It all started with a joke. I'd just arrived round my friend Beck's, and practically the first thing she said to me was “Tickle your arse with a feather!”.
I suppose you've heard that one before, but I hadn't. I thought she'd gone stark staring bonkers. “What did you say?”
“Particularly nasty weather,” she said, and then stood there laughing.
All I could think was that she really was round the twist, because it was a lovely summer day that day... and then of course I got it. Ha bloody ha. I'm not stupid, you know.
Because it was such a nice day, Beck's mum did us some sandwiches and let us eat out on the back lawn. “At least that way I might get a little peace,” she said. “When you're in the house, you're always gallivanting around. Gallivant, gallivant, gallivant, like a herd of buffalo. It gives me a headache.”
I quite like Beck's mum. She's a bit scary, and she likes using really strange words, like Gallivant, but at least she's not a witch like my mum: at least she actually smiles sometimes. She looks all serious and her eyes are all fierce, and she says something weird, but then she gives this sudden little grin and you realize that she's joking.
Sometimes I'm really glad I don't have a little sister. They can be a right pain at times. Sally and Beck are always fighting. We were trying to enjoy our picnic and Sally kept nicking Beck's sandwiches. She never dares to nick mine! I try to keep out of it, really, but Beck gets terribly angry with her. Well, this time Sal did it once too often, and Beck just went ballistic. Sal ran off screaming, but Beck was up and after her and caught her, and the next minute she was thumping her and bouncing up and down on top of her, really knocking the air out of her, and I thought there was going to be a real scene.
So perhaps it was just as well that Beck's mum came out to see what all the screaming was about. “Get up! Get up, you two,” she said, all stern. When she's stern she really looks like a witch. I think it's her black hair and black eyebrows and dark, glittery eyes. “You,” she said, pointing at Sally, “go and take your sandwiches and eat in the house.” Sally tried to protest – all three had faces like thunder – but their mum wasn't having any of that. “Do as I say!” she said in a terrible voice, and you could tell that things were going to get very unpleasant if anyone put a foot over the line. So Sally started crying and just ran into the house, without picking up her sandwiches. I think she knew she'd been bad.
So I just sat there, feeling embarrassed, and Beck stood there, still fuming, but beginning to feel a bit guilty I think, and her mum just stood there, still glittery and dangerous. But then suddenly her shoulders hunched forward and she let out a big sigh. “And you,” she said to Beck, “you're much too rough with her. She's only nine. I wish you could devote all that extra energy to something more constructive than all this endless pugilism.”
Most mums would have said “fighting.” At first, Beck and I hadn't a clue what she was talking about. But it was easy enough to guess.
So that was that, and we got on with our sandwiches and had a natter. After a few minutes, I heard some music coming from the house, from an upstairs window. When Beck heard it, she tossed her head in disgust. “Sally is such a baby,” she said. “I know just what she'll be doing.”
“Mmh?” My mouth was full.
“Lying on her bed with her teddy, listening to that bloody awful Celine Dion disk. She plays it over and over and over again until I want to break it in half.”
I laughed, but didn't say anything. After a while she looked at me just a little anxiously. “Do you think I'm too hard on her?”
I shrugged, and managed to swallow. Actually I did feel a bit of sympathy for Sally. “Perhaps just a very little bit,” I admitted, “but I know what a bloody nuisance she can be.”
“She's just such a moron sometimes. So clueless. It makes me mad.”
“Yeah.” I thought about it. “Perhaps you shouldn't thump her quite so hard. Perhaps if you tickled her instead, she'd leave you alone.”
Beck frowned and clenched her fists. “If she bothers me one more time today, I'm going to tickle her arse with a feather!”
We both laughed at that, but it suddenly set me thinking.
“I'll tell you something really peculiar,” I said, glad to have thought of a more interesting topic of conversation. “Do you know Rosie Parkinson?”
“Oh, the rich girl?”
“That's the one. You know she's got a sister who's fourteen? Goes to boarding school? Run by some old nuns?”
Beck made a non-committal noise.
“Well, apparently some of the girls at that school do something really disgusting.”
I don't think Beck would normally find the topic of boarding school particularly interesting; but I definitely had her attention now.
“They spit on their finger, and stick it in their cunt, and tickle their pee-hole.”
Beck screwed up her face in disgust and howled with derisive laughter. “Oh gross!” she said, shaking her head. “I can't believe it.”
“I know!” I rolled my eyes. “It's unbelievable what some people do, isn't it?”
“Ee-ugh!” she said, with a shudder. “I can't believe anyone could think of doing anything so disgusting!”
“Rosie seemed pretty sure. Her sister thought it was gross, too. Utterly gross. And apparently the nuns say that if you do that, God will send you to hell. But they still do it.”
“I can't believe... I just can't believe...” Beck gave a little shiver. Her face was alive with fascination at the weirdness of it all. “You really mean that? They spit on their fingers, and...”
“Yeah. That's what Rosie said. They tickle their pee-hole. Apparently they keep on doing it, like it's a habit or something.”
“Ugh!” she said again, wiggling her hips, as if imagining what it could feel like. We drifted into a thoughtful silence, both of us racking our brains to see if we could come up with anything equally weird and disgusting. Yeah, there was one girl I knew at my last school...
“I once knew,” I began, and Beck was all ears immediately, “a girl at my last school who used to like burping. She worked out how to make herself burp, so she did it all the time. It was horrible when we had a reading period. We'd all be reading our books, and then we'd start to hear it: she'd be just sitting there, continually going burp, burp, burp. That was pretty gross as well.”
“Did the teacher tell her off?”
“Yes, but after a few minutes, she'd just start up again. Burp burp burp. I don't think she even knew she was doing it.”
