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Educating Anne Ch. 1

By: quinn rogan



Anne waited in the heaving throng, a trifle uneasy at being surrounded by so many foreigners, but pleasingly refreshed by her shower. She had not expected to find such a facility at an Italian service station, but supposed, ruefully, that that was just another example of her English insularity.

It was really rather ridiculous that, at nearly twenty-one, this was her first experience of life outside her native country - excluding the heavily chaperoned and controlled school weekend trip to Paris when she was thirteen.

Clive - her heart lurched familiarly as she thought, again, of her ex-fiance - had not had the gumption to venture abroad. It was a 'chicken and egg' thing, really, she thought. If he had had a little more 'go' about him, she wouldn't have dreamed of returning his ring. Tears pricked her eyelids and the familiar lump grew in her throat. She still loved him, really, but she just couldn't face the sort of placid contented future he had planned for them, and so she had broken off the engagement - just three short weeks ago.

This, of course, had meant that the cottage they had booked in the Lake District, for a quiet 'get away from it all' fortnight had been cancelled, and she had been at a loose end for her annual holiday until Kate had invited her to Italy for ten days in a rented chalet in the small fishing town of Colebria.

Kate was really a friend of Anne's parents - her husband, Philip, and Anne's father had studied together at university, and had kept up the friendship when college days were over. Kate was about thirty-five or thirty-six - some eight years younger than her husband, for whom Anne had nursed a schoolgirl passion until a mere three years earlier.

Small, dark, vivacious, she made light of the age difference between herself and Anne, and, if anything, was even more grateful for Anne's stepping in to rescue her holiday at the last moment than Anne was to her. Kate and Philip had intended to have this holiday together, but Philip had been unable to leave his latest project - he was a television producer - and she had been on the point of cancelling when Anne's mother had suggested, somewhat diffidently, that Anne could fill the breach.

Anne's recently-acquired driving-licence had proved an additional boon over the last forty-eight hours of hard driving from Calais. They had crossed the Alps overnight, sharing four-hour stints at the wheel and had pulled into this very well-equipped service station on the autostrada at about eight o'clock, gritty-eyed and sweaty.

It had promised to be a sunny warm day, and they had about sixty miles to do to their destination. After a light breakfast and several cups of coffee, Kate had noticed the shower cubicles and they had fallen on them with cries of joy.

Anne had soaped her tall slim body all over no less than three times, shampooed her long blonde hair twice, then stood under an ice-cold jet for as long as she could stand the pain. There was a hair-dryer in the cubicle, and she had packed away her jeans and sweater into a sports bag, changing into a T-shirt and shorts.

She had waited only five minutes in the bustling entrance foyer when Kate appeared - long enough, however, to confirm that the reputation of the Italian male for inveterate bottom-pinching was well-founded. She had not withstood these uninvited advances with quite the insouciance she had hoped she might, being especially unnerved by a probing finger which had slid inside her shorts, almost inside her brief panties.

Kate laughed when Anne explained her haste in rushing the pair of them back to the car. She, too, had changed into shorts and a - very loose-fitting - halter-top for the last leg of their journey and, covertly, Anne envied her even brown tan set against her jet-black short hair and green eyes.

Kate slid into the driving-seat of the little Fiat and drove into the petrol station. The attendant was young, with dark hair curling round his neck and ears, with dark eyes and flashing white teeth. He inserted the petrol pump into their tank and, lifting the windscreen wipers, cleaned the screen with a wet cloth.

He smiled at both girls through the screen, blatantly observing their bare legs. 

"I wouldn't mind him filling my tank," Kate whispered and, although Anne laughed dutifully, her companion's words came as something of a shock. Personally, she was more than a little embarrassed at the boldness of the attendant's scrutiny and wished they could just fill up and get back onto the open road.

Then, to Anne's surprise, Kate bent forward, her hands going down to her shoelaces. The front of her halter-top fell forward and the attendant grinned, his tongue running round his full fleshy lips. Without changing her position, Kate raised her head and looked him full in the eye. He closed one eye in a lascivious wink, and Kate chuckled, then straightened up again.

Anne, her face pink, looked away, studying the advertising hoardings plastered round the service station. She sensed the attendant going round to the side of the car and removing the nozzle. Kate wound down her window and thrust a handful of notes in his hand, then started up the engine and drove away quickly.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the car for a minute or two, then Kate said, quietly - "Do you disapprove?"

Anne stammered a little. "I - I was a bit surprised," she said, lamely.

"A side of me you haven't seen before?" enquired Kate.

"Well, yes," said Anne. "I always thought you and Philip - well, you seem so . . .. right, together."

"And so we are," agreed Kate, unperturbed. "In many ways, we are. But . . . he doesn't actually own me! And, if I can get a little bit of a thrill by letting a nice-looking boy have a glimpse of something he shouldn't - well, why not?"

Anne couldn't think of anything to say and she stared at the road ahead, aware of a tiny germ of unease growing within her.

"You're a very beautiful girl, Anne - you must know that. Don't you get some sort of kick of being aware of men looking at you?"

Anne was torn between an impulse to reject the compliment and respond, honestly, to the question.

"I suppose," she said, finally, "I enjoy being looked at - in a general sort of way - but . . .. well, I suppose I feel that parts of me are only for one person."

"Like Clive?" asked Kate, gently.

"Well, yes," agreed Anne, diffidently. 

"Yes," agreed Kate, thoughtfully, then - "and you were never . . .tempted by anyone else.”

"No," replied Anne, very positively, and, she realised instantly, more than a little prissily. But it was more or less true. She and Clive had been together since before her sixteenth birthday and she had practically never thought of other boys. And, certainly, she had never even contemplated "flashing" herself to some complete stranger.

And yet, she was uncomfortably aware that her reaction to Kate's unexpected action was a little mixed. Along with shock and disapproval, there had been a tinge of excitement.

To cover her confusion, she found herself responding to Kate's gentle questions about her broken romance and, in the final hour and a half of their journey, she spoke more, and revealed more, about her innermost thoughts than she had done to anyone since the break-up.

Taking yet another tight bend, Kate swung off the main road and began to drive cautiously down a steep hill towards a small town nestling in a bay of deep blue water. A rickety sign bore the legend - "Colebria" - and, just outside the town itself, Kate took a left turn to a separate enclave of what were obviously holiday chalets.

Anne was surprised, but not displeased. She had thought they would be living in the town itself, but she had a good feeling about the area, and had no objection to ten days of chalet-dwelling.

They drove through an arched entrance and Kate stopped outside what was obviously the site office. They both got out and Kate made for the office, clutching their reservation papers. Anne saw that the office was busy and, since Kate was the one with a grasp of Italian, agreed to her suggestion that she, Kate, could deal with this, while Anne had a look round.

There wasn't much to look at, though. Just a shop with basic and, no doubt, over-priced, basic essentials, and a tacky souvenir establishment. Anne eventually sat on the bonnet of the Fiat to wait for Kate, enjoying the silence after two days of incessant engine noise.

There weren't many people about but, after a few moments of idly swinging her legs, Anne became aware of being the object of scrutiny. Glancing around, she met the eye of a rather unprepossessing young man, leaning against the office window, hands in the pockets of a pair of baggy blue shorts. He was in his mid-twenties, slightly under average height, with a sallow complexion and lustreless black hair. He had an unhealthy paunch and the legs protruding down from the shorts were spindly, and white.

He returned her gaze with no change in his expression and it was Anne who, eventually, had to drop her eyes. When she looked back a few seconds later, he was still looking in her direction but not, now, into her eyes. Anne's flesh crept under his scrutiny and she slid off the bonnet and back into the concealment of the Fiat.

He did not move and, when Kate emerged from the office, Anne watched him study her back view all the way to the car. Anne said nothing, and Kate didn't comment, either. She handed Anne a map of the site, with their chalet marked on it, and Anne concentrated on pointing Kate in the right direction up a tree-lined track. As they moved off, however, she saw the man heave himself away from the wall.

Their chalet was actually a terraced two-storey house, with a kitchen cum living-room downstairs and stairs leading to a sort of landing with two comfortable single beds. The big downstairs room had floor to ceiling windows front and back, with a comfortable three-piece suite in the middle, kitchen area to the left, and a well-equipped bathroom to the right.

There was a strip of grass between the houses and the track outside, and a small private garden, with a barbecue and picnic table and chairs, at the back. On inspecting the bathroom, Kate announced her intention of taking a bath, and disappeared inside.

Anne decided to unpack and went out to the car to unload their cases. As she emerged from the house, she immediately saw the man from outside the office, trudging heavily along the track. As she lifted the first case from the roof rack, he stopped, and leaned against a tree.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of showing her irritation, but bustled in and out of the house with the bags and cases then, when the last one was unloaded, pulled the Venetian blind across the front window. Peering through the slats, she was intensely annoyed to see that he hadn't moved. He began to pick his teeth with a matchstick.

Anne dragged her own case upstairs and began to put her clothes in drawers. She heard the bathroom door open, quickly followed by the sound of the Venetian blind being drawn back. Peering over the rail which bordered the sleeping area, Anne saw Kate, wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

"Is that man still there?" she called.

"The fat bloke - by the tree? Yes!" replied Kate. "Why? Oh, is that why you pulled the blind?"

"Yes," called Anne. "He's been hanging about. He was down by the office, as well."

Kate began towelling her short dark hair.

"Well, I don't suppose he has much of a social life - with these looks."

"I think he's weird," said Anne, picking her way carefully down the stairs. She went over to the blind and drew it shut again, this time darting a glare at the lounging man. "I don't think we should encourage him," she added, by way of explanation.

Kate laughed easily and, throwing her hair-towel on a chair, pulled her bath-towel open and, arms flung wide, towelled her back vigorously.

Confronted by Kate's full frontal nudity for the first time, and so suddenly, Anne gasped in surprise.

Kate's unclothed form was much rounder, softer - sexier - than Anne had ever imagined. Her shoulders were fleshy, not bony; her breasts high and firm, with dark brown - and large - nipples; her waist was very narrow, but her hips were wide. Her thighs were slimmer than Anne had anticipated, but not skinny, and her calves were very shapely for a woman who was fairly short in general stature.

But it was her pubic hair which commanded attention. Jet-black and dense, it covered a large triangle from halfway down her belly to the deep junction between her thighs. In contrast to Anne's own golden-brown, rather trim, thatch, it proclaimed itself in glorious profusion. It was wild, mysterious - a veritable jungle of hidden delights. For the first time, Anne realised what such a display could have upon a rampant male. She had only to assess the effect it was having on her.

Tearing her eyes away from Kate, she hurried over to the kitchen and filled the kettle. "Would you like a coffee?" she sang out.

"Yes, please!" replied Kate, now towelling her front and her legs. Anne waited for the kettle to boil as Kate, now dry, discarded her towel and walked, naked over to the full-length wall mirror and ran a brush through her hair.

"I wish my hair dried so quickly," said Anne, enviously. Kate murmured a reply, but her mind seemed to be on other things. Her eyes were intent on her reflection and Anne wished she would get dressed, now. But Kate seemed to be studying her body, quite intently, her hands running absent-mindedly up and down her flanks, fingers lightly teasing a tangle of pubic hair, then touching the underside of her breasts. 

Then she turned and smiled at Anne, but her face was a little set, her smile a trifle forced. "Right!" she said. Turning on her heel, she walked towards the front window. Anne watched, bewildered, but even in her bewilderment, could not help noticing the jaunty tilt of Kate's bottom as she moved, and the deep dimples where her rounded cheeks met the backs of her thighs.

Then, horrified, Anne watched as Kate swiftly, in one movement, glided the blind open and faced the window, hands on hips, totally naked. The lounging man jerked up from his leaning position, his mouth falling open, the matchstick still protruding from between his teeth.

Kate held her position for several seconds, then turned, slowly, in a complete circle. When she was facing him again, she lifted her hands and placed them flat on the glass. Then she leant forward, slightly, so that her breasts were against the glass, also, partially flattening them. Then she stepped away from the glass, cupped her breasts with her hands, then slowly drew the blind shut.

She stayed facing the blind for several seconds, then turned to face Anne. The expression on her face was one Anne had never seen before. There was, in it, amusement, mischief, but, mainly, an element of sly satisfaction, as though an intensely private pleasure had been enjoyed.

Kate picked up the towel and wrapped it round her, then looked directly at Anne. "He'll never forget that," she said, simply.

"You didn't do it for that," accused Anne, almost hysterically.

"No, I didn't," replied Kate. "I did it for me. It turned me on. I'd been thinking about it since I saw him outside the office."

"You saw him?" asked Anne, stupefied.

"Yes," said Kate. "I asked about him. He's German. He's here with his mother. He comes every year and he's going home this afternoon. His mother was in the office, handing in the keys to their chalet. The girl in the office says all he ever does is to hang about the chalets, watching women."

"But why did you . . . do that!" whispered Anne. "If he's just some little pervert?"

"Because from now on, when he plays with himself, the chances are that he'll think of me. If he was a big good-looker, he'd have seen any number of naked women. But he probably hasn't seen anyone as good as me, outside of a magazine or a porno film, or something. He might be getting hard half a dozen times a day, just thinking about the English woman who let him see her naked body, willingly."

"And," she went on, after a second or two, "I'll be getting wet, thinking about him getting hard."

Anne was a turmoil of emotions. Mixed with her shock and disapproval, she was aware, was a very strong undercurrent of excitement, and an appreciation of the thrill that Kate must have experienced from displaying her naked - and very sexy - body to a total stranger. She realised, now, that Kate had not done this casually - that her growing silence as she towelled herself in front of the mirror reflected her increasing nervousness and excitement as she prepared herself mentally for her bold and blatantly provocative action.

Despite herself, Anne imagined herself in a similar position, summoning up the courage to do what Kate had just done. 

It would be like the last few moments before jumping out of an aeroplane on your first parachute jump, she thought - and, afterwards, would there be the same euphoric rush, the same inability to get your feat of daring out of your mind?

"Anyway," said Kate, briskly, "no need for you to worry about it. Where's that coffee? We'll have that, then I'll get dressed and we'll go and have a look at the town."

