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 ï>¿Abduction byDrmaxcÂ(C)

   Part 1 - Schoolgirls?

   Little Celia and tall, dark, Natasha could do nothing without
instruction from the grey haired, seemingly genial old man they had so
foolishly taken to be a teacher.  Celia desperately needed to wee but could
say nothing - neither ask permission nor release the pressure in her
bladder.  Did Natasha perhaps feel the same?

   It was not as if she and Natasha had been bosom buddies or even friends.
Natasha was in her class at uni.  Celia certainly spoke to her, admired the
way the tall girl moved, spoke and dressed, they had been at the same
parties but they were not close.  They were not intimate.

   Not 'bosom buddies' - that was just so the wrong phrase and now simply
not true.  'Not intimate?' It was absurd to say they were not that...  now.

   It had all happened so suddenly.  Perhaps it had not been planned. 
Perhaps she had been caught up in something she should not have been
involved in; perhaps it was another girl they had been after and not her:
or was it Natasha that had been accidently involved?

   The university had seemed so secure.  Uniformed security personnel
patrolling the grounds, CCTV cameras watching, yet one moment walking
through a familiar short cut between buildings, one she had used many times
before, the next...

   The next, the next indeed.  She had come from a lecture with Melia and
Rollo but they had peeled off for a different class and Natasha had caught
her up.  Not, as she remembered, to speak but simply because her legs were
longer.  They had turned as one into the short alley; they had started
talking a little before and had been walking together and to one side, to
pass a white Transit van just at the end when...

   The only other person in the passage - and it was not as if it was a
narrow passage - was a grey haired old man whom she had taken to be a
teacher, a lecturer, just standing holding a walking stick.  What had been
odd, so strange in retrospect was the way he seemed to be half looking
beyond them, perhaps looking for others as he had smiled pleasantly and
then tapped on the van door...  Perhaps it had been the smile that had
fixed him in her mind or what happened next - and of course later.

   Celia knew about chloroform.  Had seen it 'used' in the movies.  The pad
over the mouth, the brief struggle and then the collapse into oblivion.

   It had been rather like that.  The doors banging open, the pads and
then...  nothing.  Presumably she had collapsed.  She did not remember
anything after the brief, the very brief struggle.

   Celia had woken, groggy at first.  Unsure where she was, disorientated.
A nurse, she thought it was a nurse had asked her if she was "OK." Celia
had answered in the affirmative.  Again looking back it was hardly likely
she would have said anything else.  Not at that point.  Not just when
coming to her senses.

   It was the nurse opening her mouth, dropping in what she took to be a
pill - only it was too big, applying what she took to be toothpaste - only
who squeezed toothpaste all along the teeth and not on the brush, followed
by a feeling of something being tied around her wrists, perhaps a hospital
name band - only that would be only to one wrist.  It all helped to rather
focus her still befuddled mind.

   Even so, it took Celia a little time to realise she was not in hospital,
was not wearing her own clothes and things were most definitely not right.
Not right at all, not with the thing in her mouth seeming to be getting
even larger and finding she was unable to spit it out.  It was not that her
jaw was not working or her tongue but she could not separate her teeth.

   The long white socks, the sensible shoes, the pleated maroon skirt, the
white blouse, neat tie and woollen jacket was not at all what she had been
wearing.  Not the sort of thing she had worn since sixteen at school.  As
her eyes cleared there too was Natasha in a matching uniform smiling in a
rather toothy way at her.  Her long hair no longer free but tied in plaits
either side of her face.

   What was she saying?  Celia tried to ask but found it was surprisingly
difficult to talk with teeth glued together and something rather large in
her mouth.  It came to her that Natasha was not so much smiling in a
pleasant way as trying to talk with stuck together teeth.

   Celia made to get up but the ropes around her wrists which were tied to
the bed prevented her and as she tried to kick her legs she realised there
were ropes around her long white socks, tied around her ankles holding her
down.

   Her next conscious thought was being on a train.  She could not remember
how she got there but there she was, sitting with her hands neatly folded
in her lap, sitting next to Natasha, both in their mock school uniforms. 
Celia tried to rise but realised she was tied.  Her hands were not so much
resting on her lap but bound together under a coat, seemingly, casually
thrown across Natasha and her laps.  Her feet were neatly together - yet,
again, she could not move them apart.  She could not see if they were bound
or perhaps in some way the shoes were hooked together.

   Again Celia tried to rise but was gently pushed back into her seat by
the very same old man she had seen in the alley way at the university.

   "Sit still, my dear, we have a long journey ahead of us.  You can't need
to go again already."

   He turned to the man sitting next to him.  A man smartly dressed,
clearly a businessman.

   "I don't know.  Have you daughters?  These are my two granddaughters...
yes I know - don't ask - it was, how might I put it?  A mixed marriage. 
They do so like their drinks, their Cokes and 7-UPs but these fizzy drinks
do go through them so."

   The old man's chatter caused the man's eyes to flick from Celia's face
to Natasha and back again.

   "Don't they look so smart in their school uniforms?"

   To Celia it seemed the business man had been given permission to cast
his eyes all over the girls and he did.  Celia had the distinct feeling of
being mentally undressed.

   "I'm taking them south for the holiday.  Their parents take time away
and they come to stay at my old beach house.  Have done for years.  They do
so love it there.  The sand and the sea you know.  I'm fortunate.  It's
such a lovely place and so private.  Such happy days on the beach.  Every
year; I do so look forward to it and I know the girls do.  Sand and sea -
they have a lovely time.

   You know, I'll tell you a bit of a secret, I don't think it will
embarrass the girls if I say the place is so private we've never had to
bother with swimming costumes.  It all makes it so much easier than having
to pull things on under towels and so on.  Don't you think?"

   The business man looked surprised, more than surprised.

   "Of course they are getting bigger but I can't imagine they will want
the bother.  Would you?"

   The man seemed almost tongue tied.  Celia rather thought he was
imagining running after a naked Natasha and herself across the sands to the
sea.  Playing with the girls and not with a bucket and spade either. 
Bother?  No, he probably would rather not 'bother.' She could barely move
but she did not miss movement in his trousers.  The man's thoughts
betrayed. But could he not see they were not schoolgirls?

   Celia thought it a good time to really try and move but again a firm
push from the old man.

   "Emily-Sue!  Sit still or it'll be the hairbrush on your backside
later."

   He turned back to the business man.  "You have to be firm you know. 
There's no point in being lax.  Don't you think?"

   "Oh, um, no," replied the man, staring at Celia, "no a firm hand is the
best policy."

   'Or a firm something else,' thought Celia.  It was just so obvious what
the man was thinking - a firm spanking and then a firm...  She turned to
Natasha who was now seeming a bit more animated as if waking from some sort
of stupor.  She looked into Natasha's eyes and smiled, a rather toothy
smile but there was nothing else she could do.

   Surely the man must realise they were not schoolgirls but, instead,
young women dressed as schoolgirls, or did he just think girls grew up
rather fast these days?

   Why were they on a train?  Why such a public place if they were being -
or rather had been - abducted?  Why were they not travelling in a car or
locked up in the back of a van?  Why the strange pretence of them being
schoolgirls on the way to the beach and apparently expected as 15, 16 or
was it 17 or 18 year old schoolgirls to be happy to frolic naked whilst
building sandcastles and swimming with their aged grandfather?

   And was it not so risky with the two girls however tightly bound and
gagged to be in a public place - just him and them?  It was then Celia
noticed the two big men dressed in identical dark suits sitting very close
by and seeming to be watching Natasha and herself through dark glasses. 
Were they in on the act or just men interested in observing rather well
built schoolgirls?

   The old man seemed happy to engage any one in conversation.  Even the
ticket collector who seemed a little unsure whether really Celia and
Natasha should be half price fares.

   A young woman sitting nearby was quizzed on her own school days having,
Celia thought, made the mistake of commenting on the neat uniforms.  The
old man seemed to take a surprising delight in finding out what the young
woman had worn at school and was more than delighted to find she had been
in the forces until recently.  Her army uniform was asked about.  Celia was
amazed, and the woman clearly a little put out, when the old man began
discussing under garments.  How the girls wore matching maroon knickers and
asking whether she had worn matching navy blue knickers at school and
whether the army issued khaki panties for the women service personnel.  He
had even made a rather excruciating joke about privates for privates.  It
had rather terminated the conversation but not before he had elicited the
information that there had indeed been navy blue knickers.

   "Not too long girls.  Emily-Sue and Tabitha, you sit still now.  We'll
soon be there and you can go to your room and change and visit the
bathroom. Yes, it's still the big old bed."

   He turned to the man sitting next to him.  "They do like sleeping in
that big old bed together unless...  Sometimes if it gets stormy and there
is thunder and lightning when they do come to my room and creep into bed
with me.  They get a little frightened and want a cuddle."

   The man's eyes bulged and the young woman looked most disapproving.

   Celia could not really believe the strange perverted pleasure the old
man seemed to get from discussing Natasha and herself.  Could the man or
the woman really believe she and Natasha would get into bed with the old
man in a thunderstorm and cuddle up to him?  The business man, surely,
would be imagining what it would be like - the difficulty with one girl
perhaps either side of avoiding either girl realising there was something
very firm and unusual in his pyjamas!  She could imagine he would so like
them to find the hard thing and play with it.

   All of a sudden both Natasha and she gave a start - in unison.

   "Now sit still now."

   That was not at all easy.  With all the tying up, the thing in her mouth
and the stuck together teeth, Celia had not noticed there was something
intimately within her.  She was now very aware of it.  Something had been
inserted in her vagina whilst she had been unconscious, something that was
now vibrating away to itself in a very teasing, stimulating way.  It was
evident Natasha was similarly installed.  Her eyes, her movement, her
wriggling gave it away.

   Celia could not help herself; her hips seemed to have a mind of their
own; they just would not stay still.  If only she could extract the little
machine, or for its batteries to run down, but with her hands tied there
was nothing she could do.  Onwards the train rattled and she just had to
sit there feeling the little machine doing its worst - and all the time the
old man was watching, watching the movements she and Natasha were making.
The little squirming movements in their smart school uniforms.  And he was
not the only one watching.

   "Sit still girls.  You are annoying the other passengers!"

   She knew she was not.  Far from it.  Men were looking at Natasha and
Celia with undisguised lust.  She knew for a certainty; could not see it
being any other way that all the men - the old man, the man sitting next to
him, the probable minders and a few others - were erect within their
trousers; just loving the sight of the squirming schoolgirls.

   "Girls!" The old man's voice was cross now.  "We are nearly there.  You
are not to wet your panties!"

   Celia could not help it.  It was as if the phrase.  'wet your panties'
had just pushed her over the edge.  Her orgasm came strongly and,
remarkably, it seemed the same thing happened to Natasha as well.

   "Girls I told you not to.  I really did.  Too many fizzy drinks.  I do
hope you haven't..."

   His hand under her skirt; his hand forcing itself between her thighs;
his hand inside her skirt whilst the man and, indeed, other passengers
watched in disbelief; the old man's hand touching her, touching her so
intimately.  Celia realised she was not in fact wearing panties - maroon or
otherwise.

   "Look.  Look!" He said, holding up his hand and waggling his fingers. 
They were wet.  "Look what the naughty girl has done.  It'll be the hair
brush for you, young lady, as soon as we are in.  Both of you, indeed.  As
soon as we are in, it's up to your room, those wet things off and the two
of you bending over the tailboard of the bed.  It'll be a sound thrashing I
can tell you!"

   Could the business man not see it was not wee?  Could he not know the
scent in the air, the scent of an aroused young woman?  He did seem very
flustered.

   Natasha and Celia sat still.  The buzzing had ceased as quickly as it
had started.  The train rattled over points and began to slow.

   "Well, it's been nice talking to you.  I think this is the end of the
line."

   The business man said some pleasantries as he stood up but he was
clearly unsettled.  Another glance - no more than that at Natasha and
herself - perhaps trying to fix their image in his mind.  She could not
miss - at her eye level - the bulge in his trousers.  So obvious to her
that he was strongly erect.

   The old man seemed happy to let the other passengers get off first.

   "Come girls..."

   But Celia's last image was of the two dark suited men standing and
moving towards them.