“She must have been stupid,” said Beck. Then I heard the back door open, and we turned to see Sally racing towards us.
“Mum says that if I'm good, I can play with you again.” She was panting slightly. Her eyes made an appeal to me in particular. Although Beck's right – Sal is pretty doughy – there is something rather sweet about her. But I don't think Beck can see that.
“All right,” I sighed, putting on a show of reluctance for Beck's benefit.
Beck was frowning, of course. “All right, but you have to do what we say. If you get on my nerves one more time, I'm going to...”
And I think Beck and I had the same idea at the same moment. I looked at Sally with fresh interest. Would she be dopey enough to do what we told her? Anything we told her? She was mighty keen to get back in our good books. Mine, especially. I looked at Beck. Beck winked at me, and I nodded. “Let's go into the shed,” I said.
We often muck around in the shed. It would be a good place. We got up and made for the shed, Sally following us eagerly. I think she could tell that we were up to something, but she trusts me, and I think she was hoping that it would be fun. Well, it would be fun for Beck and me!
“What game shall we play?” Beck asked her.
Sally rolled her eyes, struggling to think of something.
“Hide and seek?” I suggested. I know Sally likes hide and seek.
“Yeah!” she said, jumping up and down.
“Okay, okay,” said Beck, “but there's something you've got to do first, to show that you're sorry for nicking my sandwiches.”
Sally looked a bit more wary now, but Beck was clever enough not to make it sound too menacing. “Lisa thinks I'm a bit hard on you. She said that instead of thumping you, I should just tickle you in future when you're naughty.”
Immediately Sally giggled and clasped her arms to her sides. Perhaps she thought we were about to attack her. She didn't seem all that frightened.
“So now,” Beck continued, drawing out her words slowly, as if unsure that Sally would understand her otherwise, “to show us that you're sorry... you've got to tickle yourself.”
“Tickle myself?” For a moment, Sally looked nonplussed. But then the penny seemed to drop, and she put her hands to her sides and tried to do it. And of course, it didn't work. Beck and I both burst out laughing. “But it doesn't work if I do it!”
“Of course not,” Beck spluttered, giving me the nod.
So I knelt down, to be a bit more on her level. I wanted this to work, so I spoke slowly and reassuringly, trying to make out that this was going to be easy-peasy. Actually, my heart was thumping in my chest. I somehow knew that if we could pull this one off, we'd never forget this afternoon for the rest of our lives. “That's right, Sally. You can't tickle yourself that way. There's just one special place where you can really tickle yourself. Do you know where that is?”
Beck and I were struggling not to laugh or smile or give anything away. I was careful not to look at Beck, but only at Sally. “You know where your pee comes out?”
Sally suddenly looked very serious, and I thought perhaps she was a bit frightened. Not disgusted, though, as Beck and I had been.
“That's the one and only place. You don't have to be rough. You can be as gentle as you like.” I wanted it to seem as safe and unthreatening as possible. “You must spit on your finger first...” Why? Why should she spit on her finger? Luckily, I was in such a state of excitement that my mind went into overdrive, and I was able to come up with a good reason: “...just so that it slips in nice and easy. Then... Well... You try it.”
Sally looked doubtfully at Beck, who managed to control her smile thank heavens, and then back to me. Well, she certainly hadn't run screaming at the thought. I gave a bright little smile, and a reassuring nod.
Sally was very grave, but: “Okay...” she murmured at last, and held out her finger thoughtfully.
Would she do it? Would she? My heart was in my throat. And then, inexpressible joy! I could see her gathering her spittle into her mouth. She was actually going to do it! I wanted to jump and sing and shout and dance. She was a total moron! We had actually persuaded her to do what no sane person on earth would ever do!
Sally spat a good dollop of spittle on to her finger, and inspected it doubfully.
“Go on,” I said, trying to conceal my delight, “get it nice and runny.” Beck was in hysterics by now, but luckily she kept it silent, and Sally didn't notice.
She spat again, then flicked up her little summer dress and tugged the waist of her panties outwards. Gingerly, she got her hand in position. I could see she was screwing up her courage. Then, eyes squeezed closed, not knowing what to expect, she pressed her finger inward. Bingo!
“Found the place?” I asked breathlessly.
Slowly, she let out a great big breath, and her eyes opened wide. “I think so,” she said.
But Beck wanted her pound of flesh. I could have kissed her when she said, “I want to see, to make sure you're not cheating. You've got to take your panties down and lie on the floor, so that Lisa and I can be sure you're not cheating.”
Abruptly, Sally took her finger out. She looked from Beck to me and back to me again. I would have been perfectly satisfied with what I'd already seen. This was already a fantastic story. Just imagine! I'd be able to tell all my friends that I'd persuaded Beck's dotty little sister to tickle her own pee-hole! But the prospect of seeing the whole ghastly deed carried out before my own eyes was just too good to miss. If we'd succeeded this far, why not push the boat out a little further? So I gave another reassuring smile, and nodded.
Sally shrugged, and then, with a little sigh, she flipped up her dress with both hands and started dropping her knickers.
I was about to pass out, my heart was hammering so hard. It was working! It was working!
Sally got down on to the floor, and Beck dropped to her knees, her eyes shining in triumph. “Right, open up so we can see this time,” she said. Sally was hobbled by her panties, so I helped disengage one of her ankles to let her spread a bit wider.
“More spit!” Beck prompted her.
Again, Sal held up her fingers. This time, I noticed that she spat on her middle finger, not her index finger, once, twice, till it was almost dripping. Then, with more confidence this time, she put it in. She wiggled it around for a moment, curved it a bit, and then let out a little “Ooh”.
“I think she's found the spot,” I said.
