of them,” I said. That seemed to satisfy them, so we walked over to the boys’ tents together. I opened the flap of our tent and, after hesitating, they came inside. It was actually pretty tidy, as we hadn’t had time to mess it up after morning inspection. They wanted to know where I slept, and Ernst, and of course Mickey. “I wish we could put some – some itching powder in his bed. Or clay!” exclaimed Kirsty. It just showed again how far Mickey’s stocks had fallen during the course of the camp. “Do you want to see our tent?” Tessa asked me. I nodded, so we walked over to the girls’ side of camp, still naked and carrying our clothes. Kirsty gave me a guided tour of the inside of their neat little tent, pointing out all the beds. Then she asked me, “Roy, what’s the time now?” Again we had forgotten about the time. I looked at my watch, looked again, and then stared. It was still showing the same time as it had after our fun in the mud. It seemed that my waterproof watch, which I always wore in the pool, had succumbed to a dose of clay. “It’s stopped?!” squealed Kirsty, suddenly in a flap. “Ooh, Roy, we’ve been a long time and somebody may be coming back for us right now! And we’re *naked*! Quickly, get dressed quickly, everybody!” She immediately started scrambling into her panties, and Susan did the same. I too was worried, but saw there was no need to panic. “Look, if somebody comes, they’ll blow the whistle first, and shout, so we’ll get warning,” I told her, but she seemed genuinely panic-stricken. The moment they were dressed, Kirsty and Susan shot out of the tent, heading no doubt for the meeting place in their clothes. Cherie, dressing hurriedly, was not far behind them. So our fun was over as far as naturism was concerned. Tessa and I stood and looked at each other, alone and naked together in her tent. I felt rather deflated at the sudden ending. “Well, we’d better get dressed too now,” I conceded. She nodded. Then she came over to me, slowly and smiling, and planted a kiss on my cheek. I turned and kissed her in return, and then we wrapped our arms round each other. Our bodies were still cool from the shower as we hugged tightly and lovingly, pressing our cheeks together and kissing again. My stomach was pressed up against her chest, as I was taller, and my penis, stiffening a little, against her hip, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind. Suddenly we heard a noise at the tent flap, and we sprang apart sharply, thinking in our childish way of one of the leaders come to fetch us and catching us in two crimes at the same time – nudity and kissing. Or else it was Kirsty, and since my relationship was Tessa was much more loving and intimate I didn’t want her to see us together either. But it was just Cherie, standing there sheepishly and looking rather guilty at having caught us. Tessa suddenly grinned and asked, “Did you see us?” She was more curious than anything. Cherie nodded nervously. “You can have one as well if you like,” Tessa offered generously. “Roy, give Cherie a cuddle.” “If she wants,” I replied, smiling at her and awaiting her reply. Cherie’s cheeks went a little red, her mouth opened slightly and she nodded. I stepped towards her, and she came to meet me. I was naked, she was clothed, but she didn’t seem to mind now. I wrapped my arms round her, while she wrapped hers rather woodenly around me. She obviously wasn’t used to this cuddling sort of thing, but she was willing to try. “Will you – would you like a kiss as well?” I whispered into her ear. She looked up at me, her face hot, but she nodded. I gave her a tender, gentle kiss just next to her ear. She smiled nervously and gave me one on my cheek. It was awkwardly done, but she was trying. I gave her another squeeze, pressing her slim little body against mine, and then we parted. It was time for me to get dressed, time for us to return to the textile world and await whatever might happen over our missed outing. About 20 minutes later, Kevin and Wendy arrived in a car to look for us. When they all arrived at the other farm, they checked everybody carefully and found us missing. The adult leaders were in a major panic, not knowing what had happened to us and afraid they would get into serious trouble if they had lost us. But they established that we had never arrived at the meeting place, and Kevin volunteered to drive an offered car back to look for us, along with Wendy. Kevin was too level-headed to be angry with us until he had heard our story, and then he agreed that we had a good excuse in that we were rescuing Cherie, although emphasising that I should have sent for help straight away. I felt very proud to have Wendy hear from the girls how well I had looked after them all, although she was quite a bit less fluent when Wendy asked her what we had all been doing back at the camp. Kirsty’s overactive tongue worried me a bit, but fortunately she had been so involved herself she never gave away anything serious. Miss Tate did flap a bit at us when we arrived, but she was more relieved that we had been found safe and that we had a reasonable excuse for missing the ride. We had an exciting day at the farm, and it wasn’t until we were boarding the carts again for the ride home that I happened to notice that Kirsty was still not wearing any panties. When we arrived back at camp just before dusk, she came up to me and whispered in my ear. “Roy, you’ll never guess. I left my panties by the stream, and I’ve been walking round all day without any, but nobody found out! Please, Roy, please would you get them for me?” In vain I argued that I would be going out of bounds at that time of day, and things would be even more awkward if I were discovered carrying a pair of female panties around with me. But again I fell victim to the damsel in distress situation. I did manage to sneak over to the stream, stuffed the panties inside my shorts, and managed to deliver them to the grateful owner without being caught. The rest of camp passed without incident, although Wendy did note with a laugh that I seemed to have an unusual number of girls chasing me. I found times and places for cuddles with Tessa and occasionally Cherie, while Kirsty kept trying to revive our secret sessions in the hidden cave. I did give her one more session before camp finally ended. Ernst and Maxi never got together again, not surprisingly. Ernst fortunately seemed to lose interest in girls after that experience. It was the most memorable summer camp I ever attended. I like to think there are some girls, wherever they are now, who look back on it, think of me, and think the same thing. (The End) Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com