They spent the afternoon wandering round the small, attractive fishing town, then had dinner together in a small restaurant, before climbing the hill back to the chalet in the warm late evening air.

They talked of this and that - innocuous subjects - and Anne was, in any case, so fascinated with the idea of being abroad and so interested in everything about her that her lingering worries about her friend's questionable behaviour did not surface at all, and there was no sign of Kate's taking any particular interest of any of the men they saw. Perhaps, thought Anne, it was just the initial sense of freedom, of being away without Philip, that had sparked these little shows of independence, and they would not recur.

Changing for bed, Anne was careful to do so as discreetly as possible, but, while Kate did not flaunt herself, she did strip off completely, without inhibition, before going downstairs to clean her teeth, and, on returning, slipped between the sheets of her single bed without donning any nightwear, at all.

When the lights were out, Anne could not resist recalling the images of Kate's body - her cheerful bouncing breasts and behind, and, especially, the luxuriant wild black thatch between her thighs. She had led a fairly sheltered life as far as female communal nudity was concerned, and was fairly shy about her own body, but she had been subjected to compulsory showers after games and P.E. at school and, while she had sneaked covert glances at her classmates' burgeoning breasts and bottoms, these had been more for purposes of comparison than anything else.

But Kate had a quite different effect on her. It was as though she could see Kate as a man would - as an object of desire. She was sure she had no lesbian tendencies, and she didn't think she wanted to touch, or be touched by, Kate, but, somehow, her nakedness carried a sexuality which undoubtedly transmitted itself to Anne.

The rational explanation was that her first glimpse of Kate, unclothed, had been in a sexual context - just seconds before her display at the window in front of the German pervert. As her mind dwelt on that, Anne felt her nipples, involuntarily, begin to stiffen. Her fingers seemed to have minds of their own as they crept on to her breasts, squeezing her nipples through the thin fabric of her nightdress.

A liquid warmth surged through her lower body and she pulled her hands away from her breasts, guiltily. She turned over and forced herself to think about the sights of Colebria, but it was a long time before she finally drifted off to sleep.


Educating Anne Ch. 1



***********************

It was Kate, the next day, who suggested the boat trip. They had noticed, in the harbour the previous day, that some of the small fishing trawlers and boats carried tourists on their working trips, and Anne had wondered if it might not be fun to go out for a day, and perhaps visit one of the offshore islands.

While they were looking round the small fishing museum the following morning, Kate fell into conversation with the curator, who confirmed that they should be able to arrange a day's trip - with meals thrown in - for a very reasonable price, with a number of the local skippers. He also said that some of the boats fished all night and it should be possible to arrange to be dropped off on an island, where cheap taverna accommodation was usually available.

So, Kate set off to the harbour, leaving Anne in the museum, and was back in practically no time, rushing Anne back to the chalet to pack swimsuits and overnight things in time to catch a boat which was sailing on the noon tide. Caught up in Kate's excitement, Anne stuffed her bikini and a few things in a bag, and they jumped in the car, arriving back at the harbour with about half an hour to spare.

The boat, a tiny trawler named "Violetta", was rolling gently at the quayside and a grizzled old Italian helped them aboard. Kate introduced him as Guido, the skipper, and he, in turn, introduced his wife, Sofia, a stout, grim-looking woman with grey hair scraped back into a bun, and an almost masculine moustache on a turned-down upper lip. 

Clearly, she did the cooking on board, and Anne supposed Guido did the fishing, until, just as the church clock tolled twelve o'clock, two men emerged from the quayside taverna and leapt nimbly aboard, casting off as they did so. 

They were a contrasting pair. Both around thirty, one was tall and swarthy, well-muscled, with a thick black moustache, while the other was slight and of weaselly appearance, with a slim pencil moustache, and a cast in one eye. The tall one was named Marco, and the other, Roberto. None of the four Italians spoke English at all, but Kate gathered that they were all related to each other. She thought, but was not sure, that Roberto was a son, and Marco a nephew.

Before they had cleared the harbour, Sofia had disappeared into the galley down below, Guido was in the wheelhouse, and the other two were busy checking and mending nets. Anne and Kate stood at the bow for a while, looking out to sea, but it turned quite cold in the head wind and Kate said she was going to lie down in the shelter of the side of the boat and catch some sun. Anne could not think of anything better to do, so they both went down into the galley where, totally ignored by the redoubtable Sofia, they changed into their swimsuits.

Kate's bikini was not dissimilar to Anne's but, somehow, Anne thought, it looked much more daring on Kate, whose cleavage was much more noticeable than hers. Anne also noticed that Kate had to be careful to ensure that none of her abundant pubic hair escaped the narrowish confines of the crotch-piece.

However, when they emerged with their towels, none of their fellow travellers batted an eyelid, and they settled on the wooden deck. After about five minutes, Sofia appeared with a very tasty seafood salad, which they ate with considerable appreciation.

Then Guido came down from the wheelhouse with a bottle of sparkling wine, and two glasses, which he handed over with an unintelligible grunt. Glancing up at the wheelhouse, Anne saw that Marco was deputising for his uncle. Catching Anne's eye, Marco grinned and raised a wineglass in his huge fist, and Anne, blushing slightly, toasted him back.

Noticing this, Kate leaned back on one elbow and lifted her glass, too, smiling broadly. The man's eyes travelled rapidly over her bikini-clad form, and narrowed in appreciation. 

With a touch of trepidation, Anne saw that sly secretive smile flit over her friend's face before Kate broke the eye contact and poured a second glass of wine.

Backs to the wooden-slatted side of the boat, the girls sat and talked desultorily, basking in the warm sunshine, as the bottle slowly emptied. As she drained her last drop, Kate spread her towel out on the deck and lay face down on it, and Anne followed suit.

Anne was just beginning to drowse when a shadow fell across them and she squinted up into the sunshine to see Marco standing over them, silhouetted against the blue sky, a fresh bottle in his hand. Panicky, because of her lack of Italian, Anne glanced quickly at Kate and was relieved to see her looking up, also.

Marco squatted on the other side of Kate and filled both their glasses. Taking a drink from his own, he began to talk, volubly, in his own language and Kate leaned on one elbow, facing him. Anne could not understand more than a few words of what was being said, but Kate laughed from time to time and Anne thought Marco was relating some amusing tales of life on the 'Violetta'.

Out of politeness, despite her lack of comprehension, Anne lay with her face turned towards the couple, smiling when she thought it appropriate and, when Kate groped behind her back for her bag, Anne pushed it into her hand. Kate delved into it, finally extracting a small tube of sun-cream.

She was just unscrewing the cap when Marco stretched out his hand, a questioning smile on his face. Kate hesitated for a couple of seconds, then, with a shrug, relinquished the tube and lay back down on her towel, on her front, her face turned towards Anne, her arms flung out above her head along the smooth wooden deck.

Marco slowly squeezed out a short length of cream on the tips of his fingers, then began to massage it into Kate's upper back and shoulders. A slow smile spread over Kate's mouth and her eyes closed.

Anne lay perfectly still. The sea was calm and it was so quiet that she could hear the rasp of Marco's calloused fingertips against Kate's smooth skin. He pushed out some more cream, this time on each hand, then changed his position so that he straddled Kate's jutting buttocks, and began to work the cream into the hollows in her shoulders.

Anne could hear Kate now, purring quietly, like a contented cat, her eyes fluttering open every now and then, the satisfied smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth. Marco shifted position again, now straddling Kate's thighs, his hands now concentrating on her lower back, below the tied top of her dark blue bikini. Starting in the small of her back, he worked in the cream in ever-widening concentric circles, until his fingers were circumnavigating her sides, the start of the slope which widened into her bottom, and the skin under her bikini top.

Anne watched, as though hypnotised. The smile had disappeared from Kate's face and her brow was now slightly furrowed. The silence was almost total, only the slapping of the sea against the side of the boat breaking the taut atmosphere. Anne's mouth was dry and she noticed Kate's tongue dart out to wet her full lips.

Then, so adeptly that it seemed almost casual, Marco untied the bow holding Kate's swimsuit top and flicked the ends apart to lie on the deck either side of her. Kate's eyes snapped wide open and she pulled her arms back to her sides, elbows bent, fists clenched either side of her chin, upper arms tucked into her sides.

Anne stared at her, waiting for the cry of protest, the hurried re-tying of the sundered ends, but, as Marco's hands continued their - now unfettered - progress over her back, Kate's eyes lost their look of alarm and, almost imperceptibly, she relaxed.

Anne, on the other hand, felt the first frisson of real fear. Where was all this leading to, and, knowing what she now knew about Kate, who was going to look after Anne if things got out of hand?

(Story continues in Chapter 2)



Educating Anne Ch. 2



Anne was in a ferment of indecision. Her position - between Kate and the side of the boat - made it very difficult to move. She would have to push past them - and where would she go? They were only allowed on this deck, and the galley, but Sofia had locked the hatchway to the galley so that she could have her siesta in peace.

She watched as Marco continued his massage. Suddenly, she realised that his fingers were disappearing under Kate's upper arms to stroke the sides of her chest. In fact, it dawned on her, the tips of his fingers must be in contact with the base of her friend's breasts. She glanced, again, at Kate. Her eyes were closed again and her breathing had quickened.

As she looked back at Marco, she could see that his whole hand was now between Kate's arm and her torso and, daring a glance at his face, she saw a look of frowning concentration as he stared down at his probing hands. Then, Kate moved her arms away from her sides and, pulling them back in, used them as levers to raise her upper torso some six inches from the deck, then as supports, to hold herself in that position. 

Anne, still not daring to move, stared from her prone position at Kate's breasts, dangling just above the discarded bikini top. As if hypnotised, she watched Marco's hands run slowly up and down Kate's sides, moving, with each stroke, further under her body, until the tips of his fingers were glancing against the yielding flesh on the side of her breasts, and then, with long sweeps, running up from her belly, right over her breasts, his roughened palms rasping over her taut nipples as they continued their upward journey.

Anne thought of the Kate she thought she had known - the bright, cheerful, apparently contented Home Counties housewife, doing her shopping at Sainsbury's, joining Anne's family at a late summer barbecue, singing happily in the chorus at the latest village Gilbert and Sullivan production. That couldn't be the same person she was looking at now, half-naked, being fondled intimately by an ill-educated and none too clean Mediterranean fisherman she had never even clapped eyes on two hours previously.

Marco sat back on his heels and, with one swift movement, peeled off his T-shirt and threw it to the side. As he did so, Anne whispered urgently - "Kate! Kate! Stop this! You must stop him!"

Kate's eyes flicked open and met Anne's. She blinked once, then shook her head. She mouthed a silent "No!" at Anne, then her eyes closed once again as Marco bent over her back and, this time, took her breasts firmly in his hands and squeezed them. At the same time, he bent his head and brushed his lips against the back of Kate's neck, and Anne heard a low moan of pleasure escape her friend.

Kate twisted her head, her open mouth seeking Marco's. His lips came down on hers and, at the same time, he used his hands to turn her body to face him. Supporting herself on her arms, Kate's mouth locked on to his and her taut-nippled breasts stood proud on her arched chest until his hands claimed them once more, grasping her nipples tightly between thumb and forefinger.

He wrenched his mouth away from Kate's and, pushing her back down on to the deck, closed his lips round her left nipple, his hands roaming over her belly and her deep, dimpled navel.

Then he found the ties for her bikini bottom and his fingers groped, blindly, to undo them. But he succeeded, only, in pulling them tighter and, with a curse, sat back so that he could see what he was doing.

By now, Anne, without quite having been aware of doing so, had risen from the deck and was sitting, arms clasped round her knees, with her back to the side of the boat. Despite the sunshine, she was shivering as she watched the passionate scene being enacted almost literally underneath her.

As Marco wrestled with her bikini ties, Kate struggled to a sitting position and, Anne thought, was, at last, about to come to her senses and try to call a halt to this - this . . . . . madness! Kate stretched out an arm towards Marco, but, just as she did so, he succeeded in untying the second bow and pulled the front portion of her bikini bottom away from her belly, revealing the magnificent bush of her pubic hair.

His dark eyes widened in pleasure and admiration and his mouth split in a huge grin of appreciation, revealing impossibly white, even teeth. "Ah, Mamma mia!", he breathed. "Bellissima!" And his right hand slid between the tops of her thighs, and Kate gasped and closed her eyes. Her hand fell back to support her upper body and her thighs parted slightly to allow a probing finger to enter her receptive vagina. Marco's grin widened as his middle finger disappeared inside Kate and she moaned, loudly, as it probed deep within her. One of her hands lifted to massage her own breast and her thighs snapped shut as Marco withdrew his finger.

Scarcely daring to breathe, now, Anne could see the shiny moisture on Marco's finger as it emerged from between her friend's thighs. 

As Kate's thighs closed together again, Marco lifted his right leg over them, so that he was kneeling beside her. Momentarily, Anne wondered why, then realisation dawned as his hands went to the top of his jeans and snapped open the brass button. Feverishly, he tugged at the zip then, as it descended, pulled his jeans down over his buttocks, down to his knees.

His was only the second erect male penis Anne had seen. Almost clinically, she observed that, while it did not seem to be any longer than Clive's, it was much darker, more gnarled, and at least half as thick again. It reared menacingly out of a huge nest of black curly coarse hair, almost parallel with Marco's stomach.

At first, Anne had wondered if she would be able to accommodate Clive's erection, but, now, the memory of his pink circumcised member paled into insignificance at the sight of Marco's angry-looking weapon. Anne's insides liquefied at the thought of being invaded by such an organ.

Then her thoughts snapped back to the present. Marco had shuffled round to position himself, on his knees, between Kate's legs, which he was holding apart, a hand on the inside of each of her knees.

Anne looked at Kate's face. Her eyes were fixed on Marco's penis, jutting up from his hairy belly and, Anne saw with a sense of shock, there was only anticipation in her expression, and no apprehension.

Kate lay back on the towel and, of her own accord, spread her thighs as her hands closed round her breasts, pinching and squeezing. Her voice rose. "Come on then, Marco - fuck me! Come on, you bastard - fuck me - hard!"

Her voice rising to a crescendo, she stopped, suddenly, as Marco guided his penis with his hand to the mouth of her vagina. He let the tip penetrate just enough for her to feel him poised at her entrance, and she stopped breathing.