Sally was just gently wiggling her finger in there, but it was definitely having some effect. Her breathing was coming a bit more noisily. “Ooh!” she said again, and her hips started to move a bit, as if they were struggling to get away. But of course they couldn't.
“Does it tickle?” asked Beck.
“Mmm. Yeah,” muttered Sally. She kept slowly moving her finger. Then she broke into a lovely smile. And she gave just a little giggle. “It's a really nice tickle.” She was moving more slowly now. In the gloom of the shed, I could hardly see her movements. I looked at her face again. There was no embarrassment, no humiliation – just a wonderful, peaceful glow that spread across her features. It was like some kind of magic. And this was so totally unexpected that I began to feel, for the first time, slight anxiety.
“Okay, that's enough. You can stop now,” I said. “You've shown us that you're sorry.”
After a moment, Sally raised her hand slowly. The finger was still there, on the magic spot, as she raised it: it was as if it didn't want to let go. It made a little “splitch” noise as it came away.
And I looked at her little cunt, amazed at what I saw. It looked quite different. Before, it had just been a little, hairless crack, just like mine used to be. But now it was fuller, and the pink insides were swollen so that they stuck out a little. I turned to Beck to see if she'd noticed. I think she had, because she was gazing at her sister's crotch with great fascination.
To my surprise, Sally lifted her finger up to her face. And then she did something that totally shocked both Beck and me. She spat on her finger again, and put it back!
I couldn't believe my eyes! I turned to Beck. She gave me one of her expressive glances. She didn't say anything, but I knew exactly what was going through her mind: “You see? She's a total moron. Just like those girls at the boarding-school. This is how morons behave.”
Then, suddenly bossy again, she grabbed Sally's wrist and pulled it away. “Didn't you hear?” she said. “That's enough! Do it any more and I shall tell mum!”
Sally sat up, looking rather indignant. “But... but... it was you...” she faltered.
I didn't want another row to erupt between these two. “Come on,” I said, “you've done enough and you can play with us. Let's play hide and seek.”
She seemed more resigned than eager, but soon got into the spirit of it, because we agreed that Beck would be the first one to hide, and Sally and I would look for her as a team. I think she liked being with just me.
“Let's go really quietly,” I said, “so that we can make her jump! Now, I wonder where she might be...”
“Let's look in her wardrobe,” said Sally. “I bet she's hiding in there.”
So, together, we crept quietly through the kitchen – Beck's mum laughed, because she knew exactly what we were doing – and up the stairs. And do you know? Sally was absolutely right. When I suddenly flung her wardrobe open, Beck screamed and Sally and I howled with laughter.
It was my turn after that. I decided to hide behind the door in the loo at the back of the garage. I'm afraid I gave myself away, because I heard Beck shooshing Sally to keep quiet, and that made me laugh, because I hadn't heard anything at all from Sally. At least they weren't able to scare the hell out of me. Then it was Sally's turn. Sally isn't very good at hide and seek, as Beck and I knew from past experience. “Okay,” I said when we'd counted to a hundred, “let's tease her a little. We'll pretend to take a long time, because the longer the suspense, the more she'll jump out of her skin at the end!”
“Right,” said she, “I'll do the house, and you do the garden.”
I was finding it more difficult than usual, when I saw one of the bushes give a little shake. And when I saw Sally's leg sticking out to one side of it, I almost burst out laughing. So I thought I'd try and creep up on her really softly, if I could. It wouldn't be easy. It took me ages, because I didn't want to rustle any of the branches. I was afraid she'd get restless and maybe take a peek before I was close enough to startle her; but she didn't. Eventually, I was very close, and I could just about see her through the leaves of the bush. But then I saw the white of her panties, and I realized what she was doing. She was doing that disgusting thing again! She'd got her finger back in her pee hole! I was stunned: so stunned, that I backed away.
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Beck emerging from the house. I beckoned her over, putting my finger over my lips to warn her to be quiet. When she was beside me, I pointed and whispered in her ear. “Get up close, and take a look,” I said.
So Beck tiptoed up close, and looked through the leaves. Then she straightened and marched round to confront her. “Just what do you think you're doing?” I heard her say. She sounded exactly like her mum. But Sally didn't even move. She said something, but I couldn't hear what it was.
“Get up, or I'll tell mum,” I heard Beck say. Sally had wedged herself right under the bush, so it shook quite a bit as she wriggled out. “You dirty, dirty girl,” said Beck, in that bossy-cross voice she often uses, brushing the dust off Sally's clothes.
I could see my mum was in the kitchen, talking to Beck's mum. She'd come to take me home. When Beck had finished spanking the dirt from Sally's rear, I pointed, and Beck groaned. End of the fun for today. So we trudged back up to the house, Beck in the lead, and Sally tagging behind. Just as we were getting close to the back door, I felt a little hand plucking at my wrist. Sally.
“She... She won't tell mum, will she?”
I looked down at her. She seemed so frightened, so sweet and pathetic, that I called to Beck, and when she turned back, I motioned her to come close, so we could whisper. “You won't really tell your mum on her, will you?”
She pulled back from me a moment, and looked at me as if I were crazy. Then she looked at Sally, and understood. “Of course not,” she whispered back. “Not really. But I can always threaten, if she doesn't behave...”
I glanced at Sally. She was petrified, poor little thing. I drew Beck close again. “I think we'd better tell her, or she's going to have nightmares.”
“You tell her,” Beck whispered back. So I knelt and put my hands on Sally's shoulders. “Don't be frightened, Sal,” I said to her. “Provided you're nice to her, she'll never tell.”
And then she gave me a little hug, and ran on into the house.