   Celia awoke.  Slowly she came to her senses.  No longer in uniform, no
longer in any clothes but tied.  Just lying on a bed next to Natasha.  Next
to tall, beautiful, naked Natasha.  Tall, beautiful, naked Natasha and the
old man - the old man from the train - also naked and crouched over her. 
Such a creepy thing to awake to: but the worse for Natasha.

   The man was literally dragging it.  He was not holding his sexual organ
at all, just letting it rub gently against her flawless brown skin - the
silk of her skin against the smoothness of his knob.  Crouched over her he
let the organ just hang away from his body.  Not at all as you usually saw
the penis, neat against the pubic hair.  The tidy model of the classical
statue.  No, this was the unusual view when it was hanging, as if both
penis and balls were suspended on a stalk beneath the man.  He was on all
fours over Natasha, his penis hanging like an animal's and he was just
gently stroking her with it.

   The penis did, though, rub very softly because the skin was so very
smooth.

   It was not as if it was erect or even anything like it but there was no
question his action was sexual.  His flaccid penis, his flaccid uncut
penis, was gently, ever so gently being rubbed over Natasha.  None of her
skin was exempt.  It seemed all must be touched.

   There appeared to be no hurry on his part.  The man just moving slowly,
pulling his penis over Natasha's body.  There was nothing else for Celia to
do but watch.  She seemed to have no volition over her own body.  She was
sure Natasha was the same.

   Celia stared at the little trail the penis had begun to make as if a
snail had slid over the so brown skin.  The contrast of the white penis and
the black skin.  The trail so clearly made.  Would it be her turn next? 
The man was literally dragging it.

   There was nothing Celia could do but watch.  She could not move without
permission, even if she had been untied.  She knew that.  Could feel
something had been done to her mind.

   It was only then, as she watched the old man's slow progress across
Natasha's smooth skin, that Celia realised the true import of the man's
actions.  He was not impotent in the true sense of the word but was unable
to maintain or achieve an erection.  His pleasure was in a flaccid sex. 
Not vaginal intercourse for him but an epidermal intercourse - an
intercourse between himself and the whole woman.  The snail's trail the
indication: the man evidently fully capable of producing seminal fluid.

   He was a patient man; there was no hurry in his action; seemingly as
happy to rub his penis across Natasha's shoulder as her bottom.  He moved
everywhere leaving his little trails of silver.

   Celia watched with fascination the way the old man rubbed himself
against Natasha's breasts, the careful circuit his soft glans made of the
areolae, the evident excitement he got from wrapping, no, rolling his long
foreskin over each of her nipples in turn, taking them into its folds. 
Such an intimacy, such a wrong, a so wrong, yet so delicate an act.  The
soft touch seemed to have an effect on the nipples.  He left them wet and
sticky with his oozing semen but standing nonetheless.

   It was no surprise the old man left Natasha's sex until last.  No
surprise when he took the ropes securing her ankles and eased her legs
gently but firmly apart.  Not roughly, not in a violent way: yet it was
just so obscene the way he opened her but, at the same time, fascinating
and arousing.  Yes, arousing!  Celia could not believe the sudden surge of
wetness between her legs at the very moment Natasha was so visibly exposed.
Celia had never really had much to do with Natasha but now was seeing the
tall black girl not simply naked but with her sex open, exposed and
seemingly wet.  What a pretty mons!  Celia was surprised at herself.  She
had never thought of the sex of a woman in such terms but now, seeing
Natasha's, her thoughts were different; the dark, dark hair lying flat
across the flawless skin of her pubis - not curly but just so straight.  It
ran to left and right from her slit forming a dark triangle and it was
almost as if someone had combed it and given it a parting right where her
slit was.  Perhaps someone had.  A stronger growth at the slit and then
running on downwards on her labia major.  Peeking out through the slightly
swollen lips was her little brown clitoral hood and the soft fold of her
labia minora; the pulling apart of her legs had slightly parted these and
between them it looked more than a little damp.  Celia noted the detail.

   The man's silver trail, his snail trail up Natasha's soft brown thigh
fascinated Celia.  She watched his snail - no, his pink slug - making its
way closer and closer to Natasha's exposed femininity.  Natasha was
struggling, her body and head shaking from side to side, despite the
bindings, but still the pink slug slipped gently over her brown skin.  Was
it in protest or in pleasure?  Celia watched fascinated.  She would have
thought protest, but the touch of the man's penis was so gentle, might well
be so teasing.  Celia wanted to touch Natasha.  Touch her sex.

   Celia could not see how the old man could penetrate, how he could finish
the act.  But still closer he came until, finally, he was rubbing, rubbing
his penis against Natasha's outer lips, rubbing, making a slow circuit,
crossing the valley twice.  And then he was sort of 'in,' with his penis
pushing aside the dark fringed labia minora, first one and then the other,
and exposing that oyster shell of soft wetness girls have.  The man was not
in her vagina but in the soft wetness of her sex.

   Celia watched, wishing she too could touch Natasha there - it looked,
and would be, so soft and delicate - how would it feel compared to her own
sex?

   The man was moving his penis head within the lips, pushing against her
entrance and then rubbing where her clit would be - was it perhaps
standing? Could the old man feel its hardness through his softness.  Was
the little button giving a little extra pleasure to him?

   Celia could hear the delicate wet sounds the man was making as he
flicked his penis head faster and faster against her, clearly taking the
greatest pleasure in the delicate sensations.  After a little while it
proved not just a pleasure but proved a sufficient pleasure.  Finally the
old man gave a grunt of satisfaction and the white of his semen began to
appear, running out of his soft penis head and onto Natasha's sex, mixing
with her own secretions.  A strange flaccid ejaculation but seemingly very
enjoyable to the old man.  It, the white semen, was not inconsiderable.

   Celia was relieved.  She had been spared the old man's ministrations.

   Spared the old man's attentions but not his semen.  Celia had not
noticed the two dark suited men in the background who had been watching the
whole proceedings.  A nod from the old man and Celia was lifted and her
legs too spread and she was brought not face to face, nor breast to breast
with Natasha but quite the other way around as an 'X,' at right angles to
the girl, sex to sex, not simply their mons touching but really together,
her wet pudenda pushed right up against Natasha's, their bodies at 180
degrees to each other.  The touch intimate, the connection intimate.  The
two open sexes pressed together.

   A smile from the old man.  "You can move now."

   Both Natasha and she registered protest.  Their heads shaking but then
they were tied closely.  Never had Celia been so close to another woman,
the intimacy closer than she could have imagined.  Their struggling was
moving them against each other; their sexes being intimate; their sexual
entrances facing and touching each other; as intimate as a man and woman
could be but Natasha and she were women; Celia could feel Natasha's soft
wetness on her own and she knew the wetness was not just from Natasha but
the old man's semen was being rubbed from Natasha to herself and back
again.

   What made it even worse was Celia was liking the intimacy, was finding
the touch of the other woman exciting, the feel of Natasha's wet sex on her
own surprisingly pleasant - no erotic.  She could feel her own clitoris
brushing against Natasha's soft wetness.  It was standing.  It was erect.

   Their struggles and protests were to no avail.  They were ignored.  The
lights were turned off and the girls left to their own devices in pitch
darkness.

   Celia stopped struggling and lay quietly, still with the feel of
Natasha's long smooth legs against her - one to her back, one to her front.
Beneath her own naked feet, Natasha's back and her soft breasts.  She could
feel the girl so warm, so alive against her.  She could hear Natasha's
breathing, even feel her pulse through her own skin.

   They lay still for a time and then it started.  Celia was never sure if
it was she who started the movement, or Natasha, or both: but there was
movement.  Almost imperceptible at first but a gentle or tentative rubbing
together of wet pudenda nonetheless - and it got stronger.  And as it got
stronger the wetter they seemed to become.  Celia could not help it.  She
had not wanted to become aroused, did not think that she could become
aroused in such a situation, still less with a woman but she had - big
time.

   The girls' rubbing became desperate, a remarkably intimate and wet
rubbing; lips caressing lips, clits perhaps even stroking together.  In the
silence of the room there were little wet sounds from their rubbing sexes.
Moans from the two girls.  Their bodies becoming damp with their
excitement; an added tactility to their skin.

   Natasha came first; Celia could feel the shuddering pleasure of her
orgasm but Natasha did not stop rubbing, did not deny Celia her pleasure.
She too felt the build and overflow of orgasm.

   Moaning together, their bodies sweaty, the scent of girl strong in the
air - the girls had truly come - and then they lay still, Celia rather
appalled at what she had done, what they had done: perhaps Natasha felt the
same.  It was not like her - not one little bit.  She had never...  It was
a shock.  Not just their present predicament but now - this!

   A low chuckling revealed to the girls they were not, after all, alone in
the darkness.  Celia had thought the men had left; had been sure they had
left; there had surely been no one but Natasha and herself when the door
had closed.

   The sudden stab of torchlight in their eyes, an undoing and redoing of
ropes leaving the girls as helpless as before but not now tied intimately
together: in fact quite the opposite, tied separately but with their legs
very spread.  The stab of the torchlight moving now from their faces to
their sex; their glistening, no doubt messy pudenda floodlit for the
delectation, no doubt, of the men.  The torches illuminating and
highlighting.  Fingers touching.

   Celia realised it was about to happen; what she had been expecting since
her awaking from her abduction.  The old man had not touched her - not like
that - but now...

   The room light switched on and there the two minders in their dark
identical suits.  One of them carefully wiping his fingers on his
handkerchief.

   "Mr Levinson has had his pleasure, you have had yours and now..." Again
the chuckle, "it is our turn!" A shared smile between the two.

   There was nothing Natasha and she could do.  No longer paralysed but so
tightly bound; bound in a way giving the man full and easy access - access
to female sexes running with the wetness produced by their own actions;
vaginas so slippery and so ready prepared for coitus.  The men would have
no difficulty slipping into them.  Celia knew what an enticing sight they
would look to men - two young women bound and prepared for intercourse.

   Like their master the two men did not rush their pleasure.  No zipping
down of flies and a quick penetration.  Wham, bam, thank you ma'am.  No, a
careful removal of clothes.  Jackets not simply cast aside but carefully
laid down; ties removed and neatly curled; shirts carefully unbuttoned and
folded; shoes untied, socks removed.  It was the removal of the trousers
which gave Natasha and Celia a very clear indication that the sex was going
to be different from that with the old man.  There was no flaccidity of
penes in their pants: quite the opposite.

   As one, the pants came down and, as one, the penes released from the
material sprung into the air.  They were not small.

   These were not puny men but well built men; strongly muscled and toned.
Their bodies not feminine in any way; not the modern slightly androgynous
look of the over well groomed, soft skinned and depilated male; rather the
men were hairy and muscular.  And their penes rose strongly from thickets
of wiry curls.  Each perhaps a good eight inches long, upwards pointing and
both with big acorn shaped knobs.  It was clear they meant business.  Semen
was about to be spilt or, more than a little likely, injected.

   Celia just stared.  There was nothing she could do; nothing she could do
to prevent the men doing things to Natasha and herself.  She just looked up
at them from her spread-eagled position as they stood erect, so very male
and completely in control over Natasha and herself.

   If only they would get on with it.  Seeing the men staring down at the
girls, guessing at their thoughts but them not doing anything seemed
torture.  The hardness of the penes clearly indicated their thoughts were
sexual; the girls' position was sexual - sex was going to happen.  There
was no let up in their hardness: their thoughts were clearly pleasurable.

   It was actually a relief to be touched.  The waiting had been worse. 
Fingers on breasts, fingers toying with nipples, fingers pulling and
pinching.  Fingers touching other parts of their bodies.  Fingers between
their legs, fingers in their sexes, each man with fingers in each vagina at
the same time.  Men enjoying touching girls, men enjoying free access to
young bodies, men enjoying playing together with aroused women.

   Like the old man they crouched over the girls, their penes hanging free
but not to drag their glans, snail or slug like, over the skin.  No, they
were brought to hang over the girls' faces.  It was obvious the men wanted
the girls to take them into their mouths, to fellate them.

   The girls were unable to move, unable to prevent the men hanging their
genitalia over them, unable to prevent them bringing their knobs to touch
and bang against the girls' mouths but they were able to prevent access. 
Celia's lips were firmly closed.  The man or the men might be about to
insert their large penes in her vagina, one after the other - and there was
nothing she could do about that - but she was not going to suck them.  No!

   She turned her head away towards Natasha as she did the same and they
just stared at each other trying to ignore the hanging penes.  Difficult to
ignore - they were very big.