Then he entered her slowly, deliberately, so that she was aware of each separate centimetre filling her, and her breath inhaled in sharp gasps as she took him closer and closer to his root.

Anne watched until the two magnificent pubic bushes were completely fused, then, as he fell forward on to Kate's nakedness, and her splayed legs locked round his driving buttocks, she picked her way carefully round the two writhing bodies and rushed over to the other side of the boat, where she stood, trembling, staring out to sea, trying to blot out the sounds behind her.

But she could not erase the images seared on her mind, of Marco's hands grasping Kate's dangling, naked breasts, his fingers stimulating her nipples to taut erection, his finger emerging, shiny, from between her legs, and, most unforgettable of all, his rampant penis jutting menacingly, powerfully from the thick tangle of black hair coating his belly . . . . . . 

Gradually, her legs stopped shaking, and she leant against the side of the boat, staring at the reflection of the bright sun on the blue water. Her thoughts, strangely, dwelt mainly on her past romance with Clive - and, for the first time ever, she knew she had no regrets. If it had done nothing else, Kate's astonishing behaviour had proved to Anne that an unsatisfactory marriage was not for her. 

She thought, with sympathy of Kate's husband, Philip, working at home. What would he have made of what Anne had just witnessed - or of the striptease for the sad German, or the episode at the filling-station? She sank into a deckchair and closed her eyes against the searing sunlight, her mind dwelling on Philip, fondly. What would he think if he could see his wife at this very moment?

Suddenly, these thoughts were driven from her mind as a rough hand plunged down past her face and forced its way under her bikini-top, grasping the soft flesh of her breast and squeezing it painfully. Anne opened her mouth in a high-pitched scream, turning her head in outrage to see the squat Roberto, yellow uneven teeth bared in a snarling smile, crouched over her.

As her scream burst forth, he clamped his other hand over her mouth, silencing her and pressing her head back into the striped canvas of the chair. Anne writhed frantically, but he was immensely powerful and held her down easily. His right hand came away from her breast, but only to tug at the material of her bikini. Grasping it tightly, he dragged it upwards and, suddenly, it was dangling round her neck and Anne’s breasts were exposed.

Frantic with outrage, Anne redoubled her struggles, but he laughed cruelly and dug his fingers into her sensitive flesh again, his finger and thumb trapping her tender pink nipple. As her head thrashed from side to side, suddenly Anne caught sight of Guido, the skipper, watching from the wheelhouse. Hope flared for only a second, as she almost instantly realised that his intense scrutiny was motivated, not by outrage, but by excitement as he watched her being violated. Then her horror redoubled as she realised that the skipper’s wife was beside him, staring at the scene below with as much evident pleasure as her husband.

Roberto’s hands were now clamped firmly over Anne’s naked breasts, squeezing them painfully, and his rank breath was searing her nostrils as his mouth slobbered over her neck and face. She screamed in panic and outrage, then subsided into a choking sob as his mouth fastened on hers.

Then she felt her right breast being released and hope flared in her, only to be overtaken by a new horror as his fingers darted down her stomach and forced themselves between her clamped thighs. Hard and inexorable, they forced themselves into the soft flesh and Anne gagged as they pushed against the material of her bikini bottom. 

Roberto’s other hand descended and inserted itself under her waistband. She felt his fingers tangle in her pubic hair and arched her back, frantically. Momentarily, Roberto was thrown off balance and Anne leapt off the chair and ran, screaming, away from him.

But there was nowhere to go.

Regaining his balance, Roberto stood between Anne and the door to the galley, breathing heavily, then, suddenly, he wrenched the galley door open and disappeared inside.

Anne sank back against the side of the boat, her heart thudding wildly, her legs and hands shaking uncontrollably.

She started as a soft hand snaked round her right shoulder. "Are you all right, Anne? I’m sorry about that – I didn’t mean for you to get involved – in anything you didn’t want." 

Kate's voice was low, and apologetic, but curiously - replete, Anne thought. Anne didn't take her gaze off the sea, but managed to mutter - "It’s all right. I'm O.K. now"

"Marco's gone, now," said Kate, evenly.

Anne looked round. The deck was empty, apart from a couple of deckchairs, which hadn't been there before. She felt Kate's hand take hers, and allowed herself to be led to a chair. She sank down into it, and Kate sat in the other.

"Kate . . " she started to say, but Kate had started speaking at the same time. They both stopped, and Kate laughed and said - "Let’s wait until we can get off this boat before we talk. We’re coming into the harbour now."

With relief, Anne looked over the side of the boat and saw the narrow entrance to the small harbour. The two women slipped on t-shirts and jeans and picked up their haversacks.

************************************************

Half an hour later, they were sipping glasses of wine at a small café on the side of the harbour. There had been no sign of Marco or Roberto when they had left the boat, but Guido had promised to take them back to the mainland the following day. Kate sat back in her chair and looked levelly at Anne. “O.K.” she said. “We’ve plenty of time to talk, now – fire away.” 

Hesitantly, Anne mumbled - "Kate - what about Philip? Where does he fit in - with all this?"

Kate sat forward, turning her head to meet Anne's gaze. She stayed silent for a few moments, then said - "You're really shocked, aren't you? About Marco, I mean." 

Anne nodded her head, slowly, biting her lip. 

"If I'm honest with you," Kate went on, "will you be honest with me?" Anne nodded her agreement.

"O.K." Kate went on. "I'll ask you a question, then you can ask me one. O.K.?"

Anne nodded. She knew what the question would be. She had never actually said to Kate that she and Clive had had a full sexual relationship, and this was Kate's opportunity to find out, for sure. Well, Anne was ready to answer that one - and honestly, too, then Kate would realise that Anne's reaction to what had happened was not that of a frightened virgin.

"All right," said Kate. "Did you let Philip feel your tits - last Christmas?"

Anne's face flamed, and her eyes fell away from Kate's steady gaze. It had actually been Boxing Day, at Kate and Philip's house. It was late in the evening, and Anne and Clive, with Anne's parents, had enjoyed a convivial evening with Philip and Kate, and were on the point of leaving.

Anne excused herself, to go upstairs to the loo, before the car journey. As she emerged from the bathroom, she met Philip on the landing. She smiled at him shyly, and he produced a piece of mistletoe from behind his back, like a conjurer, with a triumphant grin.

"Time for my Christmas kiss, I think," he announced, holding the mistletoe above Anne's head in mock ceremony. Anne, with pleasure, proffered her lips for the seasonal ritual salutation and Philip bent and kissed her briefly, but warmly, without otherwise touching her. He stood back and studied her, a smile hovering round his mouth.

"That was rather nice," he murmured. "Can I come back for seconds?"

Flattered, Anne dropped her eyes and nodded. This time, he put his hands on her shoulders and planted his mouth firmly against hers. At first, the pressure of his lips was gentle, then his hands left her shoulders and his arms enfolded her. His lips pressed harder on Anne's and their bodies met. She felt her breasts being squashed against Philip's chest, then, with shocked surprise, she felt the strength of his erection push against her stomach.

Instinctively, Anne parted her lips and Philip's tongue slid between them, exploring her mouth urgently. Then she felt his hand slip down to her bottom, pushing the lower half of her body against his. Again, instinct took over, and Anne rotated her belly against his straining erection. By now, her tongue was mingling with Philip's, and her hand was in his thick brown hair, pulling his head down towards her. She was completely lost in their passionate embrace, and was only dimly aware of both his hands slipping underneath her sweater and caressing the smooth skin of her back. The feel of his fingers on her bare skin totally disarmed Anne and she moaned, softly, with pure sensual pleasure. His hands travelled right up her back to stroke the tops of her shoulders, increasing her enjoyment, and, when he deftly unclipped the fastening of her brassiere, she - almost - didn't notice.

Then, suddenly, she realised that he had eased the top part of his body away from hers and his hands were lifting the cups of her bra. Almost before she knew it, Philip's hands were closing round her bare breasts, his thumbs unerringly finding, and stimulating, her uncovered nipples.

Alarmed, Anne tried to get her hands to pull his away from her, muttering - "No! Philip!" - but his lips came down on hers again, and, despite herself, she returned his kiss, and ceased her token struggle. 

If anything, she was now returning his kisses more fiercely and, indeed, she could feel herself becoming completely aroused as his lips mashed against hers. She moaned softly as his hands squeezed her breasts and, when he stood back again and lifted her sweater and bra, she did nothing to stop him exposing them, naked, to his hungry gaze.

"Oh, Anne," he breathed, no longer smiling, but staring at her firm young body with undiluted admiration. Then he bent his head and his mouth closed round her left nipple, his tongue teasing it to full erection.

"Are you ready, Anne?" It was her mother's voice, and Philip leapt back from her, pulling her sweater down, guiltily. He looked over the banister.

"I'm just waiting for her to come out of the loo!" he called down the stairs, motioning, behind his back, to Anne to go back in there. Anne needed no second bidding and dashed back into the loo, to sort out her disarranged clothing and repair her make-up before emerging a minute or so later to join her parents and Clive for the homeward journey.

In the early part of the year, she had thought a lot about that encounter, sometimes with pangs of conscience, but more often, if she were honest with herself, with a thrill of pleasure. But then had come the break-up with Clive and the incident had faded from her mind, somewhat.

But now it was back with a vengeance and Anne's face was very hot as she eventually forced herself to meet Kate's level scrutiny. 

"I'm sorry, Kate," she blurted out. "I think Philip had had a little too much to drink, and ... and . . . I . . . “ She trailed off.

"And you?" prompted Kate, gently.

"I - I really don't know," said Anne, lamely.

"I think I do," said Kate. "I think you've fancied Philip for years and when, at last, he kissed you properly - like a man, and not an 'uncle' - you responded - like a woman, not a little girl."

"But I shouldn't have," said Anne, miserably. "He's married - and you're a friend - and Clive was downstairs - and . . . "

" . . . and you forgot all of that when you felt his tongue in your mouth and his hard cock against your belly! Am I right?" 

"I suppose so," muttered Anne.

"And all that proves," continued Kate, triumphantly, "is that you're as open to temptation as the rest of us!"

"But - weren't you angry when you found out?" Anne asked, hesitantly. Her companion laughed.

"How do you think I 'found out'?" she asked. "After all, no-one saw you, and you didn't tell me."

Anne looked at her in puzzlement. "Well, I assume Philip must have told you - you must have guessed something had happened and . . . "

" . . . he broke down under my relentless questioning and eventually confessed all?" Kate burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly on catching Anne's baffled expression.

"As a matter of fact," Kate said, after a few moments, "he told me as soon as you had all left. As you can imagine, he was still pretty worked up about it - after all, he's been having guilty fantasies about you for the best part of two years, and he couldn't wait to tell me what your tits felt like - and looked like, with your bra and your top pulled up to your chin!"

"Actually, he took me up to the landing and re-enacted it all, with me playing the part of you - with smaller boobs, of course - but he got my knickers off, as well! You see, Anne, fantasy and tale-telling plays a large part in our sex life. We tell each other most of what we get up to - and what we think about. It can be very exciting and, let's face it, there's only so much excitement can be derived from the same old stiff prick - or pair of tits, for that matter - after a few years."




Educating Anne Ch. 2



Kate was silent for another few moments, then she went on. "Have you any idea how excited Philip will get when I tell him about Marco?"

"You won't?" said Anne, incredulously.

"Oh, yes," responded Kate, dreamily. "I'll pick my moment, of course. I'll start to tell him when we're somewhere he can't do anything about it - perhaps when we're in the car, just arriving at some friends for dinner, or a party. I'll give him enough to arouse his interest - among other things! - then feed him the odd titbit during the evening, when the opportunity arises, just to keep him on the boil."

"Then I'll make sure we bring someone back for a drink and enjoy watching Philip trying to get rid of them - then, when they've gone, he'll get a blow by blow account. It'll keep us going for hours - and for many nights after that."

"Your little escapade is discussed in great detail - and improved upon, in our imaginations - very frequently, in our bedroom, you know. Philip loves to reminisce about the moment when he pushed your bra up and your tits fell into his hands. I make sure I've got my hand on his cock when he comes to that bit - it really leaps to attention! And then he fantasises about what might have happened if you had had a few minutes more, without being interrupted . . . . ."

Her voice trailed off and she turned her face up to the sun, a smile playing round her lips. Her voice continued, dreamily. 

"He thinks he might have got into your panties, you know? He shows me how he would have slid his middle finger between your lips, through all that damp fanny hair, and teased your clitoris. And, as he does it to me, he likes me to pretend to be you, and gasp a little, and protest a little, then sigh with satisfaction as it stimulates you. If I do it well, he comes all over my hand and . . . . "

Her voice trailed away again and, in the ensuing silence, Anne could almost hear her heart, it was beating so wildly ...

(Continued in Chapter 3)



Educating Anne Ch. 3



Anne was in a turmoil. For weeks afterwards, she had wondered what might have happened if they had had a little more time. Alone in her bed, she had imagined Philip's hand slipping under her dress and caressing her upper thighs until it reached her panties. She still did not know whether she would have - could have - stopped him, but, alone with her imagination, she did her best to convince herself it was Philip's fingers, not her own, sliding inside the leg of her panties and expertly seeking out her moist, parted lips through the damp undergrowth of her pubic hair, and gently teasing her sensitive clitoris to erection and, ultimately, a mind-shattering climax.

And, sometimes, in her mind, it was not his fingers which slid between her thighs, but the hard erection she had felt against her belly when Philip had kissed her for the second time. Her face burned as she recalled the mental image she had played with. 

Her panties, somehow, removed, Philip's strong brown hands gripped the backs of her thighs as he lifted her up. Then, her back supported against the wall on the landing, he lowered her, legs held apart, unerringly on to his straining penis and slid it up inside her until it could go no further. And she wrapped her legs round his waist and trapped his pulsating member inside her, feeling it grow and grow until, suddenly, he groaned and threw his head back as his seed spurted into her in long, strong jets.