I glanced at Beck, and she gave me a quick, secret little smile. And then we had to go in. We found Sally with her arms clutched around her mum's waist, her face buried in her mum's skirts like a five-year-old. What a weird child!
I don't know why, but I was a bit afraid that somehow the grown-ups would be able to guess what we had been up to. I'm sure Beck and I were looking really guilty. So it was a bit of a surprise to see my mum, who never smiles, actually smiling at me. I couldn't help wondering what on earth they'd been talking about. Perhaps my mum just likes talking to Beck's mum. She doesn't get to see many people nowadays and I think perhaps she's a bit lonely.
It was Beck's mum who spoke. “Your mummy has just been explaining that she's going to be rather busy this week, so she can't have Beck round just yet. But I'm sure you'd like to come again soon. Perhaps you'd like to come for tea next time.”
I saw my mum look at me suddenly beady-eyed, and I knew I had to give a really polite answer. Mentally, I crossed my fingers. “Um, thank you Mrs Granger. If you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble.” I glanced briefly at Mum, and she was smiling again, so I reckoned I'd done it right for once.
Beck's mum turned to my mum and said, “My two are always fighting when they're on their own, but suddenly they're as good as gold when Lisa's here. They've been playing quietly and amicably all afternoon.” She looked down affectionately at Sally, still clutching at her waist, and reached down and tweaked her hair. “Well, most of the time... We're a bit busy tomorrow, as I have the hairdresser's and then we've got the dentist's and...”
But I was welcome to come again on Thursday.
I learned a new word over the next couple of days, a word that has always been familiar to me, but I'd never really thought to use it about myself. My mum is always saying she's worried about this or that. “You're a worry to me,” she says sometimes. I knew it was something bad, but I don't know what it really meant. I thought it was like being fed up or something. But it's different.
You see, I began to worry about Sally. I was afraid that she was going to fall into the same stupid, horrible habit as those disgusting girls at the boarding-school. I was afraid that her mum would start questioning Sally, and she'd tell her everything, and we'd be in the most enormous trouble. And most of all, I worried that Sally's life was going to be ruined. Granted, she was no great shakes to start with, but there's a big difference between a semi-normal moron and a moron who can do nothing except fiddle with her pee-hole all day. It was like a great lead weight inside me. I felt as if my whole world was going to collapse. I thought, “I'll think twice before I play a stupid joke like that again.”
I won't deny that part of me was keen to see Sally and Beck again, and see if everything was all right. But at the same time, I was afraid that something awful had happened. What we had done had been a tremendous laugh, but maybe this time we had strayed a bit too close to the edge. So when it was time to get out of mum's car, and walk up the path to Beck's front door, I was not at all sure what sort of reception I was going to get. Supposing Sally had told her mum everything?
I needn't have worried. Not exactly. Beck's mum opened the door, and then she whirled round so that her dress floated up above her knees, and I thought “what the hell...?”
“Welcome O goddess Eirene,” she cried in this loud theatrical voice, “bringer of peace and consolation!”
And as if that weren't crazy enough, she lifted my chin and kissed me on the cheek, before taking my hand and leading me through into the kitchen. I'd never been treated like this by a grown-up before. I had no idea what to expect. “I want you to see something,” she said. “Look.”
I looked out of the window, where she was pointing. There was Beck, with a book, sitting on the lawn with Sally lying beside her. And I noticed that Beck's lips were moving. She was actually reading to Sally. Blimey.
“They've been so good together since you last came,” said Mrs Granger. “I don't know what kind of magic spell you've cast over them, but there hasn't been one scrap, not one argument, ever since.” She turned to me admiringly. “Your mother must be a very remarkable woman.”
I could feel myself blushing. I hate it when that happens, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. I could have said, “My mother is a witch, actually,” but somehow I didn't think it would ease the situation. So I just stood there. Possibly on one leg, come to think of it. I wished the earth would swallow me up.
She opened the back door and waved me through. “Whatever spell you've cast, please don't undo it!”
I was through that door before she could blink. I could hear her laughing, and I suppose it was kindly meant.
When they saw me coming, Beck put the book down in mid-sentence and Sally sat up.
“All right?” said Beck.
“Yeah. You all right?” I glanced at Sally, too, but then I looked at Beck. She was definitely up to something. She had that look in her eye.
“Sally's got something to show us,” she said. “I wanted her to show me before, but she said you had to be here as well.”
I looked at Sally, who jumped up at once, eager to get things moving. “Where shall we go?”
“The shed?” suggested Beck. I was a bit surprised, because normally she just tells Sally what to do. Or tries to. But when Sally scampered off down to the garden shed, with Beck racing along behind her, I realized that today it was Sally calling the shots. I was beginning to see that things had indeed changed between these two.
Inside the shed, it was stuffy and incredibly hot. The sun had been shining all day, so by early afternoon it was like a furnace in there. Sally pulled the door shut. “Don't want mum to see us,” she said.
She settled down on the floor, just where she had lain the last time. She was wearing a blue bikini bottom and a short white t-shirt with pink flowers. Which is good, because she doesn't have any breasts yet, of course, and I think bikinis look really crap on a girl with no breasts. Well, that's what I think, anyway. Although actually Beck doesn't have an awful lot up top yet, but I think she's getting quite a nice figure, so perhaps I'll make an exception for her. And I had short shorts and a strappy top. So none of us was overdressed, but the heat in that shed made us feel as if we were.
We all three got as comfortable as we could, and then Sally started easing her bikini bottoms down. She was looking me steadily in the eye as she did so, and I don't know why, but I began to feel very strange, because I could see that Sally was doing this for me. It was like she so much wanted to show me whatever it was, that she was prepared to give up her modesty. My heart started beating fast again, and I think I was blushing.
