____________________________ | | /)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\ / )| DIRECTORIES |( \ __( (|____________________________|) )__ ((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / ))) (\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///) \ / \ / \ _/ \_ / / / \ \ o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o o o o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o o o o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o o and should not be read by minors. o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Grown Up Girls (family) by Some Sort of Dog WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of age who have no objection to reading about young women's breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of the events described in this story actually took place, to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are described as taking place between adults and minors. No young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you find it. None of the characters in this story is real. Their names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. (She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older sister. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog Part I Chapter 1: Remember Me? You might not remember me, but you will almost certainly remember Tanya. She's unforgettable! Even though she's four years younger than me, she's been my BIG little sister since she was ten. We're a lot older now. I moved out of our parents' house to live with my boyfriend, Paul, and our three little kids. They grow up so fast, you only have to turn around and, whoosh, they're off to school. How old are they now? I have to stop and work it out. Victoria's ten now, quite the little lady, and the same age that Tanya was when I first told you her story. Pansy's eight. Those of you who had a chance to read about our formative years will perhaps be interested to hear that there is a family resemblance! And what about Tanya's little daughter, Suzanne? She's three months younger than Pansy, but if you saw her walking down the road you'd think she was older than Victoria! It's something in our genes, we know now. Ever since Mum showed us girls some old photograph albums, we realised that our huge busts, and those of our daughters, 'run in the family'! Not that our Mum, although a well-developed woman, is anywhere near as big as us. But she thinks *she* is the one who must be some kind of a throwback, or freak, as *her* mother - our grandmother - also had a gigantic pair of tits! Mum was quite pleased not to have grown as big as that, she said, although she wouldn't have minded having a few more inches, just every now and again! We had never seen our Grandma Trudy, who was apparently born in America. Of course that made her a distant, romantic figure to us girls. We'd never even met a real live American, yet here was this glamorous woman in the photographs, and she was our very own grandmother! We all laughed, the way you do, looking at those family photographs. Amazing how fashions change. There were some photos of our grandparents when they were first married. Grandma Trudy was a lovely young woman; slim, yet with an enormous bust which seemed to stick out miles in front of her. And I'm sure it wasn't just because of those strange bras they used to wear in the nineteen- fifties! Further on in the album, there were more photos of her. The ones that really intrigued us were those that showed our Mum as a young girl with her twin sister. In one, taken when she was eleven, her tits looked bigger than they are now! Not as big as Tanya's had been at that age, but of course, not many women's breasts are - not at any age! Mum explained to us that it was her tits that finally got her into trouble when she was fifteen. Boys used to run around after her, trying to sneak a feel of her lush, bouncy boobs. That's when she wasn't running around after the boys! It was only a matter of time before she started to explore the forbidden world of sex. It was a forbidden world, certainly, but not an unknown one. Grandma Trudy had sternly warned her twin daughters about men, and the things they sometimes did to young girls, especially well-developed ones. But Mum took all those dire warnings literally, being a young girl. The warnings were about *men*, not boys, and when Mum became pregnant, it was at the hands (if that's the right expression) of a sixteen-year-old boy called Vaughan something who was obsessed with her large fifteen-year- old titties. And that, as Mum said, was that. Her father had shown her the door. He had brought shame and humiliation on the entire Pym family. She had gone with a no-good no-hoper of a boy, with no prospects and no education, and not even the common sense to use a contraceptive. Well, she had made her bed, and now she could lie in it. Four months pregnant, she was thrown out of the family home to make her own way in the world with Vaughan. Never, she had been told, darken this door again. Grandad Pym was an English gentleman, Mum said, and he was obviously not averse to using the odd cliche here and there. As if that hadn't been bad enough, Mum's twin sister, Frances, went off the rails as well. I think that was grandfather's expression, not mine. She married a man who wasn't worthy of her. In fact, they got on quite well until a few years ago, but by the time *their* twin daughters had reached the age of thirteen, the relationship was creaking under the strain of coping with two big-busted teenagers flouncing about the house. Even sending the girls away to an expensive boarding school couldn't save the marriage. Vaughan, our Dad, had turned out to be pure gold. The couple had found a place to live, Vaughan got himself a job, and I was born. By the time Tanya arrived, we had moved to a bigger house with a garden, we had a three- year-old (almost) luxury car and Dad had a job which brought us every simple comfort we could wish for. Mum had almost everything she wished for, but not a father. Ever since he had thrown her out, Roger Pym had never mentioned his daughter's name again. Then he followed that up by throwing out Frances as well, and he never mentioned hers either! Mum and Grandma Trudy wrote to each other from time to time, but letters could be no substitute for the lost love of a parent. As Mum said, Grandma Trudy had told her it was only her husband's stubbornness and pig-headed English pride that prevented a reconciliation. One of the end results of this was that we had never seen Grandma Trudy, nor were we likely to, so long as Roger Pym - now *Sir* Roger, apparently, after a lifetime of service to his country in some obscure department of the Foreign Office - allowed his own precious public image to come before his own flesh and blood. The other result, Mum told us, was that she had a younger sister she'd never seen. After she and Frances had been cut off, Grandma Trudy had had another daughter. Maybe it had been a small sign of Roger Pym's remorse that although he remained stiff and unbending about allowing his daughters back into the family, he had made some amends by fathering another child. Another daughter. Amy was the same age as Tanya. The Pyms had more or less retired now, and were living in the depths of the countryside somewhere in Herefordshire. So, for the sake of those readers who are only interested (and probably disbelieving) in the big breasts in the family, it's just the way we are. There's absolutely nothing *wrong* with us, nor with our busty girls, but you should try explaining that to the people who stare at us when we take our kids out to the shops or to school. People can be so horribly cruel. I get rude remarks aimed at me. As if it was my fault that the girls are the way they are. Tanya says she finds the same thing. She's a bit more forthright than me when it comes to dealing with the snide comments and the stares and the pointing fingers, and worst of all, the jeering laughter in the street. Quite a few of these ignorant or thoughtless people have found themselves on the receiving end of some pretty blunt advice from my sister. This ridiculous behaviour makes me more than glad that my third baby was a boy. Daniel is four, now. I won't be having any more children, but you can tell, Tanya would like another. A boy, she says. With all the hassle she's had, both herself and now with young Suzanne, you can hardly blame her. What about me? I was flat as a board until I was thirteen. I almost had the worst of both worlds, having been the object of scorn for having no tits, then only a few months later, the object of derision for having such big ones! I wouldn't wish that on anybody. Tanya's breasts had made their first appearance when she was eight. My Victoria was very similar, and so was little Pansy. Talk about early developers! And Suzanne? *Her* little titties had arrived before she was even SIX. I couldn't believe it when Tanya showed me them one evening in the bath. I had dropped by to visit my parents, and Tanya asked me to come upstairs and chat while Suzanne was bathing. She had something to show me, she said. At that time, my little Victoria, two and a half years older, had barely started developing, but her young cousin's nipples were puffy little mounds, and the swellings on her chest already covered an area as big as saucers and almost as deep. I stared at them, fascinated, as Tanya soaped the child's growing boobies, and wondered how long it would be before Suzanne was as big as her vast-breasted mother. Tanya, who was then nineteen, had an eighty-eight inch bust! She had grown steadily for the whole of her teenage years. She says she's about ninety inches now so she's probably just about as big as she's going to get. It sounds strange, three or four inches either way on a normal woman's bust would make rather a lot of difference. It's not such a big deal when your bust measurement is approaching seven and a half feet! And what about mine? My bust is at the moment a 'mere' fifty-eight inches. It gets bigger when I over-eat, like at Christmas, but my normal size is never more than sixty! Mother told me that's about how big Grandma Trudy had been when she'd met Mr Pym, my grandfather. That memorable bath-night with Suzanne was only two and a bit years ago. Since then, my own two girls have both grown steadily, and Victoria's titties would not look at all out of place in one of those men's specialist magazines that cater for the connoisseur of big breasts. Pansy's figure, equally, could easily grace the pages of an 'ordinary' men's magazine. And what about Suzanne? Well, those swellings I first saw in the bath when Suzanne was still not even six years old, have since matured into a pair of breasts which any fully-grown woman might be proud of. Certainly bigger than Victoria's. Where is it all going to end? Chapter 2:- Grandma Trudy Thinking back again to that bathnight of Suzanne's, I can still feeling the fluttery sensation I had in my stomach and pussy when I first saw Suzanne's development. It was similar to the feeling I had when Tanya's breasts were beginning to really grow. I remembered how I stole her bra one night, and stuffed the cups with water-filled balloons. And she caught me strutting round my bedroom in her new clothes. I was mortified at the time, but from then on, Tanya and I developed a very special relationship, which has become stronger as we have grown older. Tanya said she looked at my face while she was rinsing the soap off little Suzanne's puffy breasts, and she knew what I was feeling. I'm sure she knew how wet I was, too. Those days of borrowing Tanya's bras and playing nasty games with her panties are long gone, although we still have a shame-faced laugh about them from time to time. It would take a pair of heavy-duty weather balloons to fill my sister's bra cups now! After that first sight of Suzanne's little boobies, I took every opportunity to see Tanya and her daughter, and I was not disappointed by the child's development. She had her first bra when she was six and a half! You can't walk into a shop holding a six-year-old by the hand and say to the assistant, 'my little girl needs a bra'. Well, you *could*, but they just don't make them that size. So Tanya took her straight to the woman who makes all our bras, Mrs Cooper, and showed Suzanne to her. Mrs Cooper wasn't easily shocked, having known our family for the best part of ten years, but she was quite prepared to made an exception in little Suzanne's case. Shocked? That wasn't the word for it! Well, when she recovered, Mrs Cooper had to admit that Suzanne certainly needed support. Her breasts were already heavy enough to droop slightly under their own weight. But she said there was no point in making a bra for her; knowing our family's history, it would be too small in a month or two. So she fished out a B-cup, one with the smallest body-band she could find, and put it around Suzanne's chest, then took a few measurements. She ended up taking six inches out of the back and sides of the bra. The cups were snug, but not too tight. Suzanne was over the moon! A real woman's bra, at only six. Mrs Cooper was right about Suzanne needing a new bra in a couple of months. Just as Tanya had done, the girl developed steadily. She took her to the doctor, the same one who had taken such a close interest in Tanya's development. It nearly put a permanent end to his career when the two of them walked into his surgery! (We heard later he'd had to go into hospital with a heart problem. I think he's a bit better now.) When they called again two weeks later, the new doctor was a young woman, whose eyes nearly popped out when she saw Tanya for the first time, and the tiny, slim seven-year-old girl with what was by then probably a C-cup bust! The child's breasts continued to grow, and became heavier and heavier. They certainly kept Mrs Cooper busy! She stopped modifying existing bras, and made her a new custom-built one every two months; each time a tiny bit bigger in the body, and quite a lot bigger in the cups. The shoulder straps became wider. There were more hooks. A kid can't grow up looking like that without attracting attention at school. Victoria and Pansy were the victims of catcalls and jeers from their classmates. Victoria, fortunately, was big enough to take care of herself, and Pansy as well. After receiving summary punishment from Victoria, most of the kids learned their lesson, and confined their remarks to those occasions when they were well out of range of Victoria's dangerous right hook. (I'm sorry if that qualifies as gratuitous violence, but girls will be girls.) Suzanne, though, wasn't so lucky. Living with our Mum and Dad, she went to a different school from my two. And the hassle she got was far worse. Tanya said most days she came home from school in tears after another barrage of cruel and foul-mouthed abuse, in school, and on the bus home. She could have been perfectly happy with her body; her own mother had probably some of the biggest breasts in existence, and *she* was happy with hers! Suzanne simply couldn't understand how other girls and boys could be so ignorant. Things came to a head, eventually. One day, Tanya phoned me in tears. It was so unlike her. She's the strong one in our family. "Suzanne says she doesn't want to go to that nasty school any more! I don't know what to do. I can't keep her at home." "Why not send her to the one over here, my two are all right there. At least, they are now Victoria's sorted them out!" "It's ten miles, Sis. There's no bus at the right time, no school bus, it's impossible." Tanya can't drive, for obvious reasons. I can, having found a car with enough room for my tits behind the wheel (or rather, below it), but it's not comfortable for long distances. "I wish she was old enough for St Cat's. The twins were happy there, and they were pretty big." "If I remember, there were some other big girls at St Cat's, too, weren't there. At the same time as the twins?" Tanya laughed, remembering. "That's right. A whole bunch of them. I met them when they were making a film for some holiday project. They thought it was a bug they all picked up there. Imagine, a titty-bug! It never was explained, as far as I know. Still, this doesn't solve the problem of Suzanne." "How about a private tutor, for a couple of years? St Cat's might take her after that if she was up to scratch with her school work, she'd be ten, near enough." "Money, sis! It's all I can do to keep the kid in bras, let alone having a private tutor in. Great idea, though! Maybe when we win the lottery ..." It was Grandma Trudy who changed everything. Although she didn't know it at the time. I called in on Mum and Dad and Tanya one afternoon after school. I had my three kids with me and they all went out into the garden to play with Suzanne. They were playing some game involving a bat and ball and ludicrously complex rules that had to be explained every two or three minutes. It kept them happy. Mum and Dad were watching them, trying to make sense of the rules, but failing absolutely. Tanya was indoors, draped across an armchair and talking on the phone; wearing a skimpy top and tiny shorts, she looked almost unimagineable. All bare brown legs and arms and long hair and acres of cleavage! She grinned up at me and waved her fingers, setting several yards of breast in motion. It was like that tortoiseshell butterfly that flaps his wings in Buckinghamshire and sets off a typhoon in the Pacific. I still couldn't really believe the way my sister looked, even when I was standing there looking right at her. After a while, she put the phone down with a husky 'Baaiieeee!', and said, "Hi, Sis!" "Hi, big sister!" The phone rang again immediately. Mum hurried in, "Give us a bit of peace! It hasn't stopped ringing all day. Get it Tan, darling." A moment later, Tanya tossed the phone over to Mum. "For you, this time. Some woman!" We carried on our conversation while Mum started asking all sorts of questions into the phone. "Who? What? Mother? MOTHER!" We stopped and listened. Mum's mother? Grandma Trudy? The phone conversation went on and on, and though we strained to hear, we only got one side of it. But whatever it was about, Mum was getting more and more excited. Finally, she signalled frantically for a pen, then wrote a number down, before signing off in a flurry of kisses and goodbyes. We stared at her, eager for the news. "My mother! Calling from Herefordshire," as if that were on the other side of the Universe. For all I knew, it might have been. "She wants to see us all!" "See us all?" why did we have to sound like a Greek chorus? Mum explained it all. Grandad Pym was going to be out of the country for a month. Something to do with his old job, Grandma Trudy had said. He had retired, officially, but he had received a top-secret call:, something about a crisis in the Balkans. (That was a pretty well-kept top secret, I thought, Grandma's just told us all about it). Anyway, Grandma Trudy was going to be on the lonely side for a whole month. She apparently had Amy, her younger daughter, the first time we kids had ever heard of *her*, but she had a job in the town and lived away from home. The domestic staff could look after Grandma's needs, but it wasn't the same as having her husband about the house. Why not give her long-lost daughter a call, she thought, it would be the ideal opportunity for a reconciliation, and she would be able to see her grandchildren. Wouldn't she? Well, wouldn't she? "When is it? I asked Mum. "The school summer holidays start in three weeks. We could all go down together, if it wasn't too much trouble for her." "Two weeks' time. Surely, you could get permission for the kids to get off school a week early. It's a very special occasion, when all's said and done. It could almost be a once in a lifetime opportunity." Tanya was certainly all for it. Anything which took Suzanne away from her torment for an extra week would be more than welcome, as far as she was concerned. "I'll speak to the head teacher tomorrow," I said. Whatever she says, I'll get them off school. As you say, it's once in a lifetime." And so Mum called Grandma Trudy the next day, and said she could certainly pay her a visit, and would it be all right if her two daughters and her four grandchildren came as well? Silly question, really! Dad couldn't make it, (perhaps he still wasn't sure how he would be received by Grandma Trudy, even after all this time) but he said we could use his car as long as I left him mine. And on a Saturday morning two weeks later, we all piled into Dad's Renault Espace and set off to the West. It was a lovely day, the early mist just burning off in the warm July sun. The kids asked 'are we nearly there yet' after the first three miles, and amused themselves trying to say 'red Renault, yellow Renault' and counting the number of legs in the names of the pubs we passed. It was just as well we did have a large vehicle. When we stopped for a fuel and comfort stop, we almost caused a terrible accident as we locked the car and set off toward the ladies' toilet. Three women with a combined bust measurement of something like sixteen feet, accompanied by a little boy and three unusually busty little girls caught the attention of a disbelieving delivery van driver who collided with the back of a parked car. As we drove away up the road, a small fight had just broken out. "Why are those men fighting, Mummy," asked Suzanne. "Are we nearly there, yet?" "Is that her?" whispered Victoria. "I don't think so, darling," I said, "I think that must be the housekeeper." A large woman in a flowery print dress had just come out of the front door as we turned into the drive. The house was huge, the biggest the children had ever seen, close up. "It's a *palace*," said Pansy, in hushed tones. "Is Nana Trudy a queen?" "Sort of, yes!" I told her. "But not a real queen, not like the Queen." "She can't be the Queen, she's American," said Victoria, sternly. "Americans can't be Queens. They can only be Presidents. An *they're* all men." "Strange," mused Pansy, who wasn't really listening. She was trying to count the windows. "Forty-six," she said at last, without much conviction. Suzanne, meanwhile, was picking her nose and doing something disgusting with the proceeds. I thought you ought to know that. "There she is," said Mum, with a bit of a choking noise in her throat. "That's her!" She opened the window and called out to the woman who had come around the side of the house carrying a wicker basket and a garden rake. "Mother? Mother! MOM!" Grandma Trudy turned, and saw the car, and her face lit up in a huge smile. "May! May, honey! She called. The kids nudged each other and giggled. Grandma Trudy really *was* an American! She dropped the basket and the rake, and set off across the neatly-trimmed grass towards us. Mum slowly got out and stood beside the car door for a moment as Grandma Trudy approached, then ran to meet her. They looked, both slowly shaking their heads as if not quite believing it, then they walked straight into each other's arms, and stood there, hugging silently for a long, long time. Finally, they separated, and linked arms, and walked slowly back to the car. Grandma Trudy! I'd have recognised her from the photo albums, she'd hardly changed at all. Well, she must have done, those pictures were taken twenty-odd years ago, but she was still the same woman. Tanya was gazing at her. She was fascinated to see from where she'd inherited her special attributes! The girls, too, were certainly impressed by Grandma Trudy's magnificent bosom! After all, they already knew a whole lot about being big girls. And if the girls were impressed, so was Grandma Trudy! She looked at Mum, slim but large-breasted, then at me, then at Tanya, unable to believe her eyes. And as Victoria and Pansy and Suzanne were introduced and shyly shook hands, she couldn't believe them either! She seemed relieved to be able to say hello to Daniel, at least he didn't have big tits! "How old did you say these kids were?" she asked in disbelief as we set off for the house, Pansy and Suzanne holding Grandma's hands, the others clinging to us but not taking their eyes off their fascinating grandmother for a second. We all went round the side of the house, where Grandma Trudy had been working on the flower-beds. The French windows stood open, and there was a heavy oak table and chairs on the flag-stoned patio. The house- keeper appeared as if by magic. "Maisie! This is my long-lost family, my daughter and my grown-up grand-children, and even my grown-up great- grand-children!" Grandma Trudy spread her arms to encompass the whole brood. "Do you think you could rustle up some lemonade for this lot. We'll sit and enjoy it out here." Maisie looked as if she'd never seen