   "Silly, silly girls," said the man hanging over Natasha, "come on
Tabitha, you need to suck."

   "My name's not Tabitha and I don't want to..."

   Celia's eyes grew round as Natasha's full lips, pursed to say the last
word slowly widened and closed around the man's knob..  It was not that the
man had pushed in: rather Natasha had positively sought the penis and was
now actively moving her lips - her so pretty lips on the organ.  Natasha's
lips looked just so good wrapped around a big penis.  Such kissable sweet
but full lips - pretty even whilst sucking on a penis.  Celia had never
seen another woman suck a cock before.  Why had Natasha voluntarily done
that?

   "You too, Emily-Sue."

   Celia turned from Natasha having watched what her pretty mouth was
doing. There, hanging inches from Celia's mouth, was a penis bigger than
she had ever seen or handled before.  Engorged and with skin stripped back
to show the bulbous head.  She was surprised - surprised at her reaction,
at how simply lovely it looked: the big soft acorn head with its
bifurcation; its eye, the little slit which produced that lovely cream,
seemed to be watching her - it all looked just so suckable - there on the
end of its long stalk.  She could not help herself.  With a deep sigh
Celia's head moved forward and her lips closed on the wonderful big plum.

   "Mmmm." It was lovely.

   And so there they were, the two girls, sucking away.  Two girls who had
just made each other come, Celia surprised at her reaction to Natasha and
now her reaction to the penis - the big thing in her mouth.  What had the
old man done to her?  One moment rejecting the penis and trying to avoid
it, the next...

   Celia sucked away happily.  Lovely to feel the big knob in her mouth, so
smooth, so rounded.  Her tongue explored, her lips moved, her cheeks
hollowed.  Wouldn't it be so nice if it came, if it ejaculated the man's
cream and she could let it slip, silkily, down her throat.  Sort of like a
warm oyster - delicious and salty.  Even with the penis in her mouth she
shook her head as if to clear it.  What was she thinking?  Her eyes again
glanced at Natasha; such a pretty girl and so nice to see her thick lips
sucking away.

   The men pulled away.

   "Phew!  Mr Levinson does choose 'em!  I nearly..."

   "Me too."

   They grinned at each other and waggled their erections at each other. 
It was obvious to Celia they were used to working together - working on
girls.

   The men moved down the bed and once more stood looking down at the
girls. The girls bound, just lay and looked up at the men, the naked and
erect men: the men looked down at them, at the two helpless girls, the
naked and spread girls.

   With the removal of the penis from her mouth Celia had come a little
back to her senses.  She did not want to be fucked by one of the men - she
did not want to be fucked by both of the men.  She was wet from her
intimacy with Natasha, she was wet from her pleasure in penis sucking -
there would be no difficulty for the men but she did not want to do that.
It was clear Natasha did not want to be fucked either.

   "Leave us alone."

   It was just such a pointless command and the men so knew it.  They were
in total control.

   "Quiet Tabitha.  Little girls should wait until they are spoken to.  And
my colleague is hardly going to leave you alone, is he now?  Hardly!  You
just need to look at him.  Big and swollen isn't he?  He clearly needs a
girl or the special bit of a girl." The two men looked at each other's
erections and smiled.

   The other man moved forward, once more climbing onto the girl but it was
obvious to Celia watching that, this time, his penis was not going into
Natasha's mouth: no, it was going to go in where Celia had so recently been
rubbing.

   Natasha turned to her and they stared into each other's eyes.  Celia
could not see down to Natasha's sex; could not see the moment the big knob
pushed against her soft and wet folds and entered her body but she knew the
moment, saw Natasha wince and her eyes widen.  It could not have hurt her.
It was a big, thick penis with a lot of diameter to it but the knob was
properly rounded and, wet as she knew Natasha to be, the act of penetration
could not have been uncomfortable, or even painful.  It was just unwanted.

   Celia tried to show sympathy.  "It won't last long," she whispered.

   A chuckle from the men.  "How do you know?"

   How did she know?  And then she felt it.  The second man's penis against
her own sex.  It was about to happen.  Spread as she was, wet as she was,
defenceless as she was - there was just no difficulty in entry but it was
undoubtedly the thickest penis that she had taken.  It simply felt big as
the knob pushed into her.  A despairing look at Natasha and then she
turned. And there was the man with his face, his lips close to hers.  Of
course he was there.  He was a man lying on her body in the classic
missionary position and as his penis slid up into her he had the effrontery
to kiss her on the lips.

   "Oh - that is nice!"

   "Fuck you," Celia hissed.

   "Yes," he said.

   Both Natasha and Celia wriggled, fought against their bonds but to no
avail.  Bound to the bed and speared by the men.  They were completely
helpless.  The men just rode the sudden passion; held on and simply enjoyed
the wriggling; they were both fully engaged and, with their members so far
up into the girls, the male/female connection so thoroughly made, they were
not going to be dislodged.

   The girls lay back, panting and exhausted and the men took it as their
cue to begin to fuck.  The traditional bottom rising and falling movement
as the girls lay still and unresisting.

   But they did not leave the girls alone: they did not simply come and
then go, letting the girls sleep.  Instead, after a time, they withdrew and
swopped over.  The slippery withdrawal from her vagina and then hearing the
words:

   "You try Tabitha now."

   But not straightway back into their vaginas; once more the men came up
the bed, their penes hanging, just as firm as before but this time to a
different girl; and this time the penes were not dry, not a bit of it. 
They were fresh from a vagina - not from the particular girl's vagina but
her friend's.

   Hanging before Celia's face, clear in all its detail was the other man's
genitalia; not the man whom she had sucked and been fucked by but the other
man.  There was his knob with its bifurcation, perhaps already leaking but
that was difficult to see because it was covered both by Natasha's
secretions and traces of the old man's semen.  Inches from her mouth, the
big plum on its stalk and, beyond, hanging rather pendulously his balls. 
If only she was free, if only she could knee him or worse: but she couldn't
and as she stared at the genitalia in front of her face once again the
desire to suck came.

   The man seemed happy to wait for her, wait as she found her lips
parting, her tongue running over her lips, her desire to suck on the thing
growing and growing.  Celia glanced sideways.  Natasha had already lost the
fight.  She was sucking with gusto on the other man's penis, sucking on the
penis that had so recently been deep inside Celia.  Celia stopped fighting
and with a sigh of satisfaction sucked the sticky plum into her mouth.  It
smelt delightfully of girl, it tasted of man and girl - but it was very
male!

   There was more swopping, the men seeming happy to spend a lot of time
enjoying the girls' bodies but not actually coming.  Eventually the men
decided to finish it.  It was a discussion between them.  A discussion
about which girl.  A discussion about their different attributes.  A
discussion which was personal and intimate but completely ignored the
presence of the girls - even that they might have a say in it.

   Perhaps she could avoid the final thing - "Please don't come inside me."

   The men turned to her and chuckled.

   "Sssh, don't talk." And like Natasha she no longer could.

   The bottoms rose and fell.  It was not to be in the girls' mouths. 
Incredibly the girls had actually liked that; would have been very happy to
accept and enjoy the twin ejaculations - at least whilst the penes were in
the mouths.  They did not want the men coming in their vaginas but more
than clearly that was what would happen.

   The bottoms rose and fell and the thick penes slid to and fro -
squelching, sucking noises in the quiet of the room.  Celia could do
nothing as she felt the man at work on her.  All she could do was lie
there, a captive, an abducted student.  Where was she?  It was so quiet but
for the men's breathing and the sexual noises they were making.  Who were
these people?  What was to happen to Natasha and herself?  Why had she been
so accepting of the penes in her mouth?  What had been done to her mind?

   The men's motion was getting faster and then a sharp stabbing motion
from her 'rider.' Inside her she could feel the sudden spurting.  The man
was completing the sexual act.  It was the emission of seed.

   There was neither a 'thank you' nor a 'good night.' The men just got off
the girls, picked up their clothes, switched the light off and left them
tied down, spread-eagled and freshly fucked.  Sleep actually came quite
easily.



   Part 2 - Playing on the beach

   The morning came and Celia came to herself.  Her position had not
mysteriously changed during the night.  Both she and Natasha were still
bound, still spread-eagled and still in exactly the same position.  The
difference was the grey haired, old man had returned and was standing down
at the foot of the bed and looking, looking between their legs.  Behind him
were the two men, once more dark suited and impassive.

   Celia felt paralysed as if she could do nothing without instruction from
the old man.  Of course she desperately needed to wee but she could say
nothing - neither ask permission nor release the pressure in her bladder.
Probably Natasha felt the same.  It would perhaps have been good to release
a stream of urine at the men and shown what she thought of them.  But they
might actually have liked that and joined in.  Not a good prospect, but the
prospect for the day was probably not good in any case.

   "I see you were busy last night." He was not addressing Celia or Natasha

   "Yes, sir."

   "You seem to have done well."

   "Thank you, sir.  We tried."

   Could the old man see?  Could he see a leakage between their thighs?

   "Well, yes; good morning girls," he turned to them.  "I think, having
had a good sleep, it is time for you to have your bath and then we can have
breakfast on the veranda.  Then, perhaps, you can both go and play on the
beach."

   Their bonds were loosened.  Celia happy to stand and hide what was
between her legs from the men.  Natasha was hopping from one leg to the
other.  It was clear what she needed to do.

   "Come," the old man said, taking each by a hand and leading them to the
bathroom.  Celia found she could move, could do what the old man said.

   It was a lovely bathroom, big, tiled and very well appointed.  But what
really caught her eye - and Celia could see Natasha's as well - was the
lavatory.  The need to wee was almost excruciating.

   The old man reached, put the plug in the bath and turned on the taps. 
Water gushed from the taps and gurgled into the bath.  The sound of
running, rushing hot and cold water.  Just not what girls or, indeed, boys
want to hear when 'desperate' - not at all!  Celia was surprised, the way,
Natasha was still hopping from one foot to the other not to see a sudden
release - a wetting of the floor.  But like her, it seemed Natasha could do
nothing.  The old man had not said they could sit on the lavatory or
anything.

   The water splashed on into the bath.  It was agony.

   "Right girls, go and have a wee.  I know how you girls like to do that
together.

   He turned away towards the wash basin.  Natasha looked at Celia and she
signalled for Natasha to 'go' first, Celia had not really meant to but her
eyes just followed Natasha across the room and saw even before her bottom
hit the seat the thick stream of wee rushing from her.  The relief on
Natasha's pretty face a delight.

   The man appeared to be getting his shaving things but Celia could see he
was actually watching, watching Natasha in the mirror.

   It was not easy waiting for Natasha - she seemed never to stop but then,
at last, it was her turn; Celia's turn to flop down on the lavatory and
empty her bulging bladder.  Such a relief even if the old man was watching
her.  Such a relief.

   The bath half full and steaming.

   The old man turned off the taps and beckoned to the girls.  "In you get
and I want to see proper washing not just playing.  Tabitha, you wash
Emily-Sue and Emily-Sue you wash Tabitha.  Properly mind and front and back
bottoms.  Tabitha - you can sit at the plug hole end today."

   Celia stood.  She felt so much better.  So much better for emptying her
bladder but now she had to wash her friend.  Ordinarily she...  but this
was anything but ordinary; ordinarily she would not have dreamt of being in
a bath with another girl but now...  now she rather liked the idea of
running soapy hands over Natasha's pretty black skin and washing her. 
Natasha's eyes caught hers and her hand came up to help Celia into the
bath. The touch was something special.  They were moving from being
acquaintances to friends.  A shared adversity is always a bonding
experience.  They had already shared adversity but also a surprising
intimacy in the dark.  Celia could not forget she had rather liked it - did
Natasha feel the same?  Their eyes held for a moment or two and then they
both stepped into the bath.

   At the washbasin the old man had divested himself of his dressing gown
and was preparing to shave.  The mention of the 'beach' brought back to
Celia the conversations on the train.  Was the old man continuing the
ludicrous fantasy of she and Natasha being grand-daughters or was it nieces
or perhaps daughters of friends coming to stay at the old man's beach house
and him not noticing they had grown somewhat?  A fantasy, though, only part
of the time.  You did not tie up you nieces or your friends' daughters nor
allow your colleagues to...  do things.  Nor did you join young girls in
the bathroom naked and watch them pee.

