My Wife, the Cum-Guzzling Slut by Mister storyteller (Slut wife, NC) I can still remember the day well. It was around midnight on New Years Eve. My wife Stacey told me that for her New Year's resolution, she wanted to give up smoking. This seemed good to me seeing that I was a non-smoker and was tiring of kissing her because of her horrible cigarette breath. It would be hard to describe Stacey by saying she looked like this movie or TV star because she had a look of her own. She has nice long dark hair, a great figure with a nice set of size B tits that have "pencil erasers" at the tips. When we are out in public, people can hardly believe she is with me and I have been told that when we are together it looks like a kidnapping! Men (including some of my friends) have tried to pick her up right in front of me figuring I must be her friend or brother! What they did not know though, that even though she had a killer body she really did not enjoy sex. Being brought up in a strict Catholic home, I did not get to fuck her until our wedding night. Figuring she would loosen up after marriage was another mistake I made as she has been as frigid as she was on our wedding night. Thank god for White Shadow's Nasty Stories. It is the only way I can get myself off these days. Enough of my rambling. January turned into February and Stacey was having a real hard time keeping from smoking. She was really nervous because she had also put on a few pounds and was considering going back to her old nasty habit. This is when I found out from a friend of mine something that would change our lives forever. Bill, my co-worker, had a friend who was a hypnotist. This hypnotist, Marty, actually had a show that he did at parties. We met Marty at a party once and thought that while he was very entertaining, his gimmick was all an act. With nothing to lose, I gave him a call and figured for $100 it was worth the risk. Marty had one girl at the party think she was having an orgasm every time her boyfriend touched his ear. I told Marty, "Could you do something like that for Stacey without her knowing it?" "Sure," said Marty, "I could have her suck your cock dry and she would not even remember it when she came to if you want!" "If you could do that," I said, "I would let you get your cock sucked too! Stacey is such a prude she won't go near that area! I'm luck to get a hand job from her every now and then." "You're telling me you have a hot little piece of ass like that and you can't get her to suck your cock? Give me an hour alone with me and she will be begging to suck cock and just about anything else you desire." We set an appointment for Friday night and I must have jerked off ten times over the next few days waiting for my new and improved bride to finally give me some of the pleasures I have craved for the last few years that we have been together. I came home from work the usual time with a nice bottle of wine (her favorite) and told her of the exciting news. "Do you remember Marty Christopher, the hypnotist from Bill and Marsha's party last month? You remember, the guy who had Donna Donlan thinking she was coming every time her boyfriend Robert touched his nose?" "Yes, I remember him. I thought he was a fat disgusting slob," exclaimed Stacey "What about him?" "Well," I stammered "I found out through Bill the other day that he also does hypnosis to get people to quit smoking. I hired him to hypnotize you so that you can finally kick the habit and mellow out a bit." Stacey was actually becoming quite unbearable as she went through her nicotine withdrawal. "Well you can tell him to forget it. He is gross and I have no intention to be hypnotized. I don't even think I am capable of being put under." Fearing the embarrassment of having to turn him away combined with the bulge in my pants needing satisfaction, I said to Stacey, "Please for me, just try. If I send him away it will make me look bad to Bill who recommended him." After her second glass of wine, she relented. "Just keep your eyes on him. I don't trust him. I see the way he looks at women and how he treats them." She was getting tipsy and babbled, "Having an orgasm just by someone touching their ear, who is he kidding. Probably set the whole thing up. I'd like to have an orgasm by you touching my ear." "It would probably be your first," I mumbled to myself. Like clockwork Marty showed up at the door. "Stacey is right," I thought to myself "Marty is a fat disgusting slob." Without his tux on and unshaven, he looked like a reject from a biker bar. As we exchanged pleasantries Marty said to me, "I haven't forgotten about our deal. I hope you haven't." Off we went to the den where Stacey was relaxing in the recliner watching her soap operas. I saw that she had drunk another glass of wine and was quite tipsy. Marty closed all of the drapes and turned off the television and asked me to leave the room. I was a little reluctant to leave my drunk wife alone with him but knew of the possible rewards I would reap if this plan was to come to fruition. Stacey was acting very nasty towards Marty and I worried that he would just say to forget about the whole thing and tell Bill who would tell the rest of our friends what a cold frigid bitch I was married to. Suddenly the room got very quiet and I started to get nervous. I ran outside and went to the sliding doors and peeked into the room through a gap between the curtains and the door. The door was opened partially because we have a pet door that attaches to the sliding door. The room was dark except for a candle which illuminated the profiles of Marty and Stacey. "For now on," Marty instructed Stacey "you will never crave another cigarette. The taste of cigarettes will make you sick to your stomach." It looked like Stacey was actually under his spell! She was looking blankly ahead and shaking her head. "You now have a new addiction." Marty STARTED UNBUCKLING HIS PANTS! "All of your desires for putting cigarettes have been replaced by your desire to put this object in your mouth. You love the taste of this object. You can't get enough of it. You crave to drink what comes out of it and feel empty inside if you have not sucked on one of these at least once a day." "Yes," said Stacey. "I must have it." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My beautiful, loving, faithful wife who had not even kissed my penis was about to suck the cock of a man she clearly detested and would never have even given a second look if her life depended on it. I wanted to break into the room nut I actually could not stop from watching what was about to unfold before my eyes. I undid my fly and started jerking off right in my own backyard. Marty, this big fat slob, was getting a good cock-sucking from my wife. I could not see everything but could hear his moans and the slurping sounds emanating from the room. When Marty finally did blow his load Stacey sucked him dry. "That's a good girl," Marty told her "You know that as much as you like to suck on a cock, that doesn't make the man feel good." He proceeded to turn around. "Do you see this brown hole here?" I was about to puke when I saw what he was about to do. "You have to make your man feel good too. You have to lick this area as good as you can. The more you lick this area and the deeper you can get your tongue in the hole, the better your man will feel. Are you a good girl?" "Yes," cooed Stacey as she proceeded to give Marty a good rimming. Of course, I started getting all excited again and enjoyed watching my precious Stacey lick this fat bastard's asshole clean. Stacey must have been so horny that she just let Marty fuck her fight on the floor when he had his fill of getting his asshole cleaned. I don't know if the needed to be hypnotized from that but hearing her screams of ecstasy I can tell she was having a good time. I was so ashamed of myself that I went back into the house and pretended to be watching the ballgame when Marty and Stacey came out twenty minutes later. "So how did it go?" I timidly asked. "I don't feel any different," said Stacey. "Why don't you try a cigarette?" Marty told her. Stacey lit up a cigarette and after a few drags put it out. "I feel a little sick." Stacey said. "The taste of the wine and this brand of cigarettes don't seem to go together." "My work is done here," Marty said as he walked to the door. I followed him outside. "That is some wife you have there." Marty said as he rolled his fat body into his car. "She wore me out." To my amazement he turned the car on and started backing out of the driveway. "What about our deal? What about me?" I was almost in tears as the fat fuck just had my wife in more ways than I have had her in five years of marriage. "Oh yeah," the fat fuck said. "Just get her in bed and tell her that Marty said, 'IT'S PARTY TIME'. She will do anything you want." "Go fuck yourself," I said under my breath as he sped off laughing. I felt like a total fool. I let this fat fuck have his way and jerked off while he did it. What kind of a man was I? When I got back inside, Stacey was already in bed. I was so pissed that I just wanted to get under the covers and forget the whole thing ever happened. "So what did you think about the session?" I asked. "Do you think he did a good job?" "That guy is such a dirty smelly slob I was grossed out just to be in the same room as him. Don't ever ask someone over like that again without clearing it with me first, OK! What did he say to you as he left, I saw you two talking at the foot of the driveway." He told me to tell you, IT'S PARTY TIME!" I didn't get much sleep that night. You know, that Marty isn't such a bad guy after all. Part 2 After Alison and her family left, a new family from England immediately moved in next door to us. They were an older couple, who had a boy and a girl at university in England, and a twelve-year-old daughter still at home, Emily. Our families soon became friends, and during our next school holidays I again found myself going round next door quite often, to be looked after by Emily. Emily was to my seven-year-old mind a goddess. She had wavy sandy hair and green eyes, and a lovely nose surrounded by light freckles. Since Emily I have always been attracted by girls whose noses are freckled. But what I remember most about her is her laugh. In my memory she was always relaxed and easy-going, with a wide smile and a rich laugh, not the light giggles that so many girls have, but a real laugh, full of the joys of living. The first time I met her was when my parents invited them, as soon as they moved in, to come round to afternoon tea with us. I had no interest beforehand once I knew there were no children my own age, and then when they arrived I was immediately fascinated by this delightful happy girl who spoke, it seemed to me, with such confidence and charm, and always that big beaming smile with wide, laughing eyes. I could do little more than stare at her and watch all she did. She was very friendly to me, as indeed she seemed to be to everyone, and soon had me outside tossing a football on the lawn, as it was still too cold for swimming. Every time she caught it she would give that rich happy laugh of hers, whether my throw was good or bad, whether she caught it or not. When the Easter holidays came round, arrangements were quickly made for me to go next door again while my parents were working to be looked after by Emily, or for her to come round to our house. Emily was very happy to do it, although she had other friends and was often out with them or entertaining them. I think my parents insisted on paying her for her baby-sitting services, but she would happily have done it for nothing. She was that sort of person, and I was deeply in love for the first time in a childish, hero-worshipping way. It was strange to go round to the next-door house again with a completely different family, and of course they had made changes to the place. The weather was now warmer, so from the start I was keen to spend a lot of my time in the swimming pool. On the first morning I was there I dutifully changed into my swimsuit, knowing the family were not nudists, but by the side of the pool as I had always done with Alison. "Roy, don't you think you're old enough to use the changing rooms?" Emily asked me with a smile. I took it as a reproof, though, and fled, naked and quite upset, into the changing room. After that I always changed there whenever Emily was with me, desperately anxious always to please her - which was easy. Emily herself dressed more conservatively than other girls. She wore modest skirts of almost knee length and in the pool a two-piece costume with about twice the amount of material that the average bikini contained. But I so worshipped her that it never occurred to me to wonder what she wore underneath. She and Alison were completely different types of being from each other in my estimation then. If Emily had any minor hang-ups at all, it was about nudity, but that is almost universal among people who are not nudists, to a greater or lesser degree. I remember on one occasion we were at my house one morning and for some reason I decided to show her our family photo albums. I snuggled up next to her on the sofa, feeling as comfortable as I did with my own mother with her soft warm body next to mine. Our albums contain a majority of nude photos, as that is just how we live our private lives together. There was my favourite photo of myself just coming out of the swimming pool, grinning and naked, with water dripping off every part of me, penis included. There was another of me aged about three, urinating in the garden, concentrating intently on putting my fountain as high as I could. There were more than one of me lying on a sun lounger, penis flopping back up against my body. And there was a glorious one of me smearing my naked body with mud and my white penis standing out brilliantly in the sunshine because for some reason at the moment the photo was taken it was the only part of my lower body I had not yet coated. I thought Emily would be as delighted with the photo albums as she was with everything else I showed her, but I soon sensed she was uncomfortable with it. "Why are there so many pictures of you - naked?" she asked, wrinkling up her nose with perplexity. "Well, we live like that," I said, suddenly remembering that not everybody was a nudist. "We don't wear clothes when we're by ourselves. So my dad just takes photos of us like that." She seemed to accept this, but when we came to some photos of my parents, also naked, she seemed uncomfortable again. "I don't think you should show me these photos of your parents," she said. "They won't mind," I assured her, quite truthfully. "Well, I don't think I want to see them, really," she answered, although kindly, getting up and leaving me. I felt quite hurt at having offended her. I had the idea, at that age, that there were two different kinds of people, nudists and what we nudists often call 'textiles' - those unenlightened people who insist on wearing clothes when they don't have to. My kind of people were nudists and I actually found it difficult to relate to them with clothes on, expect for my family, as I was used to them in both situations. I often failed to recognise people from our club when I met them in town or anywhere else with clothes on, and felt embarrassed speaking to them. Textiles seem to find it even more embarrassing meeting anybody at all without their clothes on, and they don't grow out of it, as I did. At that age, I viewed textiles rather as if they were a race of aliens who were somehow inhabiting the same planet, but with whom we had to coexist peacefully. I met them every day at school, and I was at first amazed to find that they looked just like us when naked. I soon discovered that they viewed nudity, and to an extent even the display of underwear, as something almost shameful and bad, except in certain designated areas like swimming pool changing rooms. Unfortunately these aliens ruled the world, but they did at least allow my minority race to be as naked as we liked, just as long as they never had any contact with us when we were in that condition. Emily was an alien, a textile, and I viewed her differently. If she had been a nudist and I had seen her naked from the start, I would never have noticed her body any more than I noticed her toes, for example. Clothes were a bit of an unfortunate barrier between us, although not a great one. It just prevented me from enjoying the special intimacy I have always had with fellow nudists. I begged her to come with us to the club, but she just laughingly shook her head and said it was not for her. It may be hard to understand, but at the age of seven I never thought of or visualised her naked at all, even though I wanted her to be one of us, and wished I could swim and play with her while I was naked myself. We had different lifestyles, and while I was with her I had to adhere to the foreign lifestyle, all the time wishing we could share mine. But she was a different being, and I just had to accept that. Which I did, until the day when a minor incident changed everything. As I said earlier, Emily wore quite long dresses, almost down to her knees, and they were made of quite solid material, so they didn't flap around in the wind like many skirts do. If I had ever seen her panties before the day in question, I was never aware of it. I can recall sitting opposite her on the grass many times while we talked or played, with her skirt over her crossed legs, but could never remember her showing her panties when she sat down or rose. Nor did she ever push it down to make sure she was hiding them, or anything like that, or I would have noticed. She was completely natural with her skirt, and it just so happened with the type of skirts or dresses she wore and the way she moved, I had never noticed anything. At the naïve age of seven, I had also never for a moment thought about her underwear at all. After all, she was of an alien race, even though I adored her so much. One day, after we had known each other for the best part of a year, I was in her family's swimming pool early in the morning, just after our parents had left for work. Emily did not swim, as it was now the autumn and she said the water was too cold for her until later in the day. But I was swimming, doing tricks and saying, "Watch this, Emily," all the time as children of that age do, while she applauded. She was such a positive person, always interested in everything that concerned me, and very encouraging, which made me love her all the more. Suddenly I noticed a little brown frog floating around in the pool. I thought it was dead at first, but when I touched it, it wriggled. "Emily, look at this frog," I said, picking it up and wading over to the side of the pool towards her. I put it down on the side of the pool to see if it would hop away, but it just sat there, sides pulsating. Interested, as she always was in everything in her joyous life, Emily came over to look. Her normal way of looking at anything on the ground was to kneel down, knees on the ground, and look at it that way, a method that reveals nothing. As she came to look at the frog, she was about to do that, but saw that the cement around the pool was soaked with water. In fact, there was a slight depression there and the water had formed a shallow pool. Not wanting to deposit her knees and possibly some of her skirt as well - she was wearing a heavy-duty fawn-coloured skirt that day - in the water, she quite unselfconsciously squatted on her heels instead, knees spread apart to give her a better view of the little frog just in front of her as she lowered her head. I suddenly realised, from my position in the pool, that for the very first time I could see right up her skirt. She was looking at the frog, but I felt as if I had been turned to stone. I had just been presented with the most glorious vision, one that came out of a completely different dimension, one that was so far beyond my experience that I had never imagined it. Emily to me was a goddess, a completely different kind of creature. In a nudist camp I would never have thought anything of it had we been naked together. Here, completely out of context and completely beyond my powers of thought or imagination at my age, it was earth-shattering. It was as if I had opened the door of our gloomy garden shed and walked straight into heaven itself. At first I just saw her bent knees, with her slim calves spread out on either side. Then, without consciously meaning to, I looked in between them. It was in shadow underneath her skirt, which I saw hanging down in the middle, between her knees, but not very far. Then my eyes dropped to see the sunshine sparkling on the cement and behind it the grass, between her heels and under the back of her skirt. In between, in shadow, I could see the smooth curve of her bottom, with an indentation in the middle. It was encased in plain white panties, the smooth hems, no lace or frills, curving round her thighs and meeting in the middle, with a slight bulge, just as I had noticed my underpants did when they came up against my then tiny testicles. Her thighs were beautifully curved right up to the edge of her panties and I could see they were covered with tiny fair hairs. I can still remember every tiny detail as if I were seeing it now, even the slight creases in the material of her panties where her bottom stopped and her mound began, and the slight parting of the material at the sides by the crotch between the tendons, but with only black inside. For the first time I realised that Emily was actually human after all. I stared at those gloriously plain smooth white panties, mouth wide open I'm sure, and it was too much for me. My penis spurted long and hard into my swimsuit, and I instinctively grabbed it. "Poor little thing," I heard Emily say smilingly, as if from a distance. She reached down her cupped hands and picked the frog up gently. Then she stood, her fawn-coloured skirt dropping down over her thighs again, and the vision was gone. Once again she was the beautiful if well-clad Emily, but inside me all was different. She took the frog over and placed it gently on the grass, then turned back to me. I must have looked like a complete zombie, because she looked at me, laughed and said, "What's up with you, Roy?" I shook myself metaphorically to my senses. Then I said, "Uh - I've gotta go to the toilet." "I thought you went before you swam," she smiled at me, puzzled, as I hauled myself out of the pool. "I need to go again," I said, grabbing my towel, clutching my penis with one hand and drying myself cursorily with the other. Then I hobbled off inside. I spent quite some time in the toilet, suffering an attack of diarrhoea as well, quite overcome as I was with the splendour I had just so unexpectedly seen. Emily was human after all! I loved her all the more for it, and was almost overcome with the desire to see more. I was in there so long that Emily came to check that I was all right. I had left the door open, but she just stood next to it and called, with unnecessary caution. "I've got diarrhoea," I told her. "You can come in." That was hardly an exciting invitation under the circumstances, and she said she would wait for me outside, since I needed no help. Having just had a share of intimacy with her, unbeknown to herself, I wanted to share myself with her, to let her see me naked. When I had finally finished, I walked outside again stark naked, carrying my swimsuit. Emily gasped when she saw me, and I held it out to her, saying, "I got some diarrhoea on my swimsuit. Where can I wash it?" "Roy, don't come outside - naked!" exclaimed Emily, with a reproving smile. "I had to because I had nothing to wear," I explained. "But I don't mind you seeing me." As she led me to a garden tap, I added, "Please may I swim naked? It's such fun!" This was the first time I had dared to ask, but my passion for intimacy led me to risk her disapproval. "No, you mustn't swim naked," Emily replied, turning the tap on for me. "It's my parents' pool and they wouldn't allow it." "Then let's go and use our pool," I suggested, scrubbing out my swimsuit. "We always swim naked in there. Except when we have visitors. Please, Emily. Let's do it! You'll see! It's such fun and my parents will let us." I looked at her pleadingly. "What do you mean, 'we'?" she laughed. "I don't want to swim naked!" "Well, I do, and I'm allowed in our own pool," I begged. "Please, Emily." "Oh, all right, I suppose," she laughed. "Let's do it now!" I urged. And within ten minutes I was swimming naked again in our own swimming pool. Although I had now persuaded Emily to let me swim naked, and I felt a sense of special intimacy in allowing her to see all she wanted of my nudity, she would not be persuaded to swim naked herself. In fact, she wouldn't even swim with me at all as long as I was naked, for reasons she wouldn't explain. I think she just felt too awkward about it. If I wanted her to swim with me, I had to be wearing my swimsuit. I did once try to trick her, as we went into the pool together and I removed my swimsuit when she wasn't looking. But as soon as she saw what I had done, she got out of the pool and laughingly reproved me. In my longing for intimacy with her, which at that age virtually began and ended with the sight of nudity, I kept my eyes eagerly open for another sight of her panties. I tried what I had done with Alison, talking to her from the pool while she was at the side, which happened whenever I decided to swim naked. But her skirts were long enough to hide anything secret. I kept alert whenever we sat down opposite each other on the grass, but so neatly did she sit that I got nothing more than a very occasional flash of white. She was too old to indulge in the revealing kind of activities that younger girls often do, such as playing on the climbing frames or doing handstands or cartwheels or things like that. I was feeling very frustrated when suddenly, at the start of the new school year, things changed. I was going into third grade at school, which meant longer school hours, so that I finished school at the same time as Emily in the high school. Before, my mother had made a special journey to fetch me at the end of school, since I was not yet considered old enough to walk or cycle home. Now, since it was so much more convenient, it was decided that Emily should collect me every day and go home with me. It was January, the coldest month, although in this Mediterranean climate only December to February can really be classified as cold months, months when the weather was often cloudy and rainy and it was not pleasant to swim. Emily and I often had sport in the afternoons when the weather was suitable, and since it was generally cold we wore our blue school tracksuits to go home. Then, in about the third week of term, we had a warmer, sunnier day and I didn't bother or need to put my tracksuit on. It didn't occur to me that Emily might feel the same way, and I was standing by the school gate looking among the crowds for Emily in her familiar blue tracksuit when suddenly I heard her voice next to me, "Hello, Roy." I looked up in surprise, and realised that I hadn't recognised her. Instead of her tracksuit, she was wearing a short white dress, with a wide dark blue stripe around the bottom. It looked a good forty centimetres shorter than I had seen her wearing before, although obviously it couldn't have been that much, and I must have gaped at the large expanse of slim white thigh that rarely made a daylight appearance. Yes, there was a definite steady lightening of shade from her knees upwards. Right now there were only a few centimetres of material hanging down from her bottom. "Didn't recognise me?" Emily laughed at me. "I usually have my tracksuit on over my tennis dress." "No," I gasped in answer to her question. I stared at her dress, and suddenly wondered if this could be the day for some more intimacy. "Why, it 's - I mean, it's short," I blurted out. Emily seemed quite unembarrassed. "Well, I can't run around the tennis court in my ordinary dresses because they're too long and heavy. They get in the way," she explained. "So we need to wear shorter ones for tennis." I felt rather lost for words as we walked home together, Emily pushing her bicycle, which she was quite happy to do. She cycled to school in the morning while one of my parents would drop me off in the car on their way to work. I felt my heart thumping within me as I realised that the gates of paradise were only a short skirt-length away. I had another astounding discovery when I found out that, from the back, it was possible to see the outline of her bra under her white dress. It had never before occurred to my seven-year-old mind to wonder whether she wore one at all, and in my naivety I had never wondered or noticed what stage her breasts had reached. We reached home without anything exciting happening. Emily's skirt remained obstinately covering her upper thighs and there were no helpful gusts of wind. In desperation I said, "Emily, it's warmer today, so may we play a bit before it gets dark, please?" "Oh, Roy, I wish I could, but I have a whole lot of homework to do, I'm afraid," she replied. "But it would be great on Friday afternoon." The school closes at lunchtime on Fridays, but we had no sport then, so Emily would not be wearing that dress. In desperation I said, "Well, please - could I come in with you for just two minutes? I - I've got some work I want to show you. And ask you about." It was fortunate that I did have some good work to show her and we were also starting some British history about which I could ask her. "Sure, all right," Emily laughed light-heartedly. "Just a few minutes, though." Hoping desperately that something would happen before I was forced to leave, I turned in at her gate with her. Emily first took her bicycle to the shed. I stood behind her as she used her foot to put the stand down. Then it happened. One of the pedals got in the way of the stand, and after a fruitless nudge at it with her foot, Emily bent down for a moment to push it out of the way. She had her back to me, and as she bent I had a heavenly view of a few centimetres of panties emerging beneath the hem of her dress. They were plain, thin and white, showing the rounded shape of her lovely slim bottom. Then, all too quickly, she stood up again and we left the shed, Emily completely unaware of the thrill that she had shot through me and was in danger of affecting my bowels again. Her parents were seated around a garden table, enjoying a drink after just arriving home from work. Emily greeted them, and they also greeted me. Then Emily sat down on one of the chairs, and as she did so, for a split second, the side of her skirt caught on the chair arm and there was an instantaneous flash of white panties, from the side this time. My heart felt as if it was going to burst as I sat down next to her and my fumbling fingers struggled to open my satchel. "Roy, are you all right today?" Emily's mother asked me. "You're looking rather flushed." "Yes, yes, I'm fine," I gasped out, adding, "Maybe it's just the hot sun today." This led to some comments on the weather, and I showed Emily my books but could not think of too much to ask her about William the Conqueror. I tried to spin it out in the hope of more visions of delight, but after about five minutes Emily said, "I'm sorry, Roy, but I really have to be getting on with my work now." I thanked her and left slowly, glancing back a couple of times to see if I could see anything more, but to my intense frustration Emily was leaning towards me as she bent over to pick up her suitcase and so I could see nothing. Her father was perfectly placed had he been interested. It was just my luck, I thought, while admitting I had not come away empty-handed. When I arrived home I headed straight for the toilet and more diarrhoea as my bowels again failed to handle the strain. My homework was a disaster as I was unable to concentrate on it in the slightest, and I broke a tumbler at the table that night. I never knew when I might have another chance with Emily in that dress. Then, as I lay in bed that night, I hatched a cunning plan. The next day was gloomy and damp, and to my disappointment Emily was wearing her tracksuit again as she picked me up after school. On the way home I asked her, "Do you play tennis in your tracksuit when it's cold like this?" "Oh, no," she laughed. "We soon warm up when we start playing. But I put my tracksuit on as soon as I've finished." On the way home I deliberately asked Emily questions about tennis, pretending to show a keen interest in the game. I waited until we were almost home before I put my plan into operation. "Emily," I said. "I want to learn how to play tennis properly. Will you teach me, please?" "Oh, Roy, I think you'll have to learn a bit at school first," she answered. "I don't know how to teach beginners." "I'm not