so many such grown- up people in her life. Her eyes were almost out of their sockets as she stared at me and Tanya, then at the girls. "Yes, maam!" she muttered, and hurried off, looking back as if she expected us all to disappear. We didn't. "Now, then!" Grandma Trudy settled back in a chair, the two younger girls attaching themselves to her, one on each side. "We've got an awful lot to tell each other. Where should we start?" The rest of the morning flew by. We had lunch, served by Maisie and an extraordinary young girl called Clarrie, who could easily have been mistaken for part of our family! "She's from the village, Roger employed her about ten seconds after she came up for an interview! She's sixteen, going on thirty-five, you know what these village girls are like!" (I didn't, but from Grandma Trudy's tone it was clear their lives were one long round of eating, sleeping and sex.) By afternoon, the sun was blazing down on the patio. Grandma Trudy suggested cooling off. "Who wants to go swimming?" she suggested, and the kids went wild. "We haven't any swimsuits with us," Mum reminded us all. Grandma Trudy laughed. "It's pretty private round here. I don't think it would offend anyone too much if we skinny-dipped. But I bet we could find a costume or two about the house if you're feeling bashful." And she called Maisie. Half an hour later, we were all ready to take to the water. Maisie had a stretchy one-piece swimsuit that more or less fitted Mum. The maid, Clarrie, had supplied a bikini, which I could just about squeeze myself into, although it might be a different matter keeping it on. The top was overflowing and I had to keep pulling the bottoms back up every three minutes. Tanya had no hope at all of finding anything to fit her, so she dug out one of her sleeveless tops and a pair of panties. Grandma Trudy looked staggering in her custom-made bikini! The girls, especially Victoria, were shy at first, until they got used to the idea, then they stripped off to just their panties. They looked incredible with their big breasts bouncing around! The pool was as big as our whole garden at Mum's and Dad's place. The kids leapt in and ploughed up and down, squealing and splashing. In one corner of the pool was some kind of water circulating device, pumping the water out, filtering it and pumping it back in again. It made a sort of jet that squirted upwards under the water. Tanya discovered it first. I noticed her floating in the corner of the pool with a dreamy expression on her face. After a while, she splashed across to me and said, "try that corner over there, it's amazing!" I did, and it was! Eventually, Grandma Trudy shouted to us to come away from that jet, you couple of horny grand-daughters, and we felt as if we'd been caught jacking-off. We paddled over to the other side of the pool and Grandma Trudy laughed at us. "That's young Clarrie's favourite spot, that corner," she said quietly so the children couldn't hear her. "It used to be mine, too, but I could be getting kind of old for that sort of thing now!" At last, one by one, we crawled out of the water and lay in the sun, drying off. We made sure the children put their tops on and told them to sit in the shade, but in no time they were frolicking round on the grass, playing their favourite ball game. We watched them. It was exhausting. Suddenly, we heard a car scrunching on the gravel drive, then footsteps came round the side of the house. Grandma Trudy looked up. "May," she said to Mum, "It's time you met your little sister, Amy!" Chapter 3:- Amy Mum had jumped to her feet. She was staring at the sister she had never seen. Until she'd had the phone call from Grandma Trudy, she had never even mentioned Amy to us girls. Perhaps she thought it would be kinder to us not to acknowledge her sister's existence at all, rather than have her flitting around in the background like a ghost we knew was there but never came right out and actually haunted us. Amy was staring at Mum. She had heard about her older twin sisters, but the version she got was always heavily edited, an authorised version which would satisfy her father. Secretly, Grandma Trudy had told Amy, a little at a time, how she would love to see her elder daughters just once more, before she died, and Amy tried to imagine what her sisters were like. She failed completely, of course! All she really knew about our Mum was that she had got herself pregnant by the village layabout when she was only fifteen! The two women approached each other cautiously, then stopped, still three yards apart. Grandma Trudy carried on: "These are May's daughters ..." and she introduced me and Tanya to her, then she pointed out the children, who were now engrossed in some sort of litigation over who was the next one in to bat. But I haven't described Amy, have I? I always have to be reminded to describe people. I look at them, and I take in what I see, and I assume everyone I'm telling the story to can see them as well ...! Well, the family feature was there, all right! And I suppose that's what my dedicated readers wanted to hear. Amy was a little taller than me. Excuse me, she was Mum's sister, so I ought really to compare her in appearance to Mum, but she was so close to us sisters in age that I automatically thought of her as one of us, our generation, as it were. So, taller than me, not by a lot, about five-five. Slimmer than me, too, in fact, very slim indeed compared to Tanya, who has always been quite a lot chunkier even after she lost the puppy fat in her very early teens. Her hair was dark, Tanya's colour. Her bust ... No, I'm getting ahead of myself. She was dressed for work, in a skirt and blouse. The blouse was white and loose-fitting, not tucked in at the waist, so it hung straight down from her breasts. I suppose she did that to disguise them, or at least, to try to. We'd all tried, and failed, at one time or another. Disguise didn't work for Amy any better than it had for us. And as she looked at me, then across at Tanya, she seemed to feel the wave of sympathy flowing amongst the three of us, all similar in age and in development, and she smiled at the same time as me, and Tanya grinned at us both and bounced up off the patio where she was sprawled. Once Tanya was standing up and Amy could see her figure, she gasped. For the first time in her life she saw a girl with a bigger bust than she herself had, although it was a close thing. I got up, too, and went over to Amy, and she sized me up, too. "Hello," she said. "Looks like we've got a lot in common!" I'd heard of some uses for big breasts, but this was the first time I'd heard of them being used to break the ice! We all got on like a house on fire after the first few minutes. Amy lived in the town, and worked in a large office, insurance or something, where she said she met a lot of men, but she wasn't seeing anyone. From the way she said that, it felt as if she'd *never* seen anyone. Men were scared of her, she told us as the three of us sat on the patio in the evening sunlight, idly watching the kids playing on the back lawn. "How old are the children?" she asked. "I know you probably told me, but there was so much going on I can't have taken it in." "My three are ten, eight and four," I told her. "Suzanne's eight," said Tanya. "But wait a minute, which one's Suzanne?" "The one with the biggest tits!" laughed Tanya, "in the yellow top." "You know," said Amy, shaking her head, "that's what I thought you said earlier, but I thought it would be rude to ask you again." She watched the children for a few more minutes. "Gosh, they're all very advanced, but Suzanne's really something else, isn't she?" she shook her head in disbelief as Suzanne started jumping up and down on the spot, stopping after a few seconds, holding her breasts still with both hands. Grandma Trudy had quietly appeared from the house, with our Mum by her side. "We were just looking at some family photographs in the album," she said, there are some of me when I was their age ..." she looked out at the children, her eyes misty. "I looked just like that. God, I had a fifty-six inch bust on my eleventh birthday, and it was up to sixty-three long before I was twelve!" Tanya shook her head slowly. "Did you just keep on getting bigger after that, Grandma?" The word 'Grandma' sounded funny after all this time. Grandma Trudy's face clouded over. "That's a time I'd rather not talk about, honey, even after so many years! For a long time, I remembered nothing, but later, with Tim, that's my brother, I pieced together the story. It was not ... not pleasant at all. All I can say is that I went down to less than 80 pounds, what's that, I never could work it out, less than six stone, and I was flat as an ironing board for years! We looked at her now, trying to imagine her weighing six stone and flat as a board. Nope! I couldn't manage it, and nor could Tanya, by the look on her face. "But I put it all back on, and sheesh, it sure changed my life!" The kids saw her, and came running over, their big titties bouncing like great rubber balls. "You look after those kids, you hear!" she whispered to us, and there were tears in her eyes as she gathered them all to her bosom. Chapter 4:- Climbing The Walls Meanwhile, inside the house, people were climbing the walls. To be precise, two people were climbing the walls. One was the maid, Clarrie. The buxom teenager was deeply frustrated. The batteries on her new vibrator had died. Already! Mr Pym had only given her the thing just before he went away. Two days ago. Surely, batteries ought to last longer than that. Mind you, Clarrie had given the toy some pretty intensive use since Sir Roger had gone away, but even so, they shouldn't have gone flat in *two days*! She sobbed in frustration and lay back on her bed, her legs spread and her black skirt up round her waist. Why did the Master have to leave her like this? There ought to be a law against it. Cruelty to serving wenches. Frantically, she brought herself to a fairly unsatisfactory climax, then lay panting. Tomorrow, she would take the vibrator down to the newsagents in the village and have Mr Patel fit some new batteries. She'd ask for the ones that always lasted longer on the TV commercials. Meanwhile, there was a whole evening and a whole night to get through. Clarrie had forgotten what it felt like to be without a man for as long as two days. Sir Roger had kept her well serviced ever since he had first employed her. In fact, even at the interview, he had given her such a seeing-to that her knees hadn't stopped trembling for the rest of the day. Since then, whenever she felt like it, which was most of the time, Sir Roger had been only too ready to oblige. She smiled at the recollection of how she had applied for the vacancy in the first place. There hadn't even *been* a vacancy, come to think of it! She had mentioned to her friend, Barry Overdown, that she was leaving school, and was looking for a job. Barry was the captain of the village cricket club, and knew just about everyone. "Give Sir Roger a try, up at the house. Place that size, he'll always need a bit of help. 'Sides, they reckon he likes his girls on the large side, if you know what I mean!" Clarrie knew what Barry meant. Since she had awarded her virginity to the cricket club when she was fourteen, she had made the acquaintance of quite a lot of men who liked their girls on the large side. She had done her very best to please them. People still talked about Clarrie's inaugural night behind the cricket pavilion, when she had taken on all comers, single-handed. Somebody had even kept the score with the big white numbers hanging on the scoreboard. By the time her father came looking for her at midnight, young Clarrie had exhausted nine fit men and three enthusiastic teenage boys. The rest of the playing members had been dragged away home by their wives. So, on Barry's suggestion, she had put her best clothes on, squeezed herself into a bra that was six months past its best, unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse and knocked on the door of the big house. Maisie had opened the door to her, and gaped in horror at the sight of the village bicycle standing on the front step with her tits practically bursting out of her bodice. Maisie had her finger raised ready to indicate the way home to the girl, when Sir Roger came out of one of the downstairs rooms and caught a glimpse of a pair of enormous young titties. "Who's this, Maisie?" he had asked, raising an eyebrow as he came to the doorway and took in the full picture of Clarrie. "Her name's Clarrie, Sir Roger, from the village ..." She had been about to detail Clarrie's recent spectacular history, that this was the girl who had single-handedly cut a swathe through the pride of Herefordshire's young manhood, when Sir Roger boomed, "Show the girl in, Maisie, into my study, please!" >From then on, the sex lives of the young men of the village and its environs could return to something like normal. Clarrie was heartily serviced right there on the top of Sir Roger's leather-topped desk, and she started her duties at the house the next morning. Her mother proudly told everyone who would listen that her big daughter was now 'in service' up at Sir Roger's. And 'service' summed up Clarrie's duties more adequately than her mother ever imagined. But now, for the first time, Clarrie was without her master for more than a few hours. She ran her still slippery fingers up and down the slit of her richly- furred pussy, giving an involuntary twitch as they reached the top. She shuddered, and slipped her fingers inside again. Ten minutes later, she was as horny as ever. A whole month of this? It was only two days and she was climbing the walls in frustration! Then, from a couple of rooms away along the landing, she heard the most enormous crash. She sat bolt upright on the bed, then thought she had better investigate. Clarrie had been climbing the walls in frustration. So was young Davie, but he was climbing them literally. Until he fell off the chest of drawers. Davie was Maisie's only child. He was grounded for a week. He hadn't *meant* to let down the tyres on the policeman's bicycle. It was Ben Shakespeare's fault. Everything was always Ben's fault. Ben had bet him he couldn't nick half a dozen apples, one for each of the gang, from the display at the front of the greengrocers's shop on the main street. There had been no problem until Ben had hissed, 'look out, it's old Growler', and given Davie a shove that sent apples, grapefruit, cabbages and this season's almost- ripe nectarines rolling all over the footpath and into the gutter. The boys had scattered, but Davie had been last to get away and had to take shelter behind a dustbin down a side alley. Sergeant Growler had dismounted from his bike with ponderous grace, and proceeded into the shop to question why the shopkeeper's display was rolling down the village street, causing h'an obstruction to the 'ighway. Davie peered out from his hiding place, and saw Ben's face looking round a corner on the far side of the road. He was pointing at something, and signalling frantically. After a couple of minutes of miming, he gathered that Ben was suggesting that it might be a good idea if Davie let old Growler's tyres down. The next thing he knew, there was a heavy hand on his collar. "In the old days, so they tell me, I could've clipped him round the h'ear and 'ear no more about it," Sergeant Growler had told Maisie, at the police station. "But that would be assault, nowadays. So have I got to charge him, and fill in sixteen pages of paperwork, or are you going to take the bugger home and ground him for a week?" "Leave him to me, Dan," Maisie said, "I'll sort him out!" She would, thought Dan Growler. He quite fancied Maisie, tasty bit of widow, she was. And young Davie was all right, just needed straightening out. Needed a Dad, poor little sod. He'd let him go, as soon as he had pumped up both tyres, using a hand-pump. This was the third day of Davie's imprisonment. "You'll stay in your room until I say you can come out," his mother told him. "You can't leave the house and gardens anyway for a week, but today you're staying in your bedroom. The lady's daughter and her family are arriving, and I'll be too busy to have you around creating mischief." Davie had been lying on his bed. The devil, as ever, found work for idle hands. He heard footsteps coming up the back stairs, and Clarrie's bedroom door closed. He had become aware recently of Clarrie, who he now realised was easily the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world. She was decidedly plump and extremely pretty, and had such huge boobies, he reflected, as he lay there, feeling a warm, comforting throbbing building up inside his boxer shorts. A faint buzzing noise carried to his ears as he fondled himself. What was she doing. Shaving? Did women shave? Clarrie never seemed to have any traces of a beard or moustache. The buzzing stopped. In fact, it sort of died away. "Ooooh, Clarrie," he said to himself, trying out the sound of the word. He liked it and tried again, and found his erection becoming more throbby. He took himself in hand. What was that? Girls' voices? Coming from outside. It must be the lady's grandchildren. Sounded like a bunch of kids running around. That's all he wanted, a house full of bloody *girls*! And him grounded, so he couldn't even get away from them. Oh, shit. The disappointing thought had caused his erection to get floppy. That's what girls did for you. Davie rolled off the bed and stood up. The kids were in the pool now, he could hear them squealing and splashing around down there. He went to the window. The servants' quarters were on the top floor, and the rooms on this side of the house had dormer windows let into the slope of the roof. By looking out of his window, he had a partial view of the pool, cut off by the edge of the roof. Idly, he looked across that way. What was THAT!!! He had caught a brief glimpse of a woman, or a girl, with no top on. Usually, women wore swimsuits or bikinis to go swimming. This, Davie accepted, was only right and proper. He had tried, several times, to imagine Clarrie without a bikini top, but failed. Therefore, he concluded, women *ought* to wear something to cover up their boobies. It seemed logical to him. Now, down there, a woman was frolicking around in and out of the pool. And, if his eyes weren't playing tricks, she wasn't wearing a bra. He strained to see more, but couldn't. The chest of drawers beneath the window was in the way. He clambered on top of it, and found he could just see a bit more of the pool. There was the woman again, if he squashed his face against the glass, he could just see her back, and she wasn't wearing a top. Definitely! His hand strayed to his shorts again, where there were welcome signs of life. Oooh, that feels nice, he thought, taking a warm handful of himself. There she is again, turning round. That's not a woman, that's only a girl! But shit, she's big! Then she moved out of sight again. Davie tugged at the window. It was an old-fashioned sash window that slid upwards to open. But it had been painted over years ago, and didn't open any more. Not easily, anyway. Frustration lent Davie extra strength. The window moved a fraction, he heaved again, and the woman or girl appeared once more. No, it wasn't the same one, this was a smaller girl. Oh, shit, no, not a little girl; he thought, then realised that *this* little girl wasn't all that little. Her tits were even bigger than the other one! One more heave, and the window would be open, and he would get his head outside. That was when he fell off the chest of drawers in a flurry of odds and ends, books, video cassettes, souvenirs and the alarm clock. He hit the floor, still accelerating. "Ouch! Me fuckin' ankle!" He lay there, winded and damaged, checking himself for broken bits. His erection was still working, he was relieved to discover. "Davie, you all right?" A voice from outside his bedroom door. Clarrie? "Yes, thanks. I think so, anyway. I fell over." Clarrie tried the handle and the door opened. Davie was lying in a heap by the window. She looked around the room, the same shape as hers, but a boy's room, full of boy things. And, if she wasn't mistaken, full of boy! She hesitated, then went closer, bending over him. He was a big boy for fourteen, she thought, her eyes taking in the well-defined shoulders revealed by his cutaway undervest, and a distinctly promising bulge in his shorts. "You sure you're okay, Davie?" she said softly, in the voice that had seduced an entire cricket club in a single night. It was overkill as far as Davie was concerned. His erection sprang to full attention, and found its way out into the open air through the front of his shorts. "My ankle hurts," he said, "can you help me get up?" He hasn't even noticed his willie's sticking out, thought Clarrie. And by the look of him, he doesn't need any help to get up. "Here, hold my arm. Steady!" He was so strong! He'd nearly pulled her down on top of him. Davie couldn't believe what was happening. Clarrie was so close, he could touch her. In fact, she'd told him to hold her arm. He did, and she nearly overbalanced. Must be difficult balancing with those bloody great things on your chest, he thought, realising that they were even bigger at close quarters. Very close! His head would get lost between those things. He could smell her, and it was nice. No, not nice, that wasn't the word. The English teacher was right; 'nice' wasn't the word to use here. He wished he could think of some more words to describe the smell of Clarrie. Whatever, the smell was doing things to his ... ooops! How did that get out there? Clarrie could even smell her own arousal. She had come straight to Davie's room without putting her panties on; and now that she was squatting down, with her short skirt riding up, her moist pussy-odour was distinctly noticeable. It even excited her, especially the realisation that Davie could smell it, too, and it was affecting him. "C'mon, let's get you on the bed, then I'll have a good look at your ankle," she murmured. And an even better look at a few other things, she thought. "I've done first aid," she said. It's a pity he doesn't need mouth-to- mouth resuscitation. This time, they made it. Davie stood up, his weight on Clarrie's arm, and he half-hopped to his bed, then sat on the edge of it. Clarrie sat beside him. "There, that's better, isn't it?" she purred. It certainly was. She ran a hand around his back and felt the firm muscles ripple beneath her fingers as they flirted with the broad elastic top of his shorts. She brought her hand back the other way, slipping it into the top of the cleavage between the taut cheeks of his boyish bottom. He clutched at his cock, which tried to escape. "Leave that alone," she said, sternly. "Anyone would think you'd never sat next to a girl before. Or a woman!" Suddenly, she whipped her hand up behind his back, tugging his undervest with it, and carried on strongly to pull it up and over his head. Davie was too shocked to resist. "Got to check for any broken bones," Clarrie whispered, placing her mouth very close to his ear as soon as his head emerged from the vest. Very close indeed. He could feel her hot breath in his earhole. "Now. Let me look at you, Dav-eee. Lie back!" Feeling powerless, Davie slowly lowered his back on to the cool bedclothes. His feet came off the floor and his knees automatically drew themselves up to protect his genitalia. Clarrie laughed musically and gently pushed them down again. Now he was bent backwards across the bed, helpless as a sheep on its back. He felt Clarrie's soft touch on his thighs, rubbing gently up and down the insides of his legs. Then her hands were gone, and when they came back, they were round his waist, ever so gently easing down his shorts. He resisted for half a second, then raised his hips just enough to let the shorts slide down. There was a brief delay as they snagged on some obstruction, then they came free. "Good boy! That's the way. You're getting the idea! Bloody Hell!" The last bit was Clarrie's reaction to Davie's now completely-unveiled cock, waving in the air above his belly. Impatiently, she ripped the shorts down to his ankles then abandoned them, leaving him to kick them off altogether. The boy was hung! Although Clarrie knew perfectly well that it didn't matter how big it was - after all, the cricket club had provided her with the full range from five inches up to nearly nine - it was pleasant to find a nice big one to play with while Sir Roger was away. And if she wasn't mistaken, this one was even bigger than Sir Roger's! She was kneeling beside Davie on the bed, now, and all she had to do was lower her head and open her mouth. He slipped inside her, and as she adjusted the angle of her head, they both felt him make contact with the back of her throat. She slurped on him, her saliva cool yet hot, her head bobbing gently up and down, her long hair brushing his thighs and stomach. Davie lay there, unable to move in case she bit it off and swallowed it. Clarrie was still fully dressed, which he found enormously exciting. Raising his head, he could see the girl's monster boobies in the big black bra he had seen in the airing cupboard, the whole lot hanging heavily downward inside her maid's white blouse. Closer to him, her flared skirt was riding up over her thighs and hips. Surprisingly, and excitingly, she wasn't wearing any knickers. He thought all girls wore knickers. Maybe Clarrie had forgotten to put hers on. He reached out a hand and placed it on the cool, soft flesh of her upper leg. Delight! It felt like an oven- ready turkey. She wriggled closer to him, still sucking deeply on his cock, then stepped over his body with one leg without so much as missing a beat. This girl was fit, he thought. Now, he didn't need to raise his head to improve the view. Just lying back, he had a grandstand seat of the finest sight in the world. Inches above his face, Clarrie's hairy bottom rose and fell. Every time it came closest to his face, he received another whiff of that incredibly sexy smell. But this was a girl's *bottom*! Surely, he shouldn't be feeling like this. He thought about it for a while, and realised he certainly did. Quickly, he reached up with both hands and gripped Clarrie's broad, plump hips, heaving her down until her steaming loins slopped all over his mouth and nose. Faintly, he heard the girl give out a long, low moan. Still not fully believing what he was doing, he put his tongue out and found something unbelievably tasty to eat. Clarrie wriggled her wide rump from side to side as she settled further down on Davie's face. Was she trying to suffocate him? In a flash of panic, he realised, if the girl wanted to, she could bite his willie off and suffocate him to death all in one go. She was heavy enough, he'd never get away. So, realising there was nothing he could do about it, he lay there as this wonderful big girl fucked him with her mouth. It was coming, the feeling. Oh, shit. He was going to do it. It would go in Clarrie's mouth. He tried to shout a warning, but with his face where it was, no sound came out, only a wet, bubbly vibration which seemed to send Clarrie into a frenzy. Clarrie needed no warning, anyway! She knew what was coming, all right. Although, when it came, the quantity surprised her somewhat. She swallowed most of it, but lots more dribbled out between her lips. Meanwhile, down in the engine-room, Davie received a faceful of something scalding hot and wet. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. It wasn't. Clarrie had turned herself round, her breasts now squashed massively against Davie's chest as their mouths met. Davie's first real woman kiss tasted totally unlike anything he had been led to expect. His own salty semen, still drooling out of Clarrie's mouth, mingled with the girl's own fishy juices as she probed his mouth with her hot little tongue. She raised her body up, her long hair still brushing his nipples. "Oh, fucking hell, Davie, I've got to make the tea. Salmon sandwiches, Maisie says!" She rolled off him and stood by the bed, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs and fluffing her hair into some sort of shape. "How do I look?" she asked, the way women always do. Davie reached out for her, but she laughed happily and dodged backwards toward the door. "You watch that ankle, right? I'll come back afterwards and make sure you're comfortable! I promise! See ya later!" <end 1/4> From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 2 (big breasts, yng teen) Date: 4 Dec 1995 16:59:26 -0500 Message-ID: <49vqvu$1f8g@navajo.gate.net> THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!! I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to remain anonymous. Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the author. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of age who have no objection to reading about young women's breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of the events described in this story actually took place, to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are described as taking place between adults and minors. No young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you find it. None of the characters in this story is real. Their names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. (She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older sister. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog Part II Chapter 5:- Trudy's Tale The girls had drifted off and gone back in the pool. We persuaded Amy to come for a swim as well, and in no time we were all shrieking and splashing around in the cool water. Amy still couldn't take in the sight of the youngsters, with their outrageous development. She kept staring at them, and eventually she came and sat next to me on the edge of the pool, dangling our toes in the water. "It's funny, you know," she said, "I shouldn't feel this way, but those kids with their big titties makes me feel all gooey inside! Don't get me wrong, you being their mother and all, but you know what I mean?" "I know exactly what you mean. They look like little women, yet they're just kids. Coming down here this morning, they were asking every five minutes, 'are we nearly there, yet?' And they have to put up with a lot of shit from the other girls at school. Especially young Suzanne." "I can imagine," Amy said. "I was nothing like the size of them at their age, yet the other girls made my life misery when these things started to grow. Trouble was, I know they were jealous, yet I hated my tits so much, I couldn't see why the others *should* be jealous, you know? They were welcome to them, if they wanted them!" "It's doing them good, anyway, getting off school early. Look at them, I haven't seen them so relaxed and happy for months." They had all leapt out of the pool and streamed off across the garden in a weaving line at top speed. It all went quiet as they ran off into the distance. From the house, there was the sound of a distant crash. "What was that?" I said. "Don't know, Maisie must have dropped the dinner in the kitchen." Clarrie was in trouble. Maisie came into the kitchen to see how the teenager was progressing with the sandwiches for teatime. She found the girl had hardly started, she had only just started buttering the bread. "Have you taken the salmon out of the fridge, Clarrie?" Maisie asked. "Not yet, I'm still doing the butter." "Funny, I thought I could smell it! Wait a minute, girl! That's *you*! What have you been up to? Even when Sir Roger's away, you still manage to stink of sex!" Clarrie blushed and stammered, but Maisie stepped closer and whisked the girl's skirt up. "You filthy slut! No panties again. And juice running down your fat legs! I suppose you've been playing with that bloody vibrator of your again. Get out! Have a shower and get your big whore's arsehole back down here in ten minutes! Move!" Clarrie fled, sobbing, her huge tits bouncing as she scampered out of the kitchen and up the back stairs to the servants' bathroom. At least, when she presented herself to Maisie fifteen minutes later, she was a little fresher, although her bottom was still much the same size as before. "Show me!" Maisie insisted. Clarrie pulled up the hem of her skirt to reveal relatively clean white panties. "Right, get on with those sandwiches. A right good spanking's what you deserve, girl." Clarrie smiled to herself. That was the nicest thing Maisie had said to her all day. "Tanya, honey, come and sit next to your Grandma." Tanya grinned at Grandma Trudy and sat beside her at the table. I perched on the bench on her other side. Our children gathered round. "Help yourselves, now, don't stand around letting these sandwiches get cold. Salmon and cucumber? Here you are, Suzanne, can't you reach?" Suzanne was struggling to reach across the table, her breasts were dangerously close to destroying a most impressive cream cake. Grandma Trudy took the girl's plate and loaded it up with food. "That enough? You're a growing girl, you know!" Suzanne knew. We all knew. The kids tucked in with a vengeance, clearing all the sandwiches in record time, and making massive inroads into the cakes. "They seem to have quite an appetite, must be all this fresh air and exercise," said Tanya, shaking her head as Suzanne wolfed an enormous hunk of cream cake. There was chocolate smeared all over her face and a dollop of cream had fallen into her cleavage. Pansy reached across and scooped it out. "That's mine," squealed the aggrieved girl, and made a grab for the cream. Too late, it was already disappearing into Pansy's mouth. Suzanne stuffed the last of her cake into her mouth and went in search of more. "You'll burst, child!" Tanya wailed in despair. "You must think we never feed them at home, Gran." "I was beginning to wonder, honey. Never mind, they'll get enough activity in the next few weeks. They'll burn it all up." As the children finally drifted away from the table, still squabbling good-naturedly; Tanya sat forward, resting her mountainous bust on the table with a little sigh. Grandma Trudy watched her with a smile. "That's right, Tanya, take the weight off your back. I know just how it feels, carrying that lot around. You're a lot bigger than me, now, but when I was just a kid, like I told you, mine were pretty huge." "Maybe you can explain to the kids, sometime, Gran. Show them your old photos, perhaps," suggested Tanya. "They'd appreciate knowing that they're not just freaks." "Freaks, hey? Is that what they're calling them? Well, isn't it true? I was a freak, sure. So are you two, Tanya especially. But it's just Mother Nature having her bit of fun. There's nothing wrong with us, and nothing wrong with Suzanne, either. But I will; tomorrow, I'll have a word with them." We sat in silence for a while. Mum and Amy were strolling in the distance, beyond the pool. The children had started their ball game again. Grandma Trudy took a deep breath. "You know, earlier, when I said I didn't want to talk about ... when I was a kid? I think I ought to tell you. It's hurtful to tell it, but you ought to know." "Gran, not if it's painful. Not now. Later, perhaps," I tried to tell her. "It had better be now, while I'm in the mood! Listen!" She put her arms out as if to embrace the two of us. "I was six, when my titties started to grow. How about you?" "Gosh, I was nearly nine," said Tanya. "Thirteen!" I laughed. "How about the kids?" "Suzanne was the earliest, she wasn't even six when hers started coming," I said, and Grandma Trudy shook her head in disbelief. "Like I say, I was six. And they just ballooned, you know? Eight, nine years old, and they were a C cup. Then when I started the fourth grade, you know what that is?" We both nodded, not wanting to interrupt her, and she continued. "The day I started in the fourth grade, I was a forty-four! That was August, September. By Christmas, I was up to forty-seven inches." She laughed. "And I was still growing. At least, by then, I was ten years old! And they just got bigger and bigger. But you know, I remembered nothing of this. My brother, Tim, told me everything, and gradually it all came back. Everything. How when I got to my eleventh birthday, our mother measured me, and I was fifty-six inches round the bust!" "I can laugh at it now, but I was so huge, I could hardly walk, never mind run around. I had to have my bras hand- made. It meant a bus-ride to see the bra-lady. Every time I got too big for my bra, and that was pretty often, I can tell you. But then I went to the doctor, and he sent me away to another doctor, in Chicago, and they looked at me, and they said there's nothing wrong. 'Perfectly normal, Mrs Morris', they told Mom! Oh, yeah?" "That's what they said to me, too," said Tanya, "when *I* was eleven." "They told me to go home and wait till I was nineteen, then they could make them smaller. Well, no way could we wait that long. Mom told them I'd need a wheelbarrow for them long before that! Anyways, I had to stop going to school because of the rude comments from the other kids. And the teachers, too, they were just as bad. Well, we lived on a farm, and once I got away from that school, I worked on the farm, and I did my schooling at home. Of course, these things kept right on growing. I don't know how big they ended up; we only had a five-foot tape at home! I know that I had to be measured for a new blouse, it was before I was twelve, during the summer, and I was sixty-three inches then! But they didn't stop growing." Tanya's mouth was open as she gazed at Grandma Trudy. I realised, at last, she had found another woman who had been as big as her when she was younger. "Go on," she whispered, realising that Gran had stopped. "It gets difficult now, honey. Be patient with me. I went back to school. Eighteen months I'd been away, and my boobs was twice as big as when I'd left. But then, I used to finish my homework and my chores, and I used to get away from the farm. There was this little place that only I knew about, and I used to go and sit there all on my own. Played with myself, I can tell you, now ..." I looked at Tanya, and she looked at me, embarrassed for Grandma Trudy. .".. then there was this man. This Luke O'Hara. I can still remember his name. He wasn't away at the war, like the real men. I dunno how he got away with it. But he ... he took me, down there in my secret little hiding place. And he raped me ..." Her voice tailed off. For a long time we all sat in silence. Grandma Trudy fumbled around, looking for her handkerchief. Tanya pulled hers out, pressed it into her hand. "Thank you, honey. That was it, really. I stopped eating, Tim says. And in next to no time, I was skinny as a rake. You'd never believe it. We had to leave the farm, and we moved away. Quite suddenly. I found out why, later. Much later." Grandma Trudy sighed and shivered. "It's turned quite chilly," she said, with an effort. "Could we continue tomorrow, would you mind? Hey, I got past the worst part. The rest of it is easy-peasy. Let's round up this family of yours!" Still grounded, and still under house arrest in his room, Davie heard the family being rounded up and taken to their rooms on the floor below. He wondered who the woman had been, the topless woman by the pool. For that matter, who had been the little girl. She must have been fifteen or more, with titties like hers. If they were here for a while, maybe he'd get to know her a bit better. Just as he had come to know Clarrie a lot better this afternoon. Sweat broke out on his forehead at the memory. He licked his lips and could still taste Clarrie on them. He gently grasped his cock and it hardened in his hand. Within seconds, he was jerking and thrusting, his bed rocking violently, the headboard banging against the wall. He stopped at last, looking stupidly at the little pool of milky-white juice on the bedspread. As he searched for a tissue, the thought came to him that if Clarrie had been here, she would have lapped it up for him. Clarrie wasn't there, but she knew exactly what Davie was doing. She was helping the girls to get their bags unpacked in their rooms. Suzanne and Pansy were sharing the room directly beneath Davie's, with Victoria next door on her own. "What's that noise?" asked Suzanne, looking fearfully up at the ceiling as Davie's bed went into orbit above their heads. "Is it a ghost?" whimpered Pansy. "That's just the plumbing," said Clarrie, "it's an old house. It's not haunted, don't worry." Clarrie watched Suzanne closely. The kid's tits were enormous, she thought. If Davie gets a look at her, I'll be out. O-U- T! "I'll leave you now, to get ready for bed. If you need anything, the bathroom's that way, down the landing." "Where do *you* sleep, Clarrie?" Pansy asked. "Up there." Clarrie jerked her thumb. "Above Victoria's room. So no noise, understand. I have to be up early in the morning, to collect the eggs." "Can we help you collect the eggs, Clarrie?" said Suzanne. "You think you can get up at half past five?" the teenager asked. "Okay. Not tomorrow, though. We've got weeks and weeks ..." .".. and weeks and weeks ..." said Pansy. .".. and weeks!" finished Suzanne. "Night-night, Clarrie!" "Night, sweetheart. Night, Pansy." The girls turned their faces up to kiss Clarrie, then snuggled down under their soft duvets. "I like Clarrie," said Pansy, after the door had closed. "So do I, said Suzanne. She tastes nice!" By then, Clarrie was already pushing open Davie's door and creeping into his room. The boy started in alarm, screwing up a tissue and stuffing it into the waste bin. "You scared me, creeping in like that!" he accused. "Not as much as if I'd crept in ten minutes ago, you horny little bugger. You were shaking the whole house with your wanking!" Davie went scarlet, and lowered his head, not daring to look Clarrie in the face. He felt her soft hand on his back again, and she took his shoulder and slowly turned his face up to hers. "C'mere, sexy, I've been thinking of you ever since this afternoon!" And she planted her soft lips on his mouth. The kiss went on for several minutes, by which time Davie was rock hard and panting for Clarrie. Clarrie was almost foaming with her desire to be fucked, properly, this time. This was going to be lesson number two for young Davie. She whispered to him. "Go to the bathroom, do whatever you do at bedtime, then come back here and wait for me. I've got a few things to do, but I'll be here at nine-thirty on the dot. Don't start without me, okay?" and she gave a gentle squeeze of his mighty throbbing cock that nearly sent him over the edge. He could still taste Clarrie's tongue. Surely it didn't still taste of cum after all these hours. Chapter 6:- Things That Go Bonk In The Night "Where is she," Davie muttered. The clock read nine- thirty-five. In the darkened room, the red numerals blinked at him. She wasn't coming back, she'd been winding him up. He ought to have known. She wasn't interested in a kid of fourteen, not a great big grown-up woman like Clarrie. His erection died of disappointment, and was replaced by a lump in his throat. Finally, he turned over and lay on his side in the dusk. "Move over, shithead, you can't have the whole bed to yourself!" He must have dropped off to sleep. She was here. Clarrie! Her big cold body squeezed against his in the dark, her chilly thigh forcing itself into the warmth of his bed. "Lie still, darling, don't move. I'll soon warm up. I nearly got spotted on the way here. Your Mum!" Davie sat up like a Jack-in-the-box, disturbing the bed covers. "She never saw you ...?" "Don't be daft, boy! I know how to hide myself around this house of a night-time. Right, lie down again, I want a cuddle first, before we do anything else!" How was it, Davie thought, that even the most ordinary things that Clarrie said sounded so sexy! She crept closer, pressing herself against him, rolling him away from her so she was pressing against his back. Their bodies fitted together like spoons. She was wearing a nightie, but it wasn't a very long one, he could feel the coarse, springy mat of her hair pressing against his naked bottom. Her plump arms twined around him, one above, one snaking beneath his body until her little fingers clutched at his bare chest and squashed him against her enormous titties. Now he could feel them, they seemed to cover his entire back. He tried to turn over, but she was far too strong for him. "Lie still," she ordered. Her upper hand, the one not trapped beneath his body, began to feel its way down his chest, his stomach, to the fuzz at the root of his cock. Then it made its way back up again. He felt her fingernails as she gripped his little boy-tits, and squeezed. Her tongue washed the back of his neck, then sought his ear. It went inside, like an exploring worm. Cold, wet and noisy. Meanwhile, her hand had strayed downwards again. Then her other hand was on the move, despite his weight. It cupped his buttock, briefly, then wandered on, between his butt cheeks, and down to cup his balls from behind. She nipped his earlobe, tongued his ear again. He was nearly screaming when, with surprising strength, she gripped his shoulder and flipped him on to his back, and in the same movement, straddled him. For the second time that day, her hair dangled across his face and chest. This time, though, Clarrie was naked, and her immense breasts dangled down, too, the nipples rubbing maddeningly in patterns on his soft skin. He reached out for them, and this time she made no effort to stop him, but sighed deeply as his hand found her left breast. It was far too big to capture in one hand. Even with both, he could hardly control the thing, and it wobbled around like a family sized jelly released from a mould. She leaned slightly forward and directed the massive breast toward his mouth. "Oh, Clarrie! Clarrie!" he sighed, and his lips found the enormous nipple. "Ooooh, Dav-eee! You cheeky baby! Is baby thirsty, then?" and she gave him the other nipple as well. Talk about tit heaven. Davie suddenly had more breast pressed against his face than could have been provided by any four of the girls in his class at school. Slowly, she lowered her bottom on to his stomach. He could feel her concentrating hard as she wiggled her fat rump around on him, he felt her practised little hand reach round and guide his erect boyhood for a second or so, then she squatted firmly down on him. He was ready to scream in pain as the girl squashed his willie, but it never happened. By a miracle, it had gone inside her. And it was warm and wet. Things were happening in there, too. All sorts of muscles were gripping him. It felt weird, and marvellous. Clarrie laughed her musical little ripple, and began a slow up and down movement on him. At each stroke, she seemed to go higher, so that he was afraid he would slip out of her altogether and she would break it as she sat down again, but somehow, she seemed to know just how far to go each time. Faster, now, and he began to buck against her, raising his hips to meet Clarrie on her way down, then faster still, until - nearly there - she stopped and his hips were off the bed, reaching up to her for what seemed like minutes until he CAME, and she sobbed in joy and delight with him and lowered herself tenderly on to his stomach as he endlessly pumped the last of his sperm into her lovely hole. "Fucking Hell, Davie, where in fuck's name did you learn to screw like that?" she breathed into his ear. "Oh, Carrie, darling!" and they both dissolved into giggles, laughing in each other's mouths as they lay together, then kissing endlessly for hours and hours, until he caught sight of the clock. Twenty past ten, it said. "Is that all the time is?" he asked, "or has that clock stopped?" "What's the fuckin' time matter?" she moaned, looking over her shoulder. "No, that's right, what's up?" "Nothing, I thought we'd been doing it for hours." "Oh, no, lover. We've got another SEVEN hours before I have to get up! You just lie still for a bit and get your strength back. This next one's on Auntie Clarrie. Darkness descended as Clarrie's dripping hairy snatch covered his face. This time, he felt no trace of panic, only warmth and security. And the most wonderful scent in the world. Gallons of it. Hot and cold running Clarrie. They did it in an amazing number of different ways, with the one proviso that Clarrie was always on top. At five thirty, as daylight crept in through the drawn curtains, Clarrie kissed him and slipped away to the chicken runs. Davie lay in a puddle of their combined juices, utterly exhausted. All through the long summer night, the buxom teenager had given him a sex lesson more comprehensive and wide-reaching than most males get in their first five sexually active years. And she had skipped out of the bedroom as frisky as a puppy. He had heard her whistling as she trotted across the yard. Twenty minutes later, she came back for a quickie, tearing off her clothes, her hair damp with the morning dew. She had to arouse him again so that she could impale her frothing cooze on his battle-weary stalk. "Come on, lover. Fourteen years old, and having trouble keeping it up already. If you weren't such a stud, I'd be turning you in for a newer model." So it was that when Maisie came into her son's room at seven o'clock, she found the boy out stone cold. The window was wide open, Clarrie had done that before she had left, but the atmosphere in the little room was still quite noticeably sexy. "You can come out today," Maisie told her