   He turned to them, his face covered in shaving foam and his genitalia
exposed for them to see - just hanging there in front of him, "Come on
girls get on with your washing."

   Celia looked at Natasha and they sat down in the water, their legs
alternate.  The water was lovely - and so was Natasha sitting there in
front of her.  Such a pretty face, such lovely hair, such rounded breasts
with her dark, dark nipples.  Celia's eyes dropped to Natasha's mons with
the dark hair so straight.  She could see it all beneath the water and her
slit just so clear.  She looked up and realised Natasha had been watching
her and knew where Celia's eyes had been looking.  Celia was embarrassed.

   Natasha picked up the soap and began washing Celia's feet.  It was nice
both feeling and watching her brown fingers at work.  Her leg was lifted,
soapy hands were on her calf and then knee.  A lovely soft feeling.  Gentle
hands on her skin.  She caught Natasha looking between her thighs.  Her leg
a little lifted and parted and Natasha so clearly looking not at her leg
but her sex.  They had already rubbed their sexes together but were now
about to touch each other intimately with their fingers whilst washing. 
All of a sudden Celia realised that sometime soon it would not just be
Natasha's fingers at her sex or her own fingers at Natasha's but they would
be 'kissing' each other down there - and the awful thing was, she wanted
that.  It was not going to be something forced on them - it would be
voluntary.  What had happened to her?  What had the old man done?

   The old man came closer and stood watching them.  It would have been
easier to know what he was thinking had he been able to achieve an erection
but it seemed from the night before that was beyond him.  Sexual
excitement, orgasm and ejaculation were a different matter but his penis
hanging at eye level right in front of Celia and Natasha betrayed nothing.
Not a twitch.  He could be worked up into a frenzy of excitement and they
would not know it.  All of a sudden the penis might just drip, drip, drip
translucent semen into the bathwater - there was no telling.

   The man, though, returned to his shaving.  No doubt watching them in the
mirror.  Celia too picked up the soap and began lathering Natasha.  Her
fingers touching the lovely brown skin.

   It was a mutual decision.  What order do you wash a friend?  It is
rather simpler when washing yourself!  From legs they moved to torso and it
just happened that they found themselves soaping each other's breasts
together.  So nice having her hands on the smooth mounding of Natasha's
breasts and feeling the hardness of her nipples.  The old man might not
have an erection but Celia could feel just how hard her own nipples were
and see and feel Natasha's.  So nice to feel them in the palms of her hands
as she soaped and - yes - fondled the twin mounds.  They were looking into
each other's eyes and biting their lips.

   "Front and back bottoms." The old man had finished his shaving and was
applying cologne.

   Natasha and Celia knelt, each facing the other and soaped up their
hands. A nod from Natasha and they touched each other.  One hand on
Natasha's dark, slicked back hair; another, Natasha's, on Celia's own
springy blond bush; each with a forefinger feeling for and sliding in their
slits.

   "Come on girls, breakfast awaits."

   He was close by them, still naked, still flaccid, but his eyes were
watching closely.

   They got on with it.  Hands washing each other's pudenda and bottom as
if it was their own - doing just such a normal thing - only it wasn't, it
wasn't their own bodies.

   The man watched all they did and then turned and picked up shorts and
shirt.

   "Get yourself ready and then on the veranda and we'll have a nice
breakfast." He turned to the door and then looked back.  To Celia it seemed
he was thinking of something.  "Come on, get out and get dried." He watched
them stand and then nodded to himself.

   It seemed to Celia that as soon as the old man was out of the room she
felt freer but her and Natasha's freedom to perhaps touch a little more was
immediately ended by the door re-opening and the two dark suited men
entering.  They both smiled at the sight of the two girls standing in the
bath water.

   An intake of breath from Natasha.  Were they about to be treated the
same as the night before?

   "Mr Levinson would like you to shave."

   But girls do not...  oh!  Celia all of a sudden knew what was required.

   "Shall we leave you to it or would you like..."

   "We'll do it." Celia was quick.  There was no point arguing.  She could
imagine if they refused then they would be so easily bound, so easily bound
in an undignified way and the men would have no difficulty with the razor
and she could imagine their thick fingers everywhere and probably at the
end of it all not just their fingers.  She could imagine just what their
idea of after shave lotion would be.

   Natasha and Celia found themselves alone, standing still in the bath
water.  Instinctively they hugged; breast to breast; wet skin to wet skin.

   The door reopened, "And hurry up."

   The knowing smile from the man was not pleasing.

   The door closed and a quick kiss, lips to lips.  "Come on, we'd better
do it," said Natasha.

   The razor had been left on the washbasin, the shaving cream was there,
there was hot water and towels aplenty and scissors in the cupboard. 
Natasha working first as Celia lay back on the floor and opened herself to
her friend and then it was her turn; her turn to snip the lovely hair away,
apply the cream and slide away with the razor.  How pretty she thought
Natasha's exposed sex was.  The lovely soft dark fringed flaps of her labia
minora, the wet pinkness, her little pee hole, the little stand of her
clitoris together with the special entrance to her body that had been so
rudely invaded by the two men's thick penes the night before.  It all
looked so kissable.  Celia bent her head...

   "Are you girls ready?  Tabitha, Emily-Sue?  Oh yes, very nice; very nice
indeed."

   Where before Natasha and Celia had displayed fine womanly bushes there
was now not a hint even of down.  The girls were as hairless as, well,
schoolgirls.  Their fine womanly breasts gave a very different impression
but...

   A gentle pat to their buttocks.  "Now put these on, you need to be
dressed for the table and come to breakfast."

   'These' were not clothes, were not swimming costumes, were not bikinis
or even bikini bottoms but small striped towels.  Enough to go around the
waist and almost to the knee but nothing more.

   Natasha and Celia followed the men wearing just towels as skirts and
bare breasted.  At least it did not make them look too little girlish but
Celia was sure that would not last.

   They came out blinking into the sunshine of a glorious summer's day. 
They were indeed by the sea, the sands stretched out to the blue of the
water with the waves coming one after another to the shore.  On the veranda
a table laid for breakfast - cereals, fruit, fruit juice, toast and
marmalade, tea and coffee - it was all so very ordinary and most pleasant,
or would have been had the girls had any clue where they were and had not
been abducted.

   Of course she and Natasha were hungry.  Of course they ate and drank. 
There was plenty to eat and they did.  They knew better than to get up from
the table without asking.  They were getting the idea of the old man's game
readily enough.

   "You can go and play now - yes on the beach."

   It certainly looked lovely.  Celia got up and Natasha followed.  There
were wooden steps down, right onto the sand of the beach.

   "Don't forget your sun hats."

   Two big straw hats with strings to go under the chin were hanging ready.
Celia put one on and stepped downwards.

   "Leave you towels here Tabitha and Emily-Sue.  We don't want them
getting all sandy."

   That was ridiculous, thought Celia, towels always got sandy on a beach!
What he meant was he wanted to see the girls naked, see them walking naked
on the sand - and no doubt take in their newly shaved nakedness.  Celia
dropped her towel - not just anywhere but on the sand - and very
deliberately turned to the old man so he could see all of her.

   "Emily-Sue, pick up that towel and come here."

   It had been easy at breakfast but suddenly she felt an iron grip of
control.  There was nothing she could do but walk back up the steps in just
her hat and come right up to the old man.  She could not resist his
command.

   "That was very naughty - and so early in the day!"

   Celia felt like what she was meant to feel - the naughty schoolgirl
standing in front of the teacher whilst she was told off.  Only it was not
normal to stand there stark naked.

   "You may say sorry."

   And Celia found not only could she say it but she had to say it. 
"Sorry."

   "That's better.  I won't spank you because it is the first day of the
holiday but, Emily-Sue, I expect better.  Off you go now and play."

   Celia knew the old man was watching her as she walked away; knew he
would be watching her bottom and thinking about spanking it.  Spanking was
going to happen: she was sure of it.

   The two girls walked out onto the sand and out towards the sea.  Natasha
gripped Celia's hand - the reassurance felt good.  The further they walked
the less controlled Celia felt, the less she felt the influence of the old
man.

   "Oh, Celia, this is so awful.  How did it happen?  Who is that awful old
man?"

   "I don't know; I don't understand any of it - well, I understand we are
being played with.  I mean, what are we meant to do now?  Build sand
castles?  Collect pebbles?  Go for a swim?"

   "I...  we, we were just walking and then the men..."

   "I hardly remember anything, just a hand over my mouth and..."

   "Oh, I remember.  A man had got you and you were just dropping but I bit
the other man - it was one of those minders I'm sure - and almost got away.
I'll give myself credit.  I put up some struggle.  He'd dropped the pad - I
could smell the chloroform still on his hand.  He gagged me with it so I
couldn't scream and held me so tight with the other arm I could hardly
breathe.  But I was fighting him - well until you were out cold and the
other man was free to pick up the chloroformed pad.  I still fought, but it
was no good, Celia, there were two of them."

   "Must have been awful."

   "The last thing I remember was the first man still hugging me tight and
me thinking - he's enjoying this - that's his fucking erection I can feel
pressing against me in his jeans."

   "Oh, Natasha..."

   "I was so scared and to feel that...  I knew what was coming...  And
don't we know it now!"

   They stood in the water, the little waves breaking over their ankles. 
It was actually rather lovely.  In other circumstances...

   They looked back at the beach house, at the old man in the distance,
there on his veranda, reading a newspaper.  They looked along the open
sands of the beach.  They were in a bay and a very wide bay at that - the
sands stretched on and on, virtually deserted.  There were a few figures in
the distance perhaps walking, perhaps fishing.

   "Perhaps if we swim a bit and just sort of gradually swim down the beach
a bit and then run like anything.  We can escape!"

   "Like this?"

   "Better seen naked than imprisoned for who knows what to happen.  We
have no idea what they will do."

   The water was not cold.  The girls were happy to swim but not back and
forth - rather their plan was to move down the beach.  Slowly but surely
they were moving away from the beach house.  And they felt themselves
again. Free of the influence of the old man.

   "Now!" Said Natasha.

   Splashing they made their way out of the water and then they were
running, running away down the sand, their limbs working.  Celia turned a
little to see Natasha, saw how her ebony skin shone in the sunlight, saw
the drops of water from the sea all over her body and her beautiful breasts
bounding.  As she watched Natasha's hands came up to restrain them.

   They were making their escape!

   Escape?  No, Celia looked further behind her and there, running after
them down the beach, were the two minders and they were running fast!

   "Natasha, they're coming."

   It is best when running not to look behind you, not to see how the other
competitors are doing but concentrate on your own running.  After all, you
might trip if you don't look where you are going.

   Celia stared ahead.  Surely they would reach some other people soon. 
People who would ask why two girls were running naked down a beach chased
by two naked men - for the men did not even have beach shorts on.  If she
looked behind she could see their penes bounding and jumping around.

   It was not that they exactly tripped over something when looking behind:
there was nothing on the beach to do that.  Rather they managed to come too
close and trip each other up.  They went flying and of course the men were
up to them in seconds before they could get to their feet.  A jumble of
naked girls.  To be fair, the men would have caught them before they
reached people and help.  They were not really the cause of their own
recapture.

   Celia and Natasha looked upwards, squinting against the sun.  The two
men, who they thought of as 'the minders,' standing over them wearing just
dark glasses and grinning.

   "Out for a little run, for some exercise?" They were hardly breathing
faster than normal.  The men were clearly fit, clearly used to vigorous
exercise.

   As the girls watched the men's penes began to grow.  It was an unusual
view, a view from below; a view up at naked men, strong, muscled and well
built men; a view giving unusual prominence to the men's slackly hanging
balls, warmed by the sun; above the hanging testes their large penes were
pumping upwards.  The men moved, their balls swung and in unison - the same
thought coming to the girls at the same time - the girls kicked.  Hard
stabs from their feet aimed at the men's weakness, their soft dangling
testes.  A well aimed kick could incapacitate the men leaving the girls
free to make their escape.

   Two well aimed kicks would have done the job - or should have.  They
were well aimed, the girl's aim was faultless but so was the men's reaction
speed - each foot caught and restrained before toes could stab into the
soft scrotums.