quite a beginner," I protested. "I've played a bit with my dad, and I can hit the ball over the net. Please, Emily. I'd love you to teach me." One of the nice things about Emily was that she hardly ever said no when pressed. Nude bathing was a rare and regrettable exception. So she said slowly, "Well, I do go to extra tennis lessons at school on Saturday mornings. If you come along with me and wait until we finish, the school courts will still be open and we can try." I could hardly wait until Saturday morning. Again it was gloomy, but it wasn't raining and the school had all-weather courts. Emily and I walked together to the high school in our tracksuits, her lessons due to last from ten until eleven. There were six girls in Emily's group, and her tennis coach, a rather elderly woman, readily agreed to Emily's request that we stay for a while afterwards and play on another court, and suggested I might make myself useful during the lessons as a ball-boy rather than simply watch. I agreed, and followed the girls into the little pavilion. There we all took off our tracksuits and put on our tennis shoes. I had not been anticipating this, and was already seated next to Emily before I realised what she was doing. She removed her tracksuit top, and then stood momentarily to pull down her bottoms. Sitting, she lifted her legs one by one to pull it off over her feet. Then she did the same to change from her street shoes into her tennis shoes. Being girls, they were chattering all the time, and I was frustratedly aware that if I had been standing in front of Emily I would have seen a great deal. But I could not move without making my intentions obvious. I had to grit my teeth and change as they were doing. I did have some good views of the other girls, who for the most part completely ignored me. On one of the side benches a tall dark-haired girl showed me some attractive white panties as she lifted her legs to change out of her tracksuit and also to put on her tennis shoes. There was a squeal and a giggle from a plump girl called Lucy, whose tight tracksuit pulled her panties halfway down over her bottom as she removed them, and she had to pull them up again quickly. Then it was out on to the courts, and I found myself in the handy position of being behind the girls to collect the balls as they were hit past them. I positioned myself behind Emily, and was soon rewarded as she stretched for a high ball and her skirt went up with her arms, allowing me to see the hem of those same sort of plain white panties - in fact, I never knew her wear another kind. My best views came when she had to go and pick up a ball by the net, and her skirt slid up at the back every time she bent down to do so. Some of the other girls were even more revealing. The bigger girls tend to move their dresses more when they bend or stretch, and virtually every time the plump Lucy hit a ball she flashed her pink panties behind. A black-haired local girl called Maria wore a particularly short skirt, and it was often possible, even when she was standing still, to see her frilly panties peeping out from under her hem. Once she fell over as she went for a ball, amid laughter from everyone including her, and I could see well-frilled panties right up to her navel. Local girls are much less fussy about underwear, and for a moment she even lifted her skirt and pulled the hem of those panties up at the side to see if she had grazed herself. At last the practice was over, and Emily took me to a nearby court for our game. This extra practice, which we continued every Saturday when it wasn't raining, turned out to be a mere accessory to Emily's lessons, as she spent most of our extra time facing me and hitting balls to me, and I saw very little compared to the glorious views I had of all the girls from behind. I think I was pretty good for my age and soon managed to hit all the gentle balls, at least, back over the net. After an hour or so it was time to go home. We returned to the pavilion, and as Emily sat down on the bench I immediately sat on the ground in front of her, the better to ask all the questions I could think of about how I was doing and how to improve. She saw nothing at all unusual in my sitting there taking off my tennis shoes, although this time she bent forward to undo her laces and pull her shoes off, and only lifted her legs to place them in her street shoes. I enjoyed these glimpses, and the best came when she lifted her legs, talking to me as she did so, to pull up her tracksuit bottoms. I had two beautiful views, one for each leg, of the gusset of her panties. I felt very warm inside as we walked home, and she must have thought I was strangely silent all of a sudden. This Saturday routine was something we continued throughout that term, and I made the most of my only chances to enjoy a degree of intimacy with the unsuspecting Emily, as well as the other girls in her group. One Saturday morning it was raining, tennis was cancelled and I was bitterly disappointed. It was strange. After that I knew two Emilys. One was non-sexual, delightful, worshipful and divine, in her long skirts that aroused no passions. The other, wearing a tennis dress, was just as delightful, but somehow vulnerable and certainly capable of arousing my passions. I felt completely different when I was with one from when I was with the other. And for the first time I started wondering what she looked like underneath. I never expected to see her naked, although when she was in her tennis dress I fantasised in my childish way about what she looked like underneath. She wouldn't come to our nudist club, and even if she had agreed I'm sure her parents wouldn't have let her. Whenever we were visiting friends, whether nudist or not, I always asked my parents if Emily could come too. Usually the answer was no because she hadn't been invited, but with a more open invitation or people we were especially familiar with, it was possible to invite Emily, and she was sometimes able to come. That is, as long as we were not visiting another nudist family. My parents said it would not be right to ask her anywhere where we were going to be naked because she was completely unused to that sort of lifestyle and would be embarrassed, and her parents would be likely to disapprove anyway. Things were different during the winter. It was too cold for nudity, except around the house. The skies were usually grey and it often rained. It was February, about a month after I had started my tennis lessons with Emily on Saturdays. One Sunday we were due to visit some nudist friends who lived on a small farm and the weather was poor. "Please may Emily come with us," I begged my parents, as always. "The weather is too cold for us to be naked, and she'd like playing with Kim." The couple had two children. Kim was aged eleven, tall, quite dark and sensible and mature in behaviour, so I was sure she would get on well with Emily. The other was Kevin, who was slightly older than I, but he was small with light brown hair and grey eyes. I got on very well with them both, and they were of course members of our club. My parents looked at each other. Then my father said, "Well, I suppose so, but we can't decide until Saturday. If the weather is good, then we will want to take our clothes off, and it wouldn't be right for Emily to come then." I felt I was in a win-win situation. If the weather was bad, Emily would come, and if it was good, I could at least enjoy playing in the nude with my two good friends. Then I remembered I had better prepare Emily in case she made other arrangements. So I told her we might be going out on Sunday and got her to ask permission to come with us if, as I put it, we decided to go. Her parents usually agreed when she was invited to go anywhere with us, and this was no exception. I told her I would let her know early on Sunday morning what we decided to do. Sunday dawned damp and gloomy. With my parents' approval, I raced round to Emily's house to tell her. The family were actually having a lie-in, and it took several minutes for somebody to answer the doorbell. Eventually Emily came to the door, wearing a long pink dressing gown that I hadn't seen before - I had never seen her in any sleepwear before and it hadn't occurred to my seven-year-old mind to wonder what she did wear to sleep in. I never actually found out, but I was sure she wasn't naked like us. I told Emily the trip was on, and asked her to come round to our house at nine-thirty. "Yes, thanks, Roy," she smiled at me. "I hope this weather clears up later on. I'm surprised you're going with the weather like this." The thought came to me: what if the weather did clear up? Would we be able to go naked, Emily as well? Then common sense told me that it was more likely that Emily's presence was more likely to stop us all from stripping off, and in any case she was hardly likely to strip off in front of strangers when she wouldn't even swim naked in the swimming pool. Still, I allowed myself to fantasise excitedly. The weather seemed so set that neither my parents nor myself had considered it would clear up. We drove out of town in a steady drizzle. Emily was wearing a longer skirt than usual in the cooler weather, as it covered her knees, and we were all wearing jerseys. Emily and I sat in the back seat, along with baby Jenny, and we talked as usual, as I told Emily all about the farm we were visiting, without mentioning the nude swimming we so often enjoyed in the pool or the nude tennis we played - oh, no! I had forgotten to tell her we played tennis there, or she might have come in her little tennis dress . . . But no, thinking again, she would have worn her tracksuit instead in the car, and the courts would be too wet to play anyway. It took us over an hour to drive to the farm, and to our surprise the weather did show signs of clearing up. A blustery wind blew up, and every now and then there were patches of blue sky, quickly blown away by the scudding low clouds. But there was still a cool wind blowing when we arrived at the farm, although by now the sky was half-clear. My parents must have been wondering if they made the right decision in allowing Emily to join us. When we arrived, Emily and Kim soon got on well, as I had expected, while I was soon enjoying Kevin's company as usual. Having spent most of the day so far in the cool outdoors, both farm children were wearing jeans. As we went inside, the grown-ups were as usual talking about the weather. "We've had a lot of rain here in the last month," Uncle Bob, the farmer, was saying. "Almost more than we need. We haven't seen the sun much, but in the last two or three days the weather has been clearing up nicely in the afternoon and it's been quite hot. So we've been able to get back to nature again at last." Emily was talking to Kim, and so didn't hear this last part. I could tell my parents were regretting inviting her, though, and my dad said, "Why don't you children go off and play, and we'll call you when we're ready for morning tea?" With hindsight, I suspect he wanted to explain the situation about Emily to our hosts. Kim led us along the passage to her bedroom, as it was still not very pleasant outside, mainly due to the wind. We talked and played there for a while before we were called for morning tea, which was quite a feast. After that, Kim and Kevin showed us round the farm buildings that were close to the house, and we had a bit of fun in the hayloft especially. It was while we were eating lunch that the weather really started to improve. The wind dropped and most of the clouds disappeared. It was soon becoming pleasantly warm. After lunch Uncle Bob said to us, "Well, we grown-ups would like the afternoon to ourselves, so we suggest you children would like to take a picnic to the hill." There was a very interesting hill on the farm, about which I had already told Emily, where there were a lot of rocks and fascinating places to explore, along with quite a bit of wildlife, none of it dangerous. "I want to swim," put in Kevin. "Not just yet," Uncle Bob said, and I suspected the adults had made a plan to swim and sunbathe naked themselves, perhaps even play nude tennis if the courts were dry enough, and thought it best to have Emily out of the way. "Don't come back before four o'clock, all right? That gives you three hours. We can talk about swimming then." Kevin grumbled a bit, but the rest of us were happy enough. "Change into some more suitable clothes, you two," Aunt Bessie advised Kim and Kevin. She whispered something into Kim's ear, and I was sure she was instructing her that we were not to take our clothes off on this occasion. We went off to the bedrooms, Kevin chattering excitedly to Emily about the hill, telling her just what I had already told her. Then he nipped into his bedroom to grab a pair of shorts from the drawer, and I followed him. He quickly whipped off his jeans and then, still carrying his shorts, he marched into Kim's bedroom to continue informing Emily about their hill. Kim was wearing only her snowy white panties, taking a dress out of the wardrobe to wear. Emily turned round and said, "Roy, maybe you should go with Kevin to his bedroom until Kim has changed." "Oh, no, I don't mind," Kim said in a rather surprised tone as she shut the wardrobe door. "Roy and I are used to each other." "My underpants are brown because I get them dirty on the farm and my mum says the dirt won't show so much if they're brown," Kevin told Emily, showing her his little briefs before continuing to talk about the hill and putting his shorts on at the same time. Here was a clash of cultures that Emily found rather uncomfortable. In her world, boys and girls did not change in each other's presence - not when they were her age anyway, and she had taken a while to get used to my willingness to change clothes or strip off in her presence, even at my younger age. When the farm children had changed, we left the house, with the sun now shining warmly, warmly enough to go naked had we the choice. There was a well-defined path to the hill. First we wound our way through the farm buildings and the path, mainly through non-arable land, was before us, stretching through the scrubby bush. Kevin raced on ahead, calling me to keep up with him. I would rather have stayed with Emily, but she and Kim were so busy talking I didn't have too much chance, so I ran on after Kevin. The path led gradually downhill, into a little valley, before sloping upwards on the far side. The last time we had visited them there had been a dry riverbed running through it, but I was surprised to see there was quite a strong stream flowing now. I had forgotten it was a seasonal stream that usually ran between about January and May. "Come and see," Kevin urged me, pointing downstream, to our left. He turned and waved at Kim and Emily, quite a distance behind now. "We're going down to the pool!" he shouted, jumping up and down and pointing. Kim shouted something back, but we couldn't hear her. I followed Kevin down the bank of the stream. We scrambled over rocks and along the bank, with the water only about ten centimetres below it at the lowest points, the highest I had ever seen it. We rounded a corner and the stream took a sudden downward path, splashing and rushing over the rocks and forming a wide pool at the bottom. I had been there when it was dry, but hadn't thought what it would be like with water in it. "Our water hole!" shouted Kevin. "Let's swim!" He went to a clear place by the bank and began throwing off his clothes. I found myself in a dilemma. I very much wanted to swim as well, but knew my parents might disapprove if I did so in Emily's presence. They didn 't know about my swimming naked in our own pool when Emily was there. Or was their reluctance only concerned with adults? Would they mind if just we children swam together? Surely not, I convinced myself. I decided I would make that my excuse if any trouble arose, so I quickly threw off my clothes and joined Kevin in the pool. We swam and splashed, but very quickly heard an urgent call from Kim. She was standing above us at the top of the rapids. Emily came up behind her, handicapped for speed with her longer skirt. Her face registered surprise as she looked down on us two naked boys. "Kevin!" Kim called with some agitation. "Mum said we mustn't swim here today!" Kevin looked surprised. "She didn't tell me," he replied, with a ring of truth. "Why not?" "Well - Emily's a visitor," explained Kim rather uncomfortably. She didn't know what else to say. "It doesn't matter with Emily," I put in cunningly. "She doesn't mind. She lets me swim naked at my home. She won't tell about us, will you, Emily?" Kim looked uncertainly at Emily, who was still looking rather startled. I added, "Emily's a good sport. She won't mind." "Is it - all right, Emily?" Kim asked hesitantly. "Sure it's all right, isn't it, Emily?" I urged her, climbing out of the water towards her and adding to the pressure on her. Emily's expressive face registered uncertainty, but in the end she said, "I guess so. If you all want to." And she gave her familiar big smile. Kim started undressing, and then turned to Emily, as she still stood there rather awkwardly. "Aren't you joining us?" she asked her. "Well, no, I don't really like swimming - naked," Emily smiled awkwardly at her. "But you don't mind us swimming naked, then?" asked Kim. "We always do it here, and we're quite private." "No, it's all right. You go ahead," smiled Emily, gradually coming to accept it. "I guess your parents didn't want you to swim here because of me. But I won't tell anyone." "Thanks, Emily," Kim smiled at her, stepping out of her panties now and preparing to jump in. "But I feel bad about having you not being able to swim." "No, I'm all right," Emily assured her. "I'll just sit here and watch." She sat down carefully on the uneven rocks, her skirt hanging down under her legs. I was at a lower level, and I remember thinking that even if she had her normal length skirt on, I might have been able to see those panties I lusted after. Kim joined us in the pool and we had a great time splashing around and playing with each other. Then, after a few minutes, Kevin called up to Emily, "Aw, Emily, come and join us. It's such fun!" I looked up at Emily. She had moved down and was now sitting on the bank, trailing her feet in the water. She certainly looked hot. She smiled, and then said, "Well, I suppose I can swim in my underwear." Nervously she stood up and started to unbutton her blouse. Suddenly my heart started pumping uncontrollably and my bladder felt tight. "Ooh," I exclaimed and sat down suddenly on a rock in shallow water on the far side of the pool. "I've hurt my foot on something," I lied. I pretended to examine it, but all the time I was keeping an eye on Emily. As Emily unbuttoned her blouse, I could see her flesh underneath, and some white material across the middle. I was seeing her bra directly for the first time, though I had often seen it less clearly through the white top of her tennis dress. She looked nervously in my direction and I quickly switched my eyes to my foot. When I thought it was safe, I glanced up again and saw her peel off her blouse, revealing a small plain white bra underneath. I noticed her face was slightly flushed as she went through what to her was the embarrassment of removing her skirt. She undid the buttons at the side and then slipped it off, giving me a full view of her panties, also plain white, for the first time. Kim and Kevin were taking no notice at all. Suddenly Emily looked at me again, and I couldn't turn away in time on this occasion. So I quickly blurted out, "Emily, my foot hurts and I can't see anything wrong with it." Emily seemed to accept my complaint as genuine, and replied, "Well, bring it here and I'll have a look at it for you." I waded through the pool towards her, remembering to limp. She sat down on the side and I sat next to her, my supposedly injured foot on her lap, which was bare for the first time. She stared at the area of my foot I pointed out to her, while I feasted my eyes on my goddess in her underwear. "I can't see anything, Roy," she said after a minute. "Maybe you just bruised it." "It feels a bit better now," I said. Then I smiled up at her. "I'm so glad you're coming to play with us. Come." I pulled at her hand and she stood up and waded after me. "Emily, if you get your underwear wet, you'll give us all away," warned Kim, who was lying at the bottom of the rapids and letting the water splash all over her naked body. "Oh, yes, you're right," agreed Emily. "My parents would soon wonder why they were wet. I'd better not go in properly, then." "Ah, Emily," I groaned, looking up at her with disappointment, and Kevin joined in. Emily looked around at us all having fun and looking at her with disappointment and an expression came over her face that I couldn't identify. There was a pregnant pause, and then she suddenly laughed and said, "Oh, I suppose I really am being a bit silly about it." My heart suddenly pounded fit to burst as she put up her arms and began to pull off her bra. Once Emily had decided, she was going through with it. Suddenly the hang-up she had grown up with fell away. She was smiling as she removed her bra, revealing half-grown breasts that were just a little larger than the chest of a muscular boy, and nipples close to normal boy size. The breasts looked firm and white, beautifully shaped. I gazed with my mouth open, but she now seemed quite oblivious of anybody looking at her. Then she sat down on the bank to remove her panties. As she lifted one leg and then the other, I stared in awe at her long slender vagina, half-covered with a lining of darkish hair all the way up, sprouting into a slightly larger patch at the top. During the next year I was to see it thicken until her vagina was hardly visible any longer, and her breasts deepen. Then she came in to join us, and it was heaven as for the first time I was able to play in the freedom of complete nudity with my goddess. We splashed and laughed and frolicked together until we were exhausted. Then when we were tired we lay down together side by side in the flowing water and let it wash over our bodies, cold though it was. I suddenly realised that, although every contour of Emily's beautiful naked body was now stored inside my memory bank, I really had no idea of what Kim and Kevin looked like when naked. I had been so used to them, as fellow-nudists, that it had never meant anything to me. Thinking unlike a nudist for the first time with them, I visually examined their bodies as we all lay there. Kim had quite a lovely body, still largely undeveloped, with her little nipples just protruding slightly in little points from her almost flat chest. Her vagina was long and slim, and there were little fair hairs at the top that would soon lengthen, darken and spread. Kevin of course showed no signs of puberty, and in the cold water his scrotum had shrivelled up into a tiny little bag under a cold-looking pale pink penis, with the foreskin rolled back and the tiny prepuce visible. I had never consciously noticed any of this before. I leaned against Emily in the water, feeling her strong firm half-grown breast under my shoulder. I turned my head to plant a delicate kiss on her soft warm cheek. "Thanks for joining us, Emily," I whispered. "This is great." Emily laughed gently. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" she smiled. "Funny how I was scared of it for so long, thought it would be wrong. Just the way I' ve grown up, I suppose." After that, Emily and I swam and played naked together in the swimming pool at my house, though she never wanted to do so at her own house. I was heartbroken when the family returned to England a year later. We kept in touch now and then, and I now hear she is likely to be engaged soon. I can still recognise her happy smiling face on the photos we get occasionally. I'm not jealous. I never thought seriously of marrying her. To me she was always a goddess, and I loved her all the more when my goddess became human. Part 3 When I was nine years old my family made some new friends. An expatriate family came out from England for the father to take up a temporary post at the same company where my father was working. They bought an old rambling house on the other side of town and immediately decided that it needed renovation. Both of my parents are actually very interested in reconstruction and interior decorating, and my father offered to help them with their plans and perhaps even some of the work. So it was for this reason that we started visiting their house very regularly for a while. I was encouraged by the news that the family had twins, a boy and a girl, about a year younger than myself. I got on well with most other children and was eager to make new friends. My immediate impression of them, the first time we arrived at their house and I met them, was what a strange family they were, although that was probably the last word they would have used to describe themselves. Our community in this country is usually very modern, very relaxed and informal in the way we behave and the way we dress. For most of the year we wear shorts, even to work for many adults, or short summer dresses and skirts, although this first visit took place in January. January in this country is the coldest and wettest month, although because of its position by the Mediterranean Sea I am told it is no worse than a rather poor May in Britain. Most days we need to wear jerseys and long trousers out of doors, and we get quite a few drizzly days. For most of the rest of the year the rainfall, when we get it, comes in storms. It is only a short period of cooler weather, and by the middle of February we can usually put the jerseys away almost completely until December. So we were less casually dressed than usual on that particular day, as both my dad and I wore long trousers and jerseys and my mother a thicker calf-length dress with stockings, which she rarely wears. My sister Jenny, still little more than a baby then, was with us, and I can't remember what she was wearing. So when we first saw the Fothergay family I thought they were just dressed up for the cold. It was an old house and did not yet have the electronic security gates that are so common in our community. We arrived to find that the ordinary gates there were open and the family were all actually waiting for us at the end of the drive. We were a few minutes late and I presume they had been waiting for us since the time arranged, as we discovered how much store they set by timekeeping. They were all immaculately dressed, the boy and his father in jackets with ties, and the girl and her mother in longer dresses, also with stockings. They were much more smartly dressed than we were, though, and my mother later said she felt embarrassed by it. On subsequent trips she dug out some of her best clothes, rarely worn, and tried to persuade my father and me to do the same. Fortunately my father resisted and persuaded my mother not to doll me up too much either. "Good afternoon, Mr Smith," he greeted my father, very formally, instead of the usual 'Rob' that everybody else uses. ('Smith' is not our real name but I must preserve my anonymity!) It was quite a while before my dad managed to get him on first-name terms. He introduced his wife and, when we got out of the car, the twins, Andrew and Catherine. There didn't seem any likelihood that they would be called Andy and Cathy for short. They were as formal as their father, but I must say all four were pleasant. They were standing there beside their parents, immaculately dressed, Andrew's hair parted neatly and Catherine's cropped quite short and very smooth. Their feet were together and their hands by their sides. Andrew stepped forward and put out his hand, smiling. "Good morning, Roy. We're pleased to meet you," he greeted me. "How do you do?" "Hello," I grinned back, shaking his hand after a moment's hesitation. In our community adults are so informal that they rarely shake hands, and children virtually never. Then Catherine stepped forward to do the same thing, saying, "How do you do?" I wasn't sure if it was a real question or a rhetorical one, so I didn't know how to reply. They didn't look very much alike. Andrew was perhaps rather short and stocky, with light brown hair. Catherine was a little taller, as girls often are at the age we were then, and slimmer, with a sort of fairish- coloured hair, a few shades lighter than Andrew's. They both had big light brown eyes. Their mother invited us all into her lounge for afternoon tea. The house may have been rather shabby, but the furniture was pretty grand and old-fashioned. The children manoeuvred me to a large grand floral- patterned sofa and sat me in the middle of it, while they sat down one on each side and began to ask me polite questions about myself, my school and my home. This was a new experience for me. I usually found when visiting another home for the first time, the children would be too shy to do anything but ignore me at first, or else, as I would myself when host, immediately involve me in a game or activity. But these two were like little grown-ups - formal little grown-ups - perfectly mannered and polite. We had tea and cake, and it was a new experience for me to eat cake with a fork, when it wasn't even sticky. Andrew and Catherine kept talking to me ever so politely all the time, while I was too unused to this situation to do much more than give brief replies. Our parents were of course making adult talk in the background all the time, with my mother busy trying to keep Jenny quiet and still, in the absence of any realistic suggestions from the hosts. Afterwards their father suggested he showed us around the garden while it was not raining. He was obviously quite distressed that the garden was so overgrown, and there was even a ramshackle old cottage down at the far end of it. It looked a most exciting place to me, but the children told me they didn't play outside, except on a small patch of proper lawn by the house, because it was too overgrown and 'dangerous'. No doubt their parents had fed them the common British stories of how dangerous Mediterranean lands could be, where everything was not small and cultivated like Britain. There might be snakes and scorpions, although these are almost unheard of in the city. Worst of all, it might be dirty. The discussion as to what was best to do with the property developed between our respective sets of parents as we strolled back into the house. I had no interest in it whatsoever and was longing to explore the overgrown garden. Finally their father suggested that the twins might like to take me away and play a game or something with me. This sounded rather better. The two smiled politely and Catherine asked me, "Would you like to see our rooms?" I agreed, hoping we could go on into the garden after that. Catherine was perhaps more often than not the leader of the two, but they both seemed to get on very well together all the time. They had separate bedrooms and, as I might have suspected, they were immaculate. My own was quite a mess, and I had my doubts about allowing them in if they were ever to visit us. Everything was in place, the furniture was beautiful and even the colours seemed to blend perfectly. "Would you like to play a game of Monopoly?" Catherine asked politely. That was always the way with them. I would say, "Come on, let's do this or that," or ask for ideas, but it seemed they had worked out a programme to follow. "Well, first maybe we can play a bit in your garden," I suggested. "It looks great for adventures." They looked rather shocked. Then Andrew explained, "Daddy doesn't allow us to play there. He says it's too dangerous." To cut a long story short, I couldn't get them even to want to try it. Most of my time with them, for the first three visits anyway, was, "Would you like to do a jigsaw?" or "Would you like to play chess?" or "Would you like to read a book?" or "Would you like to do a painting?" and things like that. And everything was said in such a posh plummy accent, straight from the south of England and sounding very snobbish. They were certainly far too formal, but I don't really think they were snobbish on the whole. I did enjoy those quieter sorts of activities at times, but I've always been quite an active person and felt frustrated that we couldn't have physical fun together. Even when we did these things and I made a few jokes, they would laugh politely but never joined in. And they always did these things exactly by the book, and when I pretended to cheat or occasionally got a bit cross when things didn't work out as I wanted, they seemed quite shocked. If they did badly in a game and lost, they never grumbled or complained or got cross, as I did at times, but just smiled quietly and accepted it. I did persuade them to a bit of physical activity at times. But whenever we wanted