son, "but you've got to behave. Those little girls are young and innocent, and they don't want to be dealing with young tearaways like you, right?" She gave another sniff as she left the room. If her Davie had been five years older, she thought, she'd have suspected that the slut Clarrie had been in his bed. But young Clarrie had been up for hours, bright as a new pin, washed and showered, and totally ready for whatever the day might bring. And, with any luck at all, the next night. Breakfast was served on the patio, where the morning sunshine had already burned off the last traces of mist. It was going to be another perfect day. Amy had decided to have a few days off work, and had phoned to invite our Mum to her flat for a break away from the kids. "Go for it, Mum," I'd told her, "We'll be all right here keeping Gran company. We'll see you at the weekend." I poured orange juice into the girls' glasses and they glugged away happily. "There was a ghost last night," said Pansy, suddenly feeling brave enough to mention the fact. Suzanne spluttered into her drink. "Silly! It's not a ghost. Mummy. It's not a ghost, Clarrie told us. She said it's the plumbing." Clarrie had appeared at that very moment, with a big silver dish of bacon and eggs. She nearly dropped the lot. "I never heard anything, did you, Tanya?" I looked at my sister. "Nothing, but I slept like a log. What sort of noise was it, Suze?" "Like a banging. It started slow, and got faster and faster." "Then it would stop. And it would listen. And then it would start up again after a little while. It kept waiting until we were nearly asleep then it would start again!" Clarrie put the dish down on the table with a bang. I couldn't see her face, as her back was towards me, but her hand seemed to be shaking as she served bacon and eggs to the three girls. "Where did the noise come from, girls?" I asked. "Straight up above our heads, like on the roof," said Pansy, excited at the reaction she was getting. Grandma Trudy had just come out on to the patio and had heard the last few words. "What's the matter, Pansy," she asked, "you been hearing noises in the night?" "Ghosts on the roof!" insisted Pansy, proudly. "Well, not on the roof, honey, there are another bunch of rooms above yours. Did you hear it, Victoria?" "Not a thing," said Victoria scornfully. "But if there were any ghosts around, those two would hear them." "Well, it's Davie's room above yours, kids. Why don't we ask him if he heard anything?" Clarrie whisked away the dish, still half full. With trembling hands she started back in the direction of the kitchen. "Gettin' cold, I'll fetch some more ...!" she cried as she fled. "Who's Davie," I asked Grandma Trudy. "Maisie's boy. He's fourteen. You won't have seen him yet, he's been confined to his room for letting down the tyres on the policeman's bike." Fourteen, I thought. Probably having a wank. But not all night, surely. The girls always did exaggerate everything. If I've told them once, I've told them a million times. "Where's that Clarrie got to?" Grandma Trudy sounded exasperated. "You haven't had your eggs and bacon yet ..." "She rushed off in a bit of a hurry," I said. "She's a country girl, is she scared of ghosts?" "She's scared of something," Grandma Trudy said, rather ominously. "I think Maisie ought to have a word or two with her." She thought for a moment. "Or maybe *I* ought to!" That was something else about these country girls, I thought. If Clarrie was going to wear such a short skirt, I would have expected her to have been wearing panties. Davie was going down the back stairs when he met Clarrie going the other way. "Oh, hello!" he said awkwardly. The girl gave him a scared little glance. "Don't say anything about last night. Not to nobody, okay?" Davie reddened. "*I* wasn't going to tell anyone." "No, you'd better not neither. I reckon they heard us. The kids are talking about being kept awake by ghosts." "Ghosts?" Davie went pale. "Is this place haunted, then?" "Course not, prat-face! That was us they could hear, banging away. Christ, if your Mum hears, I'll be right in the shit ...!" "YOU'LL be in the shit?" "We both will. But she can't sack you, you're her flesh and blood. I could be out of a job, and it's all your fault!" And Clarrie flounced away up the stairs. "My fau ...?" Davie watched her disappear, then turned and trudged down to the kitchen. How can it be my fault, he thought, *she* was fucking *me*! And she's forgotten to put her knickers on again. Chapter 7:- Davie Gets Lucky Again Davie wandered into the kitchen, where his mother kissed him and served up his breakfast. "Careful, lovey, that plate's red hot," she warned him. "You woke up then," she said. "Spark out, you was, at seven when I come in your room. What was you up to last night, then?" "Nothing," snapped Davie, too quickly. "I was asleep. Out cold, like you said. I must have been tired." "Well, get that lot down you. I got a couple of jobs for you to do, then you're going to meet the lady's daughter and her family. You can show the kids around later this afternoon. That'll be nice, won't it?" He looked sharply at his mother to see if she was trying to be sarcastic. Her face was innocent and beaming. He applied himself to his breakfast. His balls had been crushed; his willie felt raw. If this was what love was all about, he wondered why people were always singing songs about it. "Now, where's that bloody girl? CLARRIE? Never there when you want her, that idle bitch. Davie, love, go and find her, will you? I'll put that back on the stove 'til you get back ..." Davie crept off upstairs, and knocked softly on Clarrie's door. "Who's that?" "S'me. Davie!" "You can't come in here, not after last night. I'll get shot." "It's all right. Mum sent me. She needs you to help in the kitchen. Honest." The door creaked open an inch or two. "Come in, quick." He slipped inside, looking around. There were pop-star posters on all the walls. The bed had pink sheets and lacy pillowcases. A huge blue bra lay on the bed. Clarrie was naked, and looked somehow smaller. She threw her arms around his neck and squashed herself against him. Her lips were hot and urgent on his face, and her tongue met his. He felt himself coming to attention; although the inside of his shorts felt like they were made of sandpaper! "Ouch!" he croaked as Clarrie thrust her hips forward. "S'matter?" she asked, pausing briefly to tear her lips away from his. He took the opportunity to make a massive rearrangement of his clothing in the groin area. "Ooooh, lover! Don't do that, you'll drive me wild! And you know what that'll mean, don't you?" Already, the girl's hand was inside his pants, and he hadn't felt a thing as she had unzipped him. Shit, she'd got his willie out, and all in about five seconds. Bloody hell, it was *inside* her! And it was. Clarrie backed him against the door and rode his aching tool until he felt a rushing, building sensation in his ears and his balls. Then he was pumping into her again, and she was whimpering and moaning softly in his ear, rubbing her massive titties against his chest, the nipples like the last joint of his thumbs. Christ! She unplugged herself, and obligingly put him away, zipping him up and giving his crotch a friendly little pat, as if it were a good dog. "There!" she said. "Now, get out of here while I get dressed. We can't have you looking at me and getting all excited, can we?" And suddenly, he was outside her door. He went downstairs again. "You took your time, didn't you?" said Maisie, stirring something in a bowl. "Well, is she coming?" "What? Oh, yes. She was in the toilet. She's washing her hands." He took his breakfast plate off the stove. The fried egg was curling up at the edges. "I'm not all that hungry," he told her, and put it down again. He could feel a chilly dampness in his underwear as juice continued to seep out." "Come here and give us a kiss, then get out and tidy the woodshed. We've got a load of logs coming in, and you'll have to make room for them." He kissed his mother on the cheek and slipped out of the back door, tugging his pants to move the wet bit away from his willie. Yuck, he thought. Maisie sniffed the air after he had gone, wondering if she was really smelling what she thought she was. Then Clarrie came into the kitchen. "You feelin' better, girl?" "What? What you mean?" Clarrie was bright red. "Come here, Clarrie!" she said quietly. The girl crept closer, knowing what was coming. Maisie raised the maid's skirt. Fortunately, Clarrie had put her panties on. Unfortunately, a generous quantity of Davie's juices were still inside her at the time. "Go and change your knickers, young lady! And have a shower. You're going up before the lady!" Davie walked in front, the girls capered along behind, chattering amongst themselves. Every time they tried to catch up with him, he walked faster. He had to, if they got ahead of him they'd see he had a monster hard-on. It was his Mum's fault, sending him out here with three incredibly beautiful girls like this! He'd become erect straight away, as soon as he had seen Pansy. He got even harder when he was introduced to Victoria. And when he saw Suzanne, he was on the verge of creaming his pants. It was strange, he thought. He lived in a house liberally blessed with large-breasted women. Even if they were all rather ancient, they were fun to look at. Even the lady, she made him feel excited sometimes, and she must be a hundred years old. Then there was her Amy, he enjoyed watching her whenever she came over to visit, she *really* wobbled. And there was Clarrie, of course. His erection became even harder, thinking of Clarrie. But now, all these others had come along. It was if he was being punished for liking big titties, by having thousands of them everywhere he looked. Even little Pansy had boobs as big as any of the girls in his class at school, while her sister was miles bigger. And their Mum, too! And as if that wasn't enough, there was that Suzanne. He began to walk stiff-legged as things were now getting well out of hand inside his pants. And then there was Suzanne's Mum, surely she must have the biggest boobs in the whole world. Would Suzanne one day be as big as her? Oh, shit, yes please! It was a hard life, being a teenage tit-freak. "Slow down, Davie," called Victoria, "Suzanne and Daniel can't keep up." He turned round. Suzanne and her little cousin were thirty yards behind, the little girl trying to run and hold her big boobs with one hand, while Daniel's feet wouldn't carry him fast enough. He was panting and sobbing. Davie stopped. There was a grassy bank down here, leading to a stream. More of a little river, really. He turned off and went down to the edge of the water. Pansy and Victoria sat down next to him in relief, while the laggards caught up and joined them. Suzanne was puffing and blowing, her great big thingies going up and down under her T-shirt. Davie sat forward to hide his erection which was already making a big wet patch on the front of his jeans. Not quickly enough, he realised, Victoria had already noticed. If she had been a dog, her ears would have pricked up. This, she realised, was what the other girls all talked about the whole time at school. A hard, was it? Hard-up? She tried to see it but Davie was sitting all hunched up. She moved a little and found she could see a bit better. She stared at it, and Davie practically screwed himself up into a ball. I can't sit like this, he thought. It's not getting any smaller, and she's not going to go away. Disguising his movements as a coughing fit, he heaved and struggled to move the bloody thing so it was pointing straight upwards, out of the way. The position brought some relief, but Victoria's eyes were suddenly almost popping out of her head. "What ... what's THAT?" she gasped. "What's what?" Davie said in a voice of doom, and chanced a quick look down. Oh dear, oh dear, oh shit! No wonder it felt cold all of a sudden. His cock had poked out of the top of his jeans. Victoria moved right next to him and reached out her little hand. "Gosh, that's nice," she gurgled. May I touch it?" "NO!" he shouted, too late. Victoria's fingers were playing gently across the tip of it, causing the strange thing to leap out of the way. "Aaagh, it's alive!" she squealed. "And it's wet." She sniffed her fingers cautiously, then licked them. A little smile came over her face as she realised it tasted quite nice. She went back for second helpings. "No, you mustn't!" Davie cried again, but again too late. The others had gathered round. "That's his willie," Pansy informed them, "Same as Daniel's." She studied it for a few seconds. "Well, it's not quite the same." Suzanne didn't have a little brother to look at, and she'd never seen one of these things before, so she leaned across to get a look at close range. Her breast sploshed against Davie's knee, but she didn't seem to notice. He certainly did. So did his willie, which began to leap around, forcing itself further and further into the open air. Suzanne bent closer and put her tongue out. Before Davie could stop her, she had licked the very end of it. "It tastes just like Clarrie!" she announced joyously, and Davie gave a cry and buried his head in both hands. Again he felt the little girl's tongue touch him, then he was engulfed in a warm wetness, hearing the voices of the girls echoing in his head. "Oh, Suze, that's GROSS!" "Yucky! She's EATING it!" "Mmnnng mmnph!" He tried to warn her, but the words wouldn't come. What did come was his most violent ejaculation since the one that took place at around ten-fifteen the previous night. Suzanne, taken completely by surprise, swallowed a mouthful before she could get the thing free. The rest of it went in half a dozen spurts all over the front of her bulging T-shirt. "What's all that stuff?" she screamed. "I tried to tell you!" Davie shouted, but you wouldn't stop sucking me. "You should have stopped. You've wee-weed on my shirt!" Suzanne tried to pull the wet garment away from her skin, but it clung to her. "You'd better take that off," Victoria said. "We can rinse it in the stream. It will soon dry in the sun." Davie's second dream came true. Or had the first one been a nightmare? Suzanne tugged the T-shirt off over her head, and sat there in her bra. From where he sat, it looked almost as big as Clarrie's. Yet Suzanne couldn't have been any more than thirteen. After all, she talked like a baby sometimes. The girl kneeled by the water and dunked the shirt in it, sluicing it around to remove the clinging gooey slime. It was the strangest wee-wee she'd ever seen. It seemed to float away in strings. At last, as the others watched critically, she held it up at arms length. "How does that loooooo ..." Girls built like Suzanne are not designed to kneel on river banks holding wet T-shirts at arms-length in front of them. The splash was resounding. Part of the reason for that was that Davie had reached out to save her, but had overbalanced himself. He followed Suzanne into the water. There was a brief struggle as they clutched at each other. Pansy and Victoria screamed. Daniel burst into tears. Suzanne and Davie clambered to their feet - the water only came up to their thighs - and hauled themselves on to the bank. "It's c-c-c-c-cold!" shivered Suzanne. Davie said nothing, but stood dripping like a drowned rat. Victoria again acted first. "Take it off," she told Suzanne, pulling at her shorts, "everything, pants and bra. All off! You too," she said to Davie, "strip it all off ..." It was all they *could* do. They scrambled out of their soaking clothes, handing them one item at a time to Victoria to wring out. Pansy draped them on a bush in the hot sun. The last two items were Suzanne's bra and Davie's underpants. The two shivering youngsters looked at each other with considerable interest. "Go and run around," Victoria told them, shooing them before her like big pink geese. "Go ON!" And they did. They made a curiously arousing sight, Suzanne's breasts bouncing and flying around in all directions, while Davie's prong refused to lie down and die. If anything, it seemed to become even more erect as he followed Suzanne's tight little buttocks around on the warm grass. At last, panting, he stopped and sprawled in an untidy heap. Suzanne flopped down beside him, wriggling like a big pink puppy and giggling in excitement. "Gosh, Davie! I hope nobody's watching us!" "No, I don't think so," he puffed. Last night had taken it out of him. "That's good, then!" she whispered, and threw her arms around his neck. "Gimme a cuddle!" Enormous spongy boobs squashed against his bare chest. Much firmer than Clarrie's. Oh, bloody hell, here we go again. They all walked home slowly. Davie was deep in thought. After his discovery of sex last night, he realised that he would have to look at girls in a different way from now on. He looked at the three who walked along with him now. Suzanne was walking on his left, her hip brushing softly against his leg. He could feel the warmth of her every time it happened. After a while, she began pressing herself harder and harder against his thigh, forcing him over to the right, where he bumped against Victoria. Suzanne's skimpy shorts were nicely filled by her girlish bottom, but not nearly as much as her T-shirt was filled by her womanish titties. And Victoria, on the other side, not touching him, except when Suzanne made him collide with her scorching hot leg. Her eyes never left his face. Not as old as Suzanne, obviously, her titties weren't as big, but she behaved much older. While Suzanne and he had been charging around, trying to get themselves dried off, Victoria had sat back watching them, resting on her elbows and laughing, and her nipples had been sticking out through her top like spikes. Meanwhile, Pansy and Daniel had been rolling in the grass, completely absorbed in their own game. Once the excitement of Davie and Suzanne falling in the river was over, the two little ones lost interest in them altogether and started playing. Funny thing, even Pansy had nice chubby boobs, but she was just a kid. The two of them were prancing on ahead like dogs, occasionally glancing back to see that the others were still following. Davie studied his two female admirers. What would they be like to do it with? He tried to imagine it, as it had been with Clarrie, but the images wouldn't form in his head. Clarrie was a woman, but these two, despite their mature appearance, were still only girls. Never mind, he could still try, no harm in that. He knew he was good at it, Clarrie had told him last night. Dozens of times. What was the word? Stud, that was it. Davie the Stud. I wonder which one I will get to fuck first. Chapter 8- The Truth Will Out "Had a nice walk, dear?" Tanya held her arms out to Suzanne as the little group approached. Daniel came up to me, hopping up and down in excitement. "Mummy, Mummy, 'Zanne fell in the river!" "And Davie, they *both* fell in," reported Pansy. "What?" Tanya felt her little girl's shorts. They were still damp. "When did this happen?" "Ages ago, Mum, we dried our clothes on a bush, it's all right," Suzanne reassured her. "Me and Davie." "Wait a minute. You and Davie? You took your wet things off and dried them on a bush?" "Of course, like I said. They're dry, now." Tanya looked at me and shook her head. "Off with it. Now! Get up to your room and change into something dry." Clarrie had appeared on the terrace, hearing all the excited noises. She had also come out to see if Davie was around. Tanya spoke to her. "Clarrie would you go with Suzanne, please, and make sure she changes everything. She fell in the river with Davie!" Clarrie had already held out her hand to Suzanne when Tanya finished her sentence. "With Davie?" Clarrie looked at the boy, who was edging away in the direction of the house. "C'mon, Suzanne," the teenager said, "And YOU, TOO, Davie!" she planted a hand on his shoulder and steered him away indoors. "How did they dry their clothes, Victoria," I asked. "I made them take everything off, and we hung their things on a bush. They soon dried." "What about Suzanne and Davie, how did *they* get dry, you couldn't hang them on a bush." "Course not, stupid! They ran around for a bit, then they had a cuddle. They soon got warmed up" "I bet they did," Tanya growled. Grandma Trudy came out. "What's all this, I saw Clarrie in the kitchen, and she said those two had fallen in the river. Is that true?" "Yes," Tanya said, "they've gone off to change." "But how did it happen?" Pansy was thinking, trying to remember the sequence of events. She always likes to get things right before she explains anything. "I remember," she said at last. "Go on, then, darling, what happened?" "Well, we walked down to the river and sat down. And Davie had his willie out ..." "He did WHAT?" Tanya and Grandma Trudy screamed in chorus. "He got his willie out," Pansy repeated, gratified by the reaction. "And Suzanne was licking it! Yuck! I told her to take it out of her mouth, but she wouldn't listen to me. Then she did, she took it out, and some wet stuff came out and went on her T-shirt." The audience was silent and open-mouthed by now. "So she took her top off and washed it in the river. She still had her bra on, so it was all right ..." "Oh, good, that's all right then," Tanya said, faintly. .".. but then she fell in, and when Davie tried to grab her, he fell in, too. But it wasn't very deep." She sounded genuinely disappointed. "They were standing up in the water, and it only came up to Davie's willie. Then they got out and we made them take their clothes off and I hung them on the bush. That's all." That was all, as my daughter said. "Let's hear their side of it before we go ape-shit, Sis," I told her, but I was feeling sick inside. "Okay," said Tanya dully. "I'll ask Suze after tea." "I'll have a word with Davie," said Grandma Trudy. "He'll talk to me." "Wait there, you!" Davie stopped outside Suzanne's bedroom door as if he had been turned to a pillar of salt. Clarrie followed the girl into her room and watched as she undressed. She peeled off her T-shirt and Clarrie took it from her hand as Suzanne peeled her shorts off, hopping precariously on one leg. Even inside her bra, everything was bouncing. Clarrie waited for the girl to hand over her shorts. The damp T-shirt seemed to have some stains on the front. She sniffed at them suspiciously, but the whole thing smelled only of river water. Suzanne watched her. "I washed it all off," she said, helpfully. "Washed what all off?" "The stuff that came out of Davie's thingie. That's why I fell in, I was licking his thingie 'cos it tasted nice - it tasted a bit like you - and it came out of my mouth when it was jerking about so much, and a load of stuff went all over my shirt. It will wash off, won't it. 