   The men just laughed and began pulling the girls along the sand by just
the one foot.  They were strong men, there was nothing the girls could do;
they just had to accept being dragged through the sand and still being wet
from the sea it stuck to them and, worse, being dragged foot first the sand
was getting where sand always does get on the beach - in between legs - but
not just a little sand!  Their 'pussies' were literally being pulled into
the soft, dry sand, it was mounding up over them and getting 'everywhere.'

   The men turned and laughed at their sand covered bodies - and, clearly,
it did nothing to make their penes go down.  Celia had been expecting to be
fucked but perhaps the sand would make them safe from that - the men would
hardly want to feel their penes rasping against all that sand!  It was not
comfortable though.

   All the way back they were dragged - though after a time the men found
it easier dragging them by both legs.

   The old man was waiting down near the sea.  He was sitting in a deck
chair under a parasol with dark glasses and a panama hat on - but nothing
else.

   "Hallo Tabitha and Emily-Sue.  Did you enjoy your swim and running?  How
sandy you have got!  See how right I was about the towels.  Have the boys
been burying you in the sand?"

   There were spades for building sandcastles dug into the sand.

   Celia shook her head and looked at the two men.  Hardly boys, not with
the twin whoppers of erections they were sporting.  She was in a way
surprised they had not been shaved to complete the nonsense fantasy that
she and Natasha were little girls and they were little boys: but they had
not and were actually very hairy.  Not at all like little boys.  Very much
the mature male, and clearly very potent.  Their penes had not subsided.

   The old man pretended to notice the erections.  "Oh don't worry about
those, Emily-Sue, it's just little boys and their willies when they want to
do a wee.  So silly; aren't you little girls so much neater.  Do you want
to do a wee, girls?  You can bob down on the sand if you like.  There's
nobody coming along; no one is going to see you."

   They shook their heads.

   "Boy's you'd better go and relieve yourselves in the sea or, well if you
have to.  I suppose the girls won't mind..."

   Celia almost did not know where to look - or would not had it been a
more normal circumstance.  The two men just let fly.  Strong streams arcing
from the ends of their large and very firm erections - true parabolic
curves glinting and sparkling in the sunshine.  And the men turning as they
did so, the bright streams coming closer and closer to the girls.  This was
surely not the way they were going to have the sand washed away?

   "Boys!" It was a command from the old man.  "Don't be silly!"

   Easy for Celia to imagine.  So easy.  Had the old man not been there the
twin streams could, so easily, have been used to 'power wash' the sand from
their 'pussies' and made them ready again for intercourse.  The twin hot
streams of piss making short work of the sand, leaving them wet, dripping
and available.  Power washing all the sand away.  Celia could imagine that.
But with the old man there the streams trailed off just leaving damp marks
in the sand.

   "Good.  Well, girls, if you don't want to - even after that unnecessary
display - let's see the boys bury you.  That is always fun.  Do you
remember last year?  Lie down."

   Celia had no option.  She had to do as she was told.  The men working
away to cover them with sand, patting down the sand making it all so neat.
It was not a new experience to Celia any more than it probably was to
Natasha but to have two naked and so well endowed men doing the job - well
that was new.

   The old man smiled at the progress.

   In the distance Celia could see figures coming closer.  It was not
missed on the minders or the old man.  Covered in sand from neck to toe
Celia watched the two minders casually saunter into the sea whilst the old
man simply laid his newspaper over his thighs.

   It was a young mother and her little boy.  The boy thought it just so
funny that Natasha and Celia were buried in the sand and said so.  The
young mother stopped to talk to the old man.

   "We've been imprisoned and..." Celia began.

   "Emily-Sue!  Sssh, we are talking."

   And Celia found her power of speech had just gone.

   "My nephews," he waved at the minders standing waist deep in the water,
hiding their nakedness, and they waved back.  "Have certainly imprisoned
Emily-Sue and Tabitha in the sand."

   The little lad had picked up a spade and was shovelling more sand on and
laughing.

   The young mother laughed, "So I see.  Such fun down by the sea!"

   The conversation continued for a few minutes but then the woman took her
boy by the hand and wandered off down the beach.  The boy chattering away
to her and picking up pebbles and sea shells to show her.

   They had not gone far before the minders came back out of the water. 
Celia watched the water running down their naked bodies and was amused,
insofar as the awfulness of Natasha and her predicament allowed, to see how
shrunk their penes were from the cool water.  It had cooled their earlier
ardour!

   As is normal when buried in sand, the two men sat on the girls.  sat
astride them.

   "Now mind you don't squash the girls.  You boys are bigger than them."

   They were rather.  It was a bit of a weight on her chest.  Celia was
breathing with a little difficulty.  She wanted to tell them to get off but
could not speak.

   "Egh, egh, ouff," she went as her mouth opened and closed.

   The old man was watching.  "I do like an ice cream on the beach or a
lollipop.  Look what the kind boys have gone and bought you each - a
lollipop.  Now lick it nice and daintily like little ladies should."

   The minder on her chest lifted himself a little, allowing her to breath.
What?  She thought.  There was no lollipop there.  And then she realised
what the old man meant.  Crouched over her sand covered chest, legs splayed
either side of her was the minder and the closest thing to her, hanging
there right in front of her was his penis - his lollipop!

   The minder reached down, retracted his foreskin exposing his pink glans,
lent a little forward and just popped it into her mouth.

   Celia wanted to bite.  Wanted to hurt the man but she could only do what
the old man said.  Her tongue licked, her lips sucked.  It was cool from
the water and with the salty tang of the sea.  It did not take long before
it was growing in her mouth - the complete opposite of a lollipop which got
smaller rather than larger and was ice cold not blood heat hot!

   Beside her, Natasha was getting the same treatment - or was it treat?

   The men were enjoying themselves.  Trapped and with her head supported
by the sand the man could really push at her and force his erection in and
out of her mouth with enthusiasm.  He must have been close to coming
because he suddenly pulled away and stood up, his big erection slapping
against his stomach.  After a few seconds his companion did the same.

   "Have you finished those?" Asked the old man.  "If you have then you can
finish mine.  It's a bit much for me.  Tabitha, come here."

   With some difficulty the black girl pulled herself up from the sand. 
She was covered.  It had stuck to her wet body almost hiding her nakedness.
Celia thought she looked lovely, even so, like that.  A sandgirl.

   "Come here my dear, suck on my lollipop.  There's a little left."

   The newspaper was no longer covering his nakedness and there lying to
one side was his flaccid penis.  Celia almost, well for a few seconds
anyway, felt sorry for him.  The poor man unable to sustain an erection. 
Natasha knelt.  Celia knew Natasha could do nothing but obey.

   From her place in the sand Celia could not actually see Natasha's mouth
at work but it was so obvious from the position of her head and the bobbing
motion what she was doing.  Celia turned her head and looked up at the two
men silhouetted against the sky; at their penes standing strongly - such a
difference from the old man.  At any moment, she knew, one or other of them
might be stuffed in her mouth - probably the one she had not been sucking -
and it would all begin again and probably reach a conclusion.  She would
have to be careful to swallow slowly.  It was not so easy doing that lying
down.  She had to be calm and practical.  Just go with the flow (ha!) until
there was the chance - another chance - of escape.

   After a time the old man made male orgasm noises.  It seemed Natasha's
pretty lips had been enough notwithstanding the lack of an erection.

   "Tabitha, Tabitha, you naughty girl.  You've taken it all.  Go on and
give Emily-Sue some."

   "Some?" He had come, his lollipop had 'come,' there would be no more
'some.' What did he mean?  Oh no!

   Natasha got up from her knees, a strange half sand, half black girl
moving towards Celia and leaning over her, their faces close to each other,
their eyes looking into each other's.  Nice to feel the pressed warm
softness of Natasha's pretty lips on her own, a delightful intimacy with
these awful men around them but Celia also knew what was to come. 
Natasha's warm, wriggling tongue seeking egress through her lips.  A
delight but with it, the warm, glutinous mess of the old man's ejaculation
sliding down Natasha's tongue and through Celia's open lips.  Celia was
getting 'some' too!

   Celia's tongue sought Natasha's and they played.  A private shared
intimacy, a companionable friendly thing hidden from the men - if joined by
the old man's semen.

   They were allowed a little time.  Celia was a little worried Natasha
might be taken advantage of - given her exposed bottom - but either girl
could be taken any time.  They did not have a choice, they had no way of
preventing 'things' being done.  Perhaps though the sand kept them safe. 
It would be comfortable for neither party to engage with all that sand in
Natasha's sex.  The rubbing would not be pleasant!

   "Come on Tabitha, pull Emily-Sue up!"

   The old man was clearly enjoying himself.  The two men watched as
Natasha helped Celia out of the sand.  Like Natasha she was coated in the
stuff from neck to foot.

   "Dear, oh dear.  You have got yourself covered!  You'd better go in the
sea and wash it off."

   A good idea and clearly the men thought so too.  Natasha and she were
picked up by the men, thrown over their shoulders and run down to the sea.
The men waded out a little, dropped the girls into their arms and then:

   "One, two and three!" They were thrown bodily out into the water.

   Splash!  Celia went right under, of course!  Coming up gasping, one of
the men was on her straightaway.

   "Come on, let's get the sand off you."

   Moving further out, waist deep in the water his hands were all over her,
washing the sand away.  All over indeed: there was nowhere the hands did
not go; nowhere at all and, indeed, perhaps particularly there!

   "All right, all right it's done," she said.

   She was pretty sure not a particle of sand remained and perhaps the man
thought so too.  Celia was lifted up, and plonked unceremoniously back
down, down on the man's upstanding erection and, just like the night
before, in it went - it had travelled that way before.  Celia had known it
was going to happen sometime that morning.  She had been surprised it had
not happened when they had been caught running on the sand.  She could
imagine the thrill of the chase and their capture had been very exciting to
the men.  Their pumping up penes had very visually shown that!

   Celia thought that for men used to exercise the prospect of running
naked after naked girls with the prospect of 'reward' when the girls were
caught would be a wonderful prospect.  A nice game for lovers to play if
they found somewhere private enough.  Perhaps early morning by the sea or
even out in the countryside.  The boy and girl dressed simply in trainers.
The warm sun shining down and the birds singing.  Perhaps the man's
erection coming at the sight.  The girl glancing a little coyly at it.  It
looks very fine.  Her boyfriend looks very manly but it is not for her yet.
He has to earn the right to inseminate her by catching her.  The girl given
a suitable head start and then the chase begun.  Perhaps it might go on for
miles!  But eventually the girl caught and taken.

   There Celia was, and Natasha as well, being, fucked in the sea.  The
buoyancy of the water and the gentle surge of the waves making it all so
easy to ride up and down.  How so much nicer if Natasha and she had come to
the seaside with their boyfriends and they were rather naughtily, perhaps
daringly, having sex side by side out in the sea.  A pleasant consensual
experience made a little private by the water.  The reality was not
consensual - Celia had not even been asked.

   Along the seashore Celia could see the woman returning.  What would she
think?  Surely it would be obvious what they were doing?

   The men moved further out into the sea letting the water level rise to
hide the girls' breasts beneath the waves, their feet bounding up and down
along the sandy bottom as they took the girls along.  They did not let up
on the intercourse.

   The little boy waved.  Celia could not shout.  Could not call for help
but equally could not be so unkind to the little boy as not to wave back
even though it made everything seem so normal.

   The man released her and she was swimming, swimming away from him, her
thighs no longer with his big penis between them, instead opening and
closing as she swam for the shore.  Beside her Natasha doing the same. 
Perhaps they could rush out of the sea naked and gesticulate even though
they could not speak their distress.

   Celia could swim, Natasha could swim but there was clearly a big
difference between school learnt breast stroke and the practised crawl of
strong men.  A sudden splashing and they were caught again; not permitted
to rise up and reveal their breasts but held.

   The woman looked out at them and waved.  She had clearly heard and seen
the splashing.  No doubt she thought they were just having fun in the sea -
and why not!  A few more words with the old man and on she walked not
realising perhaps what was hidden by his strategically placed newspaper. 
The girls chance of rescue receding.

   Unsurprisingly Celia was passed to the other man, each wishing a turn
with a girl.  Celia looked across to Natasha just as one of the men, the
one who had so recently been fucking her, lifted Natasha up in the air and,
with her thighs half out of the water and spread either side of his hips,
let her down on his erection - the pink head momentarily just poking up
above the water.  Had the woman on the beach turned she might just have
spotted it, spotted Natasha's impalement.  But she did not turn and did not
see Celia also settled onto the other large erection.