even to go outside, they would have to go to the lounge and stand by the door until their parents paused in their conversation and asked them, ever so kindly, what they wanted. Then we had to get permission to go outside. "Be careful and don't get dirty, dears," their mother would always say. Once I followed that comment, once we had gone out of earshot, by telling them about how I often played with my friends in the mud at home. They stared at me as if I had confessed to robbing the bank, and were quite embarrassed by my revelation. They had only one ball in the house and it was a beach ball. I was a keen football player, and still am, but it was hopeless trying to play football with them. Even with the two of them against me by myself, I couldn't help winning. It was obvious they were only playing out of politeness. They would go weakly for the ball and back off as soon as I had possession. We tried some chasing games, but they ran feebly and were all too easy to catch. Games like cowboys and Indians were completely out of the question, and hike and seek was not possible as they were not allowed in the wild part of the garden and they might get their clothes dirty while hiding. As a naturist I had an answer for that, but did not venture it. They had no swimming pool there, but as it was winter we could not have used it anyway. I soon found out that neither of them could even swim, a very rare shortcoming for anybody over the age of six in this country. Even when I did persuade them, when the sun was shining, to play Monopoly or whatever outside, we could not sit on the grass to play. Oh, no, we had to ask permission to borrow some small wooden chairs they had to sit on. When I asked to go to the toilet, they looked at me, rather shocked that I should use such a rude word. It was always 'the bathroom' or 'Please may I be excused'. The bathroom itself was so perfect I felt I would dirty it just by breathing in there, and the toilet itself was well hidden under a woolly seat cover. And when, on our second visit, Jenny wet her panties, there were two very embarrassed Fothergay parents, but they seemed to be embarrassed *for* us - afraid that *we* might feel humiliated by such a happening when with our lifestyle we weren't in the slightest bit bothered. The only problem was that my mother had never thought to bring a spare pair of panties for Jenny, as when with any other family we knew she would have let her run around naked. After three visits I had had enough. I wanted to be rude to them and tell them how bored I was, but they were just too polite. I would have felt a real heel. Instead I just got irritable and they tried, ever so politely, to make other suggestions, and we even tried some more football and running games, but they were just hopeless. It was no fun catching people who smiled and ran at half pace and said, "Well done, Roy," when I caught them, or "Good shot, Roy," when they feebly tried to take the ball off me and I burst through to score my umpteenth goal. They didn't even shout because their parents didn't like it. It was impossible to dislike them because they were always so pleasant, so kind and thoughtful. But it was impossible to enjoy being with them, if that makes sense. When my parents told me we were about to make a fourth visit, I complained. They thought I was too young to be left on my own, but I begged to be allowed to go to my friends' houses, as I often did while they were working. But they did not think it fair to their friends to inflict me on them at weekends as well as during the week. So off we went for the fourth time. Fortunately we had missed a week, as the previous weekend had been warm and sunny and it was warm enough then, even during the winter, to visit our nudist club out in the countryside. I think my parents too were glad of an excuse to take a break from their friends, although they found some of their formal ways rather amusing. But the weather was unsettled again the following weekend, so when the invitation came, they couldn't very well turn it down. We went dressed warmly in the cool weather. I was wearing my long trousers and the Fothergays dressed as usual. Andrew at least had given up wearing his tie now, but he wore a smart green shirt and long trousers, while Catherine wore a pink dress long enough to cover her knees. Things started off as usual. Catherine asked me in that smooth, distinct, plummy voice of hers, "Would you like to play cards?" And we went as usual to the family room at the other side of the house from the lounge to play, while the adults talked and studied plans. Andrew said in his usual polite way, "We're sorry you couldn't come last weekend." Catherine asked, "What did you do instead?" "The weather was good so we went out to our club," I explained. "What club is this?" Catherine asked. "It's a - a family club," I explained, and then stopped without offering any more detail. "A family club?" She looked interested. "What sort of things do you do there?" "Well, we - play games together and swim and have competitions and - just have fun," I answered. "It's just such a great place, with trees and a pool and a river and so much to do." I was perhaps deliberately emphasising that in contrast to the little we had to do at their house. "Are there other children there?" asked Andrew. "Yes, plenty," I answered. "I wonder if our family could join," suggested Catherine. "We'd love to go out at the weekend sometimes and we want to meet more people. We still don't know many people in this country." I suddenly realised that the little I had said was probably too much. I was afraid they might be offended at the idea of a nudist club, and even though they were boring they were also so polite that I didn't want to do that. "I don't - really think your family would like it," I said. "Why not?" asked Catherine, puzzled and perhaps a little disappointed. I thought hard, but could think of no way to avoid telling them the truth. "Well, it's - it's actually a nudist club," I told them. They stared at me. "What's a nudist club?" they asked. "Well, I - it's a - a place where people don't have to wear clothes," I stammered. "But please don't tell your parents because they might think badly of us." They both stared at me in astonishment. Then Catherine asked, "Do *you* go round naked - without clothes - too?" I suddenly decided I had nothing to be ashamed of. "Yes," I replied defiantly. "We all do - all my family. We like it that way." Andrew and Catherine stared at me again and then at each other. They gave each other a sort of a nod, as if passing a secret signal between them. I couldn't read their thoughts at all. Then Catherine said to me, "Please excuse us for a minute. We just need to talk about something." I nodded, and they slid off their chairs and slipped quietly out of their room and along the passage. I waited about two or three minutes, completely puzzled as to what they were talking about. Obviously it was something to do with what I had told them. I couldn't imagine it was anything good. Were they deciding whether to tell their parents and see if they could have this horrible, rude boy removed from their house and their company? I couldn't hear their voices at all. Then I heard their footsteps and they returned to the room. Catherine smiled politely at me and said, "Roy, instead of playing cards, would you like to play with us in the old cottage?" I was surprised and suspicious. "I thought you weren't allowed down there?" I asked. "We're allowed to go to the cottage but not into the overgrown part of the garden," Catherine told me. "Would you like to come?" This was obviously a departure from their prepared programme, and had come as a result of my startling revelation to them. It was most mysterious, and I wondered if they were playing some trick on me. But they seemed so pure and innocent, and in any case, based on experience in other fields I'm sure I could have beaten them both up together if we had any problem, that I felt I could trust them a little bit. Something different and mysterious here would be far better than the normal boring programme they had for me. So I said, "Yes, all right," but didn't expect anything interesting. I could only wonder what they were up to as we went to the lounge and they waited in the doorway for their parents' attention to ask permission. It was granted with the usual, "Be careful, then, and don't get dirty, dears," from their mother. "Do you want to take your jerseys off?" The sun was beginning to come out and warm everything up. They led me across the cultivated portion of lawn and along an old gravel path towards the cottage, which couldn't be seen from the house. "We have a special game we play there and we thought you might like to play it as well," said Catherine as we trudged down the path. I still could figure out no connection between what I had told them and their game at the cottage. "What game is this?" I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity. "We'll show you when we get there," Catherine replied with a quiet smile. I began to feel rather wary. It was actually a cottage with two floors. I hadn't been inside before, but had seen it from the outside when Mr Fothergay had shown us around the property. We went in through the old front door. It was dark and gloomy inside, with the walls dull and the windows small. But the single large room had been made into a tool shed. "Daddy keeps all his tools in here," Catherine explained. Needless to say, it was clean, swept and tidy, with everything exactly in place, or I'm sure the children wouldn't have been allowed within twenty metres of it. Andrew shut the door behind us and bolted it. "That's in case Mummy and Daddy come," he told me. "But they never come in. They just call when they want us." My suspicions began to solidify just very vaguely. At the back was a flight of stone steps leading up to the top floor. "Mummy and Daddy let us use it as a playroom," Andrew explained as I followed them up the steps. "But we don't usually take visitors here. Only special visitors." To be classified as a 'special' visitor made me completely uncertain as to whether to feel honoured or more suspicious. At the top of the steps we came out in their playroom. It was much lighter upstairs, as it was also above the level of most of the trees. There was a bed by the window with a clean mattress on it, but no bedding. There were shelves built into the walls, which had been old but had now apparently been mended by Mr Fothergay. There were books and toys, best quality only of course, on those shelves. I looked around. The twins stood there, looking as if they were waiting for something to happen. So I asked, "What game are we playing?" Catherine took the lead again. "We like to come here sometimes and play with our toys," she told me. "One of our games is called Doctors and Nurses." She went over to a shelf and took a large Barbie doll. Then she took a clothed teddy bear and gave it to Andrew. "You can take one if you like," she offered me. I didn't, having grown out if teddy bears. "I'll show you how we play," she said. She sat down on a chair next to the bed and changed her voice to sound more like a grown-ups. "Good morning, Miss Zizzingi," she said. "How are you today?" She looked up at me and said in her normal voice, "I'm the doctor, you see." Then she went on, in a different voice for the doll, "I'm not very well today, doctor. I have a pain." The dialogue continued something like this. Doctor: Where is your pain? Doll: I don't know. Doctor: Well, you must take off your clothes so I can examine you. (Doctor removes doll's clothes and lays the naked doll, naturally without genitals, on the bed and examines her all over with fingers.) Doll, as doctor probes between legs: It hurts there, doctor. Doctor: I'm afraid it's very serious. We'll have to operate. At the same time Andrew was conducting a similar dialogue with his teddy bear, undressing it and examining it. He was less thorough than Catherine and finished first, if talk of an operation was the end. Then he looked up at me and said, "Would you like to play, Roy?" "Well, I don't play with toys any more," I mumbled. The twins looked at each other. Then Catherine said rather hesitantly, "Sometimes we just play it with people." She looked again at her brother, who gave a slight nod. Then she said to me, "Would you like us to show you?" "Yes, all right," I said. My heart started fluttering a bit, as I began to get an idea of what this would involve. When they still hesitated, I added, "It sounds good. Will you show me?" They looked encouraged. Then Catherine said, "I'll be the doctor first and Andrew will be the patient. Would you like to be the nurse? You can get boy nurses because I saw one at the hospital in England. It's better when we have a nurse as well." Nursing was considered very much a female job in this country, but I gathered England was different. "All right," I said. "But you'll have to tell me what to do." "Just stand over here to start with," instructed Catherine, pointing to a spot about two metres from the bed. "Now I'm the doctor and I'm sitting at my desk." She sat on her chair again and pretended to be writing. Andrew shot me a slightly embarrassed look and went round the bed head. He knocked on the wall with a couple of dull thumps. "Come in," instructed Catherine in her doctor's voice. Andrew came round and stood in front of her. "Good morning, Mr Guildford," Catherine greeted him. "What can I do for you today? I mean, how are you today, Mr Guildford?" "Doctor, I have a pain," mumbled Andrew, looking uncomfortable. "Where is your pain?" came Catherine's doctor's voice. "I don't know, it's too sore," replied Andrew. "Well, take your clothes off and I'll have to examine you," Catherine told him. "I can't, it's too sore," answered Andrew. "Well, we'll have to help you," said Caileen in a businesslike way. "Nurse, can you help the patient take off his shoes and socks, please." I obediently knelt down and undid Andrew's shoelaces, and he stepped out of his shoes one by one. Then I reached up his trouser leg and took off his socks in turn. At the same time Catherine was unbuttoning his shirt. My heart was thumping madly as I realised that what I suspected looked like coming true. But surely - I found it incredible, after suffering the orthodox formality of these two for over a month now. Andrew stood there with a shy grin on his face as Caileen removed his shirt and then his vest. Although he had a rather stocky build, he was not at all muscular, no doubt due to his family's restrictive lifestyle, and was just well padded rather than fat. His upper torso was a very pale colour, as were his legs, I had noticed when I removed his socks. "Now your trousers, sir," said Caileen, kneeling down to undo the buckle at the front. Then she undid all the buttons, revealing plain white underpants underneath. She pulled down the trousers and he obediently stepped out of them. The final stripping did not come just yet. "Now please lie down on the bed, sir," Catherine requested him. With a sheepish grin, Andrew sat down on the side of the bed and swung his legs round and up. Caileen pretended to use a stethoscope to sound out Andrew's body. She began with his neck and chest, touching a spot and asking, "Is it there?" To which he would grin and reply, "No." She moved lower and lower until she reached the waistline of his underpants. Then she put her hand right on his genitals and asked, "Is it there?" or "Does this hurt?" "Ow! Yes!" groaned Andrew, still grinning sheepishly and stealing glances at me. "Then we'll have to take a look at it," she said. She put her fingers on the crotch of his underpants and started feeling. "Ow, ow!" groaned Andrew in great agony, still with the grin on his face. Then Caileen slipped her hand under the waist of Andrew's underpants and slid it right in. "I can feel something down here," she said. "We'll have to operate. Nurse, please pass me my scalpel." I pretended to hand it over. "Now we must open you up," she said. She took hold of Andrew's underpants by the waist and began to slide them off. Andrew's penis came into view, lying peacefully on its back. He had just the sort of penis that I would have expected, small and neat, without being too small. Yes, it was larger that that of my present friend Scott, if readers are wondering. It tapered off with his foreskin neatly over the end. A tiny little pink wrinkled bag of testicles lay underneath. Catherine pulled his underpants off over his feet, leaving him lying flat on his back on the bed, stark naked. Half an hour earlier, I would never have imagined I would ever see a sight like this. "Feel this, nurse," Catherine said, pointing to her brother's penis, "and tell me what you think." I looked at Andrew. His big brown eyes were looking back at me and he was still grinning. I reached out hesitantly for his penis, expecting at any moment for him to tell me to stop. But he didn't, so I took it between my fingers. It was soft and limp and cool. "It feels bad, doctor," I said. "Good. I mean, we'll have to take it out," said Catherine, with almost a giggle at her slip of the tongue. "Let's see if I can pull it out." She took hold of his penis and pulled. "It won't come off," she said. She kept shaking it, almost kneading it with her hands, and it started to stiffen. "Oh, dear, it's getting more swollen," she said. "Now we'll really have to take it out. Nurse, will you fetch some water from the next room, please." I went through the door into the next room, where I found a small bathroom. I went to the washbasin, picked up a large bowl, filled it with water and took it back to Catherine. "We must wash the patient first, nurse," she said. She poured a little water from the bowl on top of Andrew's penis, the cold making him shudder and chuckle. Then she started washing his genitals while he lay there grinning, even pulling back his foreskin to expose a little pink prepuce. "Would you like to help, nurse?" she asked. With a bit of water on my hands, I moved next to her to help. I lifted those little testicles and washed underneath, feeling the soft wrinkled skin under my fingers, and those two tiny oval objects within. Andrew chuckled and wriggled, indicating a ticklish spot. "Now we're ready to operate," announced Catherine. "My scalpel, please, nurse." For the second time I handed the imaginary implement to her. The mattress was somewhat damp, a remarkable lapse by two such tidy children. But I had now realised that things were not as they seemed to be. Catherine lifted her hands high above her head and brought down her hands on his penis in a dramatic gesture. Her hands worked back and forth in a frenzy and Andrew burst into laughter, kicking his legs up and wriggling from side to side. "I'm ticklish there!" he gasped. "Nurse, we forgot the anesthetic," Catherine said to me. "I gave him laughing gas, doctor," I smiled, and they both chuckled. "Nurse, please hold his legs down," asked Catherine as she resumed operating. I pushed down hard on Andrew's ankles as he wriggled and giggled and chuckled. "There, that's opened him up," said Catherine shortly, standing back to admire her handiwork. Andrew was still chuckling, his stiff little penis standing up almost straight like a stalk, it seemed. From my vantage point at the foot of the bed, I could see the pink skin and scrotum between his legs, with the testicles at the top. "Now we cut it off," announced Catherine. Andrew was no longer wriggling, so I came round the side, to see that his penis was now pointing almost towards his chin. Catherine took it in one hand and made sawing movements with the other. Andrew cried out in simulated pain. "He needs more laughing gas," I said, taking the initiative. I put my fingers under his testicles, feeling those little oval balls against my hand, and tickled just as Catherine had done. Andrew broke into chuckles again, but I stopped quickly so as not to spoil Catherine's work. "There, it's off now," Catherine announced, holding up an imaginary penis with her fingers. "Now we wash him again, nurse." Again the water, the massaging, the tickling and the laughter. When we finished, Catherine said, "Now we wait and see if it heals." We watched in fascination as Andrew's penis slowly shrank and returned to its normal shape. After a minute or two, it was once again flopping back limply on his loins. "Operation successful," announced Catherine with a smile, reaching out to pull the foreskin back over the prepuce as it was still rolled up. "How do you feel now, Mr Guildford?" Grinning, Andrew sat up, massaging his genitals. "Great, thanks, doctor," he said, climbing off the bed. My heart was still thumping madly. Of course I have been so familiar all my life with family nudity and the nudity of other families, children as well as adults, at the club, but this was the first time I had come across any games involving the genitals. I was fascinated and a wild excitement was bubbling within me. The twins turned to me, a little anxiously. "Did you like that?" they asked me. "That's great!" I replied. "You - your penis is nice, Andrew." "My what?" he asked, puzzled. Rather presumptuously, I took hold of his penis and explained to him that this was the proper name. Juggling his testicles while they both watched closely, I named those as well. Then I slid back his foreskin for a moment and told him what that was. Those were all the words I knew at that age. Slowly and thoughtfully, they repeated them. "Mummy and Daddy *never* told us *those* words," said Catherine emphatically. "And I don't think Rebecca knows them." "Who's Rebecca?" I asked. "She's our biggest friend here," Catherine answered. "Her parents are very good friends of ours. She taught us how to play this game. We play it every time she comes but this is the first time we've ever played it with anyone else." I felt honoured. Andrew was slipping back into his clothes, the end of his penis getting stuck under the waistline of his underpants before it disappeared from view. Then Catherine asked me, "Would you like a turn now, Roy?" "Yes!" I blurted out, trying unsuccessfully not to sound too enthusiastic. "Please," I added, in deference to the company. "You can be my patient and Andrew will be the nurse this time," said Catherine. "Now, Mr - Mr London, what seems to be the trouble?" I was into it as easily as that. "I've got a pain," I said. We went through the usual lines until Catherine told me to take off my clothes for examination and I replied that it was too sore. While Andrew removed my shoes and socks, I put up my arms and let Catherine pull my shirt off over my head. I did not wear a vest and never have, even in cooler weather. "You've got big muscles, Roy - I mean, Mr London," she said, looking at my chest in admiration. "And such a good sun tan." Then she undid my buckle and pulled down my zip, making visible my white underpants. She pulled down, I stepped out, and there I was before them with only my underpants, which were rather scantier than Andrew's. "Now please lie down on the bed, sir," said Catherine. Obediently I sat on the bed and swung my legs up, feeling as if my body was tingling all over with the excitement. Then Catherine took her invisible stethoscope and began examining my body, asking all the time if that hurt, to which I always replied, "No." She took a longer time working her way down my body than she had with Andrew 's, perhaps because she was more shy with me. Finally she put her fingers on my underpants, not quite on my penis but close to it, and asked, "Does this hurt?" "Ow! Yes!" I exclaimed, clutching at my genitals with my hands, and I think for a moment they both thought I really was hurt. After a short pause Catherine said in a nervous voice, "We'll have to take a look at it." She held her hands over the area but seemed to lack the courage to pull down my underpants. Andrew came to her rescue. "Doctor, I think I can see a hole here," he said, pointing at my underpants. As I was wearing long trousers in the cool weather, I was wearing underpants with a slit in the front, to make urination easier when one has to unzip a fly rather than merely stick a penis out through the leg of a pair of shorts. Andrew had seen that. "Well, we'd better see what's inside here," muttered Catherine, not very confidently. She plucked up her courage and opened the hole. "Ooh, that looks nasty," she said. "Pull it out, doctor," encouraged Andrew cheekily. After a moment's pause, Catherine said, "All right," stretched out her fingers and pulled my penis out through the hole. I shuddered with excitement as I felt her soft fingers pulling it gently. My penis has always been about average size with no unusual features, although it has picked up almost as much of a suntan as the rest of me. At that age it was still quite hairless, of course, a little larger than Andrew's but very ordinary-looking. This was actually the first time I could remember anyone else touching it deliberately (now and then we get accidental knocks at the nudist club, of course) since my mother used to clean me up at times when I was younger after I had been playing in the mud or the sand. Catherine quickly dropped it, so that it lay half in and half out of the slit in my underpants. "This looks very nasty," she said, finally managing to revert to her doctor's voice. "Mr London, I'm afraid we're going to have to take that out." Then she stopped, nervous of going any further. "I think we'll have to open up the patient first, doctor," prompted Andrew, motioning towards my underpants. "Would you like me to do that?" "Yes, thank you, nurse," replied Catherine with relief. But she watched with fascination as Andrew slowly pulled off my underpants, causing my penis to slither through the hole and bob out the other side. Then she plucked up her courage and took hold of my penis, pulling it straight upwards. "It won't come off," she said, dropping it again quickly. "We'll have to cut it out. Water, please, nurse." Andrew duly obliged with a bowl of water, and between them they washed me. I shivered with a sort of pleasure as I felt their wet hands massaging my penis and testicles, rubbing them gently with their fingers and no doubt also enjoying the sensation. My penis began to stiffen slightly. Andrew tried to tickle me under the scrotum and I wriggled a bit, but I was not as ticklish there as he. Catherine, looking slightly red in the face, dared to pull back my foreskin and wash underneath. The sun came out, pouring in through the window on to the bed and making my wet penis shine in its light. Catherine asked for the scalpel, and then, holding my penis upright with one hand, she pretended to cut with the other. It only took a moment for her to decide that it was off. Then came some more water and some more frisking before she finally announced that it was over. "How do you feel now, Mr London?" she asked, turning to look at me. I realised that it was the first time she had actually looked me in the face since she started the operation. I lifted my thighs slightly and pushed my genitals down with my hands. Then I closed my thighs tightly so that they disappeared underneath. "It looks to have all gone, thank you, doctor," I said, while they both giggled, Catherine hand to mouth. "I wonder if I can do that," grinned Andrew. He quickly pulled his trousers down to his knees, pulled his underpants down halfway and pushed his penis and testicles down between his thighs, which he pressed together. They promptly disappeared. "Look, I've turned into a girlie," he chuckled. I got off the bed and retrieved my clothes while Andrew replaced his. I was just shaking my underpants straight to put them on again when Andrew said, "Would you like to be doctor now, Roy?" I had anticipated it, but my heart suddenly started thumping wildly. "Yes, please," I replied, trying to keep calm. "Catherine, it's your turn to be the patient," Andrew said. I could sense Catherine was a bit uncertain about this. "Let Roy choose who he wants as a patient," she said, obviously hoping I would prefer Andrew. "Roy, who would you like as a patient?" "Er . . ." I began, pulling up my underpants, and then I unexpectedly felt I was going to burst. I had to jab my hand into my underpants and grip my penis hurriedly before I wet my underpants. I doubled over and gasped, "Ooh, I need the toilet." Still crouched, I headed through the door into the bathroom. "Roy, I'm afraid it doesn't work in there, the - er - bathroom," Catherine called after me. "We have to go into the house when we need to be excused." I couldn't wait that long. I hobbled out again, still holding my penis inside my underpants as I could feel it trying to pump. I shot down the stairs. "Roy, you can't go like that, without your clothes on!" exclaimed Catherine. "We'll get into such trouble!" I heard Andrew shout a warning. I had no intention of going back to the house. On the ground floor I threw open the back door, remembering that there was a hedge behind it and nobody was likely to see me. I burst out, faced the wall, pulled down my underpants and let fly. Andrew and Catherine, with alarm written on their faces, burst out of the door to see me urinating with great relief. "Roy!" Catherine exclaimed in shock, although what I was doing then was less shocking than what we had all been doing a few minutes ago. "You can't do that - outside!" "I often do," I assured her. "It doesn't really matter, as long as you don't let a grown-up see you who doesn't like it." They both looked stunned as I shook my penis dry and stuffed it back into my underpants. "I'm ready now," I said, leading the way back inside. "Wait a minute," said Andrew. He looked furtively around. All we could see was the green of the hedges and the trees. It was quite secluded, but Andrew was still not used to it. Standing close to the wall and facing it, he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. It was awkward and he didn 't want to pull them down any further when out in the open, so he stopped halfway. I could see his little penis poking out, pointing upwards. Nothing happened for a few seconds as he tried to get used to unaccustomed surroundings. Then came a little spurt of urine, describing a graceful arc upwards and then down until it hit the wall about halfway down. As he was shaking his penis dry, Andrew asked me, "Who would you like as your patient, Roy?" "Well, it's Catherine's turn now," I said, smiling at her. She went slightly red and said nothing. "Would you like to be my patient, please, Catherine?" I asked, speaking their language. She hesitated, then nodded her head nervously. Back upstairs, I soon discovered there was a change of script. "How are you today, Miss Pink?" I asked her, a reference to her pink dress. "I'm having a baby, doctor," she whispered, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I was wondering what to say next when she added, "I keep getting pains. She's ready to be born now." "Oh," I said. "Well, we'd - better get you ready then." As Andrew removed her shoes and socks, I unbuttoned her dress, realising that I didn't even know what kind of underwear she wore. I had not yet reached the stage of noting flashes of panties regularly but I did notice at times with girls. But I had never noticed Catherine's panties, probably also because she was so ladylike that I never had a chance. Her skirts always covered the knees and she never did the things like sitting on the lawn or sitting on a chair with her legs apart or jumping around playing games or any of the other things that so often reveal a girl's panties. I unbuttoned her dress to reveal a white vest underneath. Then, when Andrew had finished, I slipped the dress off her shoulders and down to her feet. She was wearing soft panties, a very pale purple in colour, with the outline of a large white flower embroidered on the front. She stepped out of her dress and then I removed her vest. All the time she was trying to smile but her pink cheeks gave away her embarrassment. Her chest was still flat, although her little nipples were a prominent darkish pink colour. "Now please lie down on the bed, Miss Pink - I mean, Mrs Pink," I invited her, which she did. I did not waste any time, but immediately ran the stethoscope over her stomach and the front of her panties. Then I put my hand flat on her panties, just below the waist, to see what they felt like. They were smooth and quite tight, and I could feel the stitches that made up the flower and her firm flesh underneath. "I can feel the baby in there," I announced. "Yes, it's ready to be born. I can feel it coming." "She's a she, not an it," Catherine corrected me. As if postponing the magic moment, I slid my hand under the waistline of her panties and downwards. I felt her smooth soft skin and then my fingers touched the rounded walls of her vagina. She giggled nervously and wriggled. "The baby's coming now," she said. "It's going to be very sore," I said. "We'll