'Cos I like this shirt!" "Oh, it will come off, all right, now that I know what it is," said Clarrie, grimly. "Take the rest of your things off, and I'll wash them. Quick, I need to see Davie gets his things off as well. Especially his jeans, they're still quite damp." "There you are, Clarrie," Suzanne put her panties on top of the bra in Clarrie's hands. "Will my bra be dry by the morning? Only my other one's a bit too tight." I bet it is, thought Clarrie, stunned by the size of the child's breasts, now inches away from her. Davie would have enjoyed those as well. "Hurry up and get dressed, sweetheart, then go and have your tea. I'll be down presently." "Okay! said Suzanne, happily, rummaging through her top drawer. "NOW then!" Clarrie took Davie's arm and frog-marched him along the landing to the back stairs. "Keep going!" she ordered as the boy stumbled. Along the passage and into his bedroom. The door slammed and she dumped him on his bed. "Get undressed, now! What have you been up to with that kid?" "Me, nothing! Nothing happened, Clarrie, honest." "And your jeans, too. Oh, so you didn't fall in the river, then?" "Well, yeah ... but ..." "And those shorts! And so you didn't take all your clothes off to get them dry?" "Well, yeah ..." "And your socks. And you didn't run around stark, bollock naked with that little sex-bomb?" Sex-bomb? "Well, I s'pose so, but ..." "And she didn't fall in the river in the first place because she was trying to wash the CUM-STAINS OFF HER T- SHIRT?" "Oh!" said Davie in a tiny voice. "AFTER SHE WAS SUCKING YOU OFF?" No reply. "Oh, Davie! What am I going to do with you? One night of love-making from me, and you think it's okay to try and get the pants off an eight-year-old kid!" "Eight? EIGHT years old? Suzanne?" "She's eight and a half! That's all she is." "But she's ..." He used his hands to describe Suzanne. "Yes, she is, isn't she?" Clarrie pushed him on to his back. "She's really big, isn't she, Davie?" Clarrie unfastened the buttons of her blouse. "She's HUGE, isn't she, Davie?" Clarrie dropped the blouse on the floor and reached around behind her back to unfasten her bra. "But she's not as HUGE as me, is she, Davie?" Not quite, he thought. She lowered herself on to him. "And she can't do THIS, can she, Davie?" Not yet, he thought, surrendering himself to his fate. The knock on the door stopped them in their tracks. Clarrie froze in mid-thrust. "You there, Davie?" The lady! Clarrie put both her hands in her mouth. "Davie? May I come in, honey?" "Errrrm ...!" The door opened. Trudy closed it behind her as soon as she took in the scene. Clarrie hadn't moved. Davie couldn't move, anyway. Trudy, feeling faint, walked over to the window and stood looking out. "Would you like to get up, Clarrie, please!" she said without turning round. The wanton girl slowly detached herself, while Trudy stared out at the sunlit scene. A cloud drifted across the garden. Clarrie picked up her blouse and held it in front of herself. "Get dressed, honey!" said Trudy, not unkindly, which made it even worse for the young girl. Sobbing now, she pulled the blouse on, then bent to pick up her skirt. She stepped into it, then picked up her abandoned bra. There appeared to be no panties. Trudy turned at last. "Now go to your bedroom and wait for me there, please." Biting her lip, tears flooding down her cheeks, Clarrie left the room. Davie watched her go, then looked at Trudy. "I only came to talk about you and young Suzanne falling in the river," she said. "I hardly expected to find you ... to find this going on! How long have you and Clarrie been ...?" "Last night, ma'am," Davie muttered. "In your room? In here?" Trudy put two and two together. Ghosts, she thought, managing not to giggle. "What happened this afternoon? Down by the river?" "Nothing, ma'am, nothing, honest! We got wet and took our clothes off, that's all. I didn't f..." "I know that, Davie. I believe you. But Suzanne's only *eight* years old, what made you think of showing her your ... yourself." She pointed to the offending part, now mercifully no longer erect. She realised straight away that she hadn't made the right point. He shouldn't have been showing his cock to *any* girls, eight or twenty-eight. Davie tried to tell her. "I'd got a hard-on, ma'am. It sort of slipped out of my pants, and the girls wanted to touch it. They hadn't seen one before. Honestly, ma'am!" Sheesh. Crazy story. Crazy enough to be true. "Now listen, Davie. I'm not going to forbid you to see Clarrie. You'd only find a way, somehow. Clarrie's a very grown-up and a VERY sexy girl, and she's awfully experienced for her age. It will surely end in tears for you, but there's no point in telling you that either. But if I catch you trying ANYTHING with little Suzanne, you are in trouble, that is TROUBLE, Davie, is that clear?" That was clear. As soon as Trudy had gone, he rolled over on to his belly. His pillow smelled of Clarrie. The whole bed smelled of Clarrie. Girls were nothing but trouble, he decided. End in tears? It had only *started* last night, and here came the tears already. "Let me make it crystal clear, Clarrie. I am not firing you. Sir Roger will have to do that, if he can. Perhaps I will have to tell him what I have seen, when he comes back?" Clarrie went as white as a sheet. "I thought so. I already told Davie, I'm not going to stop you two having sex. You'd only go somewhere else and do it. You, especially, Clarrie, because you can't go a day without it. I also told him it will end in tears. For him, that is. You'll throw him away without a second thought when Sir Roger comes back! Just remember, Clarrie, I know everything. Everything!" Clarrie crumpled on her bed, and dissolved into shuddering tears. Trudy watched her for a moment, about to leave. I never could do the right thing and leave well alone, she thought, sitting down next to the girl on the bed and putting an arm round her. Clarrie tensed, then relaxed, her head buried in Trudy's shoulder, her massive breasts, loose inside her creased blouse, mashing against Trudy's far larger ones. The older woman hugged the teenager tight, rocking her like a baby until the girl's sobs died away. "You take the rest of the night off, honey. Go have a shower. I guess you need one." She chucked the girl under the chin and wiped a tear away with a finger. "And if you simply *can't* leave Davie alone, try to do it quietly, okay?" Trudy gathered up the bundle of clothes she had collected from Davie's room, and went quietly downstairs. "Where's Clarrie, Nana Trudy?" asked Suzanne. "She said she's not feeling too good, she's going to bed," said Trudy. "But she was going to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight," complained Pansy. "It's not fair!" "If poor Clarrie's not well, you wouldn't want to make her get up, would you?" I asked her. "Well, could Davie come and say goodnight then?" Suzanne asked, brightly. "Can he, Mummy?" Tanya gulped. "We'll have to see about that, Suze. He might have other things he has to do." "I'll ask Maisie. Can I ask Maisie for Davie to come into our bedroom tonight, Mummy?" Pansy was already getting up. Oh, God! "*I'll* come and kiss you goodnight, kids," Grandma Trudy said, "but only if you're going to be good girls. I'll tell you a story, too. I'll bet Davie wouldn't do that." That clinched it. But there were still problems being stored up for tomorrow. At least, the ghosts were quiet that night. Perhaps they were still there, but at least, they kept quiet. <end 2/4> From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 3 (big breasts, yng teen) Date: 4 Dec 1995 17:00:17 -0500 Message-ID: <49vr1h$m4g@navajo.gate.net> THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!! I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to remain anonymous. Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the author. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of age who have no objection to reading about young women's breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of the events described in this story actually took place, to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are described as taking place between adults and minors. No young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you find it. None of the characters in this story is real. Their names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. (She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older sister. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog Part III Chapter 9:- Relationships The ghosts had been there all right, but they'd been as quiet as they could. Clarrie made love to Davie with a quiet intensity. By morning, the boy was feeling even more shattered than yesterday. He wondered if it was always like this. What would it be like with a *really* heavy girl on top of him, instead of just a very heavy one. "You've squashed my balls, Clarrie," he groaned as she eased herself off him and stretched like a cat. "Oh get away, you great baby! Gissa kiss, I'll see you after breakfast. No time to come back for a quickie this morning. There'll be too much to do. Have a wank, instead. Seeya!" And she was gone. He lay there for a few seconds in the quiet. He thought he could hear voices. There it was again, girls, laughing. It was the kids, downstairs, in the room just below his. He thought of Suzanne, down by the stream yesterday, and to his horror, found himself becoming erect again. He was still wet with the juice from the inside of Clarrie, and now he was getting hard thinking about an eight-year-old! But *what* an eight- year-old! He took Clarrie's parting advice. As he came, he moaned to himself, 'Ooooh, Suzanne!' And to his dismay, he found it quite exciting. Victoria hadn't been able to sleep at all. It was morning, and outside the sun was up, the chickens were making a terrible row and she was restless. For some reason, she kept thinking of Davie. Such a thing had never happened to her before. She remembered the afternoon by the little river, when she had touched his willie. Later, walking back home, they had looked at each other. She blushed at the memory and her nipples felt all tingly. She touched herself beneath the bed covers, and found wetness down there. I wonder if he's awake yet, she thought. They wake up early in the country, she supposed. We could have a little chat. Nobody would know. She slipped a leg over the side of her bed, and quietly stood up, trying not to let the floor creak. She caught a glimpse of herself in her bedroom mirror. Golly! Her nipples were sticking out miles! Hunching her shoulders slightly to hide them, she opened the door, and made for the back stairs. She was about to round the corner on to the top landing when a door opened and Clarrie came out, wearing a short nightie. So short, it didn't even cover her front bottom. Victoria blushed at the thought of seeing Clarrie's thingie. It was *so* hairy! She ducked out of sight as the teenager, whistling softly, went into another bedroom leaving the door open a few inches. Victoria froze where she was. It was all quiet. Clarrie's whistling had stopped, but there were some rustlings from inside the room. Victoria crept out of her hidey-hole and took a cautious step along the corridor. Then the door handle rattled, and Victoria nearly screamed in terror. She scuttled back into cover again, as the door opened fully, and Clarrie came out, in her blouse and skirt. She walked briskly past, and went down the stairs. Victoria thought she could smell a faint odour of kippers in the girl's wake. She must have had breakfast in her bedroom, she thought. Slowly, she stepped forward again, one foot, then another, like a stalking cat. All the way to Davie's door. Which one? She counted the doors again. This one here. But that was the room Clarrie had come out of in her nightie. Victoria gasped and blushed again, as rude thoughts passed through her head. She tried the handle, then pushed the door open. Davie was lying in bed, eyes closed, panting slightly as if he had been running. He must be having a nightmare, she thought. Best not wake him up. She was about to turn round and leave, when a thought came to her, a thought so daring as to make her go crimson with shame at having even thought about thinking it. Raising the corner of the bed covers, she slipped one foot into the bed, then perched her little bottom on the side of it. The bed dipped alarmingly, and Davie gave a groan. She stopped, but just at that moment, the boy turned over on to his side, with his back to Victoria. There was suddenly plenty of room in the boy's bed. She was in, not daring to move, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers, and the smell of kippers. Gosh, he must have had *his* breakfast in bed as well. Davie muttered something in his sleep. "I thought you weren't coming back," he said in a weary voice. Victoria was puzzled, but decided he must be talking in his sleep. She gave a little moan in case a reply was expected, and Davie sighed contentedly. He seemed to be waiting for her to make the next move, although she had no idea what gave her that notion. She touched his back softly, laid her hand flat against it. It felt strong and hard. She kissed the warm skin. Then, remembering his willie and how nice that had felt, she snaked an arm over his hip to roughly where she thought his willie ought to be. To her satisfaction, she found it straight away. It was clammy and damp, all of it, as she ran her little fingers from the base to the tip and back. Davie gave a soft groan and clutched at her hand, stopping her from letting go. Fine, she thought, and gripped it harder. Davie screamed and sat up. He saw her and yelped again, crawling away until he was hard against the wall. "Hello, Davie, I came to have a little chat." "What about?" he sounded strangely agitated; guilty, even. "Oh, just things, you know?" To be honest, she hadn't thought about an agenda for the meeting. "Shall we talk about sex? Shall we do *more* than talk?" she suggested. "Aaaargh!" Davie squawked. "No, I mustn't! You're too young!" "Suze wasn't too young for a cuddle yesterday!" "That's different." "It *is* different. I'm two and a half years older than her. I'm ten," she added proudly and put her arms around him, pressing her plump breasts against his chest. He stopped resisting. "Have you done it very many times?" she asked him. "Quite a lot," he said, thinking about the last two nights. "Good! You can do *me*, then." "Whaddya mean?" He flattened himself against the wall again. "You can do me! I don't mind. I want you to. I'm ever so good at it. I'm brilliant," she added in a flash of inspiration. "Are you?" he said in a flabbergasted tone. "Oooh, yes. Everybody says so." "What if I don't want to?" he tried, without much hope. She spluttered with laughter. "Course you want to. Boys always want to." "All right then." Clarrie wasn't coming back, after all. What harm could it do. It wasn't as if she was an eight- year-old, anyway. Victoria was ten. Most important of all, after the last two nights, she was only a little over half the weight of Clarrie! "Go on then!" he said. Victoria felt a funny feeling in her front bottom again. She lay back and closed her eyes. "Go on, then," she said huskily. This was the great moment. It was going to happen to her! "I'm waiting," said Davie. "So am I, darling!" They lay side by side and waited for a few minutes, then both sat up. "It isn't working," said Davie. "Just get on top of me," prompted Victoria, and spread her legs as wide as they would go. Nothing happened. Davie looked curiously down at Victoria's sparsely-furred little cunny. It looked wet. She was all ready for him, so why wouldn't she just get on and do it! "But you're supposed to get on top of *me*," he said. Victoria thought back to discussions at school. Girls lay on their backs and boys climbed on top and put their willies in your thing. But perhaps there was another way she hadn't heard about. People were always finding new ways of doing things. "We can do it the other way, though, if you like," she said in a worldly manner. "The other way?" Davie said, in panic. "Oh, you mean the *other* way! Okay. Go on, then." "Ah!" Inspiration came at last to Davie. Sweating, he said, "Oh, I didn't think you'd have wanted to do it *that* way, since you've done it so many times. I'm ready, though. Come on. Sit on my face!" Victoria propped herself on a slender elbow and stared at him. "What for?" she asked, puzzled. "To do it. You have to suck my cock and sit on my face!" "Ugh! You're gross, Davie! Suck your own cock and sit on your own face, you pervert, if that's your idea of a relationship!" and she flounced out of the bed. Arms akimbo, she paused at the door for a parting shot. "And I'm telling Nana Trudy about you and Clarrie ..." "She already knows, nyeeerrr ...!" .".. you've been eating kippers in your room!" Victoria marched out of the bedroom, her little nose in the air. She was back in her own bed in thirty seconds. "Boys! Yuck! I'm going to stay a virgin, like Mummy." Davie lay there blinking. "What was she on about? Kippers? Girls! What is the fucking matter with them?" And he tried for another wank, but fell asleep half way through. "We've got to have a word with the girls, Sis," said Tanya. We carried our breakfast things into the kitchen and handed them to Clarrie who was trilling a happy song as she bent over the sink. I couldn't quite see if she was wearing panties this morning. Probably not. "Let's get them now. No time like the present. Before they go off with Davie again." So we did. Suzanne described exactly what had happened down by the river: it tallied with Pansy's version perfectly. Victoria said very little. I looked at her, she seemed a bit pale. "You all right, darling, you look a bit peaky?" "'Course I'm all right," she snapped. "It's you lot, going on about sex all the time. We haven't done anything." And no, apart from giving blow-jobs on the river bank, they hadn't, really. Tanya did her best to explain why it wasn't a good idea to lick a boy's willie, and especially to put it in your mouth. She tried to do it without using the word 'dirty', and she wasn't finding it at all easy. "It did taste nice, though, Mummy. It tasted like Clarrie." Suzanne looked up at Tanya and clutched her hand. "*Why* can't I do it again?" "Maybe Davie didn't like it," I suggested. "Did he tell you to stop?" "Ooooh yes, but he didn't really mean it, did he?" No, he probably didn't. "I think, Suze, if you feel like doing anything like that to a boy, you should ask him first. And if he says no, then you must take 'no' for an answer." Tanya, I thought, I can't believe you just said that. One day, soon, these kids are going to begin to wonder why their mothers are so much younger than all the other kids' mothers. And then what are we going to tell them? The girls didn't have that particular dilemma that day. Davie failed to put in an appearance, and Grandma Trudy reported that he didn't feel very well. Perhaps he'd got a bit of a cold through wearing damp clothes. Victoria and Suzanne wanted to visit him, but we said he wouldn't want to talk if he had a sore throat. So we all went for a walk. Not the best idea in the world, because Pansy and Daniel led us straight to the very spot by the river where the act had taken place. "They fell in just there, Mummy," she said. "There's the bush we hung their clothes on, and they ran around over there. And that's where they lay down for a cuddle!" Victoria took my hand, and Suzanne reached for Tanya's. "Let's go somewhere else, Mummy, I don't really like this place any more," said Victoria. We moved on. "What a fine mess this all is," said Grandma Trudy. "And I invited you all down here just for this." "They were bound to get involved with boys some time," Tanya said. "Perhaps it's just as well it's all happening right where we can see it." "And Davie's a good lad," I added, "it could have been much worse if he'd been somebody like your Luke whatever his name was." "O'Hara. Not a name I'm likely to forget." She sat down with a sigh. "Pa shot him, you know, dumped him in the river." We both gasped. "Pa and two or three of the other men whose daughters had met up with Luke. That's why we had to move out of the farm in such a hurry." "Go on, Grandma!" I whispered. This was better entertainment than television. They didn't do things by halves in the old days! "Well, anyways, I started working at Harringtown, at the soda fountain, and everybody in the town used to come by, and I'd chat to them all. I knew everything that went on. And there was this guy, Mark. I suppose you'd say I took a fancy to him. And one night, we went to a dance. At the Elks' Club, it was. And everything was just fine, until *she* came along. Wendy Sherman. Wendy Sherman got what she wanted," Grandma Trudy said bitterly. "And she wanted Mark ...!" Chapter 10:- Kippers In The Dark Suzanne waited until Pansy stopped chattering. Then she deliberately made herself wait five more minutes, counting the seconds under her breath. Her cousin was breathing deeply now. Suzanne got up and crept to the door, watching Pansy's bed. There was no movement. She slipped out. There were some grapes downstairs, in a bowl in the sitting room. The whole house was creaking as Suzanne slunk down the stairs. It was a good thing the place wasn't haunted, or she would have been dead scared. A fox was yapping in the distance, and a dog barked a warning in reply. Then, much closer, an owl hooted. Suzanne stopped, frozen to the spot, her heart thumping. She placed her hand on her chest, somewhere beneath her left boobie. Was that a ghost? Ghosts always went 'whoooo' like that. Didn't they? She thought of scuttling back up the stairs to the bedroom again, but if the ghost was outside it might come in and follow her up the stairs. She froze, summoning up her courage, and the moon came out, shining through the glass of the front door. At least, with the moonlight, she could move again. She reached the bottom of the stairs and went through into the sitting room. The moon was gleaming through the lace curtains. Quick, there was the fruit bowl, where she had seen it earlier. She grabbed at the bunch of grapes, and shot back to the hallway. Then up the stairs, and straight on up to the next floor, the servants' quarters, as they called it. Why quarters? Suzanne didn't know. Funny word. This was Davie's room, the one with the door open a little way. She put her head round it. Empty? Must have gone to the loo, she thought, and went in. I'll wait for him here. Really ill people always like grapes. Even in the middle of the night. Here he comes, now. Footsteps were coming along the landing. And low voices, whispering. Davie can't be talking to himself! Two of them? Something made Suzanne realise it might be better if she wasn't discovered standing here. Hide! Where? There was a wardrobe. It was a tight fit for her, but she pulled the door closed as far as it would go. It touched the tips of her breasts and squashed her erect nipples as she buried herself in the shirts and sweaters hanging there. Davie's things. The thought excited her. Two shadowy figures crept into the room. Davie was one, the other one wore a nightie, it was a girl. No, it was bigger than that. His mother? Maisie? Then she recognised Clarrie's voice. So, Clarrie had come to visit him as well. I hope she hasn't brought grapes. Even really ill people can have too many grapes. But Clarrie hadn't brought grapes. Suzanne watched in the dim moonlight as Davie climbed on to his bed, and Clarrie climbed carefully on top of him! Were they having a fight? In slow-motion? Strange, they seemed friendly enough. Clarrie was sitting on top of Davie, pinning him to the bed, bouncing up and down. I bet that hurts, thought Suzanne, especially when you're really ill. Whatever they were doing was obviously hard work. Clarrie was starting to moan and groan, and Davie kept making grumbling noises, hardly surprising with that great big woman leaping around, sitting on his tummy. And she thought she could see a bit of sweat on Clarrie's face in the moonlight. Golly, if it was such hard work as that, why didn't they stop? Clarrie showed no signs of stopping. If anything, she was working harder. She began to yelp at regular intervals, one yelp to each bounce, until she hovered above poor Davie, before plunging down with a scream which echoed round the room. In fact, the whole house must have heard that one. Certainly, the whole house shook. Clarrie was no lightweight. Davie was in a position to agree. "Shhhhhh, for fuck's sake!" he hissed. Clarrie only moaned in reply, then bent over and poured soft wet kisses on Davie's face. At least, she's sorry, thought Suzanne. But it's a bit late now. The young girl was half crouched in the wardrobe, and it was getting a bit cramped in there. Cautiously, she tried to stand up straight. Her head bumped into the rail crowded with coathangers. They jangled musically, and she grabbed at them. "Fuck was that?" said Davie. "Nothing, lie still, boy." "It was the wardrobe," he said. "There's somebody in the *wardrobe*!" "How could anyone get in that little thing?" Clarrie asked scornfully. "You hearing ghosts, now? Bad as those young kids down there, you are, hearing ghosts all night." She kissed his face again. It sounded like a big wet one. "Oooh, yes! Dav-eee!" murmured Clarrie. Oh, no, thought Suzanne. There they go again. Why does he let her do it? Davie, as a matter of fact, was beginning to wonder very much the same thing. Half an hour later, when Clarrie had stopped bucking and lay panting on his chest, he spoke in a pained voice. "Christ, Clarrie, you've really crushed my balls, honest. I bet they're bleeding, get off, and let's have a look!" His lover only giggled, and humped violently a couple of times, making Davie grunt and whinny in pain. Suzanne, indignant, was seriously considering leaping out and dragging Clarrie off him by force. "Clarrie, darling," wheedled Davie. "Can't we try it the other way for a change?" "The other way? Corrr, you adventurous little bugger! I never thought you had it in you. Which way do you fancy, then?" She ran through her catalogue. "Doggie? Missionary?" What was the girl talking about, Davie wondered. Dogs and missionaries. All he wanted was for Clarrie to do it to him the other way. Bloody hell, if little Victoria knew about it, you'd think big Clarrie would. "Oh, please, Clarrie, do it the other way ..." "All right then, just this once. And I wouldn't do it for anyone else, mind!" She rolled off him and lay on her back, her legs apart, thrusting upward with her hips in an experimental manner. "Come on then, lover! FUCK me!" "What? How can we do it if you're lying down there?" He shook her arm and her big breasts wobbled like half