“So, what is it?” asked Beck, and I could see that her eyes were gleaming with excitement.
Maybe it was the blood in my cheeks, but I felt a tremendous urge to take something off. Not my top – no way! There was nothing underneath and I was much too self-conscious to expose my newly-growing tits, even to these two. So I took off my sandals. Even that was a relief.
“That's a good idea,” said Beck, and she slipped her sandals off, too. Sally didn't say anything, but she kicked off her trainers. And then, as my eyes adjusted to the relative darkness in there, I could see that she was doing something with her mouth. It was a bit like chewing. And then I suddenly realized what she was doing. She was getting lots of saliva ready. Now I don't know why, but this really sent my heart-rate soaring, and I think I started to tremble a bit. A couple of days ago, all this had been new and we were laughing at her. Now, it was like watching someone gearing up for a performance. I felt a little shiver go down my spine as I realized that Sally was really getting serious about this, whatever it was.
“You wanna see, huh?” she mumbled, rather slurpily because her mouth was so wet.
I just nodded, and Beck breathed “yeah!”
“You gotta take your bottoms off too,” she said, “an’ show me yours.”
Beck and I looked at one another anxiously. Even in the heat, I think we both turned a little pale. I was beginning to sweat quite a bit; and to tell the truth, my excitement was getting to such a pitch that I suddenly felt like getting completely naked. But I didn't. Instead, I stood up, and slipped down my shorts and panties, both at once.
When I looked back at Sally, I could see that she was having trouble managing her saliva, and I think she swallowed quite a bit of it. Silently, Beck got up and did what I had just done. And we both just stood there, with Sally gawping at the two of us, making comparisons. Then she pointed to me. “You've got more hair than she has,” she said. I couldn't help glancing at Beck, and I think Sally was right, although Beck is fairer than I am.
“I'm going to have that one day, aren't I?”
I nodded. “Yeah.” My mouth was as dry as Sally's was wet.
“Can I just feel? Just once?”
I glanced anxiously at Beck again, and she just shrugged. We both wanted to see what Sally was going to show us, so with a sigh I sank down to my knees again and shuffled forward so that by sitting up, Sally could reach forward and touch my cunt-hair. “Be gentle,” I warned her.
I needn't have worried. Actually, I think it was in that moment that angels, harps and clouds disappeared from my mental image of heaven. Heaven, I realized, consisted of Sally just lightly stroking my bush.
“It feels funny,” Sally said. “Funny, but nice.” She stroked me again, and I'm sure I let out a groan.
Sally turned to Beck. “Now yours,” she said. Beck didn't put up any kind of struggle. She groaned too, when Sally touched her.
“Okay...” breathed Sally, and she swished the spit around in her mouth a bit more, while Beck and I settled ourselves down to watch. I could still feel the exquisite touch down there, and my insides were churning in a way I had never known before.
Then Sally spat. It was a bit disgusting, but it was also totally fascinating, because Sally was just so determined about everything. There was none of the hesitancy she'd shown the other day. It was as if she knew exactly what she needed to do in order to do whatever it was. She reached for her pee-hole, and began feeling for it, and when she found it, she let out a noise that sounded a bit like “woo-aah”, only I can't really spell it, because the way she said it, I could almost feel the vibration in my knees and in my toes. I didn't – couldn't – understand quite what she was feeling, but even so I did realize that it must be something like the first bite of food for the starving, or the first mouthful of water after three days in the desert. But also, and a bit closer to my own experience, it was a bit like the way you feel when you've been dying to go to the loo for ages and finally, finally you can let go. So I was sort of half-understanding, and half-horrified, and the remaining three quarters just totally agog to see what was going to happen next.
For a little while, not very much did happen, actually. But the way that it happened was really hypnotic, a bit like watching a bird eating a worm, or a frog laying frog-spawn. There's something vaguely revolting about it, but yet you just can't tear your eyes away. What's particularly fascinating is the way they suddenly stop, dead still, and you wonder what on earth is going on, and then, without any warning, they just carry on as before. That was how it was with Sally. She would slide her finger up and down, up and down, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, and then she'd sort of pause and just seem to be pressing in. It looked really weird. But it was more than my life was worth to interrupt. It was as if her fingers had a life of their own. And meanwhile, Sally had this really glazed, dreamy expression, and was making really soft little whimpering noises, as if something was hurting her just a tiny, tiny little bit, but not enough to make a fuss about.
After a couple of minutes of this, Sally's cunt was getting really, really swollen – much more so than the last time. I noticed that she was wiggling her toes a lot, and sort of wriggling as if she was trying to get away from her own fingers. And all the time she was making funny little soft noises in her throat, which were gradually becoming more and more distinct.
You know how people say “gosh!” when they're surprised? Well, the noise that Sally was making was a bit more like “Gah!” but I sort of got the idea that maybe that was where “gosh” came from. Because although Sally didn't look particularly surprised, and only seemed to move her fingers with more and more determination, it was like something was surprising her again and again and again. It was impossible to tell what it was, but her fingers kept slowing down and speeding up and then, suddenly, she craned her head forward and looked at us a bit frantically. I thought she was going to say “this is what I was going to show you,” but all she said was “Yuh — yuh... It's...” and then she began to frown and made a noise in the back of her throat like she was going to be sick, and started rubbing herself really fast.
I glanced just briefly at Beck, and I could see that she was just as scared as I was. We've got an epileptic girl in our class and really, it was a bit like that, except that Sally's hand didn't stop moving for an instant, and Sally was frowning and bucking and rolling and kicking and making these strange huffing noises, rather like the sound she made when Beck was bouncing up and down on her and knocking the breath out of her body; only this time, Sally was doing it to herself with a couple of fingers. It was obvious that this was all going horribly wrong.