have to take a closer look." So saying, I moved round to level with her knees, put my fingers under the elastic of her panties at either side and pulled. Her loins came into view, flat and smooth. I could see her hip bones making little lumps under her skin on either side. Then came her little flat vagina, slightly rounded and open at the top - buttonhole vaginas I later called them - curving away between her legs. As I pulled her panties down she opened her legs a bit and I could see the soft pink skin underneath her vagina. I wasn't sure what to do next, but Andrew was ready with his advice. "I'm a midwife - I mean a midhusband," he chuckled. "So I can help you. We need to get her legs apart so the baby can come." I pushed Catherine's knees apart and made her legs straddle the bed. Her vagina opened up and I could see something white coming down from the top. "You must wash her first," advised Andrew, who had the water ready. "Please don't pour it on me," begged Catherine. "You might drown the baby." So I dipped my hands in the bowl and then placed them on her vagina. "That's cold," she giggled, wriggling. "I'll have to warm you up, then," I said, working my fingers gently over her vagina. I moved them down to the loose skin between her legs. "Ooh, that tickles," she squealed as I worked my fingers gently backwards and forwards. I could feel the skin moving under my fingers and wobbling as I felt something firmer underneath. Catherine laughed and wriggled so enticingly that I could feel my penis hardening inside my trousers. "Now you have to look inside and see the baby," said Andrew. He demonstrated briefly. Awed, I did the same. I put my fingers on either side of Catherine's vagina and spread it apart. It was all pink inside, and looked like one fold of dark pink flesh on top of another. I stared at it, penis throbbing, until I heard Andrew say, "Is it coming, doctor?" "Yes, it's coming," I answered. "Now you have to get the baby out," Andrew instructed me. "How do I do that?" I asked. "I'll feel it first and then you can get it out," he said. He stuck his forefinger into the bowl of water and then leaned over his sister. I watched in astonishment as he put his finger between her legs and pushed it into her vagina. I already knew, in general terms, how adults have sex with each other, but it had never occurred to me that someone could put a finger up the same place. "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked Catherine in shock. "It did at first, but my skin's used to it now," she replied. Then she remembered who she was supposed to be and said, "The baby's coming now, doctor, and I know that will hurt." "You must get the baby out now," said Andrew, withdrawing his finger. My heart thumping, I dipped my finger in the water and then pushed it against Catherine's vagina. I felt very much afraid, sure that even touching that dark pink flesh inside would hurt her. I felt something hard against the top of my finger, and as I touched it Catherine gave a kind of purr and shuddered, smiling. But nothing else happened. "You have to push harder," Andrew told me. I pushed harder and felt the flesh give under my finger. Then suddenly I was in. My finger suddenly felt very warm, sticky and squeezed. I felt the flesh tightly sucking at my finger, and in a panic, afraid I had done some awful damage to Catherine, I pulled it out again. "No, you must keep it in longer and then pull out the baby," Andrew said. I tried again, pushing at the right spot and then finding my finger going in as it had done before. I kept it there this time, amazed at the warmth and the suction. "Can you feel the baby?" Andrew prompted me. "Yes, it's coming," I said, feeling almost dizzy with the excitement and the almost dreamlike thing I was doing. "Pull your finger in and out," Andrew advised, putting his finger next to mine and showing me. So I pulled, and then when I felt it was about to come out I pushed again until I felt my finger stop. I heard Catherine purr again. She had her eyes closed, a gentle smile on her face and she was going "Mmmmm!" She obviously liked it. "It's coming," I said, and then pulled my finger out. It still felt almost squashed and it was sticky and moist. "Ow ow ow!" said Caileen, as part of the script. "It's out now," Andrew advised me. "Mrs Pink, you have a lovely baby daughter," I said, as Andrew handed me a naked doll, naturally without genital parts. I handed it to Catherine and she cuddled it to her breast. I sat down, panting for breath. I felt a bit dizzy after all that excitement. "That was great," I said. "How did you learn this game?" "Rebecca taught us," Andrew said. And they began to tell me all about Rebecca. Part 4 "We all came over here last year to see what the country was like," Catherine told me, as she started to get dressed again. "Rebecca's dad said he could get my dad a very good job here, so we all came over and stayed with them for two weeks." "Rebecca's eleven," Andrew put in. "Well, she's twelve now. And she has a little brother called Gary who's - er - he'll be five now, I think." "We had to share rooms," said Catherine. "I shared with Rebecca and Andrew shared with Gary." "We'd never even seen each other naked before then," said Andrew with a chuckle. "Mummy and Daddy are very strict about things like that - and other things as well." So I'd noticed. "We'd hardly ever seen other children naked either," Catherine said in a muffled voice as she slipped her dress on over her head. "Rebecca's family have a swimming pool, but we didn't swim because we don't know how, and we don't like it very much. But Rebecca's family were all swimming. And Rebecca was wearing a bikini instead of a proper swimsuit." "And Gary just changed into his swimsuit by the side of the pool there with his mother," put in Andrew. "We could see - everything, and none of them tried to hide it. We thought it was terribly rude." "I don't remember ever seeing a boy bare before," said Catherine. "Mummy and Daddy didn't like it either. We felt so bad we went up to our bedrooms. Then after they had finished swimming Rebecca came in wearing her bikini and started taking it off with me right in front of me! I thought this was so rude too. Mummy and Daddy have always told us to go somewhere private if we can when we change. Not even in front of other girls. "So I told her she should go into the bathroom and change," Catherine continued. "And she got cross and said she didn't care. We had an argument and I said it was even worse when Gary changed out next to the pool. Then she said, 'It doesn't matter at all. I bet you and Andrew have seen each other's wees often enough.' So I told her we had never seen each other naked at all and we always kept very private because that was right. Then she told me we were very silly and it didn't matter with your family and friends." "She'd finished changing then and had the bedroom door open to go out," Andrew butted in. "I heard them arguing, so I went to see what it was all about. The first thing she said to me was, 'Andrew, have you ever seen your sister's wee?' I thought she was so rude!" "You should have seen Andrew's face," smiled Catherine. She hardly ever giggled, except politely at jokes, and neither did Andrew. I suppose their parents had knocked it out of them. "He was so shocked. He just said, 'Of course not! I'm not a rude boy!'" "Then she went and sat on her bed as she talked to us," said Andrew. "She had one leg up and I could see her panties. Catherine never does that. Mummy always makes her sit straight and keep her legs together. Until then I don't think I ever saw her panties up her dress or anything because Mummy always made her sit properly. So I thought Rebecca was being very clumsy and careless." Catherine had finished dressing now and she sat down on the bed on the other side of me, exactly as she had been taught, with her legs neatly together. "So Rebecca asked us if we weren't ever curious about what each other looked like," she said. "So we said we weren't really. But now she said that, we began to wonder." "I felt a bit excited inside," admitted Andrew. "But I thought it was very, very naughty. And she said to us, 'You two need to find out. Why don 't you have a bath together?'" "And I told her Mummy and Daddy would never, *never* allow us to do that," continued Catherine. "So she said, 'Well, they can't see you now, so just show each other quickly. Then at least you'll know.'" "Then I got cross, because I wanted to, but I was too afraid we would get into trouble," grinned Andrew. "So I told her that people didn't like it and she wouldn't like it either if I wanted to see her naked. And she said, 'I don't mind. I'll show you mine if you promise to show me yours as well. Do you promise?' And I was really surprised, so I just said yes without thinking." "So she showed him," said Rebecca. She didn't explain how, but I presume she just pulled her panties aside to reveal her vagina. "But Andrew didn't want to show her." "It felt too bad," he said, going a little red in the face. "I was so afraid of getting into trouble. But she said to me, 'You promised, and if you break your promise I'll tell your parents.' So I had to do it." "So he undid his trousers and showed her," said Catherine. "But he did it very quickly and he had his hand in his way so I couldn't see it." "Then Catherine got jealous because Rebecca had seen it and I hadn't," grinned Andrew. "And she told me to show her but I told her I had promised Rebecca but not her. So she told me that if I showed her, then she would show me hers. And so we did. But we both felt really bad about it." "Rebecca really got excited about seeing Andrew's wee," Catherine said. "When we were in bed that night she asked me all sorts of questions - Are you sure you never saw his wee before? Have you ever seen a boy's wee before? Then she would say it was the most handsome wee she had ever seen, and things like that." "Next day she invited me into her bedroom with Catherine and locked the door," said Andrew. "She told me she had this lovely game called Doctors and Nurses. But when we found out we had to take our clothes off, we wouldn 't play because we still felt too bad. And we were so afraid our parents would find out." "Then she said she would tell about yesterday if we didn't play it with her," continued Catherine. "But Catherine thought quickly and said we might play, but not that day, and if she told tales then we'd never be able to play the game," put in Andrew. "So she didn't. And we hoped she might forget, but she didn't. We kept saying another day, but we were afraid she would get tired of it and tell." "We began to feel better after a few days when our parents didn't find out," said Catherine. "And it sounded such an interesting game and Rebecca made it sound so exciting. So we talked about it and decided we would try it. But we were still scared at first, so we told Rebecca we'd play tomorrow. She made us promise. So the next day when our parents were all busy we went up to her room and we played it." "It was so exciting but we felt so bad," grinned Andrew. "We were scared again. But nobody found out, and we played it for the last time the day before we left." "Then when we came here this year Rebecca came round with her family, and straight away she said this cottage would be a perfect place to play our game," said Catherine. "And Gary is a bit noisy, so Mummy and Daddy are very happy for us to play out here. You're very quiet, Roy, except when you 're outside on the lawn, and there's nowhere else for you to play ball or run, so they can't send you anywhere else. But they did ask us to try and make you stay inside because you're so quiet." That's because I was so bored, I thought. "And when you said you went to this - this club where people don't wear clothes, we knew we could play this game with you and you wouldn't tell about us." "So every time Rebecca comes we come out here and play this game," smiled Andrew. "She says she's got a new game to teach us next time." My heart began to beat rapidly again. "When's she coming next?" I asked. "Tomorrow afternoon," answered Catherine. "Would you like to come as well?" "Yes," I blurted out. "Yes, please," remembering their language. "If - if she doesn't mind me coming." "She won't mind," Catherine assured me. "I'll tell her about your club and that we played the game today, and she won't mind." We left the cottage, with my heart pounding furiously. "Race you back!" suddenly called Andrew, and set off down the path at a slow run. In a second I had overtaken him and ran back to the house at full speed. I arrived to see the Fothergay parents staring out from the lounge in startled surprise. Looking back, I saw the twins walking sedately along the path, smiling. As soon as they arrived, Mrs Fothergay was up and talking to them. "Andrew, Catherine, I hope you weren't running because I've told you before not to run on the path," she said seriously. "You might fall and cut your knees." "No, Mummy, we weren't," Catherine assured her. Then she said, "Mummy, please may Roy come round tomorrow and meet Rebecca?" Her mother looked rather taken aback. "Well - goodness me, I - we'll have to talk to Roy's parents about that," she said. "That will make five children here," her father broke in, looking appalled at the prospect. "It will be noisy enough as it is." "Daddy, we promise we'll go down to the cottage and stay there all afternoon," Andrew said pleadingly. His father hesitated, and then said, "Well, we might consider it as long as you keep well away, all of you. We don't want any noise, especially on Sunday afternoon." The twins smiled and started to thank him, but my mother, expecting my reluctance and supporting it, broke in with, "I think Roy had something planned for tomorrow afternoon, actually, didn't you, Roy?" To her surprise I answered, "Not really, Mum. I'd like to come and meet Rebecca." As soon as we had driven out of their gate on the way home, my parents asked me the reason for my sudden change of heart. "Well, the cottage is quite fun and they hadn't taken me there before," I answered. "And Rebecca sounds really exciting. She's very interested in wild life and she has some great books." This last part wasn't true, but I used my own interest in wild life as an excuse. My father kindly brought me back the following afternoon, as close to two o'clock as possible as he knew the Fothergays worshipped punctuality. The morning had been dull but at about lunchtime the sun came out and began to shine warmly. Spring was certainly on the way now. I arrived before Rebecca, by which time the weather was quite hot, certainly warm enough for the nudist club. "Those people are always late," frowned Mr Fothergay, as if it were as repulsive a habit as spitting. I waited impatiently with the twins for her arrival. Finally, about fifteen minutes late, Rebecca arrived with her mother. There was a small boy and another girl in the car with her. "Sorry - in a rush as usual," her mother called out cheerfully through the car window as the children scrambled out. "Hope you don't mind Rebecca's friend Laura coming as well - she's been staying with us this weekend. See you at five!" So saying, she backed the car out at high speed. The Fothergay parents looked at each other in some degree of distaste. "That makes six," I heard the father say almost in horror. "They could have asked if we minded taking an extra one," complained her mother. In the meantime I was studying the children. It was obvious which one was Rebecca as she was the one the twins greeted first. Being twelve years old, she was quite a bit taller than the rest of us, slightly plump. She had a broad freckled face with green eyes and shortish hair with quite a bit of ginger in it, cut in what I think is called page- boy style. She was wearing a pink and white checked shirt and a bright red skirt that came down just over halfway to her knees. She caught my eye and gave me a glare. Then she turned and forced a smile for the twins as she greeted them. The twins were as perfectly mannered as ever, especially under their parents' eyes. They obviously had met Laura before, but Andrew still put his hand out to shake the surprised girl's hand and Catherine smiled and said, "We're very pleased to see you again, Laura." Laura was a little smaller and thinner than Rebecca, and I thought she looked really pretty, with her smooth quiet face and light brown hair hanging neatly down over her shoulders. She was wearing a sky-blue top with the midriff showing and a short tight skirt in the same colour. I could already sense the disapproval of Mr and Mrs Fothergay at such a lascivious display of flesh. "Come and meet our friend Roy," Andrew invited them politely, leading them over to where I was standing. He began introducing them all but in the middle the little boy could keep quiet no longer. "My name's Gary," he piped up. "I like cars." I grinned down at him. He was actually much better-looking than his sister, I thought, with light freckles around his nose but a clearer skin. He had fair hair, brushed down in a fringe, and lively greenish- blue eyes. He was wearing a red shirt and loose dark blue shorts. He began talking again loudly before the introductions were finished, and the girls shushed him up good-naturedly. Then Mrs Fothergay, no doubt sensing her husband's irritation, said, "Teatime is at four o'clock, children. Would you like to go down to the cottage and play there now?" The twins were as eager as ever, and so was Gary, but I sensed a simmering resentment from Rebecca. The twins led the way down the path with Rebecca and Laura close behind, while Gary skipped along behind next to me. As soon as we were off the lawn he called out, "Are we going to play that game again?" "Quiet, Gary!" Rebecca hushed him, turning around, afraid the Fothergay parents might hear. But they had already gone inside. "No, we're *not* going to play that game." She turned back to the twins. "What did you invite a *boy* for?" she demanded crossly, but quite quietly, not wanting me to hear. I could hear every word, though. "It's our private game, just for us!" "Well, you brought Laura here, and we don't mind," protested Catherine, looking rather upset. "Laura's played the game before," retorted Rebecca. "She's played with me." "Roy's played with us," answered Catherine anxiously. "He played yesterday and he was very good." "Rebecca, Roy's a - a - he goes to a special club," Andrew put in. "It 's a club where people do everything without any clothes on. When he told us that, we knew he'd be a good person to play our game with. And he was. We can trust him, Rebecca." "He's a *boy*!" Rebecca said in a tone of disgust. "We can't play the game with *boys*, can we, Laura?" "No," answered Laura anxiously, shaking her head. Catherine's large brown eyes filled with tears. "So is Andrew. But Rebecca, Roy was so good we thought you'd like having him," she protested. "Please try. We thought it would be such a good day." Andrew put in helpfully, "He might tell about us if we don't let him play." Rebecca came to a halt, scowled and looked thoughtful. Then she turned back and looked at me. "What sort of club is this you belong to?" she demanded. "It's a nudist club," I told her. "I almost grew up there at weekends, only the weather isn't good enough at the moment. There are a whole lot of us who just enjoy doing things and having fun without clothes. It's so free, and nobody worries about people seeing their bodies or anything. That 's why I enjoyed your game so much. I think it's the most exciting game - like this - I've ever played." A bit of flattery might help, I thought. "Let's go to the cottage," interrupted Gary. "I want to play." He looked up at me. "Do you want to see my wee?" he asked. The others all laughed. "Just wait till we get inside, Gary," Rebecca smiled at him. Then she turned to me again. "Are there girls at this nudist place?" she asked. "Of course, plenty of girls," I told her. "All ages. I know three of them who are twelve, like you. I wish you could all come, because you'd enjoy it so much. But your parents wouldn't let you." "I wouldn't want any boys looking at my body," Rebecca said firmly. "Nobody looks at our bodies in any rude way," I told her. "Nobody looks much at all. Your game's so exciting because it's so unusual for me, and it's such fun." I wondered if I had said the right thing. "I was Catherine's patient last time and she was so much fun. That was the best part," I added, eager to give the impression that I wasn't in it just to ogle the girls. "Rebecca, please let him play," begged Catherine politely. Rebecca stood there in indecision for a few moments. Clearly they could not play without me, under the circumstances. If they did not include me, they would not be able to play at all, and Rebecca was clearly very excited about her game. "I'll let you play under one condition," she finally told me, then paused. "I'm the doctor first, and you're the patient. All right?" "Sure, that would be great," I smiled, showing great eagerness to expose myself to her ministries and win her acceptance. "Gee, thanks, Rebecca! I'm having first turn, Gary," I told him excitedly, as he was jumping up and down and insisting that he should be first. Rebecca looked slightly taken aback, as if that was a response she hadn 't expected, but the deal had been made. "You can be next after Roy," she told her brother. "Yippee!" exclaimed Gary, jumping up and down and clutching his shorts. "May we start now, Rebecca?" "We'll start when we get inside," Rebecca smiled at him, and I got the impression she was normally a very pleasant girl. Her only problem was that she hadn't trusted me, and I'm sure she still didn't quite. We entered the door of the cottage and Catherine bolted it behind us. Gary headed for the stairs and shot up. The rest of us followed. I was in the rear and I could see just above me Laura's slim, shapely legs. I thought for a second she was wearing no panties, but then I realised that she was wearing a very small pair that had almost got stuck into the crack of her bottom. The material was very thin, except in the gusset, and I could easily see the colour of her flesh through it. By the time I arrived at the top, Gary was already half undressed, flinging his clothes all over the room. The others smiled indulgently at him and he obviously enjoyed all the attention. Off came his blue shorts and then his sturdy little white underpants. "Roy, look at my wee!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and dancing around the room with his little penis bouncing up and down. The others all laughed louder than ever, causing him to show off all the more. I accepted his invitation. He had, it seemed to me, a slightly longer penis than most boys his age, but it was quite thin and stringy and so did not look out of place. It was smooth and soft-looking, with a little bulge near the end where the foreskin covered the prepuce, and finishing in a little curl as it tapered off over the end. In contrast, his testicles were enclosed in a tiny little pink bag that was hardly visible. "Gary, you have such a cute little wee," Catherine told him smilingly, and he beamed. "Me first," insisted Gary, jumping on to the mattress and lying on his back, with his stringy little penis lying back on his loins. "No, Gary, not today," smiled Rebecca. "Roy goes first today. He's my patient." "Gary, have you been excused before we start this time?" Andrew asked him. Gary grinned and shook his head. "Last time he did a wee right in the middle of the operation," Rebecca smiled at me, her first positive gesture. "It went all over his tummy but it missed my hand. So, Gary, have a wee first and you can have your turn after Roy." "Aw," groaned Gary, slithering off the bed. "Where can I do a wee-wee?" He stood there, one hand holding his penis, looking at us. "You'll have to go back to the house because the toilet is still not working in here," Catherine told him. "You should have thought of that before, Gary," Rebecca told him. "Quickly, back into your clothes." "Oh, he can just do it at the back where nobody can see," I suggested. "Come, Gary, and I'll show you where I did it yesterday." The girls looked uncertain, but he toddled after me, still idly fondling his penis, as I led him down the steps and out of the back door. It only took a short time for him to face the wall and relieve himself, talking nonsense to me nonstop as he did so. We went back upstairs to find the others all waiting for me. Catherine had been appointed as nurse. "Mr London, you're late for your appointment," Rebecca scolded me in a very highfalutin voice. "Now, what appears to be the problem?" The usual dialogue followed, and Rebecca indulged in some giggling as she played the leading part in undressing me. She was still not comfortable with me yet, although I was quite a bit younger. Gary was leaning closely on the bed, watching everything with rapt attention. Once I was down to my underpants I lay down on the mattress and the operation began. Within a minute Rebecca was giggling as she dragged my underpants down my legs and having a good look at my penis. "Your wee is bigger than Andrew's," commented Gary, whose own penis was probably slightly longer than Andrew's, although thinner. He put out his hand and gave it a prod with his finger. "Gary, wait for your turn," Rebecca told him. She then took my penis and testicles and enjoyed herself massaging them, pulling them, prodding them, tickling them and doing everything she could think of while performing the operation. I did not feel quite so excited by it this time, but with all the activity my penis inevitably began to stiffen a bit, which caused some excitement. Soon it was over and I felt accepted by Rebecca. I had fulfilled her conditions and given her some entertainment. As soon as I slipped off the mattress, Gary jumped on, shouting, "Me now!" He lay on his back, making peculiar noises and wagging his penis up and down while the girls giggled at him. As usual, he played up to their attention. "I want Roy to be doctor!" he shouted. "Roy's had his turn and he's busy," retorted Rebecca, as I was still dressing. "Laura, would you like to be doctor?" Laura smiled with some embarrassment and shook her head. I wondered if she was afraid of getting her hands wet. Andrew was offered the job and accepted, while Rebecca took over as nurse. It was a noisy business and it was impossible to get much sense out of Gary, who was full of laughter, especially when anybody put a hand anywhere near his loins. His stringy little penis was soon as hard as a rock and pointing towards his chin, and he howled with laughter as Andrew tickled him under the testicles. I could understand how important it had been to make sure he urinated immediately before the game, as his bladder could not have stood the loss of control. He wanted to share his talents around, and the game rather fell to pieces as, at his invitation, we all put our hands out during the operation and massaged or tickled his genitals, if we could get a turn. All the time I kept an eye on Laura, admiring her gentle prettiness and hoping she could be my patient. She had ignored me so far, and I wasn't sure whether this was through shyness or because she did not want me to see her naked. In the end Gary lay back red-faced and exhausted, his penis in the same state and lying limply against his loins. He refused to get off the mattress when instructed, and in the end Andrew and Rebecca had to lift him from either end and dump him on the floor. "I'll help," smiled Catherine, taking hold of his penis and pretending to help lift him with that. He was very quickly up and bouncing around, waving his penis about and ready for what was next. "It's Roy's turn to be doctor now," said Andrew. "He's a very good doctor." "It's Catherine's turn next," replied Rebecca. "I'll go after Roy," she said, and Rebecca couldn't very well argue. "Roy, who do you want for a patient?" I hesitated, and then asked, "Laura, will you be my patient?" Laura looked shocked and shook her head quickly. "I just want to watch for now," she whispered. "Oh, come on, Laura, you must join in," Rebecca ordered her. "That's why you came. You said you wanted to play." "Well, I didn't know . . ." Laura began, and I suspected she was thinking of me. "I'll do it later, but not now." "Come on, Laura, you must play properly," insisted Rebecca. "You wouldn't be doctor and now you've been chosen to be a patient. You can't keep saying no." I wondered if Rebecca was being so insistent because she was afraid that if Laura were able to turn me down, I would choose her. "It's not fair because you didn't tell me there would be other boys," argued Laura, and the reference to me was now clear. "It was just going to be five of us. If he goes out, then I'll play." "We agreed he could play, Laura," argued Rebecca. "*I* never agreed," Laura protested. "You can be my patient, Laura!" called out Gary, bouncing up and down excitedly, as did his penis. I could see Rebecca hesitating and I was a little worried that she might give in to Laura and I might be asked to leave, even if only for a while. They might ask me to wait downstairs or something, and I would miss all the fun. So I broke in, "If Laura's too scared, maybe I can choose you instead, Rebecca." Rebecca looked slightly alarmed, and said, "Come on, Laura. You can have either Gary or Roy for a doctor. Now which do you want?" Laura, slightly bullied into consenting, looked quite miserable. "Roy," she whispered. I didn't blame her. There was no telling what indignities Gary might have inflicted on her private parts, through immaturity rather than design. I felt rather uncomfortable at taking on an unwilling girl. We began to the usual dialogue, and as the time came for me to undress her, she whispered, "Please, don't hurt me." As the others were talking at the time, I don't think any of them heard. "No," I whispered back, as I gently slipped her top off over her head, with difficulty as she was a bit taller than I was. She had a little bra on underneath, so that followed. She had tiny delicate pointed breasts, which felt very soft and wobbly as I briefly examined them. Then I slipped off her skirt, leaving her wearing only her tiny thin white panties. Gary stared at her, and she blushed. Soon she was on the mattress and about to have her baby. "Let's just see if the baby is ready," I said, putting my hand down her panties and feeling around. I could feel Laura shivering. I wondered if I would feel any pubic hair down there, but it felt very smooth and soft. I could easily feel her little vagina under my fingers, and she shuddered the first time I touched it. Controlling my eagerness, I said, "The baby's coming now." Then I slipped her panties off, revealing her curved vagina underneath, still hairless, apart from a few long hairs at the bottom. I could see all the little fair hairs, still ungrown, around it. Laura looked most embarrassed as I spread apart her legs, opening up her vagina, and I felt bad about it but didn't know else to do except play the game according to the rules. I knew now I shouldn't have chosen her, but it was too late to go back. I looked at her and her eyes were big and scared. I had a girl two or three years older than myself at my mercy, but it bothered me. "Please don' t put your finger inside," she begged me, and again because of the background of talking I don't think anybody else heard. Actually I lip- read her rather than heard. I nodded. "Don't worry, Mrs Sippi," I assured her, going back and stroking her forehead. (This was the name Rebecca told me to call her - Rebecca's joke, named after the American river.) "I'm not going to hurt you, but the baby may hurt a bit." "Babies always do," came Rebecca's voice of experience. She was the midwife, and she instructed me to wash Laura, fetching the water. I used as little water as possible, with Laura so reluctant, as I quickly massaged her pubic area. I could see the darker pink inside her vagina, and the few long hairs down at the bottom began to stick together as they were wet. Again there was that strange white thing just inside at the top that I couldn't identify. Rebecca had no mercy on her friend and slapped on some more water, causing Laura to squeal. I felt something tickling my thigh, just above the knee. Looking down, I saw it was Gary's penis. The little boy himself was still attached to it and pushing at me. "I want to see," he said. "You're not part of this operation," I told him. "So move back and let the doctor and midwife handle it." "Come down the bottom end and you can see from there," Rebecca told him, moving him to the foot of the bed. He ogled Laura from there, his penis resting on the corner of the mattress. I quickly warmed Laura up after the cold water, rubbing her vagina gently with my fingers. Catherine had wriggled, but Laura just shivered, and I suddenly thought I would finish it off as