deflated beachballs full of goats milk. "Do it, we're wasting time!" "You don't know *what* you want, do you?" she complained. "Well, you want it another way, you shall have it. Get up and kneel facing this way ..." Meanwhile, in the wardrobe, Suzanne was engrossed. At last, she knew what the couple were trying to do. She had heard a word she recognised from school. Most people only whispered it, but these two spoke it in normal voices. Anyway, they were going to FUCK. At least, it would make a change from whatever they'd been trying to do before. She watched the complex preparations, as Davie followed Clarrie's detailed instructions. Somehow, he ended up with Clarrie's powerful legs clasped around his waist. After several minutes, there were theatrical sighs and a fresh burst of instructions, and Clarrie kneeled facing away from Davie, her boobies dangling down to rest on the mattress. More humping and grunting, more instructions, then Clarrie was flat on her back with Davie on top of her. But the teenager was a good strong girl, and she ended up in her favourite position, and made Davie pay for his rashness by squashing his nuts once and for all. "There. That's squashed the fuckers for you. You've got five minutes to recover. I'm going for a piss!" and Clarrie climbed off Davie's useless corpse and hurried out of the bedroom. Suzanne cautiously pushed open the wardrobe door. Time to get out of here, she thought. She tiptoed stiffly to the bed, where Davie was already snoring softly, placed the grapes beside him on the sheet, and crept out. I'll really have something to tell Pansy and Victoria in the morning, she thought. Suzanne's little head, brimming with new-found knowledge, had no sooner touched her pillow than a blood-curdling scream rang out. Lights came on all over the house, and thunderous footsteps could be heard in the servants' quarters, scurrying from Davie's room to Clarrie's. Then an uneasy silence reigned once more. Davie, meanwhile, had at last summoned up the courage to get up off his back and identify the wet, soggy mess on the sheets beneath his body. "Grapes? How the bleeding fuck did a bunch of grapes get in my bed? I don't even *like* sodding grapes!" Suzanne was bursting to tell her cousins, but the chance wouldn't come. She wanted to tell them both, and both together. But when Pansy was available, there was no sign of Victoria. And when she ran Victoria to earth after breakfast, she couldn't find Pansy. Why was it, she thought, when you had something as important as this to tell, you had no-one to tell it to. Clarrie had served the breakfast. She looked very fit and well, no black eyes or visible damage. Davie, though, had clearly come off second best. Suzanne saw him in the kitchen, looking pale and tired. He was obviously really ill. I wonder if he enjoyed his grapes, she thought, but thought she'd better not ask him, not in front of his mother. It was nearly teatime before the three young girls were finally all together in the same place at the same time. They sat at the table on the terrace eyeing an enormous cream cake, which Nana Trudy had made all by herself. Four days of heavy eating had left the girls feeling distinctly full, but they had no intention of passing up a cake like that one. Meanwhile, the three of them were alone at last. Suzanne drew the other two closer to her. "Guess what!" "What?" "Guess what I saw." "What you saw?" "Last night!" "Last night?" "You were in bed last night. You never saw anything, you were asleep," Pansy accused her. "Not all the time. After you went to sleep, I got up. And guess what I saw!" "What you saw?" "I went to see Davie with some grapes." "Grapes, what for?" "Really ill people like grapes. They make them all better. Anyway, I took them up to his bedroom ..." ....there were two horrified gasps... .".. and I went in, and I heard somebody coming, and it was Davie and Clarrie." "Clarrie? How do you know that?" "I saw them. I hid in the wardrobe. It was a bit small, and it squashed my titties, but I could see what they were doing. And guess what!" "They were eating kippers," said Victoria confidently. "No, I don't think so," said Suzanne, uncertainly. "No, they got into bed and Clarrie got on top of Davie and bounced up and down!" "That's stupid! What for?" asked Pansy. "I dunno, do I!" said Suzanne. "Maybe they were arguing and Clarrie decided to sort him out. She's big enough. Hey, she's enormous without her clothes on." She lowered her voice. "She's got HUGE titties," she said, blushing. "They're bigger than mine, even!" "Was that it, then?" Victoria didn't want to hear about Suzanne's titties. "No! The best bit was after that, when they started fucking." "Fucking? Oh!" Pansy sounded shocked. "Yeah! Fucking!" Suzanne savoured the word. "Davie asked Clarrie to do it the other way, and she said, 'okay, fuck me', and he did." "You mean she sat on his face?" said Victoria with disgust. "No, why?" "That's the other way," Victoria said. "I wouldn't want anyone to sit on my face. Poo!" said Pansy. "Well, you have to, if you do it the other way, 'cos that's the other way to do it, so there!" "Well I'm not ever going to do it the other way then. I'm always going to do it the same way. When I get married," Pansy was firm on that point. Suzanne felt that her big scene had got out of hand. What was all this business about sitting on people's faces? Mind you, Pansy had a point. Bottoms were big, horrible, stinky things. Why should anyone want anyone else to sit on their face? Furtively, she slipped a finger into her pants for a few seconds then sniffed it. Yes! Even mine's stinky, she thought. That's it, then. I'll never do it the other way. I'll do it the right way, whatever that is. Clarrie came out on to the terrace with more cakes, and the three girls stared at her in a new light. Clarrie shifted uncomfortably as three pairs of eyes followed her every move. Can I help you to anything, girls? Go on, then, dive in. They did, taking three enormous slices of cream cake that made Clarrie's eyes pop out. That was when Davie came outside. "Hi, girls. Hi, Clarrie" "Hello, Davie," the girls chorused. "Are you feeling better today, Davie?" asked Victoria smarmily. "Did you enjoy your grapes, Davie," asked Pansy, with a triumphant glance at Suzanne. Davie's eyes narrowed. What was going on here? "Davie," said Suzanne, earnestly. "When I'm a big grown- up woman, I promise I'll never sit on your face. We'll *always* do it the right way, okay?" Chapter 11:- Still Growing Girls "We've been here, what is it? A week?" Tanya lounged beside the pool, licking at an ice cream. "Nearly ten days," I told her. "Time certainly flies ..." ."..when you're enjoying yourself! Well, those girls are certainly enjoying themselves. They must be eating their own weight in cream cakes every day. Look at them!" I already had been. My Victoria and Pansy, topless as usual, were cavorting on the other side of the pool. They seemed so much bigger than when we'd arrived. You could actually see how much they'd grown. Victoria was bigger all over, breasts, waist and hips. Her thighs were heavier. Pansy, too, must have been three or four inches bigger round the waist, in only nine days! As for Suzanne, words failed me. The child had certainly added a few pounds, but it was all on her bust, all of it! "We can't stop them eating," said Tanya, shaking her head at the sight of her daughter. "They're going to have to get some new clothes, I'm afraid. Underwear, too, and we all know how much of a problem that is for them. I'd have seen Mrs Cooper before we came, but who would have thought they'd get as big as this?" "We don't have a Mrs Cooper round here, though, do we? I wonder if Grandma Trudy knows anyone?" "I would imagine she would," Tanya laughed. If she doesn't, I can't imagine who does!" She did, of course. "I'll get Clarrie to give Sandy a call, and we'll see what they need, honey," said Grandma Trudy, "Sandy does all our bras; and our dresses, too, when we need something a little special. That's Amy and Clarrie, as well as me. We're what you'd call a valued customer, and I can't wait 'til Sandy sees these kids!" And we were all sitting around the garden next morning when an open-topped lilac sports car scrunched down the drive. "Bloody hell," Tanya breathed, who's *this*?" *This* was a gorgeous hunk of man in a lilac suit, exactly matching the car. He was mincing delicately over the close-clipped grass, carrying a small case. As he came closer, he took off his wrap-around dichroic blue sunglasses and ran a long-fingered hand through his thick blond quiff. Grandma Trudy came out of the house at that moment. "Girls, I'd like you to meet Sandy!" "Sandy?" Tanya's jaw had dropped as she looked from Trudy to the hunky vision who now towered above her. "Sandy," I confirmed. "Or possibly Alexander?" "Alexander it is," he said, lisping only very slightly. "My Sunday name. Sandy to my best friends." "Sandy is a jewel," said Grandma Trudy. "The most nimble set of fingers with a needle outside London. Did Clarrie explain the problem," she asked him. "All she'd say was that you wanted some new brassieres. She didn't mention a problem at all." "Well, it's not a problem as such. We just have a few little girls who need new bras, is all!" Sandy shrugged and smiled. If Madam wanted to pay top prices for bras for little girls, that was all right by him. The big American woman was laughing. "Not *little*, I got the wrong word, there. Let's just call them 'young' girls." I could see the girls inside the house, looking curiously out through the patio doors. I waved to them, relieved to see that they weren't dressed for swimming, or undressed, to be more precise. They wore their shorts and extra large T-shirts. They came over, and stood in a row, gazing at Sandy curiously. He looked back at them, his expression faltering for the first time. "I think I see what you mean, Mrs Pym," he said, shaking his head. "Can you do anything for them?" Tanya asked. Sandy was slowly recovering his composure. "Oh, I'm sure I can do something." "Bras and swimsuits, Sandy," said Grandma Trudy firmly, although Tanya and I both opened our mouths to protest. "They've been eating rather too well this last week, I'm afraid!" And Sandy sat down, opened his case and produced a tape measure. The girls were well used to Mrs Cooper, but not to a man measuring them, even a man like Sandy, who seemed to them to be more like a woman than most women. "He was nice," said Pansy after Sandy had driven away. "When is he coming back with our new bras and bikinis? I can't wait. Pansy *couldn't* wait. To my shame, when she had lifted her T-shirt for Sandy to get the tape around her, I could see that her shorts wouldn't meet around her waist, by about four inches. A little roll of fat swelled over the top of them. Even Victoria, who was tall enough to carry the extra weight a little better, had obviously put on about three inches around her waist, and at least an inch on her womanly hips. But if I felt ashamed at my girls' expansion, Tanya shook her head in disbelief whan Suzanne's turn came to be measured. Suzanne's bust had swelled by something like three inches. It was obvious because she was wearing her best bra under her T-shirt, and it took her and her blushing mother quite a struggle to get it off. Her boobs were practically exploding out of it. We realised how much the girls had increased in size the very next day, when Sandy brought along a whole picnic hamper full of new bras and clothes for them. Outside by the pool, the kids paraded round in their new bras, before squeezing themselves into bikinis which made me feel a little uneasy, just looking at them. At least, as Tanya whispered to me, you have to admit it's better than having them running around in just their panties. Which was certainly one way of looking at it. "Can we go for a walk after lunch, Mummy?" Suzanne stood in front of Tanya, her hands clasped behind her back, twisting herself from side to side and pouting slightly. "We won't fall in the river again." Clever girl, getting her answers in before Tanya had even asked the question. Suzanne followed up her advantage. "If we were to wear our new swimsuits under our tops, it wouldn't matter even if we did fall in, would it?" Excellent argument, Suzanne, I thought, get out of that one, Sis! She didn't. "You behave yourselves, then, understand?" "Ooooh, we will, Mummy. Can Clarrie come with us, to make sure we're good?" "Well, I suppose so, if she's free," said Tanya, surprised. Clarrie was free, as it turned out. So was Davie, naturally. Davie had watched the whole thing from upstairs. Realising he couldn't see the pool from his own bedroom window, he had slipped along the passageway to Clarrie's room. From the maid's window, he had been able to see the girls trying on their bras and bikini tops. And once Sandy had driven away, the girls slipped into their new bikinis and plunged into the pool, their breasts bouncing. They looked even bigger now, he thought. Bloody hell, even little Pansy looked good enough to ... His lewd thoughts were punctuated in no uncertain manner. "So this is where you get to when I'm downstairs, hard at work!" Clarrie crept up behind him and flung her arms round his waist. "Ooooh! That's not the only hard thing round here, either! Come on, lover, get your gear off and lie down on Clarrie's little bed." Davie had no choice in the matter. She manhandled him to her bed and tipped him on to his back. The sheets and pillows smelled powerfully of Clarrie. Davie's erection throbbed afresh and Clarrie wasted no time. No time to take her panties off, she slipped them aside and lowered herself on to the boy. It was as if she'd never been away, he thought, he had hardly recovered from last night's efforts. "Just a quickie, lover," Clarrie whispered, bending to whisper wetly in his ear. "I've got to start getting lunch ready." And the teenager briskly pleasured herself on Davie's rigid column. "There you go," she said happily, dismounting and tugging her panties back into position, where they immediately became soaked and transparent with leaking juices. "See you later," she said, waving her fingers as she darted out of the door. Davie hadn't really recovered when the gong sounded for lunch. He went downstairs slowly and painfully, remembering not to clutch at his aching balls as he entered the kitchen. "You can go for a walk with Clarrie and the girls this afternoon," Maisie told him. "But no falling in the water this time, all right?" At least it would get him away from the bedroom, so he wouldn't be grabbed and used again by the insatiable Clarrie. A whole afternoon without being fucked loomed ahead of him, and he brightened visibly. A whole afternoon getting close to those delicious young girls in their new bikinis. He could see them out on the patio now, and began to get hard again. Clarrie noticed. How did she do it, could she smell an erection at ninety paces, he wondered. The girl found an excuse to pass through the confined space between him and the table, and she pressed her soft, warm and generous bottom against him, rubbing up and down for a few moments. She moved away half a second before Maisie turned round. The housekeeper looked at the lovers suspiciously, but saw nothing incriminating going on. "Here y'are, Davie, love, get this down you, then you can go and change into something respectable for the afternoon. I don't know, those clothes look as if you slept in them!" They walked along through the long grass beside the river. Davie swished at the tops of the cow parsley with a stick. Clarrie had gone on ahead with Pansy and Daniel. Victoria and Suzanne had fallen into their usual positions, one on each side of Davie. They both pressed against him, and he gazed from one to the other in amazement. Both wore T-shirts over their bikini bras and to the boy's fevered imagination, the girls' tits seemed to be swelling before his eyes. "We're wearing our new bikinis, Davie," Suzanne told him, in case he hadn't noticed. "Look," she said, cupping her breasts and offering them to him like a sacrifice. He had to look away. It didn't help. "We'd all grown so much this week," Victoria said. "It's Nana Trudy's food. All those cakes and things! We're getting huge!" "Mummy said it's all going straight to my boobies!" Suzanne confided, loudly. "I sneaked a look at the tape measure when that man Sandy was measuring me. It said I was forty-five inches! That's five inches bigger than Victoria," she said, completely without malice. Davie was finding walking more and more difficult. He tried to rearrange the contents of his shorts, to Victoria's interest. "Golly, Davie, are you getting a hard-on again? Is it because of us talking about our boobies? Is that what's making your thingie all hard, Davie?" "Why should that make him hard, Victoria?" Suzanne asked, bemusedly. "We're only talking, not sitting on his face." "Nor eating kippers," added Victoria, who was by now fully convinced of the aphrodisiac properties of smoked herrings. Davie shook his head. These two were really weird, he thought. Always going on about sitting on people's faces and eating kippers. Perhaps there was something in what Victoria said. He would have to ask Clarrie if she could bring some kippers from the kitchen next time they did it. The thought of doing it made his cock feel tired, and it slumped a few degrees. Surreptitiously, he tucked it into a more comfortable position. To his horror, he felt a small hand helping him. "Let me do that," Suzanne giggled, "there, is that better? It's not so hard now, should we talk about our boobies and make it hard again, Davie?" Both girls looked up innocently into his face. "No," he croaked, stopping and sinking to the ground on his stomach. "Look," he pointed desperately into the water. "There's a fish!" "Is it a kipper?" whispered Victoria, enthralled. "I don't think so," said Suzanne. "That one's silver, kippers are brown." "And you can't smell it, either," Victoria said with more certainty. "If it was a kipper, you'd be able to smell it from here." Davie, meanwhile, had slipped his hand gently into the water. The girls fell silent, watching him, as he slid it closer and closer to the fish, pausing for seconds at a time. Breathlessly, they looked on as he gently slipped his hand beneath the fish's belly. "He's tickling it," whispered Suzanne, enthralled, bending closer. "What for?" Victoria wanted to know. Then she found out, as Davie's hand came out of the water, the little fish resting on his palm, suddenly wriggling in his grasp as it realised its fatal mistake. Suzanne threw up her hands in delight just as the fish escaped and dived neatly into the girl's yawning cleavage. "Aaaaaaagh! Gerroff!" Suzanne leaped to her feet and clutched at her bosom, plucking the shirt away from herself. The fish refused to lie still, twitching between the plump spheres of her breasts. Suzanne capered around, trying to reach down her neck, but there wasn't really enough room in her bodice for her hands as well as everything else that was in there. The fish was lodged head first in the front of her bikini bra, and it was panicking. So was Suzanne. Inevitably, as she hopped around, she got closer to the river's edge. "Look out, Suze!" shouted Victoria. Too late. For the second time in a just over a week, Suzanne went head over heels into the water, closely followed, as usual, by Davie. They sploshed around as Victoria screamed, bringing Clarrie, Pansy and Daniel running to the scene. They clambered out to safety. The fish had escaped. Chapter 12:- Tickling "Well, with any luck, she won't fall in the river again today," Tanya said, sitting on a towel by the pool. With a smaller towel, she wiped the droplets off her arms and the outside of her thighs. Grandma Trudy watched her. "You'd better take that shirt off if you're not going in the pool again for a while. It will soon dry in this sun." "I suppose so. I'm just not used to sitting around half naked." "If you're topless, Tan, it's a good deal more than half of you that's naked," I told her, and she stuck her tongue out at me, the way she does. But she grasped the bottom of the clinging T-shirt and disentangled it from her breasts, before pulling it up and over her head. We watched as she spread it on the hot ground. Steam rose almost immediately from it. "Wow, Tanya," Grandma Trudy stared at her, "I just can't believe those titties of yours!" Tanya was drying the tops of her breasts, and peering around them to get at the sides. "Here, let me do that, Tan!" I went and knelt beside her and she handed me the towel gratefully. "Lie on your back," I told her, and I dried her chest and stomach carefully when her breasts cascaded to lie on each side of her body. It reminded me of the old days, and nights. "Sandy will be bringing your new bikini tomorrow," said Grandma Trudy. "He's very quick." "I can't imagine what you're going to look like in a bikini, Sis," I said, tickling her in the ribs. She squirmed, and her tits heaved like a pair of white whales. "So long as it keeps these things pointing in the same direction as I'm swimming, I'll be happy with it." We fell silent for a few minutes as I dried around her panties and inner thighs. She obligingly raised one knee, then the other one in turn. Her eyes were closed. Was she remembering the way we used to do this, as I was? "How are the kids doing at school?" Grandma Trudy asked, as if she needed to say something to break the spell. "Victoria and Pansy are getting on all right," I said, "now the other kids don't tease them so much. Victoria straightened them out." "I wish someone would straighten them out for Suzanne," sighed Tanya. "Doesn't she go to the same school?" "No, we live too far away, and I can't drive a car. For physical reasons!" she added quickly when Grandma Trudy looked surprised. "We were thinking about having a private tutor for Suzanne, until she's old enough to go to a big school," I said, spreading the wet towel out to dry. Tanya's tits are big enough to make a towel very wet. "Oh, Sis," she complained, "you know that's a no-no. I can't get a tutor for Suze. She's going to have to survive the way she is. Although he's going to hate it all the more after this holiday with the others." "Especially if she carries on growing the way she has this week!" I said. "It's as bad as that, is it?" Grandma Trudy looked thoughtful. "She comes home in tears most days," said Tanya, sitting up with an effort and hugging her knees. It wasn't easy for Tanya to do that, as her breasts had to hang down on each side of her chest, where they rested on the ground. "Why couldn't she stay here?" "Here? For school?" "Kind of. There's a friend of ours. Retired school teacher. She retired early, she's not old. She retired to look after her mother, and the lady died a couple months ago. It's just possible Judy Thresher would jump at the chance to do a bit of teaching again." "It would be great, and it sounds like it would give her something to do ... but, Gran, I really can't afford it. She would want far more than I've got." "Honey, I don't want to interfere with Suzanne's schooling, or take her away from her loving mother, but if, as you say, she's so unhappy at school, don't you think it would be a good thing?" "There's no doubt about that, but ..." .".. in that case, why don't I call Judy and see how she feels? Suzanne, too. We've plenty of time to think it through. And Tanya, if the answer's 'yes', the money's not a problem, okay?" Tanya was looking at Grandma Trudy. She rolled on to her hands and knees and crawled over to the older woman like a great big baby, except that her breasts were dragging along the ground. She sat next to her. "I'd miss her so much! But if she was happy, and learning, and not being teased every day by thoughtless, cruel kids ..." Grandma Trudy held her arms out and hugged Tanya. It was a pretty amazing sight! At least, this time, Suzanne wasn't naked. As her T-shirt hung on the bush to dry, the girl lay on her back in the sunshine, and Davie tried to avoid looking at her. Without success. She seemed to be everywhere his eyes went. Lightly supported in her bikini top, the kid's mountainous breasts were magnificently plump and full, and hardly sagged at all, not like Clarrie's. But then Clarrie rarely lay on her back, she preferred it on top. Davie was glad he hadn't worn his jeans, his shorts would dry much more quickly. Meanwhile, Clarrie had insisted that he couldn't be naked in front of the girls, so she had given him her panties to wear. Davie was outraged. "I can't wear those!" he stormed. "They're for girls." "Not just any girl, lover, they're mine!" Clarrie murmured, threading the damp little garment on over his feet and easing them up his legs. They were far too large, even with their elastic