The image was overpowering her, now, and the urge to slip her fingers down between her thighs to massage her twitching clitoris was almost irresistible. Deep down, Anne now knew that she would not have been able to resist Philip had his hands slid under her skirt to her panties. Surreptitiously, she moved her buttocks on the hard wooden bench, to ease the damp warm sensation between her thighs. Kate observed her movement and knew, as she had suspected from Anne's distracted attempts at conversation, that the girl's thoughts were elsewhere.

Gently, she reached across and covered Anne's hand with hers.

"I'll be able to tell him what you look like, down there, now," she whispered, a wicked smile tugging the corners of her mouth. A surge of heat assailed Anne and her face flamed, but, catching Kate's eye, she couldn't stifle an embarrassed giggle. The events of the day, and the three glasses of dry, white wine she had drunk, quickly, were having a strange effect on her, and she now felt bolder, more curious - more like a woman than ever before.

"It'll drive him mad!" Kate asserted, confidently.

"I can't imagine him preferring anyone - after you," protested Anne.

"Oh, it's not a question of better, but different - strange - new. And young, and firm, like your bottom. He loves a cheeky bottom, and I could balance a cup and saucer on yours!"

Despite herself, Anne giggled again. Clive had always raved about her bottom, but, privately, Anne was a trifle embarrassed about the way it jutted out, and always tried to avoid rolling her hips when she walked.

Again, inevitably, her mind again conjured up the image of Kate holding Philip's erect penis in her hand as Philip told her how he had unclipped Anne's bra and caressed her naked breasts in his hands. 

She wanted, more than anything else, for Kate to tell her about it again - but, this time, to describe, in detail, how it felt to have her fingers around Philip's penis as it stretched and lengthened . . .

But Kate's mind was on other things. Draining her glass, she leaned back, looking up to the sun, and sighed reminiscently, her eyes fluttering shut, her mouth turning upwards in a lascivious smile. 

"Didn't Marco have a lovely cock?" she said, dreamily, running her hands down over the front of her T-shirt and squeezing her breasts on the way down.

"I thought it was quite . . . frightening," replied Anne, truthfully, when she realised Kate was waiting for a comment. Kate opened her eyes and leaned forward onto the table, her eyes on Anne's.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? So dark, and thick. God, it was thick! When it started to slide inside me . . . " Her hands pressed down on her groin, outside her jeans, and her voice trailed off in an ecstatic moan.

"How would you like to be lifted up and lowered onto that monster, Anne? Can you imagine it? That's what Philip said he wished he'd done with you. He was describing it when he came all over my hand - how your tight cunt would grip his hard prick, and how warm and wet it would be. .. . "

Anne swallowed, as her throat tightened. To think that Philip's fantasy had been exactly the same as hers . . . Again, she squirmed uncomfortably on the rough bench, as the moist dampness assailed her once more. 

Hesitantly, she stammered - "Is it ... I mean, was Marco anything like Philip?"

Kate looked hard at her, an amused smile playing round the corner of her mouth. "You want me to describe Philip's cock, don't you?"

"No!" denied Anne, her face flaming. "No! I just wondered . . . "

Kate laughed, softly.

"When we get home, I'll invite you round for an evening - I know he'll be only too happy to let you have a look for yourself. More than a look!"

Anne shook her head, miserably.

"I'm sorry, Kate," she said. "This morning - it's left me all very confused. I can't look on it like you. I was terrified when . . . he started touching you and then, when your top came undone and his hands touched your breasts . . . I've never seen anything like that before."

Kate nodded, understandingly.

"I was frightened, too," she confessed, "and I suppose I didn't really think it would go as far as it did, but . . . well, the truth is, it was his hands - the roughness of them. I suppose it's the work he does, but all the surfaces of his hands were really hard and when they rasped against my skin . . . Well, they were so different from Philip's - and anyone else who's touched me there - well, I just melted inside. And then, when he took hold of my nipples and rolled them against these roughened fingers . . . ."

Her voice trailed away and one of her hands slid off the table and, again, pushed hard against her groin. "It must be true what they say about a 'bit of rough'," she laughed, shakily.

"Well," said Anne, "I've only ever done it with Clive, so . . . "

"You're not talking about having your tits felt now, though, are you?" interrupted Kate, quickly. "Surely Philip's not the only other one who's done that?"

"Well, no," confessed Anne, reluctantly, *but ..."

"Who else?" Kate interrupted, again. "When was the first time?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," Anne lied, flustered, her cheeks flaming at the memory, but Kate was relentless.

"Rubbish!" she asserted. "Every girl remembers the first time she had her tits felt. I certainly do!"

"When was it?" Anne asked, eagerly, keen to switch the spotlight from herself.

"Oh, no!" laughed Kate. "You first! How old were you? Was it in the back row of the cinema?"

"No," muttered Anne. "I was staying with my aunt and uncle in Hastings and, one night, when they were out, my cousin Helen invited her boyfriend round and he brought a friend of his. They were all two years older than me, and we played some records and drank some wine, then we danced a little. I liked Helen's boyfriend, Russell - in fact, I suppose I had a bit of a crush on him. I quite liked his friend, Simon, as well, but something happened between Helen and Russell - they had a bit of an argument and I suppose I started flirting with Russell a little."

"At first, Helen tried to get her own back on Russell by flirting with Simon, but that didn't work because Simon was a bit frightened of Russell, I think, and Helen started getting a bit nasty with me for chatting up Russell. By that time, I had had too much to drink and I started backchatting Helen, although we were really very good friends and she was really like a big sister to me."

"Then suddenly she said to Russell - 'Well, you can have her if you're so keen, but don't expect her to let you do what I do!' Then she turned to Simon, who was sitting beside her on the settee, and kissed him and put his hand on her breast. Russell was absolutely livid and he grabbed me and kissed me." 

"We had been dancing, so we were standing up, and he backed me against the wall, then pulled my blouse away from my skirt, at the back, and put his hand underneath it, onto the bare skin of my back. I didn't know what to do. His lips were hard against mine and his tongue was in my mouth - then I felt his erection pressing against me. I knew I should stop him, but - well, I think it was embarrassment as much as anything. I had told Helen I'd never let a boy touch me there, but I didn't think she'd tell anyone else, and . . . I didn't want to look like a silly young girl in front of them."

"So, I . . . I didn't do anything. I let Russell keep kissing me, but I didn't put my arms round him - but I didn't stop him, either, even when he undid the clips on my brassiere. I felt the last one go then, suddenly, his hands slid round my sides onto my front and he pushed up my cups and took hold of my bare breasts. He put his hands right on them, and squeezed, and his tongue pushed right to the back of my mouth."

Anne stopped, shaking at the recollection, then continued, her voice low and trembling.

"Then . . .then, he pulled me away from the wall and turned me round, to face Helen and Simon, with him behind me. He put my arms in a sort of half-nelson, then swept his hands up my chest, pulling my blouse and bra up to my neck, and . . . showed my bare breasts to the others. Then he put his hands on them, again, and said something like - 'well, she's had her little tits felt now'"

"And what happened then?" asked Kate.

"Well, Russell squeezed my breasts again, then he let me go, and I ran out of the room, crying, and ran upstairs to the bedroom I was sharing with Helen. I could hear them laughing, downstairs. I got my clothes off and got into my bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept remembering standing there, with my clothes round my neck and the two of them looking at my bare breasts . . . " Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"And it still upsets you, doesn't it?" murmured Kate, whose eyes were also glittering brightly. Anne nodded, wordlessly, and gulped, then continued.

"You see, I wasn't . . . very big, then. I was a fairly late developer. But Helen had lovely big breasts, with dark round nipples. She was always walking round our bedroom, stripped to the waist, but I would never let her see . . . mine. She used to talk about how Russell loved to fondle her 'boobs', as she called them, and how he only liked girls with big ones. She was so proud of them!"

"One night, as I was drawing the curtains in the bedroom, I noticed the man next door take his dog out, to the bottom of his garden, and I mentioned it to Helen. She told me to leave the curtains open, then went over to the window and started taking off her clothes, with her back to it. She made me stand where I could see the man, so that I could tell her when he noticed what was happening. Well, he noticed almost immediately, and he hid behind a tree, watching. I told Helen, but she just carried on until she was down to her bra and panties." 

"Then, she turned to face the window, just for a couple of seconds, then walked away to the side, where she was hidden. She told me to keep an eye on the man, then she took off her bra and walked slowly across the room, past the window, then turned and walked back. I was watching him, and I could see his face, staring up at the window." 

"I couldn't see his expression, but his eyes were definitely fixed on our window. Then Helen slipped off her panties and started to walk over again. But then she lost her nerve and stopped, and I ran over and closed the curtains. We both collapsed on the bed, giggling, and she told me she had often given him 'a flash', but that was the first time she had actually had the courage to take off her bra. She said it was because I was there . . . "

"She sounds like a girl after my own heart," smiled Kate, wryly.

"Oh, yes!" said Anne. "I'd forgotten that!"

"Have you never 'flashed' at a boy, then, Anne?" queried Kate.

"No!" replied Anne, then " . . . unless . . . "

"Unless what?" Kate seized on her hesitation.

"Well, once, when we had a school lesson outside, sitting on the grass, I was sitting with my knees up - you know - when I realised that a few boys opposite could see up my skirt and, instead of straightening my legs and putting my knees down, I watched them trying to move around, casually, so that they could get a better view of my legs. It began to get quite exciting and, well, eventually, I let my knees drift apart a few inches, so that they could see my bare thighs, right up to my panties."

"And was that it?" asked Kate, disappointed.

"Well, yes," answered Anne. "When the bell went, we all stood up and went to our next class."

"So you never flashed your tits, then?"

"Well, Clive and I used to go out in a foursome with his friend Alex and his girlfriend, Liz, and I think Alex might have seen . . . something . . . . "

"How?"

"Well, once, in the cinema, Clive undid my blouse and bra and I caught Alex - looking - but I doubt if he saw anything because Clive's hands would have been in the way. But there was another time, in Alex's car, when Alex and Liz were in the front seat and Clive and I were in the back. We often parked up on the cliffs, later on, for kissing, and so on. I didn't usually let Clive do more than kiss me when the others were there, but, one night, we had been to the pub and Alex had obviously got Liz's bra open, so I let Clive undo mine."

"I was kissing him, and he had one hand in my hair, and the other on one of my breasts, when I felt a hand on my other breast!"

"What did you do?" asked Kate, breathlessly.

"I didn't do anything," confessed Anne, in a small voice. "I was scared of causing trouble, between Clive and Alex, so I didn't do - or say - anything."

"Did you like it?" asked her companion, and Anne shivered a little.

"At the time, I was too frightened to think about whether I was enjoying it, but I do remember, when Alex's hand went away, I felt a sort of 'sense of loss' immediately before the sense of relief. But that night, in bed, at home, I pictured how it must have looked like and . . . it excited me."

Kate licked her lips.

"What was it that excited you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," breathed Anne. "I think it just felt so . . . wanton. You know, letting two boys touch my breasts - at the same time! I imagined what my parents would think if they knew what I had been up to . . ."

Kate commented that Anne shouldn't presume that her parents hadn't had their own little adventures, in their younger days.

"Yes," Anne agreed, "but it's difficult to imagine Mum having her bare breasts handled by two boys at once . . . "

"Well, she's well enough endowed up there," commented Kate. "I'd be surprised if there weren't plenty boys trying to cop a feel."

"Yes, but she wouldn't have been that kind . . . " Anne's voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to say might be offensive to her companion.

"You mean, you find it hard to see her screwing some foreign fisherman on the deck of his boat!" laughed Kate. "Well, maybe you're right, but don't put her on a pedestal – she's no 'goody two-shoes'. No more's your Dad!"

Anne's response surprised her. "Why? What do you know?" she asked, eagerly.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Kate.

"Oh, yes." Anne was surprised, herself, at her curiosity, but she did really want to know ... "I've listened to them, you know," she went on. "They almost always have sex on a Friday night and, if their bedroom door isn't closed, I can hear quite a lot!"

"What have you heard?"

"Well, not very much of what they actually say but, sometimes, Mum's quite . . . noisy – and once I'm sure Dad was pretending to actually rape her, because I could hear her putting on a different voice, and pleading with him, and things . . . "

"Yes," agreed Kate. "Your Mum's told me they do a bit of role-play – and they fantasise about other people. When you were at school, Adam – your Dad – used to like to pretend your Mum was your English teacher – that dark-haired Welsh one."

"Oh, Mrs. Davies?"

"What was her first name?"

"Linda, I think."

"That's the one. He used to fantasise about them being the last parents to see her at one of those consultation evenings. Everyone else has gone and the two of them strip her naked and Glenda holds her wrists while Adam feels her big round tits, then pushes her back on to her desk and spreads her legs apart, opening up her wet hairy cunt while your Mum still holds her arms. Then he takes his cock out and slides it into her and, while he's screwing her, your Mum gets her own tits out and leans over Mrs Davies so that Adam can feel both pairs of tits at the same time. Your Mum told me about that one!" 

Kate's use of earthy language, and deliberately referring to Anne's parents' sexual parts coarsely, was deliberate and she watched as Anne's face registered shock, especially at the mention of her father's 'cock'.

"My God!" said Anne, at last. "Did Mum tell you – that?"

"Yes," said Kate, brutally, not mentioning that, while this was true, Glenda's language had been much more circumspect, and adding - "Well, you can't deny that Linda Davies was one sexy-looking lady. She used to make the odd 'guest appearance' in our fantasies, as well," said Kate.

Then she added, mischievously – "As, of course, does your Mum – and your Dad!"

"You didn't tell my Mum - that?" said Anne, in horror.

"Not in so many words, I suppose," answered Kate, "but I did tell her we fantasised about people we knew, and she must have put two and two together." This was, literally, true, but what Kate decided, reluctantly, Anne was not yet ready to hear was a description of the occasion when a very convivial dinner at Kate and Philip's house had ended up with Adam's hands inside Kate's sweater – and bra – while they were, allegedly, washing up in the kitchen, and Philip fondling Glenda's abundant breasts on the very same landing where, some six months later, he was destined to feel Anne's!

Anne was very quiet, her brain reeling with confused images. Something in Kate's demeanour made her suspect that maybe somewhere along the line the friendship between Kate and Philip and her parents had developed into something else. She could see that, objectively, her parents, who were still in their late thirties, must still be sexually active – she had the evidence of her own ears, if not her eyes, for that – but that they might be involved with others, in a sexual way, was a shattering thought.