quickly as possible. My curiosity was satisfied and I did not like handling an unwilling girl. "It's coming," I said. "How do you know? You must look first," Rebecca told me. So I had a quick look at the glistening pink folds opened within Laura' s vagina and again announced the baby's imminent arrival. "Now you must put your fingers in to pull it out," Rebecca told me. I put both hands to Laura's vagina, the upper one to hold her but also to block the vision of the others. I dipped my other hand in the water and then pretended to push hard into her vagina. I bent my finger over as if it had gone in and then announced, "I can feel it! It's coming!" Then I pulled my finger back as Rebecca reached over to pretend to extract the baby. The doll was soon in evidence again and Rebecca thrust it into her mistreated friend's arms with due congratulations. Laura gave a weak smile and slipped thankfully off the mattress. She reached for her clothes, and as her head was near mine, without looking at me, she whispered, "Thank you." "Now I want to be doctor," insisted Gary. "You be my patient, Rebecca." Rebecca gave a self-conscious giggle and threw me a glance, then said, "All right." I beamed, pleased to see that I was obviously accepted by Rebecca as worthy to view her secret treasure. "Andrew, you can be midwife." I was surprised Rebecca was willing to let her very young brother loose on her body, but she obviously was, and she put on a great performance. She was very dramatic during the preliminaries, stuffing a teddy bear down her stomach so as to appear pregnant and staggering around, giggling half the time. We all laughed at her dramatics. Then Gary came to undress her. Off came her shirt, revealing a lacy white bra underneath. Gary fumbled with her bra, while she said with a grin and a giggle, "Careful with those boobs, doctor - I need them for feeding the baby." The bra came off, revealing quite prominent breasts for her age, rounded and with large pink nipples in the middle. All were well freckled. Gary, talking rubbish, had a good fondle at them, standing behind her and putting his arms round her. He pressed his face lovingly against her side from behind, as she was still standing, and wobbled them up and down. "Bobble, bobble, bobble," he burbled, dribbling from the mouth as he did so, while Rebecca's laughter showed how much she was enjoying it all. Then came the removal of the red skirt, as Gary slid it off her, she removing the teddy bear quietly at the same time, and I saw her panties for the first time. They were very attractive, a rich white colour with soft material and a prominent band of elastic around her legs. Up she went on to the mattress, lying on her back and grinning broadly. Gary examined her, spending quite a long time cuddling or handling her budding breasts, although once or twice in his enthusiasm he hurt her and she stopped him smartly. Finally, grinning broadly and still talking nonsense all the time, he slipped his fingers down her panties. "Ooh!" he exclaimed. "The baby's head's coming out." "That's just my hair, doctor," Rebecca giggled. "The baby hasn't come yet." "Then we must make him come," said Gary, pushing his way round the bed past us to remove her panties more effectively. He grabbed hold of the material rather unceremoniously and pulled. Rebecca's lightly freckled loins came into view, followed by her vagina, a more mature version than Laura's. There was a little patch of dark brown hair at the top and shorter hairs down the lips of the vagina itself. Gary leaned over the bed and rubbed his cheek lovingly against her vagina, humming to himself. "Last time we played that, she was cross with him," Andrew whispered to me. "He said, 'That smells of wee!'" Gary had either learned to keep his mouth shut since then, or else Rebecca had taken great care to ensure that all such evidence had been eliminated before she came. "Open up," he commanded, dragging his sister's legs apart to spread open her vagina. It looked like a gaping wound as the lips parted and a large pink mass almost seemed to fall out. Beneath was the triangular dark pink area of loose skin, stretching down to meet the crack in her bottom, looking very much like an African warrior's shield, apart from the vagina running down the middle. "Water," commanded Gary. "Not too much, doctor," commanded Rebecca, as Gary sloshed water liberally on her pubic area, making the little hairs glisten in the sunlight. Humming to himself, he set about massaging, and Rebecca threw her head back with laughter as he tickled her most sensitive areas. Gary put his face down right between Rebecca's legs to see if the baby was coming. He smacked his lips and kissed her vagina noisily. Then he announced, "Here it comes!" He turned to me and said, "Look, I can use two fingers. And I don't need any water because Rebecca's wee has made it wet." "It's not wee!" Rebecca corrected him indignantly. "It's just my juices. Ready for when somebody pokes me!" She laughed again. "Watch," Gary commanded, as he took two fingers and pressed them against the middle of that vast opening between his sister's legs. He pushed hard, and I could actually see his fingers disappearing into the middle of that mass of folds. Rebecca gave a groan of pleasure. "Rebecca says I can pump it in and out," Gary announced as he demonstrated. "Is the baby coming?" Andrew asked, holding the doll ready. "Not yet," replied Gary, enjoying the pleasure. Rebecca was laughing, but I couldn't imagine how any girl could enjoy having anything stuck inside her body like that unless it was for love. Finally Gary decided he had had enough, so he pulled his fingers out, sticky and red as they were, and the baby was duly produced and slipped into Rebecca's arms. Catherine was the next to have a baby, and she asked for me to be her doctor. "Laura, please will you be my midwife?" I asked her, hoping to get her involved, and to my slight surprise she nodded. I enjoyed the pleasure again of undressing her, finding her panties this time were a very light green, soft and silky and tight around her body, even with a little crease between her legs where her vagina was. I enjoyed the warm feeling of her body again as I examined her, and the secret delight of pushing my hand down her panties to feel her hidden vagina at the bottom. Again I could wash and massage her, and put my fingers into her to deliver the baby. It was every bit as good as I had remembered it, and I only wished I had a chance to do it to Rebecca as well. But, being younger, I was too shy to ask, and she said there would only be time for one round of patients. After Andrew had had his turn, with Rebecca as doctor again and Gary as an interfering midwife, Catherine asked, "You said you had a new game to play, Rebecca." "Yes," replied Rebecca, pleased that she had asked. "I've got some playing cards here. We're going to play Snap." We all looked a bit surprised, and also, except probably for Laura, disappointed. We had been expecting some exciting but forbidden game like the one we had just played. "The difference is," smiled Rebecca, "that the first person to go out every time has to take off a piece of their clothes. Shoes and socks count as one piece for all of them. When one person is out, the game is over and the winner is the person with the most cards." There was a communal hiss of anticipation. "Now we sit round in a circle," said Rebecca, sitting down on a large blanket she had spread and crossing her legs, with a sliver of her snowy white panties visible under the fold of her skirt. Laura immediately sat down next to her, seemingly unaware that she was revealing a lot more under her tight skirt. Her tiny panties hardly seemed to cover her properly, and I could clearly see the creases of her groin on both sides. I also thought I could see the dark outline of her vagina through the thin material. I sat opposite them, keen to keep an eye on them. We all sat, with Catherine's skirt being long enough to hide everything as it covered her knees as well. Rebecca dealt out the two packs of cards and we all put in a card in turn. I missed the first two shouts and then decided I would try and lose first, so as to show willing. I successfully managed to run out of cards first, so after putting down my first card I removed my shorts. "You can take off your shoes and socks first," Gary reminded me. "I know, but I don't mind," I replied, sitting there in my white underpants. Rebecca was next to lose and she removed her shoes and socks, easily displaying her panties as she lifted her feet and legs to do so. One good thing about Snap is that is requires only a small degree of skill, and Gary was just about as capable as the rest of us. I lost again, not intentionally this time, and removed my shirt. Then Gary lost, deliberately I suspect as he wanted a bit of attention, and he copied me by removing his shorts. Then Rebecca lost again, so she removed her shirt and sat there in her bra and skirt. Perhaps I was not fired up with the same excitement as the others, but I lost again, and took off my shoes and socks. Next were Andrew and Catherine, one after the other, and they removed their shoes and socks. Then came Andrew again, and he removed his shirt. Gary was now sitting with his penis deliberately poking out of the side of his underpants. Then I lost again, amid giggles from the others. Rebecca said, "I forgot to tell you a rule. Whoever loses everything has the last part taken off by the winner of the last game." It sounded like a rule made up on the spur of the moment, especially as Rebecca had won the last game. "All right," I grinned, lying on my back as Rebecca stood up and walked over towards me. She grabbed my underpants and pulled them off, with my legs in the air. The others giggled, and Gary called out, rather obviously, "I can see your wee." "Now you're out of the game," Rebecca informed me, as the others returned to their cards. Laura had all this time been playing with a touch of desperation, trying so hard not to get caught, but this time she failed. Forcing a smile, she removed her shoes and socks, revealing about all there was of those tiny thin white panties that just did their job. I had a view all the way up to her navel. Catherine was next to lose and, not wanting to expose too much yet, she unbuttoned her dress and removed her half-vest, buttoning her dress again afterwards. Then it was Rebecca's turn and she had to remove her skirt. She looked an attractive sight, sitting there in her lovely white bra and panties, although her freckled skin perhaps spoilt her as a portrait. We were just in the middle of the next game when we heard Mrs Fothergay 's voice outside, calling us for tea. The twins panicked for a second, grabbing for their clothes, although they were half-dressed already. Then they called out, "Coming, Mummy!", which on Rebecca's instructions they changed to, "May we come in five minutes, please?" Their mother agreed, so Rebecca said, "Right, let's finish this game and then when we come back we all take off what we've lost. All right?" Catherine, perhaps distracted, lost that game, so she would have to remove her dress when we came back. "That's not fair," protested Catherine. "I've got a whole dress, but you have a skirt and a top, so you have one more thing to wear." "Well, I don't have a vest, so I have one less as well," I put in. "Oh, all right," laughed Rebecca. "You have two chances with your dress, but next time you have to take it off." We dressed quickly and went up to the house. "So what have you been doing, dears?" the twins' mother asked them conversationally. "Playing with the dolls, and then we played snap with my cards," Rebecca answered for them, with truth but not the whole truth. None of us ate very much, which no doubt pleased the polite Fothergay parents. I presume the others found their stomachs churning with past excitement and future anticipation as much as I did. We had our drinks and cake (with forks) and a biscuit or two before heading back to the cottage, no doubt to Mr Fothergay's relief. Gary needed to go to the toilet again, having forgotten or not bothering to go during tea, so he simply pulled out his stringy little penis and watered the wall behind the cottage again. "Be careful," Catherine warned him. "If you do it too much here, it will smell and give us all away." Back upstairs, we removed clothing to the state we were in before. I lay naked on the mattress to watch the others play. Laura lost the first game and decided to take a leaf out of Catherine's book, slipping her hands under her brief top to slide out her bra. Then Catherine lost again, and this time her dress had to come off. She removed it with a brave smile and sat there in her light green panties, her last remaining garment. Andrew lost next and removed his vest, then Gary, who had been doing remarkably well most of the time, lost and took his shirt off this time. He had no vest, so he was now sitting in only his underpants, penis sticking out at the side again, with shoes and socks still on. He pulled out his underpants at the waist and had a look inside, perhaps just making sure he still had his most definitive part. Then came Catherine's exit, as she lost all her cards again. "Laura, you won last time," grinned Rebecca. "Pull her panties off." Laura looked very reluctant, but Catherine smiled and said, "It's all right, Laura, you can do it." Hesitantly Laura came over and did the job, with Catherine's lovely little vagina coming into view. Gary picked up the panties that Laura put on one side and smelt them. "I'm smelling for poo," he announced, wrinkling up his nose. "Oh, don't be rude, Gary," scolded Rebecca, as Catherine looked most offended. "Your underpants smell of everything. Put them down." Gary, rebuked and subdued, lost the next game and had to take off his shoes and socks. Then he lost again, was out of the game and Andrew was the lucky one to take off his underpants. Still sitting on the ground, he slid them off his legs, his little testicles clutching his body between his legs and his penis wobbling up and down as he did so before flopping over them in a broad curve. Catherine was sitting next to me on the mattress now that she was out of the game, and Gary came and sat on the floor, leaning against my legs. He twitched his penis idly with one hand, quite happily masturbating while he watched, his penis stiffening slowly all the time. Laura lost next, and thought she could do the same with her panties as she had with her bra. She slipped them off under her skirt, as covertly as possible, but my greedy eyes could still see that long area of darker pink loose skin between her legs, with her little vagina down the middle. She then crossed her legs, taking care to press her skirt down over the gap. But it was impossible to play that way with the next round of Snap, and hard though she tried she could not avoid giving flashes of spread vagina under that short skirt. It must have distracted her, because she lost again, and this time had to remove her bra. She completely forgot that she was supposed to be covering the gap under her skirt at the same time, so her vagina was fully exposed, with that strange white thing I couldn't identify quite visible at the top. Strands of hair hung down between her legs. She blushed with discomfort as her sweet little pointed breasts were given an airing. The end was now in sight - no pun intended. Andrew's shorts were next to go, and then Rebecca, giggling, had to remove her bra, quite unconcerned at displaying her budding breasts now that she trusted me. So we had an interesting finale, with all three of them with one item of clothing remaining. Laura it was who struck out, and was no doubt relieved that it was Rebecca who had to remove her skirt. With one hand shielding her vagina, she came and sat on the far end of the mattress. Then Rebecca erupted with glee as Andrew lost the final game and she dragged off his underpants while he chuckled. This left Rebecca, in her lovely white panties, as the only one left wearing anything. "What about Rebecca?" asked Andrew, sitting on the floor with his exposed penis hanging down between his open legs. "What do we do with the winner?" "We all take her panties off!" shouted Gary, bouncing up and marching over to Rebecca. "Oh, no, you don't," giggled Rebecca, backing away. "Oh, yes, we do," I grinned, sensing that Rebecca would enjoy being stripped in this way. I jumped up and followed Gary. I could tell from Rebecca's giggles that she was still enjoying it all. "Come on, everybody," I encouraged them. Andrew and Catherine jumped up, smiling, and joined us as we chased the giggling Rebecca around the room. She ducked and dodged, and then ran over to where Laura was still sitting as an interested spectator and snuggled up to her. "Laura, save me!" she laughed. Laura, joining in the fun, plucked at Rebecca's panties, but without serious intent. "Ooh, you're horrible!" squealed Rebecca, between fits of hilarity as we grabbed hold of her and laid her on the floor. I organised everybody. Catherine and Gary held a leg each as we spreadeagled her on the floor, and I persuaded Laura to help Andrew by holding an arm each. "You can't pull my panties off when my legs are apart!" squealed Rebecca, spreading her legs. Catherine and Gary weren't strong enough to hold her legs together as I started to pull down her panties. I pulled at the crotch enough to uncover her wide-open pink vagina, but the panties got stuck before they reached her knees. We were all in a screaming mass of naked humanity as I strove to complete the job on Rebecca. Just then we heard a heavy step on the stair, and Mr Fothergay's astonished voice: "What on earth is going on in here?" Part 5 First of all I must apologise most insincerely for misleading my readers at the end of part four. That last paragraph was untrue, so the suspense is over! Mr Fothergay never did discover what we were up to in that cottage, and neither did anyone else. We had a really memorable time that leaves the most pleasant of memories. After that story, I had two other major influences on my life, and there is so much to say about Erich and Saskia, the two others concerned, that I will write about them in separate stories, which I will call "Preteen Promiscuity" and "The Temptress". There are some less prominent people and events that still stick in my mind, though. About eighteen months after I first met the Fothergays, I made some other new friends. The parents were friends of my father in his university days who had also been nudists. They had had the misfortune to be employed in Saudi Arabia for the previous few years, though, where nudism is illegal. In a country where thieves, I gather, can be punished by having their hands cut off, I shudder to think of a similar punishment for nudists. That meant that, although the parents still enjoyed being nudists and immediately joined our nudist club, their children had not been able to grow up as nudists and did not want to go. Their two older children, that is - they had three. Stuart was about a year older than I and Kirsty a few months younger. Their youngest, Justin, was six, a year older than my cousin Shelley, and he was still too young to worry whether he was naked or not. But the parents had to find someone else to look after Stuart and Kirsty when they joined us at the nudist club. I did not meet Stuart and Kirsty then, until one Sunday when we did not go to the club and they came round to our house in the afternoon. Stuart was a little taller than I, slim and fair-haired. Kirsty was a little smaller, with shortish fair hair that curled slightly round her face and a very mischievous smile at times. She seemed to take a bit of a liking to me from the start. Their brother Justin was slim and actually very good-looking, with curly fair hair, the colour running in the family. As Kirsty was the only girl, she was allowed to bring a friend with her. This was a pretty little girl called Becky, who had long light brown hair tied in a ponytail down her back. When I first saw Becky I didn't take to her as she seemed to be frowning and unfriendly, but I later discovered that she was actually rather shy and a worrier, which accounted for her frown in strange situations. Their arrival that afternoon actually took me by surprise. My parents had asked me to look after the children but I was playing an exciting game in my bedroom with my cousin Shelley, then aged five, and we had forgotten the time. Suddenly I became aware of voices downstairs and my mother's voice calling me. "Coming!" I called, scrambling around for my clothes, as we were both naked as usual. Shelley slipped hers on quickly, while I grabbed my shorts and shirt, but couldn't find my underpants. So I just slipped on my shorts without them and ran downstairs with Shelley. The four visiting children were waiting for us, Stuart and Kirsty looking rather uncomfortable, Becky frowning and Justin grinning happily because he was the only one who knew us. They were smartly dressed, with Kirsty in a short blue and white dress and Becky looking very pretty in a white blouse and a red skirt with checked patterns in black. I soon told her how attractively she was dressed, but she hardly responded, which I mistakenly put down to unfriendliness. Kirsty stared at me for a second or two and then gave a shy smile. We were sent out into the swimming pool area to play. The reason for t his was that the grown-ups wanted to relax on our verandah in the nude where our visitors wouldn't see them, especially Becky. Our swimming pool is hedged around completely so both groups would be quite private. Unfortunately we were not allowed to swim unsupervised, which we thought was unfair. If they thought we needed supervising then we felt they might have taken it in turns to do so. As it was, we were sent there to play but not to swim. My parents did promise us that later on in the afternoon we would all swim together - but in swimsuits, of course. So rather reluctantly I led the others to our swimming pool enclosure after my father had repeated his programme for us to us all. We took some bicycles and toys with us, but we were all rather annoyed by what we felt was adult selfishness and prepared to be bored. Shelley was with us because her parents were away for the weekend, and she privately blamed Stuart and Kirsty for our banishment to the pool area, for their rejection of nakedness. She had been told very firmly not to bring up the subject with them at all, and she obeyed, but she very pointedly ignored them and paid attention instead to Justin, whom of course she knew from the nudist club. Nobody was really in the mood for games, so we just became very quickly bored and irritable with each other. Then Shelley decided she would ease her boredom by doing handstands, as she often did. "Catch me, Roy," she asked me, as again I often did. She raised arms, lifted a knee and swung her legs up for me to catch. Of course, as she did this, her skirt obeyed the law of gravity and flopped down, revealing those glorious white panties that I have always admired so much. Kirsty looked at her rather crossly as she swung herself upright again. "For goodness' sake, Shelley, tuck your skirt in when you do that," she instructed her. "Why?" asked Shelley innocently. Shelley has always been completely unselfconscious about her panties or her nudity. "Because you show everybody your panties, you silly," replied Kirsty, sounding as if she had never heard such naivety. "Girls don't do that when there are boys around." Shelley stared back at her as if she had never heard such fussiness. "I don't mind, silly," she replied eventually. "Girls don't do that," Kirsty instructed her. "So you must tuck your skirt in, like this." So saying, she tucked her skirt into the elastic of her panties and did a handstand just as Shelley had done. With nobody to catch her, she didn't even get herself vertical, but at least her skirt stayed in place. Shelley shrugged her shoulders and did another handstand for me to catch her. Then Justin came up, grinned at me and said, "Me too." Soon I was holding their legs up in turn. I don't think Kirsty thought she knew me well enough to ask me to catch her, so she asked her brother Stuart to catch her as she decided handstands were a good idea. We spent quite a few minutes doing this before the handstanders became rather too dizzy to continue. Everybody took part except Becky, who stood silently next to Kirsty. Then Stuart said to me, "Roy, you have a try and I'll catch you." I could actually do handstands quite well without any help, but in an effort to be friendly I duly swung my legs up for Stuart to catch my ankles. The second time I did it, I heard Stuart chuckle from above me. Then he said, "Hey, Roy, I can see your balls. You're not wearing any underpants today!" "I couldn't find them," I tried to explain from my upside-down position. "Hey, Kirsty, come and look," Stuart called. "Roy hasn't got any underpants on." From my position I could see Kirsty's legs walk over until she was standing only centimetres from my nose. I heard her squeal and give a little giggle. "Ooh, Roy," she giggled again. "Becky, come and look. You can see Roy's wee." I couldn't see Becky properly but could sense her refusal. Justin, however, squeaked out, "Let me see! I want to see." I could see his legs trotting over and then felt his fingers pulling at the leg of my shorts, no doubt so he could get a better view. "It's upside down," he observed profoundly. "Shelley, come and look." "Don't be silly, Justin," Shelley reproved him. "I know what Roy looks like. You're being rude." Kirsty giggled again, and I could sense her staring down my trouser leg. At this stage of my life, under the influence of Saskia and Erich, I had become pretty dirty-minded, I'm afraid, and I was quite happy to let them enjoy themselves a bit. Eventually I became rather dizzy and swung my legs down again, my face no doubt red from the rush of blood. I sat on the ground to clear my head while three of the visitors grinned at me. Becky was standing to one side looking quite embarrassed. "I saw your wee," beamed Justin, quite unnecessarily. "I don't mind," I told him. "You've see it before at the club, anyway." "It looks funnier up your shorts, upside down," Justin informed me. "Justin doesn't mind either," Stuart said. "Come on, Juss, show your willy." Obediently and with a naughty giggle, Justin lowered his shorts, pulled down the top of his white underpants and wiggled his little penis at us all. It was a neat, skinny little thing, convex in shape with its little bulge in the middle and the tiny foreskin tapering off the end. His brother and sister giggled. Becky went red and Shelley stared in mild disbelief at such weird attention to an everyday object. "Show us yours again, Roy," Kirsty urged me, turning to me with a naughty smile. "Are you going to show me yours?" I asked her in reply. I have never objected to anybody seeing my penis under normal circumstances, and at that stage in my life was quite happy to exhibit it in abnormal circumstances, but only if I got something in return. "No!" exclaimed Kirsty indignantly, but with a naughty giggle, and that was the end of that. There was a sudden squeal and shriek from Justin nearby. Decently dressed again, he had been doing a handstand with Stuart catching his legs and Stuart, showing off his strength, had seized his legs and lifted him a few centimetres off the ground. "Do that to me!" squealed Shelley, deserting me and running over to Stuart. He put Justin down and caught Shelley's legs as she swung them up, her skirt flopping down to her chest as usual. Then he heaved, with a bit of exertion, and managed to lift her off the ground as well. Suddenly Becky gave a big beaming smile and jumped over to Stuart. It was the first time I had seen her smile. Her whole face lit up, her blue eyes sparkled and she looked very pretty. "I bet you can't do that to me," she smiled at him. "I'll try," he replied, and Becky quickly began tucking her skirt in. "He won't be able to," Kirsty whispered to me. "He's tried to do that to me and he can't." Sure enough, Stuart couldn't quite lift Becky as she stood on her hands, with a sliver of white visible at the tucks of her skirt. By now Justin and Shelley were clamouring for another turn. Kirsty turned to me, looking at me shyly out of the corner of her eyes and asked, "Will you hold my legs?" I agreed, so she swung her legs up and I caught them just under my chin. I held one against each shoulder, and as I looked down I could see the white gusset of her panties in between the tucks at the front of her skirt and the tucks at the back. I could see her swivelling her head around trying to see up the leg of my shorts, but with her head facing outwards it was an impossibility. When I released her, she smiled naughtily and suggested, "Now see if I can catch you this time." "You just want to see my penis, don't you?" I challenged her. She shrugged and didn't deny it. "I've seen Stuart's wee," she told me. "It's bigger than yours. We still have to have our bath together. I don't like it because he's rude these days. He makes it stiff and then wees up the wall. He tries to make me kiss it. And he says rude things about me." My imagination ran riot but I decided it would be counter-productive to press for details. I just said, "If you have your bath with him, why don't you want to be a nudist?" "I just don't want other people to see me," she confessed. "They might say rude things too." Her face was slightly red from embarrassment and she didn't meet my eye. "Oh, nudists aren't rude," I assured her. "I'm a nudist and I don't say rude things." Unfortunately this was at that time of my life no longer strictly true, but I resolved not to say anything rude in Kirsty's presence as that would ruin my chances with her. Kirsty looked wistful but didn't comment. "I wish we could swim now," she said after a brief pause, looking at the pool. "My dad says we can't because you and Stuart don't want to swim naked," I replied, suddenly realising as I said it that I had disobeyed my parents' instructions not to bring up the subject. "And Becky," Kirsty added. "She won't swim naked." At that moment there were loud squeals and giggles erupting from Justin. Looking round, we saw that he was upside down in the handstand position while Stuart had his legs trapped and was tickling him under the crotch. Howling with laughter, Justin kicked and squirmed until Stuart put him down in a heap on the ground. "You tickled my wee," giggled Justin unnecessarily, sitting on the ground with his legs apart and clutching the named area. Stuart looked around for his next customer, but Shelley and Becky had both backed off, the latter looking shocked. Shelley wouldn't have minded my tickling her there but apparently felt differently about a stranger taking liberties with her. "I'm letting Roy catch me," Kirsty told them. "He doesn't do things like that." She swung her arms down and her legs up, forgetting that her skirt was now half untucked, and it flopped down her front, revealing her plain white panties and her front well past the navel. She immediately kicked to come down again and I let her. "We saw your panties," Justin informed her, a fact of which Kirsty was well aware. "Don't be rude, Justin," I said quickly, keen to prove myself to Kirsty. Kirsty smiled up at me out of the corner of her eyes, still a little too shy at times to face me, as she tucked her skirt in. "Again," she said, swinging her legs up, and this time all I could see was the gusset of her panties as I had done before. "Now me," burst out Shelley, coming back to me and holding her arms out. I caught her legs and heaved hard, and was pleased that I was just strong enough to lift her off the ground, even if it was only for a second or two. I looked over to Becky, who was standing on the fringe of my group, smiling nervously. "You want a turn, Becky?" I encouraged her with a smile. She nodded her head and came forward, still smiling and head on one side, with her arms out. "You tucking your skirt in?" I asked, noticing it had partly come untucked. I was already learning to take the longer view of things, putting aside instant pleasure, although sorely tempted, in the hope of long-term gain. Becky swung her legs up, but not very hard, and I had to reach forward quickly to grab them and pull them upright. Again the gusset of her panties was visible in the middle, white with little blue patterns on them. At the same time there were more shrieks from nearby as Stuart was again tickling Justin, his only customer now, between the legs. "Stuart, you shouldn't tickle him there," Kirsty reproved him. "Why not? He likes it," grinned Stuart. "He likes it." "It's rude," Kirsty told him coldly. "Isn't it, Roy?" "Yes," I agreed dutifully, but knew it wouldn't stop Stuart at all - quite the reverse, in fact. "But if Justin likes it, I don't