The next moment, she said “Damn!”, really suddenly, and her body went all rigid. By now I was terrified. The way she was quivering, I thought she was going to die. Her face looked like someone had poked a red-hot iron into her guts. So much pain she couldn't even scream. I got up on all fours, to see if I could do anything to help, but then she suddenly flopped down and yelled “Waagh!”, so I jumped back. After that, she was so absolutely still that for a moment I thought she really had died. When suddenly her whole body twitched, so violently that it forced a loud “Huh!” sound out of her, Beck and I both jumped again. That happened a few more times, and then she was still – still, but breathing again, to my relief.
I looked at Beck, and Beck looked at me. I could tell that she was as relieved as I was.
And then, the most completely surprising thing of all: Sally made a kind of nice warm “mmmmm” snuggly noise, and curled up a bit, and giggled.
I was almost outraged. You have a fit, you scare us to death, and then you just giggle?
I turned to Beck again, about to ask “What on earth happened there?”
But she just shrugged an eyebrow, returning my puzzlement, and said “apparently it feels really, really nice.”
Nice? I looked at Sally, who was just lying there in a stupor, gradually getting her breath back.
“Nice?”
“Yeah. Just look at her.”
I looked. Sally was still quivering a bit, but her whole face was just radiant with happiness, as if she'd been given a million quid to blow on sweets.
“In fact, I think I might just give it a try. Just once, to see what it's like.” And with that, to my absolute horror, Beck stood up and opened the door to the shed as wide as it would go. “I've had enough of this heat,” she said.
“But you idiot! What about your mum?” I thought that Beck had gone triple-plus crazy.
Beck craned her head round the side of the shed – the door faced away from the house – and looked to see if her mum was on the prowl. Luckily, their mum was nowhere in sight.
“It's okay,” she said placidly. “And if we have the door open, then someone can keep look-out and warn us if she comes. But if I have to put up with that heat another minute, I think I'll die.”
Up to that moment, I had been too preoccupied to think about it. But as the cooler outside air wafted in – oh! Beautiful! – I took my top and rolled it up as high under my breasts as I dared. And I parted my thighs a little wider, relishing the coolness on my aching and overheated nether regions. I could still feel the tingling of Sally's touch upon my new hair, and for one crazy moment I felt like begging her to touch me there again. But I could see that all this was leading into uncharted territory. So I said nothing, but watched in silence as Sally made way for Beck to lie down.
“Ptoo!” said Beck.
“Is that all you can do? You need more spit. Make some more!” It was amazing to see Sally bossing Beck around like this. But Beck obeyed without question.
“Okay, that's prob'ly enough.” Sally sighed contentedly.
When Beck put her finger in, it made a much squishier noise than Sally's had. Her cunt looked more swollen, too. Perhaps that was because Beck was that much older. Also, I was noticing this really curious smell. Definitely it was Beck's smell. It was strange, because in a way I didn't quite like it, and yet I knew it was Beck's smell, and so I didn't mind.
Sally and I watched as Beck got started, and sure enough, just like Sally, Beck started breathing really loudly, and a wonderful dreamy smile appeared on her lips.
After a bit, Sally turned to me. “Hadn't we better keep a look-out?”
I took the hint. I felt a bit self-conscious standing at the door of the shed with nothing on my lower half, but thankfully there was nobody around to see.
I could see that if Beck wasn't careful, the same thing would happen to her that had happened to Sally. “You'd better be careful,” I warned her, “in case you get one of those fits.” Beck didn't pay much attention. She just kept gasping and rubbing her fingers around. And then her legs jerked a bit. “You'd better stop,” I warned her. I could just tell that if she kept this up, she was going to go all epileptic. “Look out, Beck,” I said. But it was too late. It was as if she couldn't help doing it: she started rubbing faster and faster, and curling up like a piece of burned paper. And then she was having a fit, just like Sally. It wasn't quite so violent, but it came on a lot quicker, and it was scary enough. One minute she'd been just blissfully stroking, and the next she was rubbing herself like crazy, staring wildly at nothing and shivering and saying “Shit! Shit!” I don't think she was really thinking what she was saying, though, and I'm pretty sure that she wasn't even thinking about shit at all. The way she said it, it was as if Shit was the private name of the Holy Ghost. And then she was lurching her hips and blowing out gusts of air, just as Sally had done.
I was completely astonished. I mean, I wouldn't put anything past a porridge-brain like Sally, but I thought that Beck would have had more sense. “Why didn't you stop, Beck?”
“Wow!” That seemed to be about all that she could say.
“You gave yourself a fit, you idiot! Why didn't you stop like I said?”
Beck just lay there, her finger still squelching lazily. She kept going “Phoo! Phoo!” and shuddering.
“You okay, Beck?”
She gave me a really lazy smile, a bit like Sally's, and said, “Yeah! Phoo!”
And then she looked at me quite intently and said, “Lisa, it's really wild! I can't describe it! This is something you've got to try!”
Oh no, I thought. I'm not doing this. No bloody thanks. I'm not going through that. God no! Both of them were looking at me, and I could feel myself blushing again. Oh no, not me. No way!
I think Sally could see how frightened I was. “It's all right, Beck, she doesn't have to if she doesn't want to,” she said. “I'm glad you liked it, too. I thought you would. In fact, I think I'm going to...”
Then, to my astonishment, Sally got down beside Beck and started to do it to herself all over again. This time she used her right hand, not her left. Sally's ambidextrous, you see. Which is very useful, because it means she's equally clumsy with either hand. This time, she was even quicker than Beck. One minute she was oohing and aahing and getting all dreamy; but no sooner was I thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could try the dreamy bit – because it looked really nice and peaceful – than she was jerking about like a frog on a red-hot wire again.