She considered her mother. Glenda was tall and straight-backed, with glorious dark auburn hair, which tumbled over her shoulders. Her eyes were brown and set wide apart over a straight nose and a wide, full-lipped mouth. She had large, impressive breasts, but her hips were slim, as were her legs, saving her figure from the automatic classification of 'voluptuous'. Anne was aware that her own breasts and bottom were not far short of that description, and she regretted that, since her nature was anything but 'voluptuous'. With a shock, she realised that, sub-consciously, she had been thinking that her figure would have suited her mother's nature more than hers – what could that mean?

Considering her mother, she realised, the picture which sprang to mind was always of someone attractively – no, seductively – dressed. Mum always wore tight-fitting clothes, many of them with plunging necklines. She seldom wore trousers and her skirts never reached below her knees. Her underwear and nightwear was always of the brief, lacy variety – indeed, most of her nightdresses were flimsy, and often diaphanous. 




Educating Anne Ch. 3



"What are you thinking?" Kate enquired, quietly. Anne coloured.

"Oh, about Mum – and me. I think maybe we're both – sexier – than I thought."

"So, does that mean – you enjoyed Roberto's attempted grope, on the boat."

"No!" protested Anne, violently, the sheer terror of these moments suddenly flooding back. "No! That was – horrible!"

"Think about it from his point of view," urged Kate. "No doubt, he had watched Marco and me. He watches his cousin strip one of the English women naked, while the other girl looks on, then he sees him fucking her on the deck. Meanwhile, the other one – the young one with the big, firm tits and gorgeous bottom - goes away and sits on a deckchair in her bikini. He watches her, eyeing her lovely tits. Everybody says English girls are easy, he thinks to himself. He imagines his hands feeling the young one's tits, rolling her nipples until they get hard, then untying the bottom half of her bikini. Her legs part, showing her blonde pubic hair, and his hands grip that luscious bottom as his cock snakes inside her tight, wet young vulva. By now, his prick is like a ramrod and he is approaching her, from behind."

"She's curled up on the chair, and he can see the top half of her breasts. They're glistening slightly, and he can't help himself. He has to touch them, and his hand plunges down into her bikini and squeezes the warm, firm flesh ..." 

"Well, it wasn't like that for me," interrupted Anne, hotly. "The first I knew of it was when this dirty, rough hand grabbed my breast, and really hurt it. Then he ripped my top off and grabbed both of them – and then he kissed me! His breath was absolutely foul!"

She shuddered violently at the recollection.

"And Guido and that horrible old woman were watching – they were enjoying it! And when he pushed his hand down between my legs . . . "

"Oh," said Kate. "I didn't realise he'd done that."

"Yes," said Anne. "That was when I found the strength, somehow, to push him off and run away but, even then, I don't know what I'd have done if he'd come after me . . . I can't go back on their boat, Kate – even if you want to . . . "

"No," said Kate, reassuringly. "We'll find another one to take us back. I think Marco and Roberto might have plans for us that would be even too rich for my blood."

"Thank goodness for that," said Anne, with feeling.

"So, your encounter with Roberto didn't do anything for you at all?" asked Kate, after a short silence. Anne shook her head, firmly, her lips tightly pursed.

"I know you can't believe it, now," said Kate, "but one night, in your own little bed, in your own safe little house, in November or December, you'll remember it, and a little tingle will go through you and your fingers'll touch your clitoris, and the memory will make you come . . . and . . . " she went on, as Anne opened her mouth to deny it, " . . . and . . . in a few years time, when you're a safe suburban housewife, you'll tell your husband all about it and his cock will straighten like a rod of iron . . . "

Anne giggled with embarrassment and Kate smiled.

"There! You're laughing already! Tell you what – when he's fed up with that story, you can tell him about me and Marco!"

"I think I'll tell him that one first!" said Anne. "But, honestly, Kate, you can't imagine what it was like . . . "

"Oh, can't I?" responded Kate. "Do you think I've never had my tits felt when I didn't want to? And worse!"

"Have you?" asked Anne, wide-eyed.

"Oh, yes," said Kate, soberly ...

(Continued in Chapter 4)

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E-mail comments very welcome. 



Educating Anne Ch. 4



"Yes," repeated Kate, softly and seriously. "And I suppose I have to admit it wasn't at all pleasant at the time – in fact, I was terrified. But, now – well, it still gives me a thrill to recall it. I had just turned eighteen and I was on holiday, with my parents – under serious protest. We were in Weston-super-Mare, and I had taken up with a local boy, called Jim. He worked on the deckchairs and he was a bit rough, but I had to have some company apart from my parents, and he was quite good-looking, so I saw quite a lot of him."

"And he saw quite a bit of me! - but above the waist only! Nobody had got into my knickers then and I wasn't going to let him and, although he kept trying, he was O.K. about it. Well, one afternoon, my Mum and Dad and I were on the beach, sunbathing on deckchairs, when Jim passed by in front of us. Mum and Dad didn't notice him – they had only seen him a couple of times and I had never introduced them. As he passed, he sort of jerked his head at me to follow him and I got up, pretending I was going for a dip in the sea. I followed about ten yards behind him."

"He walked in a wide circle and eventually slipped inside the opening of a canvas changing-tent thing – right behind my parent's chairs! It was quite big – about three yards square, and about eight feet high. After a quick look to make sure my parents hadn't spotted anything, I crept in after him. There was nothing in the tent – just Jim and a lot of soft sand – oh, and a travelling rug. Of course, as soon as I was inside, he kissed me, then he told me he had put the tent up deliberately there because he knew it was where we sat."

"We had to keep our voices down, because we were only about two yards away from my Mum and Dad, but, of course, that added to the thrill – as he well knew it would – and especially when he started touching my breasts, on top of my swimsuit. I was really turned on, but I got a bit frightened when he started trying to pull my straps off my shoulders and I stopped him at first. But eventually the thought of him touching my naked breasts so close to my parents got too much for me and I let him pull my swimsuit down to my waist and play with my bare tits."

"Then we lay down on the travelling rug and I was lying on my back with Jim kissing my nipples when, suddenly, the tent-flap opened and three boys came in! I saw them immediately and pushed Jim off me and pulled the front of my swimsuit up to cover myself. Jim just rolled over and stood up, and I struggled to my feet. By then I had recognised the boys. One of them was Jim's older brother, Colin, who was about twenty-one, and the other two were friends of his. They were a bunch of wasters who just hung about the beach when the pubs were shut, and I had had nothing to do with them."

"I looked at Jim, waiting for him to get rid of them, but he was smiling, sheepishly, and standing apart from me, and I realised that this was no surprise to him. I turned back to Colin, and he pointed to where my parents were sitting, outside the tent, and put a finger to his lips. Then Jim took hold of my wrists and Colin forced my hands open and pulled my swimsuit out of them and it fell back down to my waist."

"Jim held my hands behind my back and they all looked at my breasts. I couldn't do a thing. I didn't dare make a noise, or even struggle, in case my parents heard. Then Colin touched me, then the others, and their hands were all over my breasts and nipples. Then one of them pulled my swimsuit right down to my feet, and I was completely naked. I was crying, but I even had to do that quietly, and, anyway, they just ignored me."

"I just stood there, naked and shivering and crying, while they touched and felt me all over. Jim was feeling me, too. He let my wrists go, but I couldn't defend myself against four pairs of hands. I really thought they were going to rape me . . . but, they didn't."

"What happened?" asked Anne, her eyes like saucers.

"They just suddenly . . . left," said Kate. "One minute, there were hands all over my body, then I was alone in the tent. I collapsed on the rug but, after a few seconds, I suddenly thought they might come back, so I stood up again and put my swimsuit back on, then I slipped out of the tent and ran down to the sea and dived in. I swam for ages, crying from fright, and relief, then went back up the beach and rejoined my parents. They accused me of sneaking off to meet 'that boy' again!"

"What did you say?"

"I said I had been for a long swim," said Kate, simply. "In fact, I don't suppose I was in the tent for more than a quarter of an hour, at the outside, so it was mostly true."

"Did you see Jim again?"

"Well, I saw him, but I didn't speak to him. Actually, he looked quite embarrassed. ."

"I should think he did," exclaimed Anne, hotly. "He's lucky you didn't go to the police!"

Kate shrugged. "What could I have said? It would have been my word against four of them and, anyway, I'd have had to admit, in front of my parents, that I'd been letting Jim play with my tits. Anyway, there was no real harm done. Nobody raped me – in fact, they didn't even put a finger inside me, although they all had a good feel between my legs ...'

She laughed. "Of course, I spiced it all up a bit for Philip – as far as he's concerned, they made me spread my legs and they all felt me inside, then masturbated on me!"

Anne shook her head, wondering how Kate's husband could enjoy hearing about that sort of thing, then, suddenly, Kate jumped to her feet.

"Come on," she said. "It's getting late. We'll have to find somewhere to stay the night – unless you want to go back with Marco and Roberto … "

*********************************************

It was only a small hotel, but it was clean and comfortable, and their rooms backed on to the long, undulating beach. Each room had a shower and a small bed, easy chair and dressing table, with a balcony, equipped with deckchairs, overlooking the beach.

Anne had had a long shower, her mind filled with the images of the day, but she now felt relaxed as she slipped into her two-piece blue swimsuit and looked forward to the pre-dinner dip in the sea, which Kate had suggested.

There was a knock at the connecting door, and Kate appeared. Anne was not surprised to see her friend wearing a startlingly brief bikini – in fact, by now, she would have been surprised by anything else! It was bright scarlet, and left little to the imagination. For a second, Anne had a fleeing sense of admiration at Kate's courage in wearing it – she knew she would never dare to. But then, she reassured herself, there was a bit more of her to cover! As a reflex action, almost, she picked up her beach robe and slipped it over her shoulders.

Kate strolled in and made for the balcony. Anne followed. It was nearly six o'clock and, although it was still warm, there were only a few people left on the beach, mainly strolling by the distant shoreline.

There were also one or two joggers, and Kate nudged Anne and pointed at a tall male figure, in very brief trunks, running along the edge of the water. Even at this distance, they could see he was very fit and well-muscled, with long black shiny hair, tied back in a pony-tail. He seemed to catch the movement of Kate's hand as she pointed, and his head turned towards them. He lifted a hand in greeting and Kate waved back, enthusiastically.

Hesitantly, Anne raised her hand, also, but almost immediately dropped it by her side again.

"You don't see many of those at Weston-Super-Mare," chuckled Kate and, although Anne smiled in reply, she felt a first little twinge of concern as she observed the runner now veering slightly away from the water's edge.

"Shall we go now?" she said, quickly. "We don't want to have to rush for dinner."

But she was too late. Kate, too, had seen the change of direction and, eyes brightening with increased interest, was watching as the runner headed away from the water, in a wide circle, loping easily along the sand. The circle, both women could now see, would bring him past their balcony. They could also see that he was incredibly good-looking – mid-twenties, tanned, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped. He moved with the easy gait of a stalking animal and his eyes were now fixed on the balcony from which Kate and, less obviously, Anne, were looking down at him.

As he got closer, they could see dark eyebrows over jet-black eyes, a straight nose, and white, even teeth gleaming in a confident smile. He began to slow as he got nearer, and Anne realised, with a tremor of fright, that he was going to stop.

"God!" whispered Kate. "He's gorgeous!"

"Oh, Kate," responded Anne. "Please don't … "

But the runner had stopped beneath them and was looking up.

He uttered a few words in Italian, and Kate replied. His eyes left Kate and moved to Anne. There was another short passage of conversation, then Kate whirled and, grabbing Anne's room key from the dressing table, dropped it over the balcony. The runner caught it neatly, looked at the number, and, with a final gleaming smile, disappeared from their view.

"Kate!" Anne almost shouted at her, but Kate raised a hand.

"It'll be all right," she said. "He's just a boy. I can handle him. And we'll be in plenty of time for dinner!"

Before Anne could reply, there was a gentle knock and the door opened. He walked confidently into the room and put the key down on the dressing table, then stood, facing Anne and Kate, his hands dangling easily by his sides.

He was very tall, Anne realised – at least six foot three – and perfectly-proportioned. He could be a professional sportsman – or a male model – or both. He was relaxed and calm as he allowed the two women to look him over – Anne surreptitiously – Kate with a much more obvious interest.

Kate spoke to him again and he smiled and nodded. Then he looked, again, at Anne, and asked a question. Something in his look caused a frisson of real fear in Anne and she retreated back to the wall. When she felt her back come into contact with it, she slid down and sat, cross-legged, on the floor, knees drawn up, with her robe covering her down to her ankles.

Kate gave him quite a long reply to his question. He listened carefully, then nodded again. Again, he glanced at Anne, but, this time, there was a sort of respect in his eyes, which Anne found puzzling, if reassuring.

"What are you saying to him?" she hissed at Kate, whose eyes were now glittering brightly.

"I told him how beautiful he was – and how much we would like to see the rest of him," said Kate, in a low voice.

"Well, I don't," said Anne, fiercely. "What were you saying about me?"

"I told him you were a virgin – that you are to be married next month. His culture respects virginity – he won't trouble you. Trust me!" Kate's voice was low and serious, as though what she was saying was very important.

Anne didn't distrust her friend, but she could not get rid of the nagging suspicion that Kate was leaving something out. She began to rise from her sitting position.

"No!" said Kate. "Stay there! He – he wants you to stay – to see him. Please, Anne – for me?"

Anne sat down again. Deep inside, she knew it was more than loyalty to her friend which was keeping her there, but she snapped back at Kate. "All right – but then you go to your room. OK?"

Kate smiled in relief, then turned to the runner, and nodded. He looked back at her, then down at Anne. Anne curled tighter into a ball on the floor, but could not quite tear her eyes away.

His trunks were fastened with strings at the sides. Deftly, he unfastened one side, then the other. Turning his back on the two women, his hand over his crotch, he pulled the back half forward through his legs, exposing his tight hard-muscled buttocks. For a second or two, he made some rearrangements at the front, then his trunks fell to the carpet and he turned to face them, his hands loose at his sides.