suppose it matters." Becky was quite lively now, jumping around and turning cartwheels between her handstands, giving quick flashes of white under her tucked skirt as she did so. Shelley tried to copy her, but did not have the co-ordination at that age. Soon we were feeling pretty hot. There was not too much shade in the swimming pool area in those days, and even in the shade the foliage was quite thin. "Hey, look at Shelley!" suddenly burst out Justin, pointing. Shelley was standing with her back to us, facing a bush. Her panties were on the ground next to her, her skirt was up around her waist, and we could see her bare bottom and a stream of urine splashing into the bush. It was a sight I was very used to, and I should have thought Justin would have seen Shelley urinate like that often enough at the nudist club. "Oh, gross, Shelley," complained Kirsty in disgust. "Not in public!" "How can she do it standing up?" asked Becky, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Shelley always does it like that," I explained. "She hates sitting down." Shelley glanced over her shoulder as she finished, quite bemused as to what all the fuss was about. She plucked a leaf to dry her vagina, then pulled her panties up again. "That's how I wee too," announced Justin proudly. Pulling down his shorts again, he pulled his thin little penis out from his white underpants and began to urinate into Shelley's bush. Stuart gave a rude laugh, Kirsty objected as usual and Becky turned away in some confusion. "I'm too hot," complained Shelley as Justin shook his penis dry. "I'm taking my dress off." She undid her buttons and began to wriggle out of it. "Shelley!" Kirsty objected mildly, but then shrugged her shoulders. I thought for a moment about stopping her, but my parents had only told us not to go naked. They had not said anything about running round in panties. "I'm hot too," put in Justin, dragging his shirt off. "Keep your shorts on, Justin," Kirsty told him, but he took no notice. With delight he pulled his shorts down, half-dragging his underpants down with them, and danced around in his white underpants. Joining in, I removed my shirt and was just beginning to remove my shorts when I remembered that this time I had no underpants on. I pulled them up quickly, but not quickly enough to stop Justin from calling out gleefully, "I saw your bum!" This time Kirsty reproved him. I suspected Stuart was responsible for his rude comments, as nudists do not usually behave like that, especially when so young. Shelley, wearing only her lovely soft white panties, was now sitting on the side of the pool, trailing her legs in the water. "We're not allowed to swim yet, Shelley," I reminded her. "I'm not going to but I want to cool down," she replied. She dipped her hands in the water and splashed it on to her bare thighs, and then sprinkled it over her chest and back. "I want to do that," said Justin, sitting down and doing the same. The rest of us followed suit, Stuart taking his shirt off but Kirsty and Becky doing nothing with their dresses apart from pulling the skirts up a few centimetres to water their thighs. It felt so good and cool, but by the poolside we were sitting in the sun. Shelley stood up and went over to the steps along the side of the pool that led into the shallow end. Carefully she went down, step by step, holding her panties at the crotch in case they got wet and looking for all the world as if she were desperate for the toilet. She stopped with the water lapping a centimetre or two below the cloth. "Me too," called out Justin, following her a little less cautiously and getting a few light splashes on his underpants. The rest of us joined them, with Kirsty and Becky hitching up their skirts to keep them out of the order. Becky took such care that her panties were just visible beneath the hem of her skirt as she lifted it clear of the water. "I don't want to get my shorts wet," announced Stuart, climbing out and slipping off his shorts to reveal light brown underpants. He returned and, being taller, was able to stand on a lower step than the rest of us without getting them wet. It felt good but naughty to have the water lapping so close to our clothes. Kirsty gave a squeal as a careless wave from Justin splashed against her leg, wetting the hem of her dress and causing her to lift it out of the way, showing her panties beneath. She looked at Becky. "Let's take our dresses off," she suggested. Becky looked a little startled, but then nodded her head. I thought it advisable to ignore them as they moved back up the steps to take off their outer garments and lay them on the grass. Then they came back to join us as we walked along the steps and back, feeling the water lapping against our legs and occasionally transferring the water to our sweaty bodies. As we were different heights, we were on different steps, so there was enough room for us all. I looked at them covertly. Becky had less to show, but she was the more shy of the two. She kept a hand close to the place where her breasts would be if she had any, but she was still quite flat-chested and the nipples were as small and pale as any boy's. Kirsty seemed quite uninhibited as her tiny nipples were just beginning to rise from the surface of her chest in two little pink points. She did look at me from the corner of her eye, but I was able to look away before we made eye contact. "Look, Roy, did your dad say we mustn't get in the pool, or just that we mustn't swim?" asked Stuart. "Well, just that we mustn't swim," I said defensively, wondering if they really did mean we shouldn't get in the pool either. We had a shallow end less than a metre deep, so it was easy to get fully into the pool without swimming. I suspected they probably did mean we should not get into the pool at all, and felt mildly disturbed, being half-in already and suspecting I knew where Stuart was leading. "So did our parents," Stuart said. "They just said we mustn't swim yet. So it will be all right if we get in properly to cool down but don't swim." Being slightly nervous of the older boy, I didn't reply. "I think they really meant we shouldn't go in at all?" Kirsty said uncertainly, with a query in her voice. "They didn't say so," Stuart responded boldly. "I'm going to get in and cool down, but I'll do what they said and not swim." He prepared to plunge in. "But Stuart, Mum and Dad still have our swimsuits," protested Kirsty. "I'm swimming - I mean, I'm going in wearing my underpants," grinned Stuart, again preparing to plunge. "Wait! There'll be big trouble if you get your underpants wet," Kirsty reminded him urgently. "They'll think you've been swimming properly and you 'll get punished. And so will we." "They won't know they're wet when they're under my shorts," argued Stuart, but he sounded uncertain now. "They'll wet your shorts as well, you know that," Kirsty told him. "Remember what happened when we visited the Pearsons." I never found out what had happened at the Pearsons, but it was certainly enough to halt Stuart in his tracks. Justin had a suggestion, though. "I'm going in bare," he announced. He splashed out of the water and slipped off his underpants, his thin little penis bobbing into view. "I want to do that," cried out Shelley, moving up the steps and taking hold of the waist of her panties ready to remove them. But she was looking at me for approval. "We can't, Shelley," I told her with disappointment. "Dad said we mustn't go naked." "Was that because of us - Kirsty and me?" asked Stuart. "And Becky," put in Kirsty. "Well, yes," I answered, again on the defensive. "Because you're not nudists and you don't swim naked." "But if we both swim naked" ("and Becky," put in Kirsty) "then it doesn 't matter any more, does it?" was Stuart's logic. I didn't know what to say. Stuart turned to Kirsty. "Come on, let's," he urged her. "It doesn't matter here. It's just like having our bath, isn 't it?" Kirsty looked nervous and stammered something incomprehensible for a moment. Then a cunning gleam came into her eye. "I don't like it when you say rude things," she told him. "I won't say any rude things," Stuart assured her. "Not ever and ever again?" Kirsty pressed him. "In the bath as well." "Okay, okay, I promise, then," agreed Stuart reluctantly. "So it's all right, Roy. We'll all do it." "And Becky," put in Justin, perhaps mimicking Kirsty. Stuart looked disconcerted. "Well, Becky, you don't mind, do you?" he asked awkwardly. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Kirsty. "If she won't do it, the promise doesn't count," he said. Kirsty turned to Becky. "Please, Becky, say it's all right, okay?" she pleaded. "Stuart's promised, and Roy says he won't say anything rude, either. Don't you, Roy?" "Yes - I mean, no," I stammered, still feeling guilty about it. "I never say things like that. See, I'm a nudist and we go to a club for naked people every week." Becky looked most uncomfortable, but she didn't seem able to resist this subtle pressure. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and then said, "You can if you want to." "But we can't if you don't join in," Stuart said persuasively. "Roy's parents won't let him because of all of us, which is you as well. So if you won't join us, none of us can do it." I fancied I saw him trying to see through her clothes as he said it. It was the first time he had considered her opinion at all. "It doesn't matter just this time, Becky," pleaded Kirsty. "You can trust everybody. And Justin, you mustn't say anything, or we won't let you swim - I mean, go in the pool - at all. Wait!" She spoke just as he was about to splash into the water naked. "Come on, Becky, join in or else you' ll spoil the fun for everybody. Because you're my friend." Gravely Becky nodded. I knew I should have stopped it at that point, with all the possibilities of trouble, especially perhaps if Becky told her parents anything. But he who hesitates is lost, and the thought of seeing these girls naked was too much for me. Had they been nudists at our club, I would have been almost indifferent to their nudity, but they say many a pickpocket is only tempted by those who try hardest to ensure their money is safe. I only felt excited by those who were reluctant to show their nakedness - and I still do. Becky turned and whispered into Kirsty's ear. Kirsty turned to us and said, "Becky says she doesn't want to change in front of the boys." I wasn't sure what to do, but Stuart quickly came up with an answer. "Well, look, you girls can change in the shed," he said, indicating the shed where the pump and other things concerning the pool were kept. "And we'll change behind those bushes there. Okay? Then when we're all undressed, I' ll say go and we all run out and jump in the pool together." "That sounds all right, doesn't it, Becky?" Kirsty agreed, turning to her friend and willing a positive response. Looking rather pale, Becky nodded almost imperceptibly. I felt annoyed at having to hide to change in my own garden, but decided I would have to make sacrifices to get what I wanted, especially with the risk involved. Shelley too was impatient to remove her panties and get in the pool, but was persuaded by Kirsty to wait, as she shepherded her and Becky into the shed. "We mustn't get our hair wet or they'll know we've been in - I mean, they'll think we've been swimming," Kirsty remembered to tell us as we parted. We all really knew that what we were doing would be counted as disobedience, but childish rationalisation took control. I followed Stuart behind the bushes, as he insisted on an unwilling Justin joining us as well. "But I'm bare already," he grumbled. Behind the bushes I joined Stuart and immediately whipped off my underpants. Stuart stood there grinning in his underpants. "Hey, listen," he said. "We'll trick the girls, okay? We'll keep our underpants on and I' ll yell, 'Go!' Then we run out in our underpants and they're all naked. They'll scream and they'll be so cross when we trick them. Come on, Roy, Juss, put them on and get ready." "We can't do that! They'll never trust us then," I protested. "We've got to be honest with them, or they probably won't swim at all. They may tell tales about us." "They wouldn't dare. Come on, it's just a joke," Stuart insisted. "We 'll take them off afterwards." I could see the problems too easily and we had quite an argument. In the end we heard Kirsty's voice calling, "Aren't you boys ready yet?" "We'd better go before they change their minds," I said, still naked, as was Justin, waiting until he heard the outcome of the argument. "All right, then," scowled Stuart, whipping off his underpants to reveal quite a long, thin penis, a sickly white colour, obviously untanned in the sun, and with a small patch of golden-brown pubic hair at the top. Trustingly I moved with Justin to the end of the line of bushes, keen to show good faith by being first out. "Go!" I heard Stuart yell, and went charging out, followed by Justin. Shelley burst out from the shed, naked, laughing and racing us to the pool. Behind them I could see the white, hesitant bodies of Kirsty and Becky in the doorway, hands lowered to shield their nether regions. They were emerging, Kirsty giggling non-stop, but slowly. Then suddenly Kirsty gave a scream of rage, pointed behind me, shouted, "Stuart!" and dived straight back into the shed, followed by Becky. I saw two white bottoms disappearing inside, all the whiter because of the contrast with their suntanned backs and legs. It might have been funny in different circumstances. Shelley and I, both disconcerted, skidded to a halt at the edge of the pool, but Justin leapt right in and started splashing, half-swimming, around. Stuart came thundering behind me and past me, heading towards the shed. He was wearing his underpants. "Stuart, you're cheating!" accused Shelley loudly, less dumbstruck than I. Stuart fortunately didn't have the courage to go charging right into the shed, but came to a stop outside, laughing loudly. Angry female voices came from inside the shed. Even Becky was cross. "Stuart, you cheated!" I heard her cry in a shocked voice. Stuart soon stopped laughing as he had to realise that his trick had fallen flat. I was pretty sure he hadn't seen the girls clearly as I hadn' t, and I had been looking as keenly as he. Moments later Kirsty and Becky emerged from the shed, wearing their panties again. "I should have known I couldn't trust you," Kirsty scolded him, very angry. "We're not swimming with people we can't trust." "Ah, come on, it was just a joke. Can't you take a joke?" Stuart responded. "Let's do it again and I promise I'll take them off next time." "No, we can't trust you," said Kirsty coldly, walking past him with Becky. They headed for the rest of their clothes, picked them up and carried them towards the shed, presumably if inexplicably to put them on again in private. "Stupid Stuart," snorted Shelley, splashing down the steps into the pool. "Come on, Roy, let's play." I didn't know what else to do, feeling bitterly disappointed, so I slowly followed Shelley into the pool, hearing behind me the placating tones of Stuart and the uncompromising replies of the girls. It was obvious they considered the matter closed. The girls disappeared inside the shed. "I'll take them off now!" Stuart called after them, dragging them off. "All right, they're gone! You can come and see me!" There was no response. Stuart shook his penis towards the shed. "Come and see it!" he called. "Come and see my big - long - beautiful - hairy - knob! My prick! My piss! My chop! The biggest, greatest knob in the West! Tow metres long and crackling with electricity! Ready to poke you at your pleasure - two at a time! Special rates for twin seating!" Buckling his knees, he waved it obscenely up and down. "Shut up and go away," came Kirsty's annoyed voice from inside the shed. "Well, you just piss off, then!" Stuart shouted angrily. Still muttering about them and cursing, much to the interest of Justin, he stalked over and joined us in the pool. A couple of minutes later the two girls emerged from the shed, now fully dressed again. Stuart took one glance and ignored them, still angry, although they had more right to be angry than he. The girls sat cross-legged under a tree, with Kirsty's white panties visible under the fold of her skirt, and watched us. It was difficult to stop Justin from swimming, but we were having a great time in the cool water. I could only hope the girls were envious enough to change their minds, but I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut when I didn't know what to say. After a few minutes Kirsty called out, "Stuart!" He didn't respond, so she called again. "Shut up!" he snapped at them, turning his back on them. Kirsty tried me next. "Roy," she called. "Please come." I climbed out of the pool and walked over to them, my penis dripping water. Becky, blushing, looked down and started fiddling with the hem of her dress. Kirsty I could see was staring at my penis with interest. "Roy," she smiled, eventually tearing her eyes from my appendage. "We want to swim, but Stuart cheated on us." "Well, he just meant it as a joke, but it was silly," I replied. "He's naked now, so you can swim - I mean, play in the pool." "He just wants to see our pussies," Kirsty continued. "No, because - because if he was, he'd be trying to make you swim now," I tried to explain. "He's given up. He doesn't care." "We can't trust him," said Kirsty. "Can we, Becky?" Face down still, Becky shook her head. There was a short pause, during which Kirsty's eyes were drawn again to my penis. Then she said, "I don't like Stuart's piss. It looks ugly. It's too big. He slides back the skin at the end and - urggh!" She pulled a face. I presume the implication was that mine was much better looking. I didn't know what else to say, so I just said, "Well, I'm going back in the pool. You can come if you want." And I departed. I kept an eye on the girls, though, and after a minute or two saw them whispering together. There was quite a long discussion, and then they rose to their feet, unintentionally giving flashes of their panties, as I was always beginning to notice at that stage in my development, and disappeared into the changing rooms. Stuart just saw them go inside, and asked, "What are they up to?" "I think they may be going to swim - I mean, play here as well," I replied cautiously. "Please, just don't say anything if they do, or they may not." "No, everything I say is wrong with them," sneered Stuart and we carried on playing. The girls seemed to take an inordinately long time to pluck up enough courage to emerge from the shed. I saw Kirsty's head and bare shoulders look around the door a couple of times, but I pretended I had not noticed. Stuart probably noticed as well, but also had the sense to ignore them this time. It was a bit like a pantomime. I saw Kirsty, naked, take a few steps out of the shed while looking with a silly grin in our direction all the time, the top half of Becky appeared in the doorway behind her, and then Kirsty scuttled back inside, giggling with embarrassment. But finally they decided they could do it, if not very well. Kirsty came walking stiffly out of the shed, grinning towards us and then looking back over her shoulder for Becky. Becky slipped out of the door and walked behind Kirsty as Kirsty approached the pool, still with an embarrassed grin on her face. I presume Kirsty was mainly worried about me, as Stuart and no doubt Justin had seen her naked before, while Becky had three boys to think about. Kirsty at least tried to hold her arms naturally by her side as she came, but Becky had one hand held defensively over her groin. I pretended not to look as I splashed with Shelley, who naturally took no notice of them at all, while Stuart was playing with Justin and no doubt looking out of the corner of his eye, as I was. Kirsty smiled shyly at me as she reached the steps and began to lower herself into the pool. She kept her hands by her side and I risked a quick glance at her long, narrow vagina, still smooth and quite hairless. Becky, behind her, was looking at her feet and still had one hand protectively covering her groin, while the other gripped her ponytail, slung over her shoulder, tightly. Her face was rather white and she was clearly finding this an ordeal. I was surprised to find that Justin was in fact ignoring them, as I had been afraid he might make one of his tactless comments, especially about Becky. But perhaps his mind worked a bit like mine, and he was only interested when there was something unusual to see, rather than by uninhibited nudity. It was clear that Becky intended to get down into the pool without revealing anything, much to my disappointment. Fortunately Justin was ignoring her. She was halfway down the steps when I suddenly heard Stuart say, "Look out, Becky, there's a bee on your hair." Becky gave a squeal of fright and shook her head violently, instinctively putting up both hands into the air. "Where? Where is it?" she cried. "Is it gone?" Kirsty turned round to look and I stared, unable to see the bee. But I did see Becky's cute little vagina tucked away between her legs, just peeping out from underneath, white and untouched by the sun. "Stuart, where is it? I can't see it," burst out Kirsty, eager to help, as Becky flapped and squealed in fright. "It's okay, it's gone now," said Stuart, pointing over Becky's shoulder. "I saw it fly away." None of the rest of us had seen it, and I looked at Stuart. Then I thought I could see a little smirk on his lips, and I suddenly realised what he had done. There had been no bee, but by distracting Becky he had tricked her out of her cover. That was a lesson I learned, and was able to put into practice quite a few times with shy girls during the next few years on different pretexts, I regret to say. Becky, still rather shaken and quite unaware that Stuart had tricked her, splashed into the pool, the water coming up to her stomach. I felt rather sorry for her, but didn't regret Stuart's trick. "It's all right now, Becky," I smiled at her. "Bees don't come in our pool, so you're safe now." "I hate bees," she said, still looking very anxious, and with her little flat white chest above the water. "Come on, Becky, let's play," Kirsty encouraged her. They started splashing each other gently and then chasing each other through the water. Soon I had an idea, a very impulsive one that I soon regretted. I suddenly thought I might be able to revive the handstands, this time in the water. "Watch this, everybody," I called out, and immediately plunged my body into the water upside down. I could feel the water on half my body and it helped me balance my other half, sticking high out of the water. I stayed there for perhaps five seconds and then swung myself upright again, only to be met with horror rather than enthusiasm. The first thing I heard when I had the water out of my ears was Kirsty' s voice, scolding me. "Roy, you're so stupid!" she protested, her face full of shock. "Now you've wet your hair, and our parents will know we've been swimming!" "We haven't been swimming, we've been playing in the pool," Shelley corrected her, but was ignored. I had completely forgotten to keep my hair dry, and now it was too late. "Oh, no, I forgot," I apologised to them all. "I didn't think of that." "I saw your dingly-dangly all upside down again," put in Justin, quite unconcerned about my hair. "Now we're all going to get into trouble because of you," scolded Kirsty, really giving me a hard time. "Ah, don't worry about it," Stuart broke in. "We can just say you - you dropped your earring in the pool and Roy went in to fetch it." "That's a good idea!" burst out Justin. "Me too!" So saying, he plunged head-first in the water and tried unsuccessfully to stand on his hands, his balance being wrong and his breath too short. This brought even more wrath from Kirsty. "Justin, how can you be so stupid?" she stormed. "We can say that about Roy, but we can't make the same excuse for you! Now we're really in trouble." Looking at Becky, I thought she was on the verge of tears with anxiety. "I'm getting out," she said, splashing her way to the steps. A stream of drops ran off her little white bottom as she reached the top and headed for her clothes. We stood around looking worried and guilty. Stuart wasn't too bothered, though. "We'll think of something," he said. "We'll just say Justin decided to go in after Roy and we couldn't stop him." "If he gets into trouble, then he'll tell about the rest of us," protested Kirsty. "Well, we'll say something else - say we were playing a game with him and put his head in the pool for fun or something," replied Stuart, prepared to lie quite shamelessly. "Can you think of anything better?" We were still discussing things when suddenly we were startled by a voice, "Hey, what's going on here, then?" We looked around in shock to find the other children's dad standing by the gate with a towel round his waist, looking at the naked bodies of his older two with bemusement. "I thought you weren't allowed to swim or strip off!" he exclaimed, but we could tell, to our relief, that he wasn't angry, but rather surprised. "Oh, we weren't swimming, we were just playing in the shallow end," broke in Kirsty, splashing up the steps and dripping her way hurriedly over to her father, hands together as if in prayer. "We thought you wouldn't be cross about that." "And going naked was my idea," Stuart confessed. "You didn't tell Kirsty and me we couldn't, and the only reason Roy and Shelley weren't allowed was because of us. So we thought it would be all right." "You told us not to come and bother you unless it was an emergency, so we - we had to use our sense, like you told us to do," pleaded Kirsty, although I couldn't make the connection with 'using our sense'. "So please, please, please could we?" She looked up at him with her irresistible blue eyes. "We were so very hot here and we didn't think you'd mind." Thinking about it later, I decided that their father was more pleased than anything, and relieved that his older children had finally decided to cross the family divide and swim naked. "Well, if you're so willing to swim in your little pink skins when you're here, why are you so unwilling to come to the club with us?" he asked, his face breaking into a smile. "Well, here it's with friends, but over there it's with strangers," Stuart tried to explain. Then, perhaps reading his father well, he added, "Maybe we can try coming next time, though. This is really fun." He was now standing in front of his father, his long white penis with its patch of pubic hair dangling and dripping on the grass. A broad loving grin began to spread itself over their father's face. He looked fondly at his wet, naked children. Stuart, taking advantage of this, went on to ask, "And Dad, could we just play by ourselves here for a bit longer, without the grown-ups? We promise to stay at the shallow end so we won't need watching." His dad thought for a moment and then said, "Well, I'll talk to the others and see, but that's fine by me. We'd like to come down for a swim ourselves in half an hour or so, though." Stuart and Kirsty gratefully wrapped their arms around him, wetting him quite a bit, while Justin, not wanting to be left out, went behind him and hugged his legs. "And that means you grown-ups won't need to wear swimsuits either," Kirsty added. Just then her dad remembered something. "Well, I don't know - what about Becky?" he asked. We all looked over to where Becky was still sitting under a tree, with her dress over her wet body. "And Becky," piped up Justin, for effect. Becky seemed to think for a moment, and then gave a beaming smile. She stood up, casting aside her dress and this time unashamedly giving us a view of her beautiful smooth little body. "It's all right," she smiled. "I don' t mind." As their dad left, we all plunged into the pool with whoops of glee, the threat of trouble behind us. "We can get our hair wet now," I reminded the others. "Roy, do a handstand, do a handstand!" Justin encouraged me. "I want to see your wee hanging down again." "Justin, don't be so rude," Kirsty scolded him, but I sensed she had an interest in the project as well. For my part I was quite prepared to show off my assets, and I obliged him with another handstand, coming up to find him clapping his hands with glee. The others were now beginning to do handstands in the pool as well, finding it easier when buoyed up by the water. "Me too!" squealed Justin. "Roy, hold my legs." But there was too much water there, and he found it easier to put his hands on one of the lower steps, where it was shallow enough for him to have his legs out of the water. I held them as he stood on his hands there, although only for a second, getting an overhead view of his little pink scrotum and his thin little penis sticking straight out horizontally. "Did my wee hang down like yours?" he asked as soon as he came up and was ready to speak, moving up a couple of steps so he could examine his penis and wave it up and down. "A bit," I compromised, to keep him happy. "You didn't tickle me," he complained. "Under water?" I asked. "If I did it to you under water, you'd drown!" Shelley was immediately clamouring for similar attention. I held her legs for a couple of seconds on either side of my head and gazed lovingly at her little rounded vagina, still podgy and rounded with infancy, later to flatten under her mound and lengthen into the beautiful sight I know so well today. Kirsty wanted a turn, and she was tall enough to do it on the floor of the pool. She seemed quite unconcerned about my seeing her nakedness now, and must have been down there for about ten seconds before kicking her legs to come up again. She had a long, slim, tight vagina with the clitoris just showing at the top, and it all looked to be one long line from the top right underneath to her bottom. Stuart was also advertising his availability for holding legs, but only Justin was interested now. After a few minutes Becky decided to overcome her shyness and come to me for a handstand. I caught her legs as they went over, and held them on either side of my head. She had a little rounded vagina, shorter but wider than Kirsty's. My fingers itched to fondle the little pink area of loose skin right between her legs, but I knew I would never get the chance. Suddenly there was a splashing and a spluttering and shrieking next to us. Stuart, it seemed, had decided to tickle Justin between the legs, resulting in Justin exploding under water and swallowing a lot of it. He returned to the surface kicking and screaming, and shouting incomprehensibly at Stuart, spluttering water all over the place as he did so. "I thought you wanted me to tickle you," chuckled Stuart, not a bit sympathetic. "You wanted Roy to tickle you." Justin's reply was again incomprehensible, but after that he left Stuart and joined my group. I couldn't help feeling childishly proud that they all now preferred Stuart to me. After a while, with the grown-ups staying away, we clambered out of the pool for a break and rested in the partial shade of the still small trees. I lay on my back, arms behind my head and my penis flopping limply upwards towards my stomach. Shelley lay next to me, her vagina exposed on her prominent mound. The others were a little more reticent, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward so their private parts were at least half-hidden - the older three, at least. Had we had towels, some of us might have been lying on our stomachs. Justin came and sprawled on top of me. I could feel his penis trailing against my side. "Tickle me," he instructed me. Obediently I dug my fingers into his ribs and he giggled, but said, "No, not there. You know the place." "What place?" I asked, unable to believe that he was actually wanting me to attack his genitals. "Tickle my willy," he insisted. "And my goolies. It feels good." "All right," I agreed, surprised. He was lying on his front, his chest against mine, so I reached down and pushed my hand between his legs as the only way to reach it. He giggled as I tickled the loose skin between his legs. I suppose I shouldn't find it surprising that boys and girls are so alike there. The only difference is that girls have that deep valley running down the middle of it, while boys have testes at the top. Reaching upwards, I could feel Justin's little testicles wobbling beneath my fingers and he continued to giggle as I juggled with them. Then my hand just reached far enough to grasp his little penis between my fingers. It was cold and limp, so I massaged it. Giggling helplessly, he rolled over on his side and I had to pull my hand out and start again. Entering fully into the spirit of the occasion, I put both my arms around him. My right hand tickled him under the testicles while my left hand jiggled around with his penis. Stuart and Kirsty, watching, were both laughing, and I suddenly