And then I heard this noise behind me. And I thought, “Oh damn. Shit!” I turned round, and there, standing right behind me, was Beck's mum. She was as white as a sheet. She looked as if she needed a blood transfusion.
“Just what do you think you're doing, you three?” she said.
It was like that bit from the bible. Our eyes were opened and we knew that we were naked. If there had been any fig leaves around, we would have been weaving ourselves aprons like mad things. But it was all too late. All I could think was “bloody hell” and “oh shit”. How long had she been standing there? What had she seen? My cheeks were crimson. I mean, I was supposed to be the look-out, and what a great job I'd done.
“Get up, you two,” said Beck's mum. “Get your clothes back on! What on earth were you doing?”
My face must have been as red as a stop-sign, but obviously it was worse for Beck and Sally. They were pale as they got up off the floor. I could see they were both petrified. I sort of stood to one side, hoping that I could just hide. After all, I hadn't been doing it. It wasn't me. It was Beck and Sally. They were the ones, Mrs Granger. I was just watching.
Once I'd moved aside, I glanced back at Beck's mum. Her lips were trembling, and her eyes were staring. You couldn't tell if it was fear, or anger, or perhaps both. I'd never been so frightened in all my life.
“Why won't anyone answer me?” she said.
I tried to shrink back further into the shadows. We all of us just stood there for what seemed ages. None of us had a clue what to say.
“Sally!” said their mum. “What were you doing?”
Sally burst into tears. “I just... I was just showing them...”
But I don't think Sally's mum was listening. “Who told you?” she yelled. “Who put that idea into your head?”
I looked at Sally, and Sally looked at me. I was horribly afraid that Sally was going to say “It was her! It was all her idea!” Because actually, that was true. But she didn't say anything. Perhaps she didn't need to. Sally was looking at me, and Beck was looking at me, and their mum was looking at me. And I didn't like the look in her mum's eyes. And I thought: “Right, that's it. I'm dying. I want to die. God, take me away, please.”
But then something happened that was perhaps more amazing than anything else that had happened that amazing afternoon. Sally stopped her snivelling, and sort of coughed, and then she said, “Nobody told me, mum. I just sort of... found out all by myself.”
“What?” said Sally's mum.
I couldn't believe it, either. I felt as if someone had put a rocket in my chest. Suddenly, all that terror and all that weight that had been pressing down on me just floated off into the sky. Just at that moment, I could have kissed Sally until her socks blew off.
“I just found out by myself. It's just above your pee-hole and it it gives you such a lovely feeling.” Then Sally burst into tears again. When I looked at her mum, she was standing there with her arms outstretched, and the next minute, Sally dashed between Beck and me, and flew into her mother's arms. They stood like that for some time, Sally boo-hooing noisily and her mum swaying her to and fro.
I looked at Beck as if to say, “Any clue what's happening?”
And she looked back at me as if to say, “Not the tiniest grain of an idea.”
Eventually Sally subsided enough for her mum to put her down. “Get dressed and come inside,” she said.
So Beck and I got back into our panties and shorts, and Sally into her bikini bottoms. Then we all four of us trooped back up into the kitchen, not saying another word.
“I'm going to make myself a cup of tea,” said Mrs Granger, “and I want to think. So don't you girls make a single noise, do you hear, unless I ask you to. Beck, get Lisa and Sally a glass of fizzy orange.”
Fizzy orange? Wow! That sounded like a really good idea. So while Mrs Granger made her tea, between us we silently destroyed the best part of a bottle of fizzy orange. After spending all that time in the shed, we hadn't realized how thirsty we'd become.
When we'd satisfied our thirst, we sat there in silence, watching Mrs Granger drink her tea. I was still feeling pretty agitated, but Beck and Sally seemed amazingly relaxed. I think their mum must have noticed, too, because after a while she was looking at them and smiling in a funny sort of way.
Eventually, Mrs Granger stood up. “Beck,” she said, “there's another bottle of orange in the cupboard. It's a hot day, so I think you'd better put it in the fridge. Lisa, I want to talk to you on your own. Come with me into the sitting-room. You two stay here.”
So into the sitting-room we went, and she shut the door. She pointed to one end of the sofa, so I sat down. She sat down at the other end. I felt the dread rising inside me again, even though Mrs Granger didn't seem angry any more. This was terrifying enough, but I was ever so glad that this hadn't happened at my house. My mum would have gone totally and completely ballistic.
“Somehow, Lisa,” she said at last, “I can't help thinking that all this is your doing. I'm not saying that it's your fault. Just that it was you that put the idea in their heads.” She looked at me, then, and it was like being pinned to a noticeboard. I could only nod dumbly. “Tell me,” she said, “tell me how it happened.”
So I explained how I'd told Beck that she was a bit rough with Sally when she was naughty, and how perhaps she should tickle her instead of thumping her. And how we'd talked about the bad girls at Rosie's sister's boarding school. And how, when Sally had come out to play again, we'd only let her on condition that she tickle herself, to show us that she was really sorry for bugging Beck and nicking her sandwiches. I left out the part that we'd both thought that only a moron like Sally would be stupid enough to let herself be talked into actually doing it.
When I'd finished my explanation, Mrs Granger seemed satisfied, and gave a little nod. “Thank you for being frank with me, Lisa. I knew there had to be some explanation. I just couldn't help noticing that since your last visit, the girls had become a little more... grown up.” She sighed. “I used to complain about their gallivanting and their constant fighting, but perhaps they needed something like this to calm them down.” She sighed again. “I suppose they had to find out sooner or later.”
“I'm sorry, Mrs Granger,” I mumbled.