His pubic hair was tight, curly, jet-black. His testicles were large and heavy, hanging low. His penis was circumcised and thick, dangling to just below his testicles.

Kate gave an audible sigh of pleasure, while Anne sat motionless and silent but, nevertheless, unable to tear her eyes away from the display of arrogant male nudity.

He didn't move, but Anne could feel his eyes were on her. She looked up and met his expectant gaze. She stared up at Kate, who shrugged, and looked away.

Then, in a low voice, she said – "I'm sorry, Anne. I had to tell him - he could see you. He won't touch you, but he wants to look at you. He wants to see you – nude. He thinks you are very beautiful. And you are … please do it for him. Please."

Anne was completely confused, her mind and body sending conflicting signals. She could feel her nipples rock-hard against the constricting material of her swimsuit and the urge to slide a hand between her legs to relieve the itch there was almost overpowering.

Without quite knowing what she was doing, she somehow rose to her feet. She stood, facing him, and felt Kate slip the beach robe from her shoulders. She dropped her eyes from his face, and stared, as though hypnotised, at the sight of his penis beginning to stir, and lift.

She felt Kate's hands at her back, pulling the strings holding her top. She shook her head and reached up her back. Kate retreated and went to stand behind the runner, from where she watched as Anne slowly undid the ties at her back.

When they were loosened, Anne let them go and holding her arms away from her sides, let the forces of gravity complete the task of exposing her full young breasts to the two pairs of eyes intently watching her.

Her insides churned as she watched the effect of the exposure on the runner's penis. It grew darker as it filled with engorged blood, and rose steadily until it jutted out from his flat stomach. The sac round his testicles was tightening, and pulling them up into his groin. And his hands were no longer hanging loose – his fists clenched, his knuckles white.

Anne knew her vaginal area was now soaking – it might even be showing through the material of her costume. With that thought, as much as anything, her trembling fingers grasped the side ties of the lower half of her swimsuit, and undid the bows. For a second or two, she held them, undone, then she eased her feet slightly apart and let go.

She was totally naked and, for the first time, she looked into the runner's eyes. What she saw was an incredible mixture of admiration, appreciation and longing, and her response was instinctive and unstoppable.

She reached a hand forward to take hold of his jutting, pulsating organ – but, suddenly, another hand encircled it. A small female hand, belonging to Kate – a now completely naked Kate – who had also grasped the runner's hand and plunged it deep into the black forest between her thighs.

The runner half-turned, his middle finger slipping effortlessly into Kate's warm, inviting channel. Kate gasped and pulled his head down to her waiting mouth and the runner's other hand slid up and cupped one of her hard-nippled breasts.

Anne watched, unbelieving, as Kate, still holding the runner's erect cock, gently steered him towards the connecting door and they disappeared into the next room. For the first time in her life, Anne felt a deep yearning to have her soaking vagina plugged to the hilt with a length of hard male flesh, and she just managed to stagger over to her bed before her knees gave way and she flung herself down on the duvet in sheer frustration.

Automatically, her hand plunged between her thighs and her fingers sought out her aching clitoris – then, as she started to massage it, to gain relief, she heard Kate's moans of pleasure from the next room.

"No!" she thought to herself, through her deep longing. "I'm not going to lie here playing with myself, waiting for him to finish Kate off, then come through to let me have what's left."

With a sudden resolve, she leapt off the bed and pulled her swimsuit back on, then ran as fast as she could out of the hotel, across the beach, and plunged into the cooling sea. A strong swimmer, she spent a good half hour in the water, until, at last, she felt more or less normal, then emerged – to find Kate sitting on the sand, waiting for her.

Anne approached Kate, with mixed feelings. Although the worst of her frustration had worn off, she still felt she been used, betrayed – even set up as the bait in Kate's honey trap to arouse the runner for her friend's benefit!

Kate smiled at her. "You OK?" she asked. Anne nodded, stiffly, and sat down beside Kate, who immediately put an arm round her shoulders.

"Hey," she said. "He wouldn't have been any good for you. He only lasted five minutes – and he was only interested in himself. I only wanted him because he was so beautiful – but the beautiful ones are never any good where it matters."

Anne looked up at her friend and smiled, shakily.

"But you're ready, now, aren't you?" Kate asked. "It's time you got Clive out of your system – finally – isn't it?"

Slowly, Anne nodded her head.

"That's good," said Kate. "Because there's someone I'd really like you to meet … "

(Continued in Chapter 5)

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E-mail comment very welcome.



Educating Anne Ch. 5



Kate and Anne walked leisurely down the surprisingly busy main street. For a small island town, Vicerona had a busy, cosmopolitan feel to it. They had dined very well at a seafood restaurant, and had even tracked down a cyber-café, where they had both managed to e-mail home.

Throughout dinner, Anne had continued to be intrigued by Anne's remark about wanting her to meet someone, but hadn't pressed her for further explanation. It was while they were having their post-meal liqueurs that Anne learned, for the first time, that Kate had visited the island before. It had been two years previously – Kate had spent two nights on the island with the wife of a colleague of Philip's, while the two men were at a conference in Florence.

So she knew the town quite well, and she was leading Anne confidently through some of the narrow, winding alleys as dusk, by now, settled rapidly over the surrounding hills. Kate was chattering brightly as she walked purposefully along, and Anne was happy to let her companion's chatter wash over her as she looked around and took in the unfamiliar ambience of her surroundings.

Then Kate stopped, suddenly, at the bottom of a flight of stone steps, leading upwards, steeply, to an old stone chapel, perched high above them. She peered up, into the gathering gloom, then said – "Yes. This is it."

Taking Anne's hand, she began to climb the steps. Anne felt a little uncomfortable with her hand in Kate's. This had never happened before, and she was sure she could sense an element of tension in Kate's grip on her. Kate was not someone who indulged in casual physical contact – despite her recently-revealed enthusiasm for physical contact of the more intimate kind.

Kate had told Anne, often enough, how attractive she thought her and had not retreated from specific compliments about Anne's breasts and bottom. Kate's last visit here had been with another women – could it be, Anne thought, with a rising sense of panic, that somewhere up here there was some sort of Lesbian club, which Kate had decided Anne was now ready for? Maybe she had decided that Anne was now ready for Kate, herself?

Anne's worst fears re-doubled as Kate stopped halfway up the steps, dragging Anne into a dimly-lit alley, on the left side of which stood a door, covered with a bamboo curtain. Kate knocked twice, while Anne stared around for some sign of what went on here, but there wasn't a light, or another soul, to be seen.

The door opened slightly, and Kate spoke a few quick words of Italian to the unseen person within. The door opened a fraction more, and the two women slipped through.

Anne found herself in a narrow, low hallway, hung with Chinese silks. The very old oriental-looking woman who had let them in scuttled away behind a curtain on the right. To their left, was a partially-closed door, behind which Anne could hear the faint strains of Oriental music and the low murmur of voices. With relief, she realised that the voices were mixed – not exclusively female. Kate squeezed her hand, reassuringly, then released it and pushed the door ajar.

Anne looked in astonishment through the open door at the huge room beyond. It was so big, she could not see the far wall. Low-ceilinged, hung with silks and lanterns, a pall of smoke was shifting lazily around, propelled by massive slow-moving ceiling fans. And the room was packed. There were no tables or chairs. Everyone was standing, or sitting in little groups on brightly-coloured rugs. All along the right-hand wall stretched a bar counter, where the crowds were five or six deep, and a dozen or so red-jacketed waiters rushed around with trays of drinks.

Inside the room, the chatter was almost deafening. The vast majority of the customers were Orientals and male, but there were also Europeans of both sexes – and some very attractive doe-eyed Chinese girls in silk dresses with slits up to the tops of their thighs.

Suddenly, Kate let out an excited gasp and grabbed Anne's hand.

"He's here!" she exclaimed and, pulling Anne behind her, began to push her way through the throng. Somehow, Anne knew that "he" was the man Kate had mentioned on the beach – the man she wanted Anne to meet. And she knew why Kate wanted her to meet him. 

Anne's insides liquefied and her legs trembled. She tried to pull away from Kate's hand, but Kate's grip was inexorable and Anne stumbled along in her wake, her heart beating like a triphammer.

A group of men were squatting in a dimly-lit corner, playing mah-jong. Kate slowed down and stopped, looking down at them. One of them, younger than the others, looked up. He looked about thirty. Like many of the men, he was clad in a full-length silk caftan, which buttoned to the neck and reached right down to his feet. His was magnificent, in a green and gold whirl design. 

He had long black hair, tumbling around his shoulders. His cheekbones were high, his jaw strong, his eyes slanted beneath thin dark brows. In the dim light, the colour of his eyes was not discernible, but the way they lit up when he saw Kate, and the delighted flash of his white, even teeth as he smiled broadly, illuminated even that dark corner.

He rolled his pieces on to the rug, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his hands to his companions. Philosophically, unhurriedly, they gathered up the game and melted away into the surrounding crowd.

Kate dropped to the floor on his right-hand side and, looking up into his face, breathed "Hi."

"Kate!" he responded, raising a finely-manicured hand with long fine fingers to caress her cheek. His mouth descended, slowly, on hers and, as their lips met, Kate's eyes fluttered shut and her left hand disappeared into his flowing black hair. They kissed, Anne thought, like lovers of long standing, but for whom the passion had never grown dim.

After about a minute, Kate, with an obvious effort, broke off the kiss, and looked up at Anne, who was still standing. She motioned her to sit down and Anne dropped to the rug, facing the couple.

"This is David," smiled Kate. "Don't ask me why. What's not Chinese is Italian, but David is his name. David, this is Anne."

For the first time, Anne saw the colour of his eyes. They were gold, with all the warmth of the summer sun. As they fell on her, Anne felt as if the sun's rays were warming her whole body. His scrutiny was frank, but not obtrusive. It took in every detail of her face and body, under the cool yellow summer dress, and his lips parted in a smile of pure appreciation, under which Anne found herself basking, like a cat. Involuntarily, her lips parted in an answering smile.

David turned to Kate and spoke for quite a long time, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two women, bright with pleasure and admiration. As he finished, Kate laughed softly.

"What did he say?" Anne breathed.

"Oh," laughed Kate. "He likes you. That's not quite what he said – but it's what he meant!"

As she spoke, David's hand had slipped slowly, unhurriedly, into the open neck of Kate's dress. She kept her eyes on Anne as she allowed it unhindered progress down to her breast. Anne watched, fascinated, as the backs of his fingers, then his hand, disappeared under the thin material, then she saw Kate suddenly bite her bottom lip, gently, as his finger-ends made contact with her nipple.

Again, Kate's eyes fluttered shut as, beneath her dress, Anne watched his hand begin to stroke Kate's breast. Her own mouth was drying as she imagined what the long sensitive fingers were doing. Kate's eyes opened again and, her head resting on David's shoulder, she reached out a hand, palm uppermost, towards Anne, the back of her hand resting on one of David's knees, as he sat cross-legged, his eyes fixed on the opening at the top of Kate's dress.

Hesitantly, Anne reached a hand out in response. Anne took hold of it by the wrist, then guided it down between David's knees. With a sense of shock, Anne suddenly felt the rigid protuberance standing erect under the silk of his caftan. Instinctively, she tried to pull her hand away, but Kate held it firmly and, after a second, Anne reached down again and closed her fingers gently round his shaft.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her and, as he did so, Kate took hold of his wrist and eased his hand out of her dress. He smiled at her, quickly, then locked eyes with Anne, and his head bent towards her. 

His lips on hers were firm, but soft, his tongue flickering expertly inside her mouth. The touch of his fingers on her neck was expected, as was the graceful descent to the upper slope of her left breast. Her nipples were painfully erect before his fingers found the left one and made her gasp as he teased it, sending pulses of warmth through her. Then his hand was caressing her full breast, and her own hand was gripping his erection tightly. 

Anne became dimly aware that she was being gently pulled to her feet. Leaning trustingly against David, she let him lead her through a passage and into a small quiet room. A red-shaded lamp burned in a corner. A huge down-filled quilt lay on the floor. There was no sign of Kate as David stepped back from Anne, keeping hold of her shoulders.

Suddenly shy, she looked up and met his eyes and marvelled, once again, at their unique colour and the depth of expression in them. His smile reassured her and she watched, tranquilly, as he unbuttoned the neck of his caftan, then, with a graceful, panther-like shrug, let it fall to the floor. Underneath, he was naked.

He was tall, and slim, and his body was practically hairless, only a downy crest of black curls at the base of his belly complementing the tumble of long tresses which fell to his shoulders. His penis, like him, was long – very long – but slender, although fully erect. He was uncircumcised.

His hands were now working expertly on Anne's dress and she felt no apprehension as it slid to the floor, revealing her full naked breasts. He leant forward and brushed his dry lips against her nipples, and she shuddered in pleasure. Then his thumbs slid under the elastic of Anne's panties and he gently drew them down, kneeling and sighing his appreciation as her flaxen pubic mound was revealed.

His mouth darted forward and he lightly kissed Anne's belly, just above the top of her pubic triangle. Then his hands rose and softly caressed the rounded cheeks of her bottom as his mouth slid downwards and started planting butterfly kisses on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

Anne sank downwards and lay back on the soft yielding quilt. Her nipples were aching and, unselfconsciously, she raised her hands to touch and tease them, at the same time allowing her thighs to part in open invitation. She felt his tongue flicker against the moist lips of her vagina and, for the first time, a small moan escaped her. Her fingers tightened round her breasts and she squeezed them, savagely, providing a counterpoint of ecstatic pain to the painless ecstasy of his tongue, now rigidly probing the very entrance to her sex.

Then the tip of his finger brushed against her engorged clitoris, and she gasped as sensation after sensation flooded through her. She began to writhe on the soft down, her vagina aching, now, to be filled, but his hands reached up and held her shoulders, his fingers stroking the soft hollows beside her collarbones. Dimly, she wondered how she knew she loved that particular caress – then she became aware that his body was moving towards her, his chest sliding up over her flat stomach.

Quickly, she removed her hands from her breasts so she could feel the sensation of his naked chest pressing on them, but, just as it made that first delicious contact and she raised her own chest to push the pulsating warmth of her breasts against him, she felt the tip of his erection glide against her inner thigh.