felt Justin's little penis begin to stiffen under my fingers. Suddenly he gave a squeal and I felt my hands sprayed with a warm liquid. Justin sprang to his feet, clutching his penis, which was still spurting urine. "Ooh!" he squealed, still giggling. I shook my wet hands in disgust, finding my left side wet as well. Stuart and Kirsty were now helpless with laughter. "I've wee'd all over me!" giggled Justin, displaying his urine-covered genitals to his bother and sister. "Boy, that was good!" "All over me, too," I complained. I went to the pool and scooped up some water to wash myself clean, and Justin did the same. "That felt so good, Roy," he grinned as we returned to our places, his siblings still laughing. "You made my wee all stiff. Do it again! I haven 't any more wee left." "That's enough for right now," I replied, not trusting him. "Do it to me, Roy," Shelley pleaded, snuggling up next to me on the grass and lying on her back. "I promise I won't wee on you." "All right," I grinned, putting my arms lovingly around her and massaging her vagina with my fingers. I had actually done this sort of thing with her before. I tickled her gently on her vagina, feeling the soft warm flesh springy beneath my fingers, yet firmer underneath. She giggled quietly and opened her legs, so I could put my fingers between her legs and tickle her gently on that loose skin. When we had finished I saw Kirsty looking at me rather enviously with sparkling eyes, obviously wanting a turn but too shy to ask. Instead she said with a shy smile, "Roy, someday someone will do that to you." "Maybe, but it won't be you," I replied. "Who says?" she grinned, moving up closer to me to sit within touching distance. "I do," I grinned, whereupon she reached out a hand timidly, put it under my penis and began tickling. I have never found that area particularly ticklish, but I did what I was sure she wanted. I laughed and grabbed hold of her round the shoulders, pulling her against my chest. I ran my left hand over her tiny breasts, feeling the still soft skin around her little nipples and the firmer flesh underneath. My right hand reached down to her pubic area, gently massaging her long vagina, harder and firmer than Shelley's, and feeling the loose skin under her legs. "Becky, help me!" laughed Kirsty, obviously enjoying it and feeling my penis harden. To my surprise Becky needed little encouragement and, giggling quietly, she knelt down next to me and began to tickle me under the arms, keeping well away from my penis. I moved a hand to her stomach and she didn't object, so I ran my fingers over her chest, hardly able to feel her tiny nipples. Then I slipped it between her legs, and she squealed with pleasure as I gently rubbed her vagina, feeling the rounded flesh as soft as putty as it wobbled beneath my fingers. "I'll save you, Roy," came Stuart's voice as he decided to gate-crash the party. He grabbed hold of Becky, pulling her off me as she squealed in protest. I saw his hand reach down towards her vagina, and in desperation she pushed it away as hard as she could. "Don't! If you touch me there I'll tell!" she screamed in real panic. Kirsty leapt off me and ran to rescue her friend, pushing Stuart as hard as she could. "Keep out - nobody invited you!" she yelled at him. Stuart, again realising his error too late, backed away. "It's only fun," he protested strongly. "Look, you can tickle my knob if you like." "I wouldn't want to touch it!" stormed Kirsty. "I don't even want to see the smelly thing. If I get a knife I'll cut it off. Just leave us, Stuart. Nobody wants you." Their argument, conducted at a high rate of decibels, lasted a minute or two, with Stuart mainly on the defensive. Then it was over, as their dad appeared at the gate to see what was going on. His children had shouted so loudly that the adults had heard them up at the house. He didn't ask any questions but he quietened things down and then told us that the grown-ups would be joining us in a few minutes. Sadly, that was the end of the intimacy, but I had enjoyed more in a few minutes than many a boy has in his whole childhood - pre-puberty, that is. I actually came out of that afternoon rather well. My parents were rather suspicious of the part they suspected I played in our dip in the shallow end and our nudity, but there was no denying that the acceptance of nudity by Stuart and Kirsty ended a problem and led to a stronger friendship between our families. Over the next few years I was to enjoy many happy hours at the nudist club with Stuart, who behaved more sensibly once he had got used to nudity as a lifestyle, and Kirsty. Sadly I never had any more intimacy with Becky, although I saw her often enough at school and she stayed in the country long enough to wear a bra, which I could only view through the back of her white, slightly transparent school blouse. But I will always remember with warmth her beauty, her smile and that warm secret area that for an uncharacteristic moment she allowed me to fondle. Part 6 As I mentioned before, the two greatest childhood influences I had were Saskia and Erich. Saskia was my girlfriend for two years and Erich was my best friend for nearly as long. Between them they introduced me to the sexual side of nudity, and there is so much to include about my life with both of them that I have decided to write about them in two separate stories, to appear in the near future: "The Temptress," about Saskia, and "Preteen Promiscuity" about Erich. After been influenced by those two, I might easily have grown up a pervert. However, Erich's time in this country ended in a great deal of trouble as he made a sexual attack on a girl (you can read all about it later) and the shock of it all brought me to my senses. I resolved that I would never do anything to a girl against her will, and that my role in life should be the traditional romantic male one of the strong, chivalrous, gentle protector of the fair sex. I had grand visions of myself in this role, and this romantic ideal has never really left me. The trouble was that I still had my sexual desires. The naked female body of any age at our nudist club has never stimulated me, but it has rather been a normal part of everyday life. Outside, however, and especially at our strict, semi-Victorian English school, it was taboo, and that naturally drew me to desire it. I wanted life there to resemble life at the nudist club, and when I saw a pretty girl whose nudity, or even whose underwear, was denied me, I wanted to see it. I wanted the intimacy. The problem now, after Erich and Saskia, was to find that intimacy without abusing the girl in any way. In other words, my sixth-grade mind told me, I had to make the girl want it too and willingly volunteer it. And to do that I had to persuade her not only to like me but also to trust me. Basically, it's still my philosophy today. That is a skill that has to be developed. With Erich and Gia, I had tended to attract the wrong kind of girls, those with an embryonic prostitute mentality who were prepared to show off their bodies in a lewd or promiscuous way. They are not to be confused with those who sometimes do deliberately reveal their panties or vaginas to boys as an act of love and trust, as many girls will do. There is a big difference. After the life-shattering horror of that final incident involving Erich, I realised that I didn't respect this sort of girl and she didn't respect me either. Unfortunately the type of girl I liked, and still like, unless she is a nudist, is unwilling to give me that intimacy until she has developed a strong liking for me and knows I can be trusted not to do or say anything that will hurt her. This is where the skill comes in. I knew, as I went into my final year at junior school, that if I wanted the right kind of girls in my life, I would have to learn the art of seduction. I would have to lead the girl to my way of thinking without her being aware of it and, even more difficult, without her feeling guilty about it at the time or afterwards. Despite my secret life with Erich and Gia, I was well thought of at the school as, outwardly at least, I always spoke and behaved in a sensible, responsible way and showed some leadership qualities - although I admit I followed Erich and Gia all too readily. So I was made a prefect, and might well have been head boy had there not been one or two lurking suspicions, completely unproven, about what I had really got up to with those two. This gave me added weight in my experiments, as I might call them, to develop the skill of seduction. My sixth-grade mind decided on one simple plan. I would invite girls I fancied to my house during the long lunch hour and the heat of the day, when my family were all out, and trick them into swimming naked with me. That was my ultimate aim at that stage of my life, and I had to work out a way to persuade the girls concerned to co-operate. I had some failures at first. I think I was too eager and put too much pressure on them to come for lunch at my house. I had some outright refusals, one or two simply because it was against the school rules and they would get into trouble if caught. So I had to learn how to persuade them to take that risk. Then I had four who did come to my house. One brought her swimsuit with her and insisted on wearing it. A second quietly refused to swim without a swimsuit, even when I went in naked myself and she had to watch me while feeling hot and sweaty. Another similarly refused, and was so uptight about nudity that she began to get upset when I stripped off myself. The fourth readily agreed to swim naked, but was very silly about it and quickly put me off her. I considered that a failure as well. After a month of the first term of my sixth-grade year, I had still had no success and had run out of girls in my own class that I fancied. I began to look around at girls in other classes. In our English-speaking expatriate society, there is always a rapid turnover of families as so many parents come on work contracts lasting usually between one and three years, and then leave, as had been the case with Erich and Gia. So every term there were quite a few new girls for me to look at. One morning during school hours I was running an errand for a teacher when I saw a new girl standing alone at the end of a classroom block, looking completely lost. I had seen her before and had been interested enough to discover that her name was Kelly, but hadn't yet plucked up the courage to approach her in a friendly fashion. Now, however, I saw my chance to make a business contact. Kelly was in the other of the two sixth-grade classes from myself. She was actually quite mature-looking, with long light-brown hair tied back in a ponytail, blue eyes and cute freckles round her nose. It was the way she carried herself somehow that made her look older than her years, although I soon saw that emotionally she was very vulnerable. That to me meant immediate attraction. I walked over to her, and she regarded me with some alarm. As a prefect I always wanted to present a strong image, and looking back I can see that I sometimes had almost a bullying approach. But once I had got a bit of fear out of my victim, I reverted to kindness in an effort to show them what a great guy I was. "Roy is such a tough guy, but he was so kind to me," I fondly imagined them saying. And the one characteristic of a girl that I have always found most attractive is vulnerability. It brings out my most chivalrous side, and I want very much to look after her, protect her, shower her with kindness - and enjoy intimacy with her in the nude. "What are you doing here out of class?" I asked her sternly, without a smile. "I'm sorry, Roy, I - I just got lost," she stammered, and burst into tears. She obviously knew my name but was in some fear of me. I waited and said nothing, wondering whether I could plunge straight in with my kind side. I decided to wait until she spoke again. "I'm supposed to be going to sewing with my class and it's in a new place," she gulped as the tears ran down her face and she mopped them with a tiny handkerchief. "I had to go to the toilet. I asked another girl to wait for me, but when I came out she had gone. And I don't know what to do." "Don't cry, for a start. There's one thing you should do," I told her, still without a smile. She stopped mopping for a moment and stared at me. "What?" she asked, quite perplexed. "You should ask me for help, Kelly," I told her, smiling at last and enjoying my benevolence. "I can show you where to go." She stared at me in surprise. "How - how do you know my name?" she asked me. "I know all the prettiest girls," I smiled at her, laying it on a bit quicker and thicker than I would nowadays. Fortunately Kelly was still very naïve and childlike, so she took me at complete face value and blushed. "I was going to talk to you sometime and now I've got a good chance. I want to be friends with you." I was later to learn that this is far too fast for most girls over the age of about eight or nine, and many of them will back off if I come at them as quickly as this. But this delightful naïve trusting Kelly had not yet learned the hard, sad facts of life and was willing to trust anybody who was kind to her. "Oh, Roy, I'd love to be your friend," she replied, blushing charmingly, twisting her hands together and smiling at me as two more tears, this time of happiness, ran down her cheeks. "I've been here four weeks and I still haven't been able to find a proper friend. Thank you." "I'd do anything to help you," I boasted, taking her hand and squeezing it as we appeared to be in private. She squeezed back before I reluctantly released her. "Come with me." "I'll be in trouble for being late," she said as she followed me, tears welling up again. Emotionally she still seemed to be at about seven- year-old level, but in other ways she was as mature, if not more so, than any other sixth-grader. "No, you won't," I reassured her, laying it on thick again. "I'll look after you. Don't worry, I'll tell Mrs Hangover you just got lost." Kelly giggled. "Ooh, Roy, it's Mrs Handover, that's her name," she laughed. "Not Mrs Hangover!" The girls' sewing classes were usually held in her home classroom while the boys did craft in my home classroom. But if for any reason either classroom was unable to be used for this purpose, for example if there was a display of some sort, the children would go instead to a prefabricated classroom standing by itself in a far corner of the school. This was where the sewing girls had gone, and I had a couple of minutes to talk to Kelly before we arrived there. Kelly's home was in Norfolk, in the east of England, and she had two younger brothers. She lived on a farm and had attended a tiny village school that sounded so perfect that she had obviously been protected from all the vices of city life - in fact, before her father had signed a three-year contract to teach agriculture at the university here she had hardly seen a city at all. It was all so overwhelming to her that she felt she couldn't cope and had withdrawn instead of trying to get to know her classmates. She started crying again as she told me about it all, and we had to stop behind a hedge while she composed herself enough to enter the classroom. "I feel so lonely," she whispered as the tears flowed. "Kelly, I'll look after you," I promised her. Impulsively, I wrapped my arms round her and hugged her. Then I gave her a kiss on the cheek. A split second later I remembered that this could get me into trouble. I was still learning that this was a most unwise thing to do to girls older than about six without being sure it was wanted. I stood in trepidation for another second, but in this case it turned out to be exactly the right thing to do. Suddenly Kelly's face broke into a beaming smile. She didn't hug or kiss me in return that time, but she just beamed with delight. Filled with relief, I decided I had better get her into the classroom as quickly as possible, which I did, explaining to the teacher as I had promised. I turned to smile at her on my way out, but she had turned all shy again and was looking down at her desk. Incidentally, in my enthusiasm to play the great romantic hero, I failed to recognise that kisses have to be used with care, and for a while I tended to kiss not wisely but too well and too soon. Before the end of term I was to appear before the headmaster after being reported for kissing a girl who did not want to be kissed. Fortunately I managed to talk my way out of it by expressing remorse, explaining that I came from an effusive family and just forgot myself on the spur of the moment when comforting a girl who had hurt her ankle, and I was just doing it as a joke to cheer her up and make her laugh. For the next couple of days I found Kelly taking me at my word as far as being a friend was concerned, and coming to chat to me, which she did very quietly and intimately, whenever she saw me. Then suddenly she stopped, and seemed embarrassed to see me. When I managed to see her privately and asked her what was wrong, she told me that some of the girls in her class had been teasing her with claims that I was her boyfriend. I sighed at the stupidity of it all, in my vanity assigning it entirely to jealousy on their part. "Just tell them that I'm a family friend," I urged her. "So your dad has asked me to look after you at school." She immediately looked very shocked. "But, Roy - it isn't true - is it?" she blurted out. "I can't say that if - if . . ." If I had been more mature then, I would have made it true. I would have found a way to meet Kelly's family and introduce them to my family so we could have built our friendship more openly. But I hadn't yet reached the stage of working out this method, so I had to change my approach. After the failures of my previous attempts, I had been reluctant to ask her to come home with me at lunchtime. Now, I thought, might be the time. "Well, I've an idea," I told her. "If we can't act as friends to each other at school, we'll have to go somewhere outside. So at our lunch break today, just go out of the school gates and down to that corner." I pointed. "We' ll meet there and we can go and have our lunch at my house, just by ourselves. All right?" Kelly looked shocked. "But - we're not allowed!" she exclaimed. "The headmaster said especially at the start of term that we must stay in the school grounds at lunchtime unless our parents are collecting us, or we'll be in very serious trouble." In vain did I try to convince her that she could come with me because I was a prefect, or that if there was any trouble I would take all the blame. She was just too afraid of breaking the school rules to agree. So for the next week or so the only times we could meet were at a secret rendezvous where none of Kelly's nasty little classmates could see us - hopefully. In fact we did manage to meet each time without detection, but it was only occasionally. I could tell Kelly was most unhappy about it, and she sometimes cried. I think of all the girls I have ever met, she was the most open and honest and vulnerable, along with my present girlfriend Marina, familiar to readers of my previous stories. I grew to love Kelly very quickly, and I longed for intimacy with her. I had to give up hope of her coming to my house during lunchtime, though, and I was sure with her fear of doing wrong - or what she thought to be wrong - she would never want to swim naked anyway. The following Tuesday I made another friend, though, who took my mind off Kelly a bit. Strangely enough, she was in the same class as Kelly. Next to each block of classrooms there are within an alcove two deep washbasins, which the children often used to wash out equipment after art or science or any other messy lessons, and also to wash their hands after being on the playing field. Again I was on an errand for a teacher - I got one most days, being one of the fastest workers, if careless at times - when I heard the smash of breaking glass and a squeal of dismay coming from the washbasins. I looked inside the alcove, to find a small girl crouching on the floor trying to sweep up the glass of a broken jar on to a piece of paper. Her knees were up and beneath her blue school skirt I could see her soft white panties. With the long school dresses, which must be at least knee-length, it is a rare treat to get a proper view of a girl's panties, especially an older girl. I knew her name was Dominique. She was a new girl, of whom I had been well aware at the start of term, but I hadn't noticed her recently. I hadn't spoken to her before, so I put on my gruff voice and stern face as she looked guiltily up at me. "What's this?" I asked severely. "I'm sorry, Roy, it was an accident," she whispered. "I was washing the other jar and I accidentally knocked this one with my elbow. Please, I' m trying to sweep it up." "It's not very sensible to try and do it with your hands," I told her. "Get a brush and a dustpan and use that." She rose to her feet, face red, cutting off my view of her panties. "Where do I get them?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I'm new here and I've just come out of hospital and I don't know where things are." She looked ready to cry. She was a very small girl for her age, and I had been surprised to find that she was in sixth grade. She had blonde hair down to her shoulders and big blue eyes. She looked quite timid and vulnerable most of the time but, as I was to discover, she had a lovely little crooked smile and appeared very mischievous, almost like a naughty pixie, when she used it. I took a step forward and bent my head down to talk gently to her, but she misunderstood my intentions and stepped backwards in a hurry. She kicked another jar as she did so, and it went over with a clatter, but fortunately didn't break. It did have the effect of frightening her more, though. "Dominique, don't worry. I'll help you when you need it," I smiled at her. After my success with Kelly, I was tempted to kiss her, but fortunately was wise enough to decide it was much too early. She looked startled. "How do you know my name?" she asked. I repeated the lines I had used with Kelly. "I know all the prettiest girls. I was going to talk to you sometime and now I've got a good chance. I want to be friends with you." She looked rather embarrassed, and did not trust me immediately as Kelly did. But at least she accepted them. After a few negative reactions later on from girls who thought me an insincere flatterer, I learned to tone them down or wait longer before using them, but at least Dominique was prepared to accept them. "Thank you," she muttered, looking a bit stunned, and quickly changed the subject. "Where are the brushes and the dustpans?" I showed her a nearby cupboard and placed myself so I could see her panties again as she swept up the broken glass. As she did so, I said to her, "I didn't know you had been in hospital? What was wrong?" "I had my appendix out," she told me. "Hey, I had mine out in January," I told her, able to establish an immediate bond of interest. "How is yours coming along? Have you still got the bandage on?" "Yes, but it's coming off this afternoon," she answered, looking up and giving me a cute half-smile. "The doctor says I can play sports again then, as long as I'm careful." This sounded like good progress, and I congratulated her as we talked, sharing our experiences. She was always a little shy, but since I became a prefect I often found children were more shy of me than usual. There were some pretty harsh prefects at the school, and the sight of that prefect badge tended to make children quite wary. Dominique threw the broken glass into the dustbin and then put the brush and dustpan away as we talked. She had come from Preston in the north of England and spoke with a rather mild Lancashire accent. I wondered if I should invite her round to my house, since Kelly wouldn't come, but decided to wait for next time. During the next week I saw her occasionally, but not to talk to any more than simply saying hello. I began to wish I had taken my opportunity, as I rarely saw Kelly to speak to and I was rather taken with little Dominique. Then, by good fortune, the following Tuesday I was given another errand at about the same time. Even though it was in a different direction, I decided to take a cut past the washbasins just in case she was busy there again, as presumably they had art lessons at the same time each Tuesday. She wasn't, but I was so eager to see her again that I made the return journey the other way. To my disappointment she still wasn't there. I wandered into the alcove to wash my hands, although they didn't need it, visualising as I did so the little girl on the floor with her bottom hanging down between her legs. I was just turning to depart when I heard footsteps, and Dominique walked in carrying two dirty jars. "Roy, what - I didn't know you'd be here!" she said in surprise. "I was waiting for you," I grinned as she put the jars into the basin to wash. "I saw you playing tennis yesterday afternoon. So you've got your bandage off, then? What does it look like underneath?" "Oh, there's quite a big scar but it's all closed up now," said Dominique. My heart jumped as she lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled the waist of her panties down a few centimetres to show me. I caught a quick glimpse of a reddish-purple scar and a depression nearby that was her groin, and then suddenly she let go and pulled her skirt down sharply over it. "Ooh, I forgot - you're a boy," she mumbled, her face bright red. "That's all right," I told her. "I don't mind you seeing my scar." It was a bit more difficult for me to unfasten the top buttons of my old- fashioned school shorts to pull them down enough, along with my underpants, to show her the dull purple scar that I had. Dominique shot me a quick glance and gave her mischievous grin. "We mustn't let a teacher see us, or she'll think we're being rude," she giggled. I laughed. "Dominique, you're good fun," I told her, deciding to take the plunge. "But I don't get much chance to talk to you at school. Come home and have lunch with me during lunchtime today. I'd like that." Dominique's face registered a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. "It - we're not allowed, though," she said. "We'll get into trouble." "No, we won't," I assured her falsely. "I'm a prefect, and you're all right if you come with me." "Well, can Esther come too, then?" she asked. "I said I'd have lunch with her today." I knew Esther, a pleasant but very plain girl who had a reputation as a bit of a chatterbox. I was afraid that Esther would not be able to keep a secret, so I said, "Well, really I'd like it just to be you and I, and nobody else. Could you have lunch with her another day?" She thought and then asked, "May I come on Thursday? Then we'll have a longer time." That Thursday would be a unique day in the English school's history. Friday was a half-term holiday. On the Thursday school would officially close at one o'clock, afternoon activities being cancelled, but there would be a famous gymnastics troupe visiting at three o'clock. Attendance was optional, but almost all of us wanted to see them. This type of event in itself was not unusual. What was unique was that for the first time the prim and proper English school was holding a 'plain clothes day'. It was not without its minor drawback, as it was in fact a fund-raising day to help pay for the new tennis courts and we all had to pay a hefty fine for the privilege of wearing civilian clothes instead of our school uniforms. Or else we could wear our uniforms, pay nothing and feel most embarrassed. It was an easy choice to make. "You can wear whatever you like on Thursday," our teacher told us. I immediately thought that if Shelley and I were to wear what we liked, there would never be another plain clothes day at that school! It so happened that there has never been another since, anyway. The school forgot that certain clothes might seem 'unsuitable', and it was so prim and proper that, according to my mother as she told me a year or two later, the miniskirts that many of the girls had worn had so outraged some of the teachers that they decided never to hold such a day again! Anyway, Dominique was referring to the extended lunchtime break, and it certainly did mean that there would be so many children going to and fro through the school gates at one o'clock that we would be almost certain to get out without any questions asked. So we made it a date. My mind was now mainly on Dominique, with few thoughts for Kelly. But, on the Thursday during the morning break, Kelly walked past me on the playing fields, heading for the classrooms. It being the famous 'plain clothes day', she was wearing a summer dress with a floral pattern, mostly in dark blue and pink. She said, "I'm going to wash my hands," a signal we had arranged so we could talk. I nodded my head as if I was giving permission, waited a minute, and then ambled after her in the direction of the classrooms. I found her in the nearest alcove where, being the honest girl she was, she was washing her hands. She smiled sweetly at me. "Roy," she asked. "You remember you invited me to have lunch at your house sometime?" I nodded, as she finished washing her hands and reached for the towel. It wasn't there. She looked nonplussed, and then said with a smile, "I'll have to wipe them on my dress today. It'll soon dry." So saying, she lifted the hem of her dress to dry her hands, revealing slightly baggy white panties, edged with lace, underneath. Again I was amazed at her delightful lack of inhibition and naivety. "Would it be all right for me to come today, please?" she asked rather nervously, dropping her skirt again. "I asked my teacher this morning if I could go to a friend's house at lunchtime instead of staying at school and she said yes." I was sure Kelly was being quite honest in her assessment of the situation, but I knew very well that her teacher had meant, even if she didn 't say so, with the permission of her parents, and no doubt had assumed it to be a female friend. But this lovely naïve girl hadn't appreciated that and thought she was being given permission to go, alone she thought, to the empty house of a boy. The headmaster would have a fit if he found out, I thought. I hesitated a moment, and then decided I would risk taking two. With her fear of trouble, Kelly would not want to swim naked, I was sure, but I hoped that if I could gently lead Dominique to do so, Kelly might just join in. But it was the only chance I had with Kelly, and apart from anything else I wanted her company. So I agreed, but told her Dominique would be coming. Kelly seemed rather disappointed that she would not have me to herself but she did say, "I think Dominique's quite nice," so that was half of my visitors reasonably happy. I then had to tell Dominique, who was wearing a yellow dress with a broad skirt. I told her a half-truth, telling her that I had invited Kelly a long time before, and this was the only day she could come, and that I hadn't thought of Kelly when I agreed that Dominique should come on Thursday. Dominique also seemed quite happy and didn't query why Esther shouldn't have been allowed to come on Tuesday. I outlined a plan to both of them. They should both leave the school by the main gate, among the crowd, and make their way to the corner of the road round the back of the school, where nobody else from the school was likely to see them. My excuse for this to Kelly was that then nobody from her class would see her going with me and tease her about it. Then, when I had finished my duties, I would join them and lead them to my house. It all went smoothly. About twenty minutes after the lunchtime bell rang, the three of us were walking down the side streets to my house. Although it was now really autumn, the weather was still hot and we had over a kilometre to walk - I usually cycled but had left my bicycle in the shed at school so as to walk with them. The girls were looking hot and tired by the time we reached my house. I opened the gate with my key to let us in, and then locked it behind us. There was our security guard outside, but he would stay there and we would be completely private. I began to work out my cunning plan, my heart thumping and my loins warming in anticipation. "Let's eat our lunch in the swimming pool area," I suggested, as we had all brought our packed lunches. "It's nice and shady there." Since my adventure, told in the last chapter, more than a year earlier, the trees had grown up to provide more shade and my dad had built a bar and covered verandah at the top end. "Swimming pool?" echoed Dominique, as I had hoped. "Aw, I wish we could swim. I feel so hot." "Well, we can swim," I told her cheerfully, leading the way round to the back of the house. "But we didn't bring our swimsuits," protested Dominique, as I had expected. "Oh, that