   Up and down, up and down.  Splash, splash, splash.  The woman and the
boy were just specks in the distance when the men completed the act, once
more releasing their semen into the young girls.  It was clear they enjoyed
what they had done and, releasing the girls, slapped each other on the back
as they walked, still erect, back towards the beach leaving the girls
standing in the water.

   Natasha looked at Celia, Celia looked at Natasha.

   "Mmgh, umph, suss." They still could not speak.

   Celia reached out her hand and held Natasha's.  Looking down and beneath
the water Celia could see what looked a little like white, waving seaweed
swinging in the moving water and seemingly attached to where both their
legs joined, their so recently shaved pubic mounds and slits.  Celia
realised it was the men's semen leaking from them.  She looked towards the
shore with despair.  The old man's semen in their mouths, the men's semen
in their vaginas - when was this going to end?  Celia knew, though, there
would be more semen to come, probably a lot more semen to come.  She
reached and squeezed Natasha's hand and, not being able to say anything. 
lent forward to kiss her.

   They were allowed to sunbathe, permitted to swim, they even got up and
built a sandcastle together.  A picnic lunch on the beach and magazines
brought for them to read.  The morning and afternoon passed pleasantly
enough, pleasantly enough for kidnapped girls.  There was no further
interference with their bodies.  The girls knew that it was only time. 
There would be more.



   Part 3 - Dinner Guests

   The shadows were starting to lengthen as the old man got up and reached
for his walking stick.  It was a signal for the party to pack up and return
to the house.

   "Girls, you are going to be allowed to stay up a little late tonight
because we have visitors.  A bit of a treat!  Put on your best clothes for
dinner.  It's not like the beach when you can run around in the altogether
to your heart's content.  No, no, I know you like doing that.  Remember,
though, little girls are to be seen and not heard with grownups.  Be polite
and answer if spoken to.  Now you go and have your bath, wash all that salt
off and get dressed."

   Celia was not surprised, not at all surprised to find Natasha and her
'best clothes' were the school uniforms again.  Neatly laid out across
their bed.

   The pleated maroon skirt, the matching woollen jacket, the white shirt
with its crisp white collar so suitable for the carefully folded tie,
sensible shoes and long white socks.  Two piles of matching clothes -
except her panties were maroon and Natasha's white.  No brassieres of
course.

   Good to bathe and wash the salt away, good to shampoo hair clear of
sand, nice actually to sit naked on the bed with Natasha and plait her hair
and have the same done to herself.  There was little point fighting against
the old man - Mr Levinson allegedly - they would have to dress in the
uniforms and might as well do the hair themselves.  Celia was sure
otherwise the men would do it - very possibly being made to sit on their
laps whilst they did it, very possibly sitting there with an erection
inside them.  And, after all.  it was nice to do each other's hair.

   Hair done they again sat together, side by side.  Natasha's hand reached
out and cupped one of Celia's breasts.  It was obvious Natasha was feeling
the same as she.  An unexpected interest in each other and not simply as
'friends.'

   The bedroom door opened.  It was the old man.  He was dressed very
finely in a black dinner suit complete with bow tie.  The dinner was
clearly going to be remarkably formal for a summer's evening down by the
beach.

   "Not ready yet?  Come on girls get those socks on."

   He stood there quite obviously taking pleasure in the girls' dressing,
in seeing them in just white long socks.

   "Shirts and ties."

   Again no doubt pleasing to see a couple of girls in white shirts with
their bottoms and mounds - denuded mounds - peeping out underneath. 
Partial nudity being more erotic than the complete thing.  Celia remembered
how much she had enjoyed seeing a former boyfriend wandering around the
bedroom in just shirt and tie in the morning whilst getting dressed with
his 'equipment' hanging, swinging and peeping out.  She remembered one
morning making it rise by just bringing one naked thigh out from under the
bedclothes.  How fine it had looked standing sticking out from under his
shirt.  She had called to him and she had sucked - it had all caused him to
be late for work!  Celia was no stranger to sex but not like this, not
abducted and used.

   "Well you can hardly go into dinner like that can you?  Come on,
knickers and skirts."

   Natasha and Celia complied.  They picked up the jackets and put them on.

   "Come, come and meet our guests.  Don't forget to be polite and curtsey
as you've been taught."

   Curtsey?

   The guests proved to be a couple of elderly and distinguished looking
gentlemen.  Their hair was grey and they were dressed in evening wear like
their host.  Their faces were all smiles as they saw the girls.

   "Emily-Sue, my how you've grown.  Quite the little lady!  And Tabitha,
well, what can I say!  You are getting a tall girl."

   Both Natasha and Celia curtseyed.  It was not a bad effort.

   "And tell me," said the other, "how old are you now?"

   "Twenty," said Celia finding she could speak.

   "Nineteen, sir." said Natasha.

   The men looked at each other and laughed.

   "Don't wish the years away girls.  I know, I know."

   "But they are getting bigger, Stephen.  They'll soon be blossoming out
into women you know."

   "I know Archie, I know, perhaps next year they won't want to come and
enjoy the simple pleasures of the beach and will want to be off at parties
and all those sorts of things."

   "A shame.  They all grow up too soon."

   "Indeed.  Girls, this is Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth.  Perhaps you don't
remember them."

   It was hardly likely, thought Celia.  She suspected, though, that she
was going to get to know them better; could not think that the pretence of
them being little girls would give way to the reality of them being
helpless big girls fully available for Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth's sexual
gratification.  If both Mr Staples and Mr Carnforth's penes were not in her
mouth and vagina, and perhaps elsewhere, by the end of the evening then she
was a Dutchman!

   The party sat on the veranda, the sound of the sea providing a pleasant
backdrop.  The men talked and largely seem to ignore the girls as the soup
course went by.

   "Did you have a nice time on the beach today?"

   "No, it was horrid, Mr Carnforth." Celia could not avoid it.  She was
permitted to answer but had to be polite.  It was absurd.

   "Emily-Sue!" Mr Levinson looked annoyed.  "They had a lovely time only
perhaps Emily-Sue felt something unexpected in the sea.  I think it
frightened her, a fish or something, slithering against her - you know -
girlie bits, it frightened her a little, I think."

   "What about you Tabitha?" It was Mr Staples speaking.

   "Course we didn't.  It was awf..."

   "Tabitha!  I don't know what's come over them.  Perhaps they are tired
and want to go to bed.  They've done a lot of running around with the boys.
Any more of that and it will be a spanking."

   Celia thought she caught the faintest trace of a smile, a very satisfied
smile on the faces of both of the guests.  She now knew what was coming.

   The main course - delicious but the girls ate sullenly.  They did not
want to be there.  A clatter from Natasha as she put her cutlery down.

   "Tabitha!"

   "What!" she snapped.

   It was enough.  It was the excuse the old man needed: not that any
excuse was really needed.  He had the girls, after all, completely in his
power.  He pushed back his chair.  "Tabitha come here."

   All eyes were on the black girl, the black girl in her neat school
uniform with the long white socks.  She came around, as she was told, to
stand in front of the old man.  Legs a little apart, hands on hips looking
a little defiant.  She looked very much the cross little schoolgirl with
her pouting face and pigtails: or would have done if it was not for the
very obvious swell of her bosom and her height.

   "You know what happens to girls who are naughty.  Well?"

   "No, I..."

   "Tabitha, be quiet.  They get spanked.  Come, bend over my knee."

   Celia watched in disbelief as Natasha placed herself over his knees. 
Her bottom uppermost, her lovely black legs sticking out from under her
skirt and below her knees the whiteness of her socks.  She knew, of course,
that Natasha had not choice.  The old man had spoken.  He raised his hand.

   "The material of young Tabitha's pleated skirt is quite thick, Stephen.
I can't imagine at school they're punished like that.  When I was at school
old Mr Manners always insisted we took our shorts down.  I think perhaps
you are a little lenient?" Mr Carnforth's comment was made with a definite
sparkle in his eye.  It was not a disinterested observation.

   Mr Levinson hand carefully went to the hem of the skirt and gently
raised the material; letting the white panties slowly come into view.

   "White?" Queried Mr Staples.  "Not quite the uniform panties.  I expect
she would get a further paddling for that at school."

   "Indeed," the old man replied.  "Emily-Sue, have you uniform knickers
on? Show us."

   And Celia had to stand, her legs seemed not under her control at all and
would not let her do anything else.  She lifted her skirt up by its hem and
showed the elderly men her maroon knickers.  What a thing to be showing to
a dinner party of men.

   "Emily-Sue, take them off please and give them to Tabitha to put on."

   Celia did not leave her skirt up whilst she pulled her knickers down;
did not give the men a sight of her shaved mound and bottom - though she
was quite sure they would all see more than enough of them by the end of
the evening.

   Natasha too stood and pulled her white panties from under her skirt. 
They were taken by Mr Carnforth.  They were not given to Celia.

   Celia handed her knickers to Natasha and they were pulled up.  Celia
wondered if Natasha liked the idea of her sex being intimate with the
material that had so recently covered her own.  She hoped so.

   Bent over Mr Levinson's lap again the skirt was once more slowly lifted
revealing maroon knickers and brown thighs.

   "That's better," he said.  His hand descended.  It was not a gentle
slap. There was an "ow" from Natasha.  All the men smiled.  The hand came
down again and the buttocks jumped and clenched within the thick maroon
cotton.

   "It's been a long time since I chastised a little girl," said Mr
Staples.

   Celia watched, feeling strangely vulnerable without knickers beneath her
skirt; she knew this was not a comment from Mr Staples but a request.  It
was acceded to.

   Natasha was swopped from one pair of knees to another; the skirt raised
and a different hand descended.

   "Do you think it is hurting enough?  I mean smacking should cause a bit
of smarting!  Mr Manners often pulled our pants down as well."

   Clearly Mr Staples needed little encouragement.  His fingers were on the
elasticised top and gently easing the knickers down revealing, inch by
inch, Natasha's lovely rounded brown bottom.  The maroon knickers were not
eased down a little but all the way down to her ankles.  Celia watched as
Natasha's buttocks clenched, perhaps anticipating the next slap or worrying
that an inquisitive finger might perhaps slip between the cheeks and touch
her bottom hole.  Celia remembered how her own fingers had touched Natasha
there in the bath, how she had carefully soaped the wrinkled rubbery
orifice and felt Natasha doing the same to her own.

   The finger did not come but the hand did.  It was a firm slap, flesh on
flesh.  It looked like it hurt and Natasha certainly let out a yelp.  Celia
wondered what it would be like to spank Natasha - it was awful to think she
really would not mind if the men asked her to do that just a little.

   Down came the hand again.

   "I think," said Mr Carnforth, "it does young girls good to have a firm
hand on their buttocks."

   Celia could see he was looking at her; could see where his thoughts were
drifting - very probably beyond a firm hand on the buttocks to a firm penis
between her legs!  Mr Carnforth probably thought it did young girls good to
have a firm penis between their legs.  She knew, though, that the first
thing would be a spanking.  Again she felt her vulnerability - she had no
knickers on anymore.

   Mr Staples hand came down on Natasha's quivering buttocks once again.

   "There, there, don't cry." Mr Staples hand was lightly stroking the
smooth dark brown skin of Natasha's buttocks.  "You had to be punished."

   Natasha was not crying.  It was all a game.  Mr Staples stroking fingers
were 'accidentally' curved so the finger tips were stroking right in her
bottom crack.  Celia just knew he was going to touch her bottom hole - just
knew it.

   "Don't," she said.

   It was the excuse.

   "Emily-Sue come here." It was the old man.  "I thought I told you only
to speak when you were spoken to.  Like Tabitha I think a quick smacking
will remind you of your manners."

   Celia's limbs did not obey her but Mr Levinson.  She just lay across his
knees like she had not done since, since...  not even a boyfriend had asked
her to play that game.

   She felt the material of her maroon pleated skirt being lifted and her
bottom being brought into view.  She knew five pairs of male eyes would be
on it, enjoying the sight.  Mr Levinson, Mr Carnforth, Mr Staples and the
two minders would all be watching and thinking what they might like to do
with it and her - and, she knew, not only were they thinking that but knew
they could and, sometime that evening, would!

   The old man's hand was firm - and it hurt!  Once, twice, thrice the hand
descended.