Her heart leapt into her mouth in anticipation, and she closed her eyes. Her entire body seemed to be covered with sensitive nerve-ends, and every contact brought new heights of tantalising delight. His lips were now caressing her neck, then his teeth lightly gripped the base of her earlobe.

Anne was aware, now, that her moans had become constant, her whole body, covered in a light film of perspiration, continually moving, her legs spread wide, her vagina aching for the completion of this act.

Then, it was there – the head of his long penis expertly thrusting between her splayed lips. Anne's moans were silenced as she held her breath, concentrating her whole being on the incredible sensation as his penis pushed further and further inside her. It seemed as if it would never stop – Anne had not thought it possible that she could be penetrated so deeply. Then, with a final thrust, he had his whole length inside her, and Anne exhaled with the utter pleasure of it.

She sighed with disappointment at his partial withdrawal, then relaxed in pleasure as he entered her fully again. Her legs spread wider and she hooked her ankles round the backs of his muscular thighs as he began to ride her, rhythmically. But his mouth and hands never ceased teasing and tantalising the million erogenous nerve-ends screaming for attention all over her body. He always seemed to be aware, in advance, where the next caress, or kiss, or bite was most needed and, as the passion grew inexorably in her, Anne was almost totally unaware of time and place – conscious only of the ever-increasing onset of the volcanic eruption building inside her.

Then, as his rod plunged deeply into her once again, he held it there, his pubic bone grinding against the girl's ultra-sensitive clitoris – and the dam burst. Anne's whole body stiffened and shook and her moans turned into a long gasp, which became a scream of sensual ecstasy. Her legs clamped round the man's lean hips, she clutched him to her as she writhed in passionate abandon beneath him, her head flailing wildly from side to side.

It seemed to go on for minutes and when, at last, her climax subsided, Anne felt utterly satisfied, and completely drained and exhausted. She lay back on the soft, enveloping quilt, and David pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at her, smiling.

Then he bent forward and gently kissed the base of her neck, and Anne's eyes snapped open. She gave a tiny shudder of pleasure, and he did it again, this time allowing his tongue to lap softly against the sensitive skin. She shuddered again, and sighed – then gasped as his still hard cock flexed itself within her.

His lips moved to her right nipple and his hand closed round her shoulder, stroking it. Unbelieving, Anne felt her desire re-awakening. She reached her hands up and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing it hard, her tongue thrusting through his teeth. Her body began to move in time with his again and, within seconds, incredibly, she again on the brink of orgasm.

She abandoned herself to a delicious world of pure physical sensation. Once again, a massive climax hit her but, this time, at its conclusion, she pushed at the man's chest, turning him on his back, and straddled him, his cock still gripped deep within her, and began to ride him with what seemed to be endless energy. As she raised herself up and down on him, she mauled her own breasts with a painful abandon until he reached up and began to squeeze them savagely, twisting her erect nipples in a way which, at any other time, would have had her begging – pleading for mercy.

But now, it only heightened the already almost unbearable excitement, and a third massive climax hit her – then a fourth – and then she began to lose count …

When she regained consciousness, it was to find Kate leant over her, shaking her shoulder gently, and smiling. David had gone. Anne had never felt such ineffable peace – she was completely fulfilled. She smiled back at her friend and, uncomplainingly, allowed herself to be dressed and led out of the now deserted club into the quiet early morning. A taxi stood outside and, within fifteen minutes, Anne was fast asleep in her bed at the little seaside hotel ...

*******************************************

The following morning, the two women hoisted their packs over their shoulders and set off at a fairly gentle strolling pace along the dusty road, in the general direction of Vicenzio, the main town on the small island, where Kate had booked their passage back to the mainland on a small passenger ferry. The sun was high, but there was a gentle breeze, and walking was comfortable. There was little traffic, only the occasional farm vehicle passing by, with the inevitable friendly wave from the driver,

Both women were in shirts and shorts, with good walking shoes and, even with the gradient against them, made good progress. They walked, mainly, in silence. Anne, especially, had a lot to think about. What she had done, and been through, in the last 48 hours was nothing short of astonishing, and Anne was busy with her own thoughts – many of which, strangely enough, were still centred on Kate, who had been almost solely responsible for what Anne was beginning to see as her own sexual liberation. But, despite the vivid and pleasurable recollections of the previous night's incredible experience, many of Anne's thoughts were still troubled.

Why, she thought to herself, shouldn't a woman enjoy her sexual side, without all that guilt getting in the way? Anne remembered, again, the thrill of feeling Philip's erection pressing against her while his tongue explored the inside of her mouth and his hands moved sensuously over her breasts. Once again, she felt moist between her thighs, then angry when she thought about how stuffy English convention had almost immediately spoiled her pleasure with a huge load of guilt.

She hadn't even been able to think about alone, in her bed, without guilt and shame crowding in on her, to the point where she had so disciplined her mind that she had practically succeeded in forgetting about the incident altogether.

And, all that time, Philip and Kate had been discussing it, and fantasising about it. Fantasising about Anne's naked body, and what Philip might have done if he had a longer time with her. And now, Kate said, after they got home, Anne could visit them and … Anne visualised herself spread out naked on the rug in Kate's lounge, with Kate gently spreading her legs while Philip stood looking down at her, gently stroking a huge hard cock with one hand, while he waited for her to be made ready …

She realised Kate was talking to her.

"Sorry," she said, grateful that her face was already red with the effort of walking.

"I wonder what you were thinking about?" laughed Kate. Anne smiled an embarrassed smile, but Kate didn't pursue it.

"I said I could do with a break," said Kate. "I'm not as young and fit as you – and, anyway, I also need a drink."

"OK," said Anne, and shrugged off her pack before squatting at the side of the road, her back against a rough farm wall. Kate rummaged in her pack and pulled out one of the two bottles of red wine they had brought from the taverna. Opening one, she took a deep draught from the neck of the bottle, then passed it to Anne. Anne took a slightly more refined swallow, and sighed contentedly.

"We're not halfway up this hill yet," commented Kate, adding "I'd like to be in Vicenzio before six o'clock, if we're to find somewhere to stay the night." Anne glanced at her watch. It showed quarter to four – later than she had thought.

"We can put a bit of a spurt, if you like," she said, easily. "We've been going quite slowly."

"Maybe you can," retorted her companion "but that's more or less top speed for me – at least, on this side of the bloody hill! I might be a bit better going down – if you'll pardon the expression!"

They both laughed, Kate a bit more heartily than Anne, as they picked up their belongings, ready to set off again. Kate took a last slug from the bottle, then re-corked it, but kept it in her hand as they started the ascent again. Paying more attention now, Anne became aware that Kate was flagging a little, and tailored her pace to suit her companion.




Educating Anne Ch. 5



After a few minutes, she became aware of the sound of an engine behind them, and moved aside to let the vehicle pass. The road was narrow and they stood on the grass verge as the open truck laboured up the hill towards them. The driver was an old peasant, with thick white hair over a heavily-lined tanned face. He grinned as he approached, revealing a practically toothless mouth, and slowed down. 

He jerked his thumb at the back of the truck in an obvious invitation and Anne was about to shake her head, then looked at Kate. "I wouldn't mind," said Kate. "Even if it's only to the top of this hill."

They couldn't see over the side of the truck, but there was no sign of any animals, so Anne said "OK", and, to the old man's delighted surprise, Kate spoke to him in Italian, and he brought the vehicle to a wheezing halt.

"I hope it can get going again," whispered Anne as the driver climbed down laboriously and led them round to the back of the truck and released the backboard. It clattered down, revealing a wooden platform covered with empty grain sacks – and four farm labourers, squatting in a corner, playing cards.

They looked up disinterestedly, making no move to help the women aboard, but Kate leapt up lithely and turned to take the backpacks from Anne. Anne looked at her, dubiously. "Are you sure?" she said, memories of the boat flooding back. Kate laughed. "Oh, come on," she said. "I don't think we've anything to fear from this lot."

Anne shrugged away her reservations and, passing up the packs, jumped aboard, and the driver clattered the backboard into place again. The women flopped against the shaded side of the truck and Kate uncorked the wine bottle again.

One of the card-players spotted the bottle and grinned at Kate, with an unmistakeable jerk of his head. Kate smiled and extricated the other bottle from her pack and handed it across. She was rewarded with a chorus of grunts and smiles as the bottle was opened and passed round enthusiastically, the card game forgotten.

Anne leant her head against the juddering side of the truck, and closed her eyes. A shadow fell across her and she looked up. One of the farm hands, a huge man of about forty, with three day's growth of heavy black beard, was standing, holding the bottle towards her. 

"It might be rude to refuse," Anne thought to herself, and smiled up at him, holding her hand out for the bottle. But he ignored her hand, and pushed the bottle towards her mouth. Uneasily, but not wanting to give offence, Anne opened her mouth round the neck of the bottle …

(Continued in Chapter 6)

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Educating Anne Ch. 6



The man tipped the bottle sharply and the wine flooded into Anne's mouth. As it hit the back of her throat, she choked, and coughed, and the wine spilled over her chin and down on to her shirt. She grabbed the neck of the bottle and pulled it away from her mouth – but the big man held it tipped downwards and watched as it slowly emptied its contents over Anne's white shirt.

The red stain spread across the girl's chest, turning the shirt transparent, and outlining, first, the shape of her flimsy brassiere, then the dark circles of her aureole and nipples. Still coughing and choking, Anne tried to struggle to her feet, but the man pushed her shoulders back, then, in a swift movement, grabbed her wine-soaked breasts in his huge hands and squeezed them, hard.

Anne screamed, then choked again, and the man grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it apart. Plunging his hands in, he got his fingers under Anne's bra and pulled it violently upwards. Her breasts bounced free and the man dropped to his knees. Pulling Anne up towards him, he planted his mouth on her left breast and grabbed her wine-soaked nipple between his teeth.

Anne beat her hands against his back, wildly, but to no avail.

"Kate!" she screamed, jerking her head frantically to see her friend, but she was nowhere in sight. Then her assailant switched his attentions to her other breast and Anne could see Kate struggling in the grip of the other three men. One of them had her in a half-nelson, her arms imprisoned behind her back, and the other two were dragging her shorts down her legs.

Already, her abundant pubic bush was exposed and, as Anne watched, horror-struck, a hand forced Kate's thighs apart and she let out an ear-splitting scream as two fingers disappeared inside her. Then her shorts were flung aside and the three men pushed her down on a pile of sacks. One knelt behind her, one hand holding her shoulders down while the other plunged down the neck of her shirt and roughly fondled her breasts. 

The other two were holding Kate's legs apart as she writhed frantically. One of them still had his fingers working busily inside her spread vagina and, with a lurch of horror, Anne saw the other one open his trousers and pull out his penis. It was already erect and, as he sank to his knees between Kate's splayed thighs, the man at her head finally managed to tear her shirt apart and expose her small breasts.

It was then that Anne felt a hand tugging at the belt of her own shorts, and her screaming redoubled in intensity. But it did not drown out Kate's agonised cry as she felt the fingers invading her vagina being withdrawn, and replaced by a hard, rampant cock. Anne could no longer see, but she heard each of Kate's moans of protest as the rapist withdrew, then thrust into her again.

Anne couldn't see what was happening to herself, either, but her terrified despair mounted as she felt the belt on her shorts loosen, then the zip being dragged down.

"No!" she cried, tears now streaming down her face, her buttocks writhing frantically. "No! Please!"

Then she felt the fingers pressing on the gusset of her panties.

"Oh, no!" she sobbed. "Please leave me alone!"

Then a finger slid past the thin material and plunged inside her defenceless vagina. It slid in easily, Anne realised through her terror, and a momentary recollection of David's tongue sliding into her the previous night flashed into her mind and she knew it was thoughts of him which had lubricated her and made her such an easy insertion for this man, whose face she couldn't even see!

Then, suddenly, the big man holding her down pushed himself up and she could see that it was the same man who had fingered Kate's vagina who was fingering hers. But the big man was standing up, now, hands busy at his trousers, and, with a brush of his arm, he swept the other one away. 

In vain, Anne tried to roll away, sobbing and screaming in terrified protest. The big man grabbed her round the hips and dragged her panties down with one swift movement, to join her shorts, halfway down her thighs. Then he lifted her feet effortlessly and pulled panties and shorts over her thighs and calves and flung them aside.

Again, Anne tried to get away, managing to get to her hands and knees, but, before she could move, he was behind her, clutching her hipbones, pulling her back towards him. He, too, was on his knees, and as he pulled Anne back inexorably towards him, his knees forced her calves, then her legs, apart, and she realised what he was about to do. She tried to rise, but the other man held her shoulders down, easily – then she felt the hard warmth of the big man's penis on the inside of her thigh.

"No!" she moaned. "Please!"

But then it was probing at the spread lips of her vagina, and Anne's protests were choked as he plunged it into her. His hands reached underneath and caught her swinging unfettered breasts, then he withdrew his hips and thrust again. Now, Anne's screams were coming in staccato bursts as her breath was taken with each violent invasion. His hands on her breasts were hard, squeezing and relaxing in time with the long strokes of his cock, but her breasts were not hurting.

Through the haze of her outrage, Anne realised that she was not undergoing any actual physical pain, at all, and, under different circumstances, it was just possible she could enjoy sex like this.

It was then that she realised that Kate had stopped screaming.

"Oh, God," she thought. "Surely they haven't ... "

She looked round frantically and saw Kate on her back, on the sacks, but something was different. The man's hips were still jerking up and down on top of her friend, but Kate's hands were in his hair, and her body was moving in time with his. She was still moaning, but quietly, intensely – like she had done on the boat, with Marco. As Anne watched, Kate pulled the man's mouth down on to hers, and kissed him, fiercely.

Then, suddenly, the pressure on Anne's breasts increased as her violator tensed, and Anne tried desperately to wriggle away from him as she realised he was about to orgasm. But he held her to him and, with a final huge thrust, his cock plunged deep inside her and she felt him start to shudder as his climax overtook him and his cock slammed against her hips repeatedly as he spurted his seed deep inside her.