waist, Clarrie being about a foot bigger than the boy round the hips. But somehow, he managed to fill them, and Clarrie's nearness, combined with the painful sight of the recumbent Suzanne, meant that Davie found it necessary to lie on his stomach to hide his erection. There was another reason for his erection, too, although it worried him. He found it incredibly exciting to be wearing a girl's knickers. And when he thought about it, and realised that if he was enjoying wearing girl's knickers, there must be something wrong with him, and even THAT thought made him excited! It was so confusing. Clarrie lay beside him, so he was between her and Suzanne. Victoria sat on a tuft of grass and watched them all. "It's a pity the kipper got away," she sighed. "Kipper? What kipper?" said Clarrie. "Davie caught a kipper in the river," said Suzanne, "didn't you, Davie, and it dived out of his hand in between my titties. Head first." She peered down into her cleavage as if she thought it might still be hiding down there somewhere. There was room for a whole shoal of them, Davie thought, and groaned aloud. Clarrie sniffed. "Kippers live in the sea," she said, with all the assurance of a young woman who worked in a kitchen. "It must have been something else." "A salmon," suggested Pansy. "No, salmon live in cans," Suzanne said with certainty. "It wasn't in a can." "I still think it was a kipper," said Victoria. "You could have taken it home for your supper, 'stead of throwing it down Suze's bra. You and Clarrie could have eaten it in bed." "While she was sitting on your face," laughed Suzanne, and the cousins rocked from side to side for joy. "Why are you always going on about sitting on people's faces, you kids," Davie whined at them. "You're obsessed with sex, you are." "No we're not!" shouted Victoria. "What's sex?" Pansy asked. "It's sitting on people's faces," said Suzanne, getting to her feet. Quickly, taking the boy by surprise, she grabbed his shoulder and turned him on to his back. "Like this!" she shouted, and she hovered over Davie for a second or so, before flopping down. In fact, she sat down a little harder than she intended, finding balancing rather difficult, and Davie was effectively snuffed out. "Get off him, you'll break his nose. Or suffocate him," Clarrie gasped. "*You* didn't," said Victoria, "so little Suze won't. She's only half as big as you. Well, her bottom's only half as big, anyway. Her top's nearly the same size," she said, finding to her surprise that it was closer than she had imagined. Davie wriggled, unable to escape from beneath Suzanne. He might have managed it, but he began to realise he didn't really want to. His struggles died away, although he made a token adjustment of position until his nose was comfortable. Suzanne seemed to be enjoying it, too. She moved her hips experimentally, and felt Davie twitch beneath her. It went very quiet. "Is he dead?" Pansy asked, with interest. "He can't be, he's still moving," said Victoria, "look!" Clarrie was already looking. The bit she was looking at was certainly moving, as if it had a life of its own. She badly wanted to take it into her mouth and swallow as much of it as she could, but surrounded by nosy kids, she wouldn't be allowed to get away with it. She let go of Davie's prick reluctantly, having grasped it without thinking. "Was that nice, Clarrie?" Victoria wanted to know. "Could I hold it for you?" "For me?" "Well, could I hold it for Davie, then? Couldn't I just HOLD it?" Victoria obviously wanted to hold it. "I don't think it would be a good idea, Victoria," said Clarrie. "Why not? Suze *sucked* it the other day!" "Oh, yuck," said Pansy, "don't keep reminding us of that!" Clarrie looked at Suzanne, who was taking no part in the conversation. Her eyes were closed and there was a smile on her face as she knelt astride Davie's face, moving languidly. Davie was throbbing away oblivious to everything but the amazingly fragrant little bikini pants which filled his horizon. Not like Clarrie's bottom at all, exciting as it was; Suzanne smelled like fresh sweat, and sweet cookies, with just a hint of cheese. He took a deep breath. He was in no immediate danger of suffocation, although all the time he was getting closer to drowning. "Ooooh!" Suzanne sighed, opening her eyes very wide for a brief moment, then closing them again. She said it again, "Ooooh!" Clarrie sighed and sat back. Twenty seconds at the most, she thought. Clarrie was never one to stand in the way of another girl's orgasm. Her estimate was correct to within two seconds. Clarrie knew about such things. While the other girls looked on in concern, Suzanne's movements became more urgent, her moans built up to little cries. "Suze?" said Victoria. "Zanne?" said Pansy. "Ooooh, Davie!" moaned Suzanne thoughtfully. A well brought-up girl, her first thoughts, despite the intensity of her feelings, were for her partner. She climbed off, and stood up, flexing her knees. "That felt nice!" she said to Clarrie. "I think I know why you do it now." "So glad," said Clarrie, shakily. Davie still lay on his back, shuddering. "He doesn't seem very happy," Victoria said, "do you think *he* enjoyed it, too?" "I think it's time we went back home," said Clarrie, "fetch your clothes, Suzanne. And bring Davie's shorts. He can't go home like this." She needed Davie alone, as a matter of urgency. The poor boy had been left in a state of deep need. And so had she. "Here they come," I said, "they look dry enough from here." "Davie looks a bit muddy," said Tanya. "So does Suzanne's shirt." Pansy, as ever, took on the role of courier. "Mummy!" she cantered up to me, with Daniel bounding along behind her like an adoring puppy. "Guess what? Suzanne fell in *again*!" She sighed heavily. "I simply don't know *what* we're going to do with her!" Victoria and Suzanne were dragging along, taking their time. Clarrie and Davie had gone straight into the house, Clarrie leading the boy by the hand. If I hadn't known better, I'd have imagined she was dragging him along. The door closed behind them. "It's good to see Clarrie looking so relaxed and casual," said Grandma Trudy, with a secret smile. "When Sir Roger's here, she has to wear her uniform all the time." "Her *uniform*?" said Tanya. "Oh, you wouldn't believe it! I'll tell you what. It's cruel, and we shouldn't do it, but I'll tell Maisie to make the girl wear her uniform to serve dinner tonight. Then you'll see!" "It sounds intriguing," I said. It did. "Oh, it is! Just you wait 'til you see her! Now then, what's been keeping these two?" Victoria and Suzanne finally reached us. "Has Pansy been telling tales again?" said Suzanne, defensively. "She said you'd fallen in the river again," I said. "Nothing else?" Victoria asked quickly. Too quickly. "What else should she tell us?" "Oh, nothing. Nothing happened, anyway." "And if she did say anything else happened," said Suzanne helpfully, "it's all lies!" <end 3/4> From: acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Grown-up Girls, Part 4 (4/4) (big breasts, yng teen) Date: 4 Dec 1995 17:01:55 -0500 Message-ID: <49vr4j$11g2@navajo.gate.net> THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!! I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to remain anonymous. Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the author. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of age who have no objection to reading about young women's breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of the events described in this story actually took place, to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are described as taking place between adults and minors. No young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you find it. None of the characters in this story is real. Their names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is unintentional. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. (She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't yet any more to tell. Well, we lied. Authors, living as they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older sister. GROWN-UP GIRLS by Some Sort of Dog Part IV Chapter 13:- Clarrie At Your Service We were all in the sitting room, glowing with the heat of the day. The girls were playing cards on the rug. Occasionally, voices were raised, and even the odd fist. We watched them fondly. They were certainly taking no notice of the grown-ups talking. "You know how you told us about the shy guy with the stammer, Gran?" Tanya said. "Oh, Mark? Mark Bryant, was it? Or Mark Collins? It's been a long time. Yes. Him and Wendy Sherman! I don't want to talk about what I did to them later. It would get me into trouble. But you remember how I went to stay with my brother and his wife. Every time I see these kids eating the way they do, it reminds me of the time when I was in Minneapolis with Tim and Martha." "I couldn't eat a thing when I arrived, just picking at rice, salads and stuff. They were both trying to get me to eat more, but nope! But, then, I don't know what happened, but Tim was showing me an old chest of clothes and stuff in the attic. And there was one of my old bras in there. Must've been from when I was no more than twelve? Anyways, I tried it on. Oooh, it was a perfect fit around the chest, but I had nothing to put in the cups at all. Well, I couldn't believe how it had ever been mine; my memories had completely gone ..." "And your mammaries, too," said Tanya, softly. .".. yep, those too. But that was when Tim first told me about Pa and what he and the other men did to that Luke O'Hara, and how we had to get out of the farm. And it was like a load was lifted off my back, all of a sudden. Bits of memory started to come back. Slowly, but I started to remember things again, but this time, it was all right, you know? 'Cos Luke O'Hara wasn't coming back. Ever!" "And I started eating. Oh, these kids coulda' learned from me! I ate nearly a whole cake one night. Brand new cake, and by the time little Trudy had done with it, there was one slice left. I should have finished it off and acted innocent, but Martha and Tim were so pleased I was eating again, they started feeding me up like a prize pig. And every bit of it went straight up here. Nothing down here, or down here, all up here!" "I shot right back up to fifty-six inches in two months! And even after that, though I slowed down, I still carried on growing and eating and eating and growing, even after I went off looking for a man. I went off looking for a man, and I found Roger!" "And of course, he said I reminded him of his Mummy! Only his Mom was even more so than me, 'cos right then - I was still putting on weight up top - I guess I was no more than fifty-nine or sixty inches when we got married, but by the time we landed at Southampton and went just down the road to Bournemouth to meet his folks, I was up to more than sixty four inches. I know that, because I had to buy a new dress for the occasion, and I remember telling the dressmaker I'd been as big as this before I'd even reached my twelfth birthday! I tried to tell her all American girls were as big as me, and I still think she half believed me!" A gong sounded somewhere out in the hall. "Dinner is served, girls, kids!" She hardly needed to tell the kids, they were almost tearing the door down to get into the dining room. "You watch their faces," she whispered to us, "when they get to see Clarrie in her uniform! Now, you sure you're all ready for this?" I thought I was, but the sight of Clarrie in her uniform made me gasp. My jaw hit the table. The girls were staring at her in astonishment. They couldn't believe her. "Sir Roger makes her wear this gear?" Clarrie had brought out the bread rolls and undulated back into the kitchen. "He insisted on it, right from when Clarrie first started here. What do you think of her?" "She's incredible! She looks twice as big. Up top, at least, where it matters. Her waist isn't! She looks as though she's going to snap in half!" "That's what Roger likes. He prefers to be surrounded by girls that remind him of his Mother. Clarrie's not as big as his Mom was, but trussed up like that, she's not far off!" The maid came back in with a stack of plates, placing them in front of each of us. The girls never took their eyes off her. As well they might. Clarrie was a big girl, as you will have gathered by now. Her broad hips were squeezed into the most microscopic skirt I'd ever seen. Her legs looked endless in black stockings. Her legs were certainly longer than the stockings, because you could see the tops of them, and even the suspender belt that held them up. "Thank you, Clarrie," said Grandma Trudy. "You look stunning as usual." "Thank you, ma'am!" blushed Clarrie, with a little curtsey, and went back into the kitchen again, her high heels clicking on the parquet, her hips swaying extravagantly. Grandma Trudy winked at us and we started giggling. Once we started, we couldn't stop. Tanya nudged me and spluttered into her napkin. Clarrie was coming back in again, but if she noticed us giggling - and she could hardly miss it - she didn't show it. I looked at her more closely. Was her skirt even shorter? I didn't see how it possibly could be, but now an inch or two of creamy thigh was visible above the tops of her stockings. Her blouse swelled out from an improbably small waist - certainly at least six inches smaller than Clarrie's usual almost thirty inches - to an incredibly swollen bosom, somehow compressed into a bursting, straining white blouse. A pert little black bow tie was echoed by the black ribbons which tied her hair into two swinging pony tails which danced around her meaty shoulders. It was my turn to nudge Tanya, and I pointed at Clarrie's skirt, just as she bent over to serve Grandma Trudy. We stared into the cloacal darkness beneath the maid's skirt, and realised as we exchanged glances, that Clarrie wasn't wearing any panties. We could certainly see where they ought to have been, and they simply weren't there! Each time Clarrie disappeared into the kitchen, she seemed to come back subtly changed, each time in a different way. Her skirt became shorter. Her waist became even tighter, buttons began to come undone, as if by accident, then more of them, until twin piled-up mounds of creamy breast became visible in the gap at the front of her blouse. "If your necktie is too tight, Clarrie, you may take it off!" said Grandma Trudy, smiling at us again. Clarrie nodded and bobbed again. "Yes'm!" she said quietly. Next time she came in, the bow tie was gone, and the top four buttons of her blouse were undone. On successive visits, more and still more breast was revealed, until the whole of her platform bra was visible, with her breasts resting on the quarter cups like unbaked cottage loaves. Her nipples seemed to stick out further each time, until by the end, they were almost out in the open. "It's all a game," said Grandma Trudy when the maid was out of the room again. "Clarrie knows the rules. Roger and her, they play it all the time, with one or two variations. When she does it particularly well, and thinks of some new and creative idea, she gets a special reward! No reward this time, though. Poor Clarrie! Although, somehow, knowing Clarrie, I don't think she'll go short of affection while Roger's away!" Tanya and I looked at her in surprise, but Grandma Trudy wasn't saying anything. What we didn't know, and couldn't see, was that Davie was in hiding, and was right at the centre of the action. The door to the kitchen passed through a short passageway. Davie lurked out there, positioned so that he could be certain of catching a glimpse of young Suzanne every time the dining room door opened. At the same time, Clarrie passed him twice on each of her journeys to and fro. She made a point of doing the trip as often as possible, pausing briefly to rub herself against Davie each time. He gave her breasts a rub and a squeeze, or slipped a hand up between her hot thighs. No wonder the girl was almost panting by the time she had cleared away the pudding dishes and served the coffee. "Thank you, Clarrie, that will be all," said Grandma Trudy approvingly, and Clarrie shot out of the door, almost undressing as she went. If we'd listened carefully, we might have heard two sets of footsteps thundering up the back stairs to her bedroom, which was five yards closer than Davie's. It had even made Tanya and me hot, just watching the oversexed serving girl going in and out. For all we knew, Grandma Trudy could feel the urge, too. I preferred not even to think about the kids getting aroused by it, but remembering what Tanya had been like at their age, there could have been no doubt about it. "Time to get ready for bed, soon, kids," I told them. "Off you go and have one more game of cards, we'll see you shortly, okay?" "All right, Mummy. Can Clarrie kiss us goodnight tonight?" "Well, I don't know, Clarrie's been working very hard, she might be resting." "She might have gone to bed," said Grandma Trudy, more accurately, with a wink at me. "She can't go to bed before *us*, she's a grown-up," Victoria pouted. "She gets up very early in the mornings, honey! But I will ask Clarrie, and if she's asleep, I'll come and give you a cuddle, if you're extra good." That seemed to satisfy them. "She'll be in bed all right, but maybe not her own!" Grandma Trudy whispered as soon as the kids had gone. Tanya looked puzzled. "You mean she's gone out on a date? She's only been gone five minutes and she won't have had time to get bathed and changed." "She won't have gone anywhere, no. And knowing young Clarrie, she won't be too bothered about a bath first. No, and I think you won't find young Davie anywhere at the moment, either!" "Davie?" I asked her. Tanya knew what I was thinking. If Davie was getting sex lessons from Clarrie, how much of his new-found knowledge was he passing on to Victoria and Suzanne? "Is Davie shagging Clarrie?" Tanya asked in hushed tones. "Shagging? Hey, I love that word. No, if anyone's shagging anyone, it's Clarrie who's doing the shagging! I caught them at it the other day. It's no good trying to stop them, it wouldn't work. You can't stop Clarrie needing sex a dozen times a day. The only danger is that she'll wear young Davie's dick away completely before Roger gets back! But if she's keeping him busy, he won't be so keen on chasing after your lot. Still, it might be worth keeping an eye on him, he's a growing boy!" At that precise moment, Davie wasn't growing, he was shrinking; ten minutes after Clarrie, still in her maid's outfit, mounted him just inside her bedroom door. They had never even made it as far as the bed, although while the boy was still recovering, Clarrie lugged him to his feet and heaved him on to the well-worn mattress. Then, finding herself with a few minutes of enforced free time, she undressed, leaving her uniform in a dank pile on the floor. She stood, looking down at Davie, who was still panting like an exhausted dog. She massaged her breasts, looking critically at the marks left by the bra. Her nipples pointed at Davie like fingers of accusation. She reached down between her legs and stroked herself with her fingers, up and down, up and down; then wiped the moisture on the outside of her thighs. Slowly, as he looked up at her, Davie found himself becoming a new man. Clarrie had that effect on people. She never failed to surprise Sir Roger, even at his advanced years. The old boy could still give his Trudy a good seeing-to when necessary, but Clarrie was different. He had told her so, in one of the many long pauses in their love-making. Davie was quicker, and more frequent, whereas Sir Roger made it last half the night and only did it once. It takes all sorts, thought Clarrie, philosophically. Grandma Trudy poured the last of the coffee into our cups. "That's just about all there was to it. As I say, I met Roger and we were married, then we arrived in this country, and I met his folks. I was scared, of course." "What were they like?" Tanya stirred her cup, even this little movement causing ripples in the soft swells of her upper breasts. "I mean, we've seen these photos, but they don't show much." "No, they don't," Grandma Trudy agreed, turning the pages of the album. "It's as if whoever took the pictures didn't want to show too much of Mrs Pym's figure! And there was certainly a lot of it to show. Look at this one." The photo was taken on a beach, and showed Sir Roger's mother in a bathing suit. Apart from the fact that her bust measurement seemed to be at least twice as big as her hips, it was difficult to see much detail. The shot was blurred. Infuriatingly blurred! "I wish you could see more, but these are all the photographs we have. Roger had told me when we first met that his mother was much bigger in the bust than me. To be frank, I hardly believed him, but when I saw her, I realised he was right. Those things were enormous!" "She was bigger than you, yet you had a sixty-something inch bust?" "Sixty-four, honey, but she made me look as if I was going instead of coming. Looking at you, Tanya, I can see where you get your boobs from. She was as big as you. Oh, yes, she was middle aged by then, but if she was as busty when she was younger, she must have been staggering to look at. As you are, darling! Hey, I just thought of something." We sat forward, intently. When Grandma Trudy said something like this, it seemed it was always something spectacular! "You know how when I was staying with Tim and Martha in Missouri, and we looked through that old chest in the attic ...? Roger has some boxes in the spare room, and he said they were old things of his mother's. I have never looked through them, but he wouldn't mind, I'm sure. After we've seen Judy Thresher tomorrow, why don't we take a look in the spare room? There might be some interesting things in there!" It sounded like the best idea we'd heard for some time. All girls love a dressing-up box. But a dressing-up box full of clothes which would fit someone with tits the size of Tanya would be a rarity indeed. "Yes, please, Gran!" breathed Tanya. "All right! Now, let's round up these kids and get them tucked up for the night." Chapter 14:- Another Busy Day "Judy's coming by this way, so she said she'll drop by in half an hour." Grandma Trudy looked excited at the prospect of Suzanne having her very own private tutor. Strangely, in this amazing summer, the sun wasn't shining; there was even a hint of rain in the air. The girls, nonplussed, seemed to have forgotten that the sun didn't shine all the time. "We can't go out in this weather, Mummy," Pansy complained, as if the weather was all my fault. "Of course you can, darling. It's not winter all of a sudden. It's still warm enough to go outside. Go for a walk or something." "We can't," Victoria moaned. "Davie isn't here." "You don't need Davie to go for a walk. You know your way around by now." Davie hadn't appeared that morning. Clarrie had served breakfast, looking fresh and rested. To my relief, she wasn't wearing her maid's uniform this morning. I don't think I could have stood another performance like last night's. Even in her skirt and shirt, Clarrie seemed to ooze sex. I watched her coming and going, telling myself that she had been screwing young Davie all night long, that she had been out of bed collecting the eggs before six o'clock, and probably back for another session with Davie before breakfast. Eventually, with a chorus of complaint, the girls and Daniel made themselves ready to go out. "It's hardly worth it now, Suze," said Tanya. "Miss Thresher's going to be here in half an hour, and I'd like her to meet you. Okay, then, off you go, sweetheart, but be back here by ten thirty." "All right, I've got my watch," said Victoria, efficiently. "We'll be back." And off they went. >From his bedroom window, Davie watched the kids as they set off across the fields, laughing and skipping. Despite his gruelling experience of the night, he felt himself becoming aroused yet again, and shook his head in disbelief at his own prowess. Judy Thresher didn't look like a schoolteacher. At least, not like my image of a schoolteacher. "Call me Judy," she said, as soon as we met. She was about forty-five, I suppose, a bit older than Mum. But she looked younger, with long, silky, dark red hair swinging around her shoulders. Her figure was slim and curvy - by normal standards, that is - although any of the women around here made her look flat-chested. She made a little joke about it as she met Tanya and me. Grandma Trudy explained roughly what we wanted. "I could certainly handle the work, and Trudy, as you say, the money would be handy. But what about Suzanne? She's the one that matters here. You say she's not happy and she'd being teased at school. Do you know why?" Tanya looked at me and we both laughed nervously. "See if you can guess when you see her. She's due back any minute now." Judy looked at us, glancing down at our breasts. "How old did you say Suzanne was?" "She's eight." Judy started to say something, then thought better of it. "We'd hoped to find her a tutor for a couple of years, and when she's ten, to see if we can get her into a boarding school." She nodded. "Did you have anywhere in mind?" "We'd thought of St Catherine's High School for Girls, do you know it?" "St Cat's?" Judy laughed. "Oh yes! I know it. In fact, I applied for a post there, but they've just had a fire and they don't seem to have sorted themselves out yet. A bit ... eccentric ... you could call them, but an excellent academic record. Always have been excellent, right up there at the top of the results league." "So you'd recommend it, then? We've got some cousins who went there. Twins. They've done well, despite some difficulties at the end." "Difficulties?" "Yes, they both got pregnant! But they still got A's, and they're off to University as soon as the babies have been weaned, maybe next year." "Hmm. Strange about them getting pregnant. Quite a few of the girls did, all at the same time. I said they were a bit of an eccentric school! One or two other oddities about the place, too, although perhaps Suzanne will fit in perfectly. We'll see!" "Yes, we'll see," said Tanya. "Here they come now." The kids came straggling in through the patio doors. As usual, Pansy took the lead. "Mummy, Suzanne didn't fall in, today." She sounded genuinely disappointed. "I'm glad about that, Suze," said Tanya, "this is Miss Thresher, I'd like you to meet her." "Hello, Suzanne," said Judy, gazing at her in amazement. "Hello, Miss. Are you a teacher?" "You can tell, can't you!" Judy laughed. "Yes, I'm a teacher all right. Of a sort, at least." "I wish I had a teacher like you," said Victoria, to my surprise. "So do I," said Pansy. "Here, it was me she wanted to meet, not you lot," Suzanne complained, feeling left out. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, girls!" said Judy. "In fact, I'd be delighted to meet you again. All of you!" "Can we go and change our T-shirts, Mum?" said Victoria, hopping up and down. I think she wanted to go to the toilet more than anything. "Come straight back then, and see Miss Thresher before she has to go." And off they went. Tanya looked at me. "I suppose you're not thinking what I'm thinking?" "As usual, yes!" Grandma Trudy was there ahead of us. "Is this telepathy, you two? You're thinking about Victoria and Pansy coming here as well, aren't you?" We both nodded. I felt somehow close to tears at the thought. Victoria and Pansy away in Herefordshire for two years? And Suzanne, too. Yet it would be an ideal grounding for the girls before they went to St Cat's. Tanya and I were both convinced that the girls would go to Cat's, but the idea of them coming here to share a tutor was breathtaking. Talk about killing three birds with one stone! "It's a great idea," said Judy, "provided the girls are happy with it. Three's a small enough class, after all, even if they are different ages." Grandma Trudy beamed in delight. "I'm sure it will work. Even if we have to make arrangements to transport girls or mothers around the countryside every couple of weeks, we can make it work." "Let's ask the ones who really matter, shall we?," said Tanya, a little shakily. She wiped her eyes with her hanky. So did I. "There'll be a few things we need to work out," I said to Grandma Trudy. "I know, honey, and we won't rush into this until everything is properly sorted out. I think I know what you're going to say. Let me guess! How about ... Davie?" "Got it in one," Tanya laughed. "I suppose I shouldn't laugh, it could be deadly serious, but I can't help it whenever I think of Davie being a horny little stud who's out to ravish our daughters. Poor little wimp, he is, I reckon Clarrie is wearing him out." "You're right, honey. He'll need watching if the girls are going to be here all the time. And we know, if Clarrie's his type of girl, young Davie likes his women with big ones! And your three certainly have big ones!" "What about Sir Roger, Gran?" I asked. "That's different. I think Sir Roger is going to have to do as he's told for a change! Seriously, when he comes back and finds your kids in residence, it will be too late to do anything about it. But I think, knowing my Roger, that he will be the proudest great granddaddy of them all. Especially when he sets eyes on those three little beauties. Don't get me wrong. He screws Clarrie, sure - and he does it rather well, unless my ears deceive me - but it would never occur to him to try anything with your girls. Trust me on this one." "Do you think we're doing the right thing, Tan?" I said. "I think so, they'll get better schooling in two years with Judy than they would if they stayed where they are now until they were twenty-five!" "Right. I just wanted to hear you say it. Perhaps we ought to speak with St Cat's before we go any further. It would be terrible if the girls set their hearts on going there and then found they couldn't get in." "Feel free to use the phone," said Grandma Trudy. "And after that, we're off to the spare room. We have an appointment with some old clothes." We certainly did. Within five minutes of opening the first box, we had Grandma Trudy's mother-in-law's clothes spread all over the floor. "I certainly see what you mean," I said. "She was gigantic, wasn't she!" We all nearly collapsed laughing as Tanya struggled her way into an evening dress. It was a bit loose around the waist and hips, but almost a perfect fit around the top. "There you are, then, Sis, the old girl had a ninety-inch bust all right. And not all that much bigger than me down below, either." We rummaged some more. "Here's a bra!" I shouted, holding it up. It was a vast thing, with cups bigger than buckets and about twenty hooks at the back. Tanya whooped for joy. "Here, help me into it!" she cried, climbing out of the dress and holding out her arms. We got her all tucked up inside the thing. "How's it feel?" I asked her. "Great! It's a bit stiff, the material. And the shoulder straps need adjusting, but it doesn't half support my knockers! It ought to, of course, it weighs a ton and a half." "Well, so do your knockers, Tanya dear." We played for an hour, the three of us, like schoolkids. When we came downstairs, we proudly carried a selection of trophies with us. Tanya had her enormous bra. I had found a lovely silk blouse, not too big for me, and Grandma Trudy carried a portrait painting of her mother- in-law which showed her in all her considerable glory. "Roger's tried to describe this painting to me so often. What a slice of luck finding it in the bottom of that last box. Well, it's having pride of place in the sitting room, over the mantelpiece. I'll hang it there tonight!" At last, we all relaxed, ready for our tea. "I don't know what Mum's going to think when she gets back," I said, "an awful lot seems to have happened, especially today." Again, we didn't see everything that happened. While the three of us were trying on Great Grandmother Pym's finery, who should be passing the door of the spare room but Davie. He got an eyeful of Tanya, naked apart from her pants, while Grandma Trudy and I heaved and strained at the laces of a pretty serious-looking corset, seeing how small we could get Tanya's waist. I can't tell you how well we succeeded, she asked me not to reveal it! Davie is into corsets, we now know. How long he watched is anyone's guess. But eventually he slunk away to his room, where he was interrupted ten minutes later by Clarrie. "I've been looking for you, you randy little sod, and you've been in here, wanking yourself to a frazzle. Come on, get your hand out of the way and let a girl have a seat!" No peace for the wicked, Davie found, yet again. "What do you think of the idea, 'Toria?" said Suzanne. "It's great. I can't believe Mummy's letting us do it. Just think, two years without going to school!" Pansy wasn't so sure. "We'll miss Mummy a little bit, though, won't we?" "Course we will. But just think." Suzanne's voice became dreamy. "No school, no nasty, rotten kids teasing and shouting after us down the street and on the bus. And ...!" "And ...?" said Victoria. "And Davie. Every day!" Pansy bit her lip and blushed. "Oh, Zanne! Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" "I don't know," said Suzanne simply. "How do I know what you think I'm thinking?" "You're thinking about sucking his thingie again, aren't you? And sitting on his face!" whispered Pansy, crimson faced with shame. "I might be," said Suzanne. "It felt nicer than I thought it would. Not sucking his willie. That was just tasty, like food. No, sitting on his face felt nice. In fact, it felt quite funny. But a nice funny, if you know what I mean." "I think *I* know what you mean," said Victoria. "You mean it felt like *that*!" "Like what?" Pansy wanted to know. "You mean, like when you touch yourself down there?" Suzanne asked, her eyes bright. "Yes!" said Victoria, quietly. "Down *where*?" Pansy almost shouted. "Don't tell her, Suze!" Victoria said. "She's not old enough to know that sort of thing." "But I'm three months older than her!" Pansy wailed. "You know what I mean" growled Victoria with menace. Suzanne knew what Victoria meant. Chapter 15:- "You mean, they won't be coming home with us when we go," said Mum. "No, they'll come home until the end of the school holidays, and then they'll come back here in time for the start of the new term. We'll have them at home for a couple of weeks before they go." She looked doubtful. "What about the arrangements? You'll have to tell the council authorities, and everybody. You can't just take children out of school at a moment's notice." "All done, Mum," said Tanya. Been there, done it. I've spoken to the school, and the authorities. They wanted to know Judy's details, but it's all in order. It'll be fine, Mum!" "What about Victoria, she's older than the other two." "Judy says it's not a problem. With only the three of them, they'll all have individual tuition all day long. It will be great for them." Mum sighed heavily. "I suppose so. I just hope you haven't forgotten anything that will get you slung in jail. What does your Paul think about it?" "I spoke to him. He backs me up; whatever I do is right by him." Tanya spoke up. "Mum, you haven't even *asked* what the girls think about it?" "What do they know, at their age?" "Oh, Mother, they know a lot more than you think!" What a summer that was. I suppose it must have rained at least once, but I can't actually remember it ever happening. The kids played by the pool every day, it seemed, and went for walks, and fishing, sometimes with Davie and Clarrie, sometimes all on their own. And they ate as if cream cakes were going out of fashion. Fortunately, they stopped piling on the extra pounds. They seemed to reach a fighting weight and stay there, despite how much they stuffed themselves with food. Which was certainly a relief. But all good things come to an end, and it was getting closer to the time we would have to go home. "You're all right," I told Victoria, when she tearfully complained. "You're coming back here in a couple of weeks!" "But you won't be here. It will be just like going to school." I knew what she meant, but she'd soon get used to it. So would Pansy. But all four kids cried their eyes out when we finally piled into the car ready to leave. The household had lined up to say goodbye. Grandma Trudy kissed Tanya and me, and hugged Mum. "Once Roger's heard all about you coming to see me, he won't be able to resist it any longer, especially when hears about the kids. He'll invite you back down here like a shot, you'll see." Maisie held Davie's shoulder, but he wriggled free and came over to the car. He held a formal hand out to Victoria, but she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. "We'll see you soon, Davie, we're back here in a fortnight!" "I'll still miss you. All of you," he said, turning to Suzanne and receiving a hug from her, too. Pansy waited patiently for her turn, then throwing her arms around the boy's neck, she planted a not very expert but obviously sincere kiss on his mouth. Davie responded nobly, crushing Pansy against him in a determined way until the other two girls dragged them apart. "That's enough, Pan!" shouted Victoria. And Clarrie came forward to pull Davie away. "Bye, girls," she said. "I'll miss you, too, but I'll look after Davie for you 'til you get back!" Yes, I thought, she probably would. We drove away, leaving the big house bathed in sunshine. The four figures waved, and started on their way back indoors. I wondered what they would be getting up to. The place would certainly be a lot emptier without us lot. "Davie's nice, isn't he!" said Pansy. For the rest of the journey, bursts of giggling kept breaking out from the back seats. The next two weeks were all taken up with packing and getting the girls ready to move out. It seemed horribly final. We had to be fairly strict about what they were taking with them. "It's no good taking all those old bras and bikinis with you, Pansy. They're never going to fit you again now." "But Mummy, they're my favourite ones. I might get slimmer and they'll fit me again. If I don't eat too much, of course." Of course. In the end, we pruned their baggage down to one huge suitcase each. "Clarrie has to wash and iron all this stuff, remember. You've got to leave the poor girl some free time." "Oh, that's all right," Victoria said airily. "Nana Trudy can get another maid to help." "Then Clarrie will have more time for Davie," Pansy added, considerately. "I suppose so," I agreed. And off we went. A clean break, we'd decided. Tanya had wanted to stay for a few days, but we talked about it and decided to go down on the Monday morning, leave the girls and come straight home. "It will be the best way," I tried to persuade her. "If we don't just turn round and leave straight away, we'll never summon up the nerve to do it." And that was the way it was, although the girls were howling miserably as Judy led them indoors, Clarrie had her hankie to her eyes, and Tanya and I were blubbing on and off all the way home. "Whose stupid idea was this?" wailed Tanya as we turned into our parents' drive. Meanwhile, back at the big house, the tears were dried. The girls unpacked and settled into their old rooms. They went with Judy and saw the school-room, a spare drawing- room at the back of the house. The window looked out on to open fields and the distant Welsh hills. "If I catch any of you staring out of the window," said Judy sternly, "I will know I'm not doing my job properly, and then you'll be for it! So be warned." "Yes, Miss," the girls chorused in subdued voices. "Right, I'm off home. School tomorrow at nine sharp. A good night's sleep, all of you. I'll bring your books and everything in the morning." "Sir Roger will be home tonight," said Trudy as soon as the girls came out of the schoolroom. "I just heard, he's at the airport." "Will he be pleased to see us?" Victoria asked. "He'll get a shock!" said Suzanne. "More of a pleasant surprise," said Trudy. "But I managed to warn him we've got some young visitors. I didn't tell him any more than that. Now, one of you, Pansy. Can you run upstairs and tell Clarrie she's wanted in the kitchen. Tell her Sir Roger's coming home tonight, that'll make her move herself." "All right, Nana," said Pansy and sped off. "You two, come and lay the table. One or two little chores every day, that's all you'll have to do. It will save Sir Roger having to take on an extra maid! Although I'm sure he wouldn't object," she said to herself. Pansy clattered up the back stairs and along the landing. She banged on Clarrie's bedroom door. No reply. She opened it, and looked round. Clarrie wasn't there. Back out in the corridor, she listened. Was that a noise from Davie's room? She found herself tiptoeing toward the boy's room, and paused outside, her fist raised to knock. The door was open an inch or two, and there was definitely someone in there. She could hear voices, no words, more like grunts and groans. Quietly, she pushed the door open and peered inside, then gasped in horror. Clarrie was facing away from her, in the direction of the window. The big serving girl was sitting on what Pansy could only assume was Davie, on the bed. Not on his face, she saw with some relief. Clarrie was bouncing vigorously up and down, with urgent little cries. Whatever it was that was going on, Pansy found it strangely exciting. She felt a funny tickly feeling, as if she needed a pee. But she knew she ought not to be found watching the couple. She backed out of the room, retreated a few yeards down the corridor and shouted, "Clarrie! Clarrie! You up here?" The noises stopped. There was a pregnant pause. Pansy called again. This time, Clarrie poked her head round Davie's door. She looked flushed and tousled. "Pansy!" she said in surprise. "Did you call?" "Yes. Nana says you're wanted in the kitchen straight away. Sir Roger's home." "Sir ROGER!" Clarrie burst from the room, forgetting she was stark naked. "Where, here?" "No, at the airport. But he's coming home tonight." "Oh, whoopee!" the maid shouted, to Pansy's surprise. She planted a kiss on Pansy's lips - it tasted of kippers, the realised - and bounced into her own room. Pansy shrugged, and went downstairs. "She's just coming, Nana," she said. "I was worried about that," said Trudy, and went back to rummaging through the store cupboard. The girls weren't quite in bed when Sir Roger's cab arrived, but they were in their rooms. Clarrie was fussing around them, making sure they were all ready for bed. The maid seemed flushed and excited, her nipples were sticking out through her blouse despite the restraint of her heavy duty bra. Her lips were wet and her eyes strangely bright. There was the sound of a car in the drive, and Maisie opening the front door. Clarrie dashed out of the room and left Suzanne and Pansy sitting on their beds in their nightdresses, which were extra large T-shirts. "She's in a hurry!" said Suzanne, getting up and going over to the window. "Oooh, look! He's here!" Pansy hurried across to join her. "Golly! Is that him. Is that a Sir?" "No, that's the taxi driver. There's Sir Roger, there, getting out of the back seat." "He looks ordinary." Pansy sounded disappointed. I thought he'd be wearing a crown or something. "No, he's only a knight." "Well, armour, then. Knights wear armour." "Not all the time," said Suzanne. "They don't wear armour on airplanes. It would be too hot." "Well, when *do* they wear it. Maybe he puts it on when he gets indoors." "Nana Trudy must help him. It must be hard work getting undressed for bed," Suzanne mused as she sat on her bed again. "Must be ever so heavy to put on a coat hanger." "They have extra strong coat hangers," said Pansy, confidently. "We did knights in armour at school." "So did we! Hey, I wonder if he'll come and see us when he's dressed!" "We'd better get into bed. We'll hear him coming up the stairs. He'll clank!" So when Clarrie came back into the room, the girls were tucked up in bed, quivering with excitement. She kissed them on their noses and left with almost indecent haste. "We've got some guests, Roger." Trudy said at last, when Clarrie had clopped out of the room on her high heels, her hips swaying dangerously. Roger watched her go with raw hunger in his eyes. "Yes, you mentioned that. What's it all about?" He kept looking out for Clarrie to come back, but the maid was obviously allowing the tension to build up. In fact, at that moment, Clarrie was doing exactly the opposite. She was bringing herself off in the scullery, pressing her crotch against the washing machine as it went into its fast spin cycle. "You remember I told you, a long time ago, about your little great granddaughters? May's daughters' little girls?" Sir Roger's expression became more severe at the mention of his wayward daughter's name. "We don't talk about that any more," he said stiffly. "May's daughters dropped by while you were away," Trudy went on, doggedly. "And they had the girls with them. They're quite grown-up now." A flicker of interest crossed Sir Roger's face. Then he seemed to do a little mental arithmetic. "Grown-up, they can't be more than four or five, woman!" "Erm, the girls started their families quite young. The kids are eight and ten now." "Thought you said they were grown-up." His eyes wandered off again. Where is that Clarrie? "They are, honey." She stood up suddenly and went to the mantelpiece. "Look, your mother's portrait." "Where did you find that? I'd looked everywhere." "Not in the last box in the spare room. It was right at the bottom. But look at her, Roger. Tanya is the spit'n image of your mother." "Tanya?" he said, perking up once more. "May's younger daughter. And Tanya's little girl takes after *her* mother." "She does? And she's here?" "They're all here. Three of them. Judy Thresher's going to teach them their lessons in the back drawing room. They're here for two years ..." "Hey, hang on! Wait a minute! Wait ... a ... minute!" Trudy waited. "Two years? What's wrong with their own school. Judy Thresher? Here? Oh, Trudy, this is ridiculous!" "Oh, Roger, I only did it for you!" Trudy sat next to him on the couch. "I thought, Roger would like to have some really big-busted young girls about the place for a couple years. Just to look at, mind you, they're only eight and ten! No funny business! Not with his own great granddaughters. Just something to cool off Sir Roger's knightly ardour. I mean, Clarrie won't last for ever if you're going to keep fucking her every night! Or is that what 'knightly' means in your case?" "Clarrie? Me? You mean ...?" You mean, do I know?" Trudy laughed at the expression on her husband's face. "How could I not know? But it's all right. I knew what you were like before I married you. And I knew what Clarrie was like before you employed her. She's a sweet child. A bit of a raving nympho, but a sweet child." "But...!" "I'm not going to stop you and Clarrie making love, or whatever it is you do. And meanwhile, your great granddaughters are going to school here for the next two years. Simple!" The door opened, and Clarrie came in with the coffee. "Sorry I took so long'm" she said with a little bob. "I got side-tracked in the scullery. A little trouble with the washing machine." "All better now, Clarrie," Trudy asked with a knowing grin. "Ooooh, yes'm! Much better now!" "I'm so glad to hear it, my dear. Now, are the girls asleep?" "They were in bed'm, a while ago. Nearly asleep, I shouldn't wonder." "Sir Roger would like to see them. Down here, darling, or in their rooms?" "Er, ah, um, in their rooms, I suppose." "Well, then, let's go. What are we waiting for? Clarrie! Lead the way." "Two minutes'm. I'll just make sure they're awake.! Clarrie had brought a sleepy Victoria into the younger girls' room. The three of them stood blinking at the light in a row by the dressing table. Clarrie checked them over, brushing their hair out of their eyes, tugging at their nightdresses. "Right, here he comes now," she hissed. "I can't hear him clanking," said Pansy, drowsily. "Perhaps he's been oiled," Suzanne said, giving her a nudge. Victoria stared at the youngsters. What were they on about this time? The bedroom door opened. Nana Trudy stood there beaming. "Girls. Allow me to introduce your great grandfather, Sir Roger Pym. Roger, meet Victoria, Pansy, and Suzanne." They stood and stared at each other, open-mouthed. The girls were thinking Sir Roger wasn't as great as all that. Their grandad was bigger than him. And come to that, what about the armour, then? Swizz! And Sir Roger was thinking he had never seen three such enormously-developed kids in his life. "Trudy, you're right, as usual. These three are most welcome. I hope they have a happy two years' schooling. And I think it's time we organised a bit of a grand family reunion. After all, we do seem to have a bit of a grand family!" Trudy hugged him, and Clarrie beamed in the background. "It's all right girls," Sir Roger said, "What's more, I think your mothers ought to visit you as often as possible. And maybe your grandmother, too." And as the three little girls giggled and nudged each other, he took Trudy in his arms and hugged her tight. She grinned at them over his shoulder. Clarrie sighed. "Yes, I think that *will* be all for tonight, Clarrie," said Trudy. "Off you go, and have a good night's sleep!" She beckoned the buxom serving wench to come closer. "Make the most of it. It might be the last good night's sleep you get for some time," she whispered with a sly wink. "I'll do my best, ma'am!" THE END