doesn't matter," I replied. "In our family we just swim without swimsuits, so it's quite all right." "You mean you swim *naked*?" exclaimed Dominique, as if she couldn't believe her ears. My conversations with the other girls I had enticed to my house had gone just the same way. "I'm not going to swim naked!" With previous girls I had then argued with them, trying to persuade them that there was nothing wrong with swimming naked, that it was great fun and so on. It hadn't worked. So this time I decided to wait and see if the heat and the lure of the pool would change their minds for me. So I just said, "Well, sorry," and left it at that. I noticed Kelly had not contributed to this conversation and was looking most uncomfortable. I presumed again it was her conscience troubling her about the supposed 'wrong' of nude swimming. "Come over to the bar and we'll get something to drink out of the fridge," I suggested, leading the way towards the covered verandah with the bar at the back. I led them behind the counter and opened the fridge. "What would you like?" I asked. "A lemonade, please," asked Dominique. Kelly didn't answer. I noticed she was looking at the photos we had on the wall. Dominique went over to see what Kelly was staring at. The she exclaimed, "Roy! These photos - they're rude!" "No, they're not!" I exclaimed, perhaps a little too indignantly, because she looked cowed. More gently I tried to explain, "Rude photos are when people are acting rude. These ones are just natural." "That's you, Roy!" exclaimed Kelly, pointing in surprise at one of the photos. "Yes, that's a family photo," I explained. "There are my mum and dad at the back, and that's my sister Jenny. We took them last year when we first opened the bar." Dominique was staring with her mouth open at another photo. "That one' s of my cousin Shelley and me," I told her. "Shelley's in second grade." It showed the two of us just emerging from the pool with our arms round each other, soaking wet and dripping water. My penis, with the testicles hanging down behind, came out very clearly. Dominique gaped at me again. "Don't you *mind* us seeing your - seeing you - naked?" she asked in astonishment. "Why should I mind?" I smiled at her. "I know I can trust you. We're friends, and good friends don't have anything to hide from each other." There was a strong hint there, of course, that she might in turn have nothing to hide from me. It wasn't very subtle, and as I matured I learned to tone it down more for greater success. But it didn't seem to meet with a negative reaction from these two. Dominique stared at the photos again, with a degree of hoorified fascination, while Kelly was choosing her drink. Then I suggested we sit under the trees to eat our lunch. I took a tray for each of us from the bar and went to the thickest trees, which now gave excellent shade. There were some little benches in a circle there where Jenny and her friends used to play, but no table. I sat down on one and took off my shoes and socks, as did the girls. Then I spread my legs wide and put the tray down between my feet before opening my lunch on to the tray. The others did the same, and it was an added pleasure for me to see their panties as they spread their legs. Dominique's were a pale orange colour on this occasion. With the excitement and anticipation, I knew I wouldn't be able to eat much and only had a token meal. We talked about insignificant things while we ate, and all the time, less than five metres away, was the cool, blue, sparkling water of the pool, with a constant light splashing in the background from a little waterfall in one corner. Even had I been alone, I would have been dying for a swim and I don't know how any of the girls I had enticed to me house could resist the temptation. When we had finished, I waited, having learned not to make any further suggestions myself. I could see Kelly looking sideways at Dominique but Dominique did not bring up the subject in the half-minute that was all I could wait for. With maturity, I learned that it was often better to keep waiting. Impatiently I decided that, even though I wasn't going to suggest anything, there was nothing wrong with a hint. So I stood up and said, "My feet are still boiling. I'm just going to soak them in the pool." So saying, I walked over, sat down with my back to them and dangled my legs over the side into the water. It felt wonderful. As I anticipated, they joined me almost immediately. Kelly sat down next to me and put her feet in the water, and Dominique sat on the other side of her to do the same. I splashed water idly with my feet and then sprinkled it over my face, all strong visual hints. I was wondering whether I should go further and take off my shirt and sprinkle my chest when things finally began to move. "Roy," said Kelly hesitantly. "Do you think we might - swim, please?" "Yeah, sure," I agreed, showing my pleasure too quickly. "I'm longing for a swim." I immediately started unbuttoning my shirt, another action I later learned was sometimes better delayed. "I don't want to swim naked," said Dominique, sounding more nervous than defiant. Again, with previous girls I had tried to reason with her, but I had learned that did not work. My new plan was again to wait and let events take their course, and see if their course was the one I longed for. So I answered, "That's all right, if you're too shy." Experience also taught me that this was often too confrontational. "I'm not shy - I just don't want to," replied Dominique. Kelly was looking very uncomfortable, but I couldn't read her thoughts like I might have done with more maturity and experience. I had my shirt off now and paused, wondering what would be the best thing to do now. I shouldn't have started undressing, I realised. But now I had started, should I stop or carry on? I decided to compromise, and reached down to sprinkle some cold water on my bare back and chest. Kelly helped me out. "Dominique, would you rather swim in your panties?" she asked her. I noticed that she used 'you' rather than 'we'. Dominique hesitated, and then decided the lure of the pool was greater than the prospect of embarrassment. Then she asked, "Roy, could we - swim in our panties, do you think?" This was a suggestion I had anticipated. With previous girls I had said bluntly that my parents did not allow that, but bitter experience had taught me to use a gentler approach. "Well, could you take them off afterwards?" I asked her, sounding thoughtful. "No, I - I can't go back to school without any panties on," she answered, looking alarmed at the thought. "Well, the trouble is my parents made a rule that nobody can swim in their underwear unless they take it off afterwards," I lied. "You see, people can get bad skin diseases from wearing wet panties. My dad did it once when he was a boy, and his skin turned all red like a nappy rash. It was very itchy and he had to go to the doctor and have cream rubbed in every day. So they won't allow anybody else to do it." These lies had the desired effect, but I learned later that not all girls were as naïve as these two. Dominique dropped the subject and stared thoughtfully into the pool. I decided it would be best to wait for the next step. Dominique's next suggestion was, "Roy, do you have any other swimming costumes or shorts we could borrow, please?" She looked at me pleadingly, and I began to feel ashamed for treating them like this. "Well, the swimming costumes aren't clean," I answered, trying to feel my way round a problem I hadn't anticipated. "The shorts would be fine, but they don't have tops for girls." "We could borrow some of your shirts," suggested Dominique, to which I replied uncomfortably, "They're all in the wash today." I was very much afraid I was reaching the point of losing credibility. "Well, we can just use your shorts, then," put in Kelly. "It doesn't matter if there are no tops." I hesitated. I didn't feel I dared risk another objection. "All right then, I'll - get some shorts for you," I said, rising unwillingly to my feet. "And you must wear your swimsuit," added Dominique. On the way to the house, my mind was in turmoil. What else could I have said? I couldn't very well make the shorts unavailable now, after I had mistakenly suggested it would be all right to wear them. I thought, too late, I could have said that I didn't have my house key with me and couldn't get inside. I almost went back to make that excuse, but then I risked losing my credibility altogether. I would have to go ahead with it, and hope for the best. I quickly ran to my drawer and took out my two pairs of jogging shorts, the smallest and loosest I could find. My heart throbbing with a mixture of anticipation and guilt, I pulled out the drawstrings. How to get them back in would be a problem that could wait. I knew from experience that they would hold up all right under normal circumstances, but if I started to run in them without tying the drawstring they would start to slip down. Maybe the same thing would happen with swimming. I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered that Dominique had told me to wear my swimsuit as well. I suddenly had what I considered to be a brainwave. I still had, from my association with Erich, what we referred to as my exploding swimsuit. Beaming with naughtiness, I dug it out of my bottom drawer. I went back to the pool with them. As I reached the gate I heard voices. Dominique was saying, "No, Kelly, put it on. Roy will see you when you change." "I don't mind," came Kelly's voice. "It's not polite," I heard Dominique reply. "You can change under your dress. I'll show you." Could it be that after all Kelly was not averse to nude swimming, or was it just that she didn't mind me seeing her changing? Eager to find out what she had to put on, I walked briskly through the gate. I saw Kelly's bare back, with the waistline of her panties just visible at the bottom, as she was slipping back into her dress, which she had obviously pulled down. I pretended not to notice as I handed the girls the jogging shorts. "Is that all right now?" I asked. "Yes, that's fine, thank you," answered Kelly. Dominique's face showed she was not at all happy with hers, but with Kelly answering in the affirmative she murmured some form of assent. "Right, let's swim, then," I said enthusiastically, pulling down my elastic shorts and my white underpants and putting on my exploding swimsuit with the care that was necessary to prevent it from exploding too soon. "This is my oldest swimsuit," I told them, using it as an excuse to glance at them. Dominique was staring at my penis with a mixture of curiosity and distaste, while Kelly was taking no notice, waiting for Dominique to show her how to change. I then realised that I had done things too quickly, and I could not risk their suspicion by remaining with them while they changed unless I had an excuse. So I said, "Oh, I forgot to bring towels. Never mind, there are two in the bar." I ran quickly over to the bar, resisting the temptation to look over my shoulder, grabbed them and then walked slowly back with them. Kelly had her back to me, and Dominique was hiding from my view, I suspect, behind Kelly. They were changing by means of pulling down their panties under their dresses and then putting on the shorts by the same method. Kelly was quite uninhibited about it, flapping her skirt up carelessly so I had a glimpse of her rather plump-looking white bottom as she did so. "Here they are," I announced, arriving at exactly the right moment as the girls slipped their dresses off and stood clad only in my jogging shorts. Dominique, looking shy, held her dress protectively over what looked like a pretty flat chest. Kelly, a glance told me, was developing and quite unconcerned about it. She was so naïve and vulnerable that I had never thought of her developing breasts at all, so I was taken by surprise and automatically whipped my eyes away from her when I could well have let them linger a moment longer without being noticed. I dropped the towels on the chairs and said, "Race you into the pool." Then came my party trick. I hurtled towards the pool and took a long dive in. As my body hit the water, I felt the swimsuit explode and come flying off, exactly as I had planned. I surfaced at the far side of the pool, and as soon as the water was out of my ears I heard the sound of almost hysterical female laughter. I turned round, to see the remains of my swimsuit, split all the way from top to bottom, floating on the water and the two girls standing by the side of the pool, helpless with laughter. Grinning, I swam back and gathered my swimsuit. It would take five minutes' work to put it together ready for the next time I wanted to use it - if I ever did. With Erich we had used it to shock others and show off, and I had determined to put that way of life behind me. However, it had served its purpose on this occasion. Then I swam over to the girls, deliberately holding on to the side of the pool immediately below them. Then I looked up at them and at the loose jogging shorts they were wearing. Inside Kelly's shorts I could see a large patch of white flesh. She was not fat but was well padded below the belt, as I had already seen with her bottom. Down the middle of this flesh was a deep crevice, with soft-looking rounded edges, hairless and beautiful. She was quite oblivious to my gaze, as she was still laughing with a hand stuffed in her mouth and her blue eyes crinkled up in hilarity. Her upper body looked rather like that of a muscular boy, with a rounded chest but the nipples were still small. I ran my eyes down her body, and suddenly felt my penis, under water, grow beautifully warm and almost electric, swell, pump and explode. Something was pumping out of it into the water and I couldn't help it. I had been so overcome as to urinate in the water before, as I mentioned in a previous chapter, but this was different. My penis was actually pumping up and down, and I could feel it spurt, stop and spurt again several times over. It was the first time it had ever happened to me. I was so relieved my penis was invisible at that moment. It was such a thrill to see Kelly's lovely vagina, but that to me was only half of it with her. I was just as eager to have her willingly trust me enough to let me see it, without the need for secrecy on my part. And there was Dominique. I looked at her, but she was almost bent double with laughter and the shorts were sticking out at the back but pressed against her legs at the front. "Oh, Roy, I'm so sorry, but it just looked so funny," Kelly blurted out, almost crying with laughter still. I dumped the swimsuit on the side of the pool, knowing it was unlikely they would look at it too closely. No girl had done so before. "I hope you don't mind, but I think I'm going to have to swim naked after all," I grinned at them. My unruly member was now shrinking back to respectability in the cool water. "It's all right," whispered Kelly, trying not to laugh again. Dominique was still laughing so much she couldn't yet speak. Part of it, I know now, was obviously the sort of transferred embarrassment at seeing something happen to somebody else that one dreads happening to oneself. I could still see very clearly up the leg of Kelly's shorts and I feasted my eyes on her hidden beauty. Dominique sat down on the side of the pool. Briefly her shorts went up at the front and I saw white skin inside, but nothing more. "I hope these shorts don't do that," she said, suddenly sober as the fear struck her. "Roy, I - I didn't want to laugh but I couldn't help it." "That's all right, I know," I told her. "Boys don't seem to worry as much as girls about that sort of thing. It doesn't bother me. And I promise I'd never laugh at you if anything like that happened to you." "I don't like these shorts," Dominique said, looking worried. "They don't have a string in them and they might come off." I suddenly wondered if my trick might backfire on me by worrying the girls out of swimming at the possibility of it happening to them. "Well, just get in the water carefully, Dominique," suggested Kelly. "Roy dived, and that's when . . ." She broke into helpless giggles again, and suddenly clutched herself between the legs. "I'm sorry, Roy, I . . ." She spluttered again for a few seconds. "I think I need to go to the toilet before I get in the pool." That was a bit annoying, I thought, as I began to pull myself out of the pool. "Well, I'll have to get the key and let you into the house, then," I said. "No, it's all right," Kelly said, just as my bottom emerged from the water. "I can just go behind the bushes - it'll be all right." As Dominique murmured, "Kelly!" in a typical female expression of mild reproof, she turned and trotted over to some nearby bushes. I could just see the top of her head and shoulders behind them for a moment, and then they disappeared as they squatted. Still with my bottom half out of the water but my genitals still below the overhang at the side of the pool, I turned my attention to Dominique, who was obviously still worried about the jogging shorts she was wearing. I could see her flat little chest, smooth and soft- looking, with its tiny pink nipples. Puberty hadn't touched her yet. "Look, I'll turn my back while you get in and try it," I offered. "All right," she agreed rather reluctantly. I stared ahead, my eyes trying in vain to penetrate the bushes, while she slipped into the water. I heard a few splashes and ripples as she tried a couple of strokes. "Is it all right?" I asked as the splashing stopped. "It - it stays on but the water goes right in at the front when I swim," she said. I wondered whether to hint she might take it off, but thought I had better play safe. "I'm sorry I don't have anything better," I said, still staring into the bushes but ready to avert my eyes when Kelly emerged. "But at least you can keep cool now." Perhaps she might lose some of her inhibitions later. Suddenly Kelly came out from the bushes and I averted my eyes to avoid being suspected of watching, only to refocus them immediately without intending to. She was naked, carrying the shorts in one hand! I felt my penis expressing its pleasure and half-slipped into the water again before it spurted. With my back to Dominique I quickly seized the end of it to stop the emission, not knowing what might happen. Kelly seemed quite unconcerned about my seeing her body, and I drank my fill of that burgeoning bosom and that long deep vagina between those soft rounded lips. "Roy, I really don't want to swim in these shorts," she said to me apologetically. "If you're swimming naked - may I as well?" "Kelly!" came from Dominique behind me at such an outrageously shocking and immoral suggestion. "Yes, sure," I agreed, smiling at her. She dropped the shorts on the grass, walked to the pool and jumped in with a splash and a squeal at the sudden cold. "Kelly, how can you swim naked with a - a boy?" asked Dominique in a hushed whisper that I was not meant to hear, quite amazed. Kelly looked abashed and upset, as she so easily did. "But it doesn't matter with your family and friends," she protested. "Kelly, you must have done this on your farm in England, I think," I broke in to help her. She looked at me and smiled, with her expanding chest just above the water level. "Yes, we often did," she answered. "Just our family - and sometimes friends, if we knew them well. I think you must do it a lot, Roy, because - you're brown all over from the sun." She paused. "I - I thought I knew you well enough and nobody would mind." "That's what I think," I agreed. "Dominique's just . . ." I was wondering whether to say shy or fussy or something slightly derogatory like that, but wisely stopped myself just in time. "Well, I don't think Dominique's used to it, that's all," I finally said. Encouraged by my words, Kelly turned to Dominique and said, "Come on, Dominique, just try it, it's such fun and you see we can trust Roy." Looking for support, she reverted to me, "Shouldn't she, Roy?" My mind buzzed quickly and I splashed some water on my face to give me time to assess what would be the right answer. Should I pressure Dominique or - thinking back, I remembered immediately that pressure had always proved counter-productive. So I said, hoping I was not throwing away my chances, "Well, I think Dominique has to make up her own mind." Seeing Dominique still looking at me with a rather strained expression, I added, "If you don' t want to, Dominique, that's all right." "No," replied Dominique, shaking her head, and I was afraid I had made the wrong choice. My next plan, I decided, would be to increase the pressure on Dominique to strip off without her being aware of it. If I led the way in activities that Dominique dared not join in because of the shorts she was wearing . . . "Come on, let's race across the pool," I suggested, going to one end. Kelly happily swam after me and we waited for Dominique as she splashed her way towards us, trying to swim with one hand and hold on to her shorts with the other. After a few ungainly metres, she said, "I don't want to race," and moved with relief to the side of the pool. So I raced with Kelly, holding back at first as I didn't want to embarrass her, and then finding she was so quick she beat me across the pool. "Wow, you're quick!" I exclaimed. "Let's try again!" This time I pulled out all the stops and just beat her. Laughing, I pulled myself out and stood on the side of the pool. I held out a hand to Kelly and she came out after me, the two of us happily naked and Dominique looking rather left out still in the pool. "You must come on the slide," I suggested, and we did. I turned on the little tap so a trickle of water was running down the slide, and we took turns to slide and land with a great splash in the pool. "Come on, Dominique!" Kelly encouraged her. "I don't want to," replied Dominique wistfully, doing nothing more than cool herself at the side of the pool. After a few turns Kelly said to me, "Let's go down together this time." As I sat on the slide, she sat down behind me and wrapped her arms round my waist. I could feel her cool, soft, wet body pressed against my back, with the bulkier part of her, the chest, against my shoulders. She spread out her legs and wrapped them around mine, and I took off immediately before she saw what my penis was doing. We landed with a great splash in the water, laughing and falling on top of each other. As we surfaced, I wrapped my arms round Kelly and she fell into them willingly, still laughing. I turned to Dominique as we clambered out of the pool for a repeat performance. "You all right?" I asked her gently. She nodded, but obviously felt very left out. Kelly and I did it again, with great hilarity, and then Dominique had had enough. She pulled herself out of the pool carefully and walked nervously over to the slide. "Are you coming, Dominique?" asked Kelly in welcome. Dominique nodded again. I stayed in the pool, aware of what might happen. As Dominique climbed to the top of the slide and sat down, with her wet shorts annoyingly clinging to her thighs, I called out, "Do you want me to catch you?" "No," she answered. "No, thanks." So saying, she slid. Just as she reached the bottom I ducked my head under the water, to see her body plunge in with a cloud of bubbles. Just as I had hoped, I saw the shorts slip down and in a flurry of arms and legs she scrambled to pull them up again. I caught a glimpse of a soft white bottom but could make out no further details. I came up again quickly so that she wouldn't guess I had been spying underwater and then scrambled down to the far end of the pool, afraid my penis might explode again. Dominique slipped me a glance, no doubt hoping I hadn't been aware of her slipping shorts, and I smiled and said, "That was good, wasn't it?" I was learning in awkward situations involving nakedness to cover up by saying something diverting, as opposed to something stupid as children often do. Dominique nodded and scrambled out of the pool. Feeling that my penis was now in order again, I did the same, but just as I did so a crisis occurred - for Dominique, at least. No doubt relieved that I had not been aware of her slipping shorts, she forgot the next danger, and as she pulled herself rather quickly from the pool her shorts slipped again and revealed most of her little white bottom. Her face was bright red as she frantically pulled them up again and then shot me a look of horror. Fortunately I was almost exactly on time with another diverting comment, and said, "I'm going to jump off the diving board." "Can you do a bomb?" asked Kelly, now very gay and animated. "Watch me," I grinned, mounting the board. I cupped my hand round my genitals and explained, "I have to do this because it hurts my testicles when I do a bomb." I duly 'bombed', to applause all round. As I went for another jump, I saw Dominique give the waist of her shorts a little tug, no doubt because they were sticking to her. I had a split-second glimpse of a little vagina inside as the material pulled upwards, and my heart and penis almost felt like exploding at the same time. "Just going to the toilet quickly," I called out and dashed off to the bushes, hoping my backside would hide the sight of a stiff penis bobbing up and down. I just made it behind the bushes in time, where I was fascinated to watch my throbbing penis sending several spurts of sticky white stuff on to the leaves. It was a completely new phenomenon to me that day. Of course I had heard about it before, but that was all in the abstract, and I found it a thrilling experience to participate for the first time. By the way, however excited I felt for the rest of the afternoon, my penis did not get properly stiff again. I worked it out that, having removed all the fluid I contained at that time, my still rather small organ felt it had performed its task and could now retire from active duty for the rest of the day. In my immaturity I found for the next couple of years my penis would get overexcited at times, but if I was able to anticipate these times and 'jack off', as they call it, beforehand, it wouldn't happen. Nowadays, with greater maturity, I just feel a warm benevolence when enjoying the nudity of a girl I find attractive and it takes something special to affect my penis unduly. With a sense of wonderment I wiped some of the white stuff from the end of my penis and then returned to the pool. As I approached, Kelly called out to me happily, "Roy, Dominique's taken her shorts off now." My eyes quickly took in a pair of shorts dumped by the side of the pool and the girl in question standing half-hidden in the water with a red face but a shy smile on her face. "Good," I acknowledged. "Now we can all play." It took a while for Dominique to be drawn out of the water and she wouldn't join us on the slide or the diving board for a while. I used both quite a lot, deliberately going under water, and the first few times I did so she would half-turn away and keep a hand protectively over her groin. After a few turns, though, she didn't bother any longer, and I could vaguely see a tiny slit through the water. Suddenly I remembered the time. My waterproof watch told me we had forty minutes left to get back to school, about twenty of which would be needed for walking. "I'm going to dry off a bit," I announced. I climbed out of the pool and went over to the towels. I spread one out on the ground and sat down on it, my back against a tree trunk and my legs spread apart. My penis drooped limply between my legs, enjoying a well-earned rest, while my testicles clung tightly to my body after being in the cold water. Kelly took the other towel and sat cross-legged on it, facing me. The full glory of her vagina was exposed to my view. It stretched I don't know how many centimetres from her groin down to the loose skin between her legs. The lips were smooth and so delightfully rounded, but a few long hairs hung down between her legs, two with drips of water still on them. At the top of her vagina I could see a thin strip of whiteness inside. It looked so beautifully soft and smooth, but I realised I could never violate such a tender, gentle girl by touching them. Above I could feast my eyes on those gently rounded bulges just beginning to grow into breasts. Dominique joined us, with a smaller vagina tucked between her legs. She was small for her age and still had what I thought of as a little girl's vagina, a 'button-hole' vagina that looks slightly rounded and open at the top. She looked around to find the towels had all gone. I was just lifting my bottom to offer her my towel when she suddenly flashed me a daring, crooked smile that seemed to say, "I like you and I'm going to do something a bit naughty that I hope will please you." She took a step so that she was astride my legs and then sat down in the middle, planting her bottom on the ground between my shins, facing me and then putting her legs, one by one, outside mine, feet pressing against my bare sides. I was so glad my penis had retired for the day, as if it had not shot all its ammunition into the bushes earlier it would surely have done so here in full view of the girls. As it was, I thought I could feel it lift its head for a moment to view the scenery and then flop back limply, utterly exhausted. My face must have been quite red, too, as I faced Dominique beaming into my eyes, and did not dare look down at her spread vagina. As it was, Kelly unwittingly came to my aid. "Dominique, you have a leaf stuck to your bottom," she pointed out. Dominique immediately looked down and round behind her, guided by Kelly, and I could feast my eyes greedily on the gates of paradise. Dominique's little vagina was open, and I could see one or two layers of dark pink flash inside, moist and glistening in the bright sunlight. My penis may have been out for the count, but my stomach wasn't, and I almost retched and vomited up my lunch. My heart was overactive, too, and I had an almost overwhelming desire to sweep this delightful, suddenly trusting little innocent girl into my arms and squeeze her against me. I almost did. She turned round, having removed the leaf, and looked at me again with her slightly flushed face and innocent inquiring eyes that seemed to say, "Have I pleased you?" I beamed with delight at her and reached my arms out for her neck. She leaned forward, snuggled up to me, closed her eyes and put her head against my shoulder. I kissed her gently on the temple. Our bodies moved closer together and I could feel her side pressing against mine, and my penis brushed her somewhere down below where I couldn't see, fortunately without waking from its stupor. A shadow crossed my line of vision, and I could see Kelly's face close by, looking imploringly at me as if to say, "What about me?" I reached out an arm for her, and in a moment the three of us were a rolling, laughing heap of love on the ground. Kelly and Dominique have both long since left the country now, but my heart still warms as I remember them - Kelly so trusting, so soft and gentle, so utterly vulnerable, and Dominique, also vulnerable, a girl who learned to trust me so much in the space of one short hour. This was by no means the only visit they paid to my house, but my mind is still flooded by the memories of that first, most precious time, and especially their smooth, soft, wet bodies pressed against mine as we cuddled and kissed under the trees. For some, sex is the ultimate experience, but at junior school age a naked body is the most a girl - a decent girl - has to offer and to trust a boy with. To break beyond that and violate such a girl would to me be the ultimate betrayal. Nothing for me can beat the almost ethereal beauty of those moments with two precious, vulnerable girls who loved me and trusted me with all they had. I also see that afternoon as a turning point in my life - or rather, the latter half of a turning point. When I broke from Erich I resolved never again to indulge in squalid sexual talk or behaviour, and instead to satisfy my desires and the desires of my partner by seducing her gently along the path she is best able to tread until it culminates in the love and intimacy I have tried to describe. Kelly and Dominique that afternoon were my first successes, and all the more precious for that. Since then, I pressed forward with confidence. I still made mistakes at times, I still had failures and rejections at times. I remain very grateful that I have managed to avoid trouble with those who believe nudity wrong or who think I have immoral designs on these young girls. I have learned to choose my words with more care as the years go by, so as not to embarrass or pressurise. But, more important, I have learned that even more important than what I say is what I am in the eyes of those girls. If they love and trust me enough, they will do anything for me - and I will never betray that trust. The End mrstoryteller2000@yahoo.com