   Mr Carnforth's voice again, "Stephen, I wonder if I might help.  I
wouldn't want you to hurt your hand."

   Celia was told to go and lie over Mr Carnforth's knee.  Standing, her
skirt fell back down hiding her buttocks.  That would not last long.  Once
more she lay down across a man's knees, once more she felt her skirt being
lifted.  A hand right at the bottom of her cheeks almost touching her sex,
pushing her a little further across the knees, bringing her bottom a little
higher.  A slight easing apart of her legs with the whole manoeuvre, no
doubt, designed to give Mr Carnforth a bit of a view of her bottom hole and
sex.

   Celia clenched her cheeks both in anticipation of the slap and trying to
hide her private parts.  The hand descended with more force and enthusiasm
than Mr Levinson.  It hurt - and so did the several slaps that followed. 
Natasha may not have cried.  Tears though welled up in Celia's eyes.

   "There, there," said Mr Carnforth, "all over now.  Punishment is good
for little girls so they learn their lessons."

   Celia felt her own bottom being stroked.  Gentle fingers...  but gentle
fingers creeping.

   "Time for pudding," I think said Mr Levinson.

   The men stood at the veranda rail looking out over the sands.

   "Would you perhaps," the old man turned to his guests and paused.  The
sound of waves lapping the shore came clear across the sand.  They could
all see the white of the breaking waves by the moonlight.  It was a lovely
peaceful scene.  Mr Levinson continued, "Perhaps you would like to go for a
swim whilst you are here.  Refreshing after dinner.  Lovely by moonlight."

   "I'm sorry, Stephen, I forgot to bring my trunks."

   "Oh, no worries, Archie.  The girls don't notice that sort of thing. 
The boys and I don't normally worry either.  I can't think you will worry
about being naked with other men.  I mean, remember school!"

   Celia thought girls would certainly notice if old men were like that,
She could see beneath the material of their trousers the old men were not
exactly at rest.  There was a definite straining.

   "The girls will keep you company and, so you don't feel strange, they
won't have their costumes either.  Actually they don't have any with them,
not even their school black one pieces.  You don't mind, girls?"

   It was a question, they could answer.

   "Yes, yes we do."

   "Oh dear, you see Archie and Matthew, they are starting to get conscious
of their bodies, they are growing up.  Such a shame.  I think you might see
a little 'budding' of their breasts.  Don't be silly girls, there's nothing
to be ashamed about nakedness.  You didn't feel like that with the boys and
me today.  Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples will help you once they are ready.
Now watch them; they are not embarrassed getting undressed in front of
you."

   And so Celia and Natasha had to watch.  It was so obvious the men were
enjoying undressing in front of the girls, their smiles, occasional
whispered comments - a pleasurable exhibitionism - all the way down to
their seriously tented boxers.  Celia could see they were having a lovely
time.  Finally the boxers came down as they turned from the girls and then,
they turned around completely naked to face the girls and the old man. 
From Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples perspective there should have been a
fanfare to announce the revealing, the exposure of their twin erections -
fully extended and clearly at the peak of their excitement.

   Celia had to admit that, like the two minders, these two gentlemen had
nothing to worry about in the genitalia department.  They came walking
towards the girls, their big shiny helmets pointing upwards and swaying. 
It was obvious to Celia that they were really loving doing that, loving the
opportunity of exposing themselves to, well, young women - Celia had no
illusion they really thought themselves about to go swimming with young
schoolgirls.  It was all just a game to them - they knew perfectly well
Natasha and she were mature girls.

   "Come on Emily-Sue and Tabitha let's get these old school clothes off."

   They had to be unresisting as first jackets were removed and then,
unnecessarily slowly, blouses were undone, button by button, and pulled
apart to reveal their breasts and nipples.  Clearly the men were itching to
get their hands on them but that was yet not the game.  They were simply
undressing the girls for a swim - as if they could not do it for
themselves. Blouses removed, the men stepped backwards to look.

   "The girls are getting bigger, you know, Stephen.  They'll need
brassieres soon, training brassieres - they'll like that.  It's what big
girls wear.  They'll be really excited by that."

   "I know, I know.  Such a pity.  But I have a lady coming to measure them
and fit them."

   The men, all of them, taking great pleasure in the girls dressed just in
their pleated maroon skirts and long white socks yet naked from the waist
up with their, hardly just budding, breasts so on show.

   Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples with their exposed and straining erections
reached for the clasps of the skirts.  Celia noticed, with some distain,
that their penes actually touched the material, were even briefly rubbed
against it and then down came the skirts all the way to the floor leaving
the girls naked but for their white socks.

   Celia could not help thinking how lovely Natasha looked in just white
socks, socks reaching almost to her knees.  The delicious contrast of her
dark, dark smooth skin and the white cotton of the socks so pleasing to the
eye.  Celia so wished she could take Natasha away, get away from these
awful men, and take her to bed.  How lovely it would be to touch and run
her tongue over her body made just so extra sexy by those white socks. 
They would not be coming off!

   But coming off they would have to be for swimming.  Mr Carnforth lifted
Natasha up under her arms, no doubt pleased to have his hands on her flesh,
and plonked her down on the table's edge.  He was actually standing there
between her open thighs, his erection inches from her sex looking like he
was about to engage with her - yes, push his penis into her and engage in
coitus.  He was momentarily transfixed by what he was seeing and where he
was standing.  It really did look like he was about to and it so clearly
went through his mind.  Instead, he stepped back and gently lifted one leg
and then the other and rolled Natasha's socks down her calves but looking,
so clearly looking, not at the socks but right at the soft folds of
Natasha's sex, her now so hairless sex.

   Celia could see Mr Carnforth was sweating with excitement; she could
easily imagine a spontaneous ejaculation simply caused by his delight at
seeing Natasha so exposed and, of course, being able to touch to roll her
socks down her legs.  Celia imagined his penis suddenly jerking and spewing
out white onto Natasha's shaved mound - again the contrast of white on
black skin.  Celia was appalled to find herself rather wishing, if it
happened, to be able to lick it off by kneeling and applying her lips to
Natasha's sex.  Never mind the men in the room!

   What was happening to her?  She had not had these feelings about women
before - but wasn't Natasha simply lovely?

   Celia's socks were also removed and the girls ushered down the veranda
steps, the men following - no doubt staring happily at the twin female
bottoms, enjoying the manly feel of their swaying erections.

   The old man stood in his evening suit leaning on his stick and watching
the four naked figures getting smaller as they walked to the sea.  He
smiled and went to pour himself a brandy.

   They came back up the veranda steps, the men laughing and joking.  It
was perhaps not the same for the girls.  There had been a lot of serious
groping in the sea.  Not really what aged visitors were meant to do with
little girls when the host was not there to see!  Penes had touched flesh
moreover.

   "Was that good, Archie, Matthew, girls?"

   "Refreshing indeed!"

   The old men were not now sporting erections - perhaps they had got a
little cold walking from the sea.

   Towels handed out or rather to the men who took great pleasure in drying
the girls as well as themselves - another opportunity to put hands and
towel everywhere.

   "Well, let's have coffee.  No, don't bother to dress again.  You might
want another swim.  The girls might want to play again on the beach in the
dark.  Perhaps the boys will join them.  I can see they had a great time
with you."

   Celia thought Natasha and her less than enthusiastic looks gave a lie to
that.

   "And I'm sure they'd rather sit on your laps than back on those chairs.
Go on girls, you choose whose lap to sit on.  They do so like to be
friendly."

   Celia and Natasha had no choice; no choice but to sit on the naked laps
of the old men and rest their soft and plump bottoms on the old men's bony
thighs.  Just as Celia knew she would, she could feel Mr Carnforth's penis
like a cold wet slug under her bottom and, just as she knew she would, she
felt it grow and get warmer.  Across the table Natasha was sitting on Mr
Staples lap.  She did not look pleased.  Celia thought her cross face still
so beautiful.

   Her eyes were on Natasha's body and her hardly little girl, dark brown
bosom with the so black nipples.  Celia watched them.  They jiggled a bit
as Mr Staples moved, perhaps he was trying to get a little more comfortable
but by Natasha's suddenly widened eyes Celia knew the 'more comfortable'
position was with his erection slipped up into her.  He did not bounce her
up and down in the motions of intercourse: he seemed happy just being like
that.  Celia could not imagine Natasha thought the same - or that she,
herself, would.  She knew it was coming to her.

   Mr Carnforth's penis was certainly growing under her.  She could feel
the pulse of his heartbeat through it.  It was quite fast.

   "Ah, Emily-Sue, if I could move you a little bit, you are squashing a
muscle you see; ah, yes, that's better; my, you are getting a big girl!"

   The 'little better' had been a bit of a 'feel,' the pushing of his penis
against her and then, as she knew it would, a sliding in.  A 'big girl'
indeed: more a big boy under her.  Celia's eyes sought Natasha's.  Her
eyebrows and head went up and in response Natasha shrugged.  There was
nothing the two girls could do.  They were sitting on these two old men's
laps perhaps not yet being fucked but certainly engaged in coitus.

   The conversation between the men went on as if nothing was happening,
the girls just sitting there listening with the men's erections motionless
inside them.  Occasionally Mr Carnforth would stroke her as if reminding
her he knew she was there.  Once or twice he cupped her breast or tweaked a
nipple.  Not really what a man would do to a little girl seated on his lap
- not to her budding breasts.

   "Girls, why don't you change places?  Tabitha, go and sit on Mr
Carnforth's lap."

   Of course getting up meant sliding on the erection, pulling it wetly
from her.  With a glare at the old man, Celia walked around the table
knowing all five men were watching and enjoying her nakedness.

   Mr Staples was sitting smiling up at her but holding his erection firmly
upright.  There was no way she could sit on his lap without pushing his
knob up into herself.  She paused.

   "Well go on, sit down, Mr Staples is not going to bite.  Make yourself
comfortable on his lap."

   There was nothing Celia could do but obey.  Mr Staples was not pushing
his penis into her: she found herself lining herself up and she doing the
pushing - she was fucking him and not the other way around.

   The girls re-seated, a different penis in their vaginas, different hands
touching them.  The men still talking.

   Celia watched Mr Carnforth.  His hand was to Natasha's breasts, his
fingers playing with her nipples.  Celia wanted to do that.  Would the
girls be left alone in bed that night when, perhaps, Natasha might like her
to do that.  Would Natasha's fingers play with her own pink nipples?

   All at once Mr Carnforth was bouncing Natasha on his lap and crying out.
Up to then she had been sitting quite motionless.  It was obvious,
absolutely clear that he was having an orgasm - his semen no doubt spurting
into Natasha.  Everyone was looking at him.  He was breathing deeply and
looking flushed.

   "Sorry, sorry Stephen...  I, I...  it was a bit of cramp in my leg. 
Caused a bit of a spasm.  No, don't get off, Tabitha."

   There were smiles from the men.

   Celia felt the slightest of movements from Mr Staples.  Just the
lightest of up and down movements.  Imperceptible to the rest but not to
her - not to her who had his penis up inside her vagina!

   Mr Staples kept on talking whilst just so gently fucking her; he managed
to keep talking - almost - when Celia felt a sudden rush inside her. 
Casual as anything, he had just come as if nothing has happened whilst
sitting and talking over coffee.  A strange casual, public yet private,
intercourse.

   And Natasha and Celia were just left to sit on the men's laps as more
coffee was poured and the penes shrank inside the girls.  The men just
talked on and on as if nothing had occurred.  No comment was made when the
men eventually stood up, almost an hour later, at the cum which had slowly
dripped out of the girls decorating their flaccid penes.  An hour or so
just sitting there on the men's laps, with just the occasional movement of
knees from the men: made to sit whilst the men talked.

   It was good at last to be able to stand.  She looked at the elderly men
standing there talking to an evening suited Mr Levinson whilst stark naked
as if nothing unusual had happened.  Their penes were still semen coated.
No attempt had been made to wipe or dry them off.  She had rather thought
Natasha and she might be asked to suck and lick the wet dangling things
until all the ejaculate was gone.  But no, that was not requested.  Even
so, what would happen now?

   "More coffee!  Perhaps some chocolates?  The girls do so love
chocolates. They like a nice fondant centre don't you girls?  But have you
tried salted chocolate?  No?"

   The minders were bringing in a tray.  On it a small pile of round dark
chocolates and, unexpectedly, a bowl of undoubtedly warm and liquid
chocolate.  The delicious aroma was instantly recognisable.