“Oh, don't be sorry, Lisa,” she said. “I'm not cross. Just a bit...” she stood up. “Just a bit incoherent at the moment. I need to think some more. In fact I think I'm going to go upstairs and have a little lie down. Why don't you take them back out into the garden, and I'll come down and make you some tea in a few minutes.”
She went to the door, so I got up too. It looked as though the interview was over. At the door, she paused and turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “They spit on their fingers, do they?”
“Yes,” I answered. “I think you need quite a bit of spit.”
She gave a sharp little nod. “Right,” she said, and made to go. “Take them out into the garden.”
Back in the kitchen, Beck had another glass of orange waiting for me. They both wanted to know what had been said between their mum and me, so I told them everything. I mentioned that she'd been particularly interested about the spit, and I noticed that Beck seemed to become very thoughtful at that point. So I told them that we were supposed to go out into the garden, and that's what we did. We just lounged around until their mum called to us about twenty minutes later.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, with a great big glass of fizzy orange that she'd poured for herself. “I hope you girls don't mind,” she said, “but I was suddenly feeling very thirsty. I'm sure there's enough to go round. Now, Becky, perhaps you could get Lisa to help you make the tea. I'm feeling a little bit tired.”
As we cut the sandwiches, Beck and I kept snatching glances at the other two. Sally was slumped forward at the table, resting her head on her crossed arms. Her mum was just sitting there, looking at us with a great big smile on her face. Actually she looked as if she was about to burst out laughing. I'd never seen her like that before.
And then, when it was ready, and we all sat down, she did burst out laughing. “Oh, you were so funny,” she said, “racing off into the shed the moment Lisa arrived. I knew perfectly well you were up to something. And when I saw a little head peeping round the corner of the shed to see if I was spying on you, I was more certain than ever. You were so sweet!” And there she sat, laughing like a crazy thing, and us with beetroot faces, feeling really stupid. And suddenly I began to see how ridiculous we must look, and how funny it all was, and I began to laugh too. Pretty soon we were all laughing.
After we'd calmed down, Beck's mum cleared her throat and said, “well, girls, I've had a little think about everything. And I've decided that you're growing up now, and it's only to be expected that you would find out what it's like to be a grown-up, sooner or later. Thanks to Lisa, you've found out... um... a little sooner than I did, but that doesn't matter.” And she gave me a rather witchy smile. “At least it will divert your excess energy to something a little more peaceful, you two.” She stirred her tea absent-mindedly. “There's a saying, Lisa,” she said to me. ”‘If you want a job done properly...’ — do you know how it goes on?”
I shook my head, not really following her.
“It's what my husband says whenever he makes anything or mends anything. ‘If you want a job done properly, do it yourself.’” She looked at us as if waiting for the message to sink in. “So don't any of you be in any hurry to get involved with boys. The later you leave it, the happier the results will be. Take my advice, and be very content with what you have. I wish I'd had it at your age.”
And that seemed to be that, so we ate our tea, and gradually the conversation went back to normal, and nobody would have known that anything out of the ordinary had happened that afternoon.
And I thought, Beck's mum is cool. She understands. She isn't even angry! You can't even talk to my mum. She's like a brick wall. Not even brick: solid granite. She's like the Great Wall of China. Once she's made up her mind, there's just nothing you can say, nothing you can do.
After tea, we had another game of hide-and-seek, and then mum came to take me home. Mrs Granger insisted on her having a glass of sherry before we left, and they had a good natter. Which was okay, because my mum's always a bit more bearable after she's had a glass of sherry.
Tonight she said she was tired and went to bed early, which was good, because I was able to sit up and watch the telly till late. I just hope that she's asleep now. She wasn't when I last got up to go to the loo. I know that, because when I passed her door I heard her making a really strange noise. Just for a moment, it crossed my mind that perhaps she was doing That Certain Thing. But I know my mum. She'd freak out just thinking about it. Anyway, she saves all her energy for Continual Pugilism and horrible witchiness, worst luck.
Well, I've kicked my duvet off and got rid of my nightie, but it's still too hot to sleep. I can't stop thinking about what happened this afternoon. I've been going over and over the things Beck's mum said. She must have been standing there for a long time, watching them. I have that feeling that she was just as fascinated as I was. And I think she sort of knew what they were doing, and also sort of didn't, both at the same time. I know that sounds funny, but that's the only way I can put it. And she did seem awfully interested when I mentioned using spit. I wonder if she's thinking about it now, and having the same feelings as I am.
Because whenever I think of how Sally touched my fur, I feel my cunt getting all warm and swollen. I think my fur wants to be touched again. I wonder if Mrs Granger's fur feels the same way. And another thing: whenever I part my legs, I can feel the coolness down there. Which means I'm getting wet, as if I were dribbling pee. But I know it's not that, because I've been several times and I can't do more than a tiny dribble. It's something different and it keeps happening. I think that if I touched down there, I wouldn't need any spit. Just thinking about it gives me a strange squirmy feeling inside. It's not an unpleasant feeling. But it is keeping me awake.
I bet Mrs Granger would try it. She wouldn't be scared. She's that sort of person. Anyway, didn't she say that she wished she'd known about it when she was our age? Beck's mum is cool, not like my mum. She wouldn't carry on until it really hurts, like stupid Sally and Beck. She'd just have a little tickle and enjoy it and then she'd stop. So I think that's what I'm going to do. Just to see what it feels like. I'm not going to let it become a habit. And if I feel myself going all stiff and jerky – well, I've seen the warning signs now, so I shall be able to stop in time. I shall be sensible like Beck's mum. I'll just go for the nice, peaceful bit. I'm not stupid, you know.
Moral: Wise girls learn from fools' mistakes.