Anne sobbed hysterically as the storm gradually weakened and her assailant relaxed his grip on her breasts and hips, then she felt his penis limply slipping out of her vagina and he allowed her to slump, face down, on the sacks which covered the floor of the truck.

All she could think of was that she had been raped – that a man, a low, common peasant farm worker she hadn't even seen before, had taken the most intimate liberties a man could take with a woman. She must have the courage to go to the police as soon as ...

But then, other hands grabbed her shoulders, and she was roughly turned over to lie on her back. The sun in her eyes obscured her vision, but she could see two dark shapes bending over her. She tried to struggle up, but her shoulders were pinned to the floor – then she felt a hand moving over her exposed breasts, and she screamed again.

"Oh, no!" Anne cried, as she realised that the nightmare was not over. "No! Please! No more!"

Then her words were lost as one of the shapes moved over her and she felt her ankles being pulled wide apart – and, suddenly, roughly, her vagina was filled again as another hard, heavy cock plunged between her unwilling thighs. As he covered her, her latest attacker obscured the sun and, with a shock, Anne saw that he was just a teenage boy, younger than her. He was plunging in and out of her much faster than the last one and he could not keep his mouth away from her defenceless breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing her nipples to distraction.

Anne moaned continuously as her firm young body was violated. His mouth was now on hers, his tongue laving the inside of Anne's mouth. Her ankles were no longer being held, but she could not rise because of his weight pressing down on her. She realised that her ordeal would only finish when he, too, climaxed and shot his load inside her, and she started to move her hips in time with his thrusts, in an effort to curtail this dreadful experience.

She could feel him stiffening inside her and she raised her legs, wrapping them round him, to hold him in, and make him come. She returned the pressure of his tongue in her mouth with his and she put a hand on the back of his head, to pull him closer. His strokes grew faster and deeper and, to excite him, Anne began to gasp in simulated passion, thrusting her cunt on to his penis, and using her vaginal muscles to squeeze it, to make him come.

And it worked! Suddenly, his back and his whole body straightened and, with a shudder of release, he gave a strangled cry and, this time, Anne felt the force of the first few jets of sperm as they were released into her womb. Still far away from her own climax, Anne envied him his cry of pleasure as his body jerked wildly in the throes of orgasm, then he collapsed on top of her, taking great gulps of air. She could feel his heart thumping wildly against her chest as his cock shrivelled in her damp vagina – then, with an effort, he rolled off her, leaving her lying on the floor, naked.apart from the remnants of her blouse and bra, legs splayed.

Another figure loomed over her and, unresisting, Anne looked up – into the face of Kate.

"Are you OK?" said the older woman. Anne was about to reply when she realised that Kate was totally naked and, as she knelt to speak to her friend, was having her naked tits caressed by a man kneeling behind her.

Without surprise, Anne felt fingers slide up her inner thigh to the exposed lips of her cunt. "My cunt!" she thought to herself, as a finger slid along the damp, warm slit and she moved her hips involuntarily, pushing against it.

"Yes, it's not a 'vagina' any more," she reflected. "I think it qualifies as a fully-fledged cunt now – three pricks in the last twenty-four hours!" And maybe one or two more, before they finished this journey, she thought. 

She deliberately didn't think about her now vanishing outrage at having been raped. That they had been raped was indisputable, but they hadn't been injured or humiliated. With a shiver, almost of pleasure, Anne reflected on the urges that had gripped their fellow-travellers to the extent that they had to have these two English women. Had to strip off their clothes, fondle and feel them – then spread their legs and fuck them.

It was so different from her experience with David last night. Thinking back, Anne realised that, while it had been intensely enjoyable at the time, it had left her strangely unfulfilled. David had played her body expertly, like a musical instrument, hitting all the right notes and making the right sounds, but it had almost been like a scientific experiment. As far as she could recall, David had not climaxed once – whereas the whole object for her 'lovers', today, had been to fuck her until they came. This was sex – real, animal lust – and, Anne knew, deep down, it had opened a door she hadn't known existed before. A door she would want to pass through many times in the future. A door that Kate was obviously very familiar with …

"Yes," she answered. "Yes, I'm OK." 

Kate smiled understandingly, then shut her eyes as a hand slipped between her legs and a thick stubby finger disappeared inside her dark pubic mound. She turned to kiss the big man who had taken Anne first, and slipped her hand unerringly down to caress his re-erecting cock.

Anne relaxed and lay back. A head was now between her open thighs – a tongue lapping, inexpertly, at her clitoris. Another mouth was on her left breast, and Kate raised a hand to tease the unattended nipple of the other one. Sometime, she would have to face reality, home and England, but now she was in a vacuum, and there were two cocks on this lorry which hadn't yet been inside her ...

Half an hour later, Kate and Anne dropped from the tailboard of the lorry, just outside the dock at Vicenzio. The previous thirty minutes had been, for both women, a transport of delight as, resistance gone, they had allowed themselves to passed around, naked, between all four men, for an orgy under the sun of fucking and fondling. Anne had achieved her ambition of having her cunt stretched by all four cocks, and had also sucked one to orgasm while on her knees being screwed from behind by another. She had also held hands with Kate during her only orgasm, as they lay on their backs beside each other, legs spread, being fucked by the two youngest men on the truck.

As they dropped to the ground, the farmhands were playing cards again, and they didn't look up as Kate pushed the tailboard back into place. Just as the truck began to move off, Anne had a sudden thought.

She ran to the front and banged on the door. The truck stopped. Anne reached up and opened the door. She climbed into the passenger seat. The old driver looked at her. Anne pulled up the front of her shirt and the driver's eyes widened as he took in her naked, luscious breasts. Anne reached over and placed his hands on them. The old man grinned, toothlessly, and squeezed. Anne shivered with pleasure then, leaning forward again, unbuttoned the fly of his corduroy trousers and deftly extracted his thick cock.

Closing her fingers round the shaft, she gripped it tightly and moved her hand up and down it. It stiffened, and his hands closed round her sensitive tits, gripping her swollen nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Dropping her head, Anne closed her lips round the bulbous swollen end of the driver's cock and, slowly, began to masturbate him. His prick lengthened and he began to grunt. His hands squeezed her breasts and nipples harder, and she felt the now familiar flooding between her thighs.

She manipulated his cock faster and faster, then felt it twitch – and the first jet of come hit the roof of her mouth. She began to suck on the end of his dick, her hand squeezing the shaft, milking every last drop out of him. He was sighing with pleasure, his hands now just playing with her tits as his energy went into releasing his load. When she was sure he had finished, she cleaned his cock one last time with her tongue, then released it.

Anne jumped down from the cab, and the truck moved off. Kate was sitting on the grassy verge, looking up at her, quizzically.

"Did you just do what I think you did?" she asked. Anne nodded, then gave a little embarrassed laugh. Kate leaned back and surveyed her. Anne's braless breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her shirt, nipples poking arrogantly outwards. Her shorts were pulled up tight against her groin, a few stray wisps of blonde pubes betraying the loss of her panties, which were lying, forgotten and discarded on the floor of the truck.

"I think you'll have to start giving me lessons," laughed Kate. "Now, I think we'd better get some fresh clothes on before we catch that ferry ... "

***********************************************

The Fiat was still where they had left it, in the harbour car park in Colebria. The return crossing had been uneventful, and both girls had seized the opportunity to catch up on some missed sleep. The chalet area was quiet, most of the holidaymakers out for the day.

As they entered the silent house, Anne reflected, with incredulity, on the changes to her life since she had last walked through that door. No regrets, though, she told herself – except, perhaps, that she wished she had been a little quicker in the hotel room, with the beach runner ... She felt her nipples rise, and chided herself.

"I must have a shower," she announced, briskly – at exactly the same moment that Kate said exactly the same thing. Kate laughed. "Race you!" she exclaimed, and ran into her room, flinging off her clothes as she went.

They arrived, naked, at the shower room door, simultaneously, and laughed again.

"Oh, let's share," said Kate. "There's room for two in there."

"OK," replied Anne, happily, and they entered together. There was plenty of room, although there was only one shower, and they took turns at standing under it, then soaping themselves thoroughly, away from the streaming hot water.

Kate was busily covering herself with shower gel, while Anne luxuriated in the torrent of steaming water, washing away the accumulated results of her recent exertions.

"Can you do my back, please?" asked Kate, and Anne squeezed some gel on her palm and began to massage it into Kate's slim shoulders, stepping out of the shower to do so.

"Oh, that's nice, Anne," said Kate, as the girl's hands travelled over her shoulder-blades, down into the small of her back. Kate purred like a cat and twisted her limbs sinuously - then turned, suddenly, so that Anne found her hands moving over the underslope of Kate's small breasts.

Startled, Anne pulled her hands back.

"Oh, please carry on," said Kate, softly. "It's so relaxing."

Hesitantly, Anne raised her hands again and diffidently ran them over her friend's shoulders. She tried not to look at the twin mounds of firm flesh bobbing gently just under her palms. Kate had her eyes closed, breathing softly, a contented smile playing round her lips.

"That's so nice," she said. "You're very good at this, Anne."

Anne said nothing. Was it her imagination, or were Kate's nipples becoming darker – and larger? Now that Kate had her eyes closed, Anne looked at her breasts, then, guiltily, down at the dark forest between her legs.

"Do go further down, now," said Kate, and Anne realised that her eyes were open again. She flushed at being caught looking and, automatically, did as she was asked. At the last minute, she avoided putting her hands directly on Kate's breasts, but ran them up and down her sides, then across her stomach, in a sweeping sort of motion.

But, after a few passes like this, Anne realised that the motion was awkward – and also rather silly. Taking a deep, but silent breath, she summoned up her nerve and, on the next upward sweep, allowed her fingers to traverse the tops of the breasts. Kate did not react, and Anne relaxed. Squeezing out a little more gel, she massaged it gently into the soft yielding tissue, including the now undoubtedly engorged nipples.

It was a pleasant sensation, especially when her thumbs rubbed against the tips of Kate's nipples and, without being really aware of it, Anne's attentions became entirely devoted to the small firm breasts nestling so softly and comfortably in her hands. Kate's eyes were closed again, but Anne was dimly aware that her breathing was not quite as relaxed as before. 

Anne was also conscious of a heightened tension within herself. Never one for self-delusion, she realised that she was deriving pleasure from this, as well. She could feel a flush of warmth pervade her body, and a dryness in her mouth.

She started nervously as Kate's hand suddenly touched the back of one of hers. She looked into her friend's face, but her eyes were still closed. Kate gently gripped the back of Anne's wrist and lifted her hand away from her breast, pulling it downwards.

Her heart leaping, Anne knew where Kate was taking her, but she allowed herself to be led. Her fingers drifted over Kate's belly, then touched the springy expanse of hair beneath, then they felt the silky-smooth tops of her thighs. Kate's fingers released Anne's wrist and, cupping the back of Anne's hand, gently, insistently pushed her fingers into the junction of her thighs.

As Anne took the initiative, and ran her middle finger along the moist lips of Kate's already lubricating vagina, she was not surprise to feel the tender pressure of fingers against her own right breast. She inserted the tip of her finger into the entrance to her friend's sex, and raise her eyes back to her face.




Educating Anne Ch. 6



Kate's eyes were open, now, and she was smiling, fondly.

"You don't mind?" she breathed. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."

"I don't … think so," said Anne, hesitantly. "I ... I've never done anything like this before. But ... it feels ... nice."

Her finger, almost of its own volition, was now fully inside Kate, who was wriggling pleasurably against it, and murmuring softly. Kate's mouth was on Anne's breast now, her tongue teasing an erect nipple expertly, and the slight flush, which Anne had experienced earlier, had increased in intensity.

"Let me get rid of this soap," whispered Kate, but as she stepped back under the spray, she kept Anne's hand clamped between her thighs. As the water washed the froth away from her body, she pulled Anne's head down, and kissed her mouth, hungrily. Without hesitation, Anne returned the embrace, opening her lips to receive Anne's probing tongue.

Kate reached up and switched off the shower then, with both of them still soaking, dragged Anne by the wrist out on the landing and into Kate's room. Naked and dripping, they tumbled on the bed together and locked in a fierce embrace. Inhibitions gone, Anne kissed Kate's breasts while her fingers flew between her open thighs.

Within seconds, she had located Kate's clitoris and was stimulating it vigorously, while Kate's hands were caressing the cheeks of Anne's bottom.

"Oh, if you knew how I've wanted to feel that gorgeous bum of yours!" exclaimed Kate, delightedly. "Philip would die of envy if he could see me now!"

"Well," said Anne. "I've always wondered what it would be like to feel you – down here. All that lovely black hair – I feel almost naked, by comparison." Emboldened by her words, she moved her face down and plunged it between Kate's spread thighs.

Kate rolled onto her back widening her legs, holding the back of Anne's head, pressing her face closer.

"Oh, that's lovely, Anne," she gasped. "Please find my little button with your tongue – please. Ahhh, yes – that's it! Oh, that's wonderful! Yes!!! Yes!!!"

Anne knelt on the bed, knees parted, head buried in Anne's crotch, her tongue stimulating the small pink button above Kate's dripping slit. The heat between her own legs was almost unbearable now and she reached a hand back to caress herself, as well.

Suddenly, a strong pair of hands gripped her buttocks. Anne tried to raise her head, but Kate was holding it in a vicelike grip. An unmistakeable shape was sliding between Anne's upraised, spread thighs. Without difficulty, it positioned itself at her entrance, then began to glide in. As it did so, the hands shifted from Anne's buttocks and came forward to fondle her pendant breasts.

Kate loosed her grip on Anne's head and smiled up at the intruder.

"Hello, Philip," she said. "Do you like my present?"

"Oh, yes," came the familiar, beloved voice. "It's the nicest thing you've ever done for me!"

Anne turned her head, incredulously. Kate's husband smiled, then bent to kiss Anne's astonished mouth, lightly, then squeezed her tits ecstatically, and began to move his hips, his hard cock moving sensuously inside her.

Anne looked down, again, at Kate, the unspoken question on her lips.

"E-mail," whispered Kate. "A wonderful invention!"

Then she slid out of Anne's line of vision, to where she could caress her husband's testicles as she watched him fuck her friend – and Anne settled down to enjoy the ride, her education now complete!