   Celia was puzzled.  Why the warm chocolate?

   She was amazed when casual as anything Mr Carnforth lifted his limp
penis and dunked it in the warm, melted chocolate - balls and all.

   "These are exquisite," said Mr Levinson picking up one of the round
chocolates and looking at it.  "Salted chocolate coated plums.  Absolutely
delicious.  " He popped it in his mouth.

   Mr Carnforth's penis was dripping melted chocolate onto the floor making
a bit of a mess but then Mr Staples did just the same thing.  Celia was
astounded.

   "Now girls, go and sit on your chairs and Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples
will bring you a nice salted chocolate plum each."

   Perhaps a little slow on the uptake but Celia suddenly realised just
what was about to happen.  Not for the girls the nice prepared chocolate
plums on the tray but the freshly prepared chocolate coated penes.  Were
the 'plum's the men's plum shaped knobs or their hanging 'plums?' It really
did not matter.  Natasha and she were going to have to suck the men's
penes, their chocolate and salty semen coated 'plums.' There was nothing
they could do to prevent it.  They might as well enjoy the chocolate!

   Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples were looking very pleased as they approached
the girls, their chocolate coated penes already lengthening.  Their hour's
rest talking had revitalised them it seemed.

   "Now, girls.  pop those nice chocolates right in your mouths so you
don't make a mess all around your mouths but don't gobble them down all at
once."

   There was nothing to do but comply.  The men standing ready, the lovely
smell of warm, melted chocolate right in front of the girls' noses. 
Celia's tongue came out and licked.  The chocolate was of a very good
quality.

   "Emily-Sue!  Put it in your mouth, now!"

   The chocolate was very tasty, the plum of Mr Staples cock big in her
mouth and through the sweetness of the chocolate came a faint taste of salt
from the semen.  Celia sort of had to admit to herself the contrast, salty
and sweet, did work!

   Celia knew what she had to do.  Pleasure the man, enjoy the chocolate
and bring about an ejaculation.  She could not do anything else.  She had
to do as she was told.  Beside her, pretty Natasha, her lips all around Mr
Carnforth's cock, her face already rather messy with the chocolate and her
mouth moving.

   "Girls do so love their chocolate," commented Mr Levinson, "these
chocolate plums are nice but perhaps they prefer a simple hard chocolate
bar or chocolate coated nuts.  Would you like some chocolate coated nuts
girls?  I bet you like just sucking the chocolate off and leaving the nut.
Archie, Matthew could you oblige.  Could you pass the girls some chocolate
nuts."

   The men were all laughing and having a whale of a time at the comic
talk. It was not so for the girls.  Both Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples pulled
their erections, their rather less chocolaty erections from the girls
mouths and held them up against their stomachs giving the girls easy access
to their chocolate coated balls - their nuts!

   And the girls just had to suck and play with their tongues on and around
the two men's scrota, so as to carefully roll their nuts inside their
mouths and remove the chocolate coating.

   "But what I think these girls most like is a nice chocolate fondant with
that special creamy filling."

   "Oh do they now?  Such greedy little girls," Mr Staples replied.

   Celia had known from the start that the salty, creamy filling was coming
to both of them, Natasha and she, sooner or later.  Ejaculation in their
mouths was an inevitability.  Once she had established the two old men were
really here at the house to play with the girls, not just have dinner, she
had known they would want to both enter her and Natasha's mouth as well as
their vaginas.  They were men after all.  Hopefully they would leave their
bottoms alone.

   The penes were dipped once more - not that easy given their fully
erected state - and the glans penes presented once more at the girls' lips.
Celia was not surprised to find the men had swopped over.  Mr Staples now
to enjoy the dark chocolate girl and Mr Carnforth the white.

   Once more the sweet chocolate taste in her mouth.  Gently but firmly Mr
Carnforth's hands closed behind the back of her head.  Celia knew it was
not going to be her who would be working the erection; Mr Carnforth was
going to be doing the moving - he was going to fuck her mouth.  Push, push,
push against her; his penis in and out of her mouth; the big chocolate
tasting head going back and forth between her lips.  Really her mouth was
being used both as a sex toy and putative receptacle.  The chocolate was
nice but the thrusting big plum not easy to cope with and then, all of a
sudden, not just a hint of salt but the full thing; Celia's mouth suddenly
filling with not just the already present warm chocolate but the creamy,
hot, salty semen coming out of Mr Carnforth's penis - the creamy filling.

   Panting Mr Carnforth slowed his assault on Celia's mouth.  Beside her
exactly the same thing was happening to Natasha; her lovely dark head held
firmly by Mr Staples and his long firm cock sliding at some speed and with
some force between Natasha's generous lips.  Celia's sideways glance took
in the way his balls were swinging and bouncing against Natasha's chin.  In
happier circumstances what fun she and Natasha could have with a man they
liked, a man they wanted to be friendly with; sharing his penis, jointly
licking and playing with it whilst being very friendly together - but not
like this.

   Celia shrugged.  Well, that was done and, actually, chocolate and semen
went rather well together!  She wondered if Natasha thought the same.  She
swallowed.  Mmmm not so bad!  She filed the information away as she waited
calmly for the penis to be removed, whilst watching her friend.

   Mr Staples' scrotum visibly tightened and he thrust a little harder. 
Celia knew that his semen was being released into Natasha's mouth.  How she
wished she could now kiss Natasha, share the salty chocolate semen mix
between them and be allowed just to go to bed alone and be just two girls
together.

   The men stepped back from the girls.  It was all a bit of a mess - both
the men's genitalia and the girls' mouths - but Mr Levinson came forward
and popped a chocolate coated plum in each of the girls' mouths.

   "There you are.  Last one.  Girls should not have too much chocolate. 
Now don't gobble that one down like the last.  Now would you two boys like
a last couple of chocolates?"

   It was not Mr Carnforth, nor Mr Staples he was addressing but the two
minders.

   "Perhaps rather than chocolate covered plums you would like dipped
chocolate cherries?"

   Inevitable perhaps but both Celia and Natasha found their nipples being
dipped in the still molten chocolate, their little nipples becoming coated
in warm brown chocolate and then the minders applying their lips to first
one and then the other of their breasts as they stood unresisting.  The
warm chocolate was consumed; the nipples teased and sucked.

   The older men watched.  Mr Levinson spoke, "I don't know, Archie and
Matthew, but little girls just don't seem unable not to make a mess when
eating chocolate.  Why don't you boys take the girls down to the sea and
you all have a nice splash around and clean yourselves off?"

   The men were quick to divest themselves of their clothes and Celia was
not surprised to see they were erect.  It was to be more fucking no doubt.
There was no let up for her and Natasha.  Their bodies were being used.

   "What fine boys your nephews are growing to be," said Mr Carnforth to
the old man, "what fine, upstanding lads - strong and manly almost!"

   There were smiles.  The men all thought it a big joke.  The girls did
not.

   Natasha and Celia were carried piggy back down to the sea.  The further
they got from the old man the freer they found their limbs and tongues to
be; the less compliant they were, but the minders seemed to revel in their
attempt at fight and lack of co-operation.  They were thrown into the sea,
their bodies washed and groped but their resistance was to no avail.  The
minders were just so much stronger than they and strong men on the rut were
not going to be denied.  They seemed to relish Natasha and her struggles
against them in the water; loved chasing the girls up the beach and
throwing them down on their backs and forcing themselves on and into the
girls.

   The men had their way with the girls, their thick and strong penes
penetrated and worked the girls.  Of course insemination occurred and then
the girls were once more washed down in the sea by the laughing men before
being carried back up the beach.

   Mr Carnforth and Mr Staples were just going when the four naked young
people came back in.

   "Look how wet you are," said Mr Carnforth patting Natasha and Celia's
bottoms.  He kissed them both.  "How lovely it has been to see you both,
see how you have grown.  You are getting such big girls and how lovely it
has been to enjoy your sweet company this evening."

   "A real pleasure," said Mr Staples, "you weren't, really too, naughty."

   The door closed.  "Now girls, a quick bath to wash the salt off and into
your pyjamas.  It's bed time for you."

   It seemed the girls were, at last to be left alone to undertake their
ablutions and go to bed.

   In their bedroom and on the double bed were pyjamas neatly laid out for
them.  Two matching sets of cream cotton button-fronted pyjamas.  Girls
pyjamas with elasticised waists and no flies.  Freshly laundered and just
their sizes.  On the breast pocket pretty little entwined hearts picked out
in a dark pink.

   It was so nice to be left alone, allowed to get ready for bed by
themselves.  So nice to sit together in the bath and talk a little; to hold
hands and discuss their predicament; lovely to be so close and naked to
each other.  Celia was looking forward to being in bed with her friend. 
They could cuddle and whisper together; perhaps despite all the imposed sex
of the day they could be a little intimate together; Celia knew she would
like that but would Natasha?

   Celia leaned in a little closer to Natasha and found Natasha doing the
same.  Their lips met and Celia knew it was all right - Natasha felt the
same.  But there was to be nothing more at the moment because as their lips
met there was a knock at the door.

   "Hurry up girls, time for bed, don't play all night in the bath."

   They had to obey.

   Dried, dressed in their pyjamas and teeth brushed Celia and Natasha came
out of the bathroom.  The old man was waiting, leaning on his stick still
in his evening suit, though his bow tie was undone.  In his hand his own
pyjamas - green and white stripes.

   "You've been good girls today - mostly!  Sleep well but if you hear the
slightest noise outside, and I know how easily you are frightened, then you
are to come to my bed and we'll all have a cuddle and it will be all
right."

   It sounded the kindly words of a favourite uncle.  Celia knew it was
anything but.  She could very easily imagine just what would happen if she
got into that bed!  There was no chance of that happening.  Thunder,
lightning as close and loud as it gets would not induce her to go to his
bed.  Much nicer with Natasha!

   "Goodnight girls, off to bed." A gentle pat on their pyjama clad
bottoms.

   It was so nice getting between the sheets with Natasha and turning the
light off.  They talked a bit holding hands.  How it had all happened, the
events of the day, how they might escape and the strangeness of it all.

   "Will they let us go?"

   "I think so but..."

   "We could get up in the night and creep away.  Not the door but a
window."

   "Celia, you are very pretty you know."

   "Natasha, so are you, I've liked seeing you...  seeing you naked."

   A hand on her chest, a hand undoing a button and slipping in to hold a
breast, Natasha's head coming across the pillow and her lips ever so softly
touching Celia's.

   Outside there was all of a sudden a tremendous crash.

   Natasha and Celia instantly stiffened.

   "Wha...  what was that?"

   "I...  I dunno...  was it thunder?"

   "Oh Natasha, I'm frightened." And she really was.  Deep down she knew
she should not be, deep down she knew she was being manipulated.

   "It's only them, banging a couple of dustbin lids together..." Natasha's
voice quavered, "...  I think.  I...  I'm frightened too."

   Suddenly the girls were in each other's arms hugging each other tightly.
Natasha was really shivering.

   "Should we...  should we go to his bed?"

   "Yes...  please.  Hold my hand."

   Two really frightened girls in cream pyjamas, holding hands and getting
out of bed to hurry to the old man's bed.  Such a relief to Celia to open
the old man's bedroom door and jump into his bed, one on each side of him.
They were positively shaking with fear.

   Mr Levinson put his arms out and drew them to him, their warm pyjama
clad bodies pressed close to him, his hands around their backs stroking and
soothing.

   "There, there, Tabitha and Emily-Sue, it's OK, it's OK.  Just a bit of
thunder.  Don't worry you are safe with me."

   Calming a little, Celia knew she was anything but 'safe.'

   Mr Levinson moved and she felt a hand on her top, a hand undoing
buttons, a hand gently pulling the material apart.  Celia had so hoped
Natasha would do that to her in bed, had been so looking forward to each
undoing the other's tops and holding and fondling each other's breasts but
now it was to be the old man.

   "Don't..."

   But his hand was on her left breast.

   "Oh Emily-Sue you are really frightened I can feel how fast your heart
is racing.  Let me stroke and soothe you."

   Celia could not stop him, could not prevent the fondling hand touching
and stroking her breasts, pulling at her nipples and doing all the things
men like to do with breasts - indeed she would like to do with Natasha's
breasts.

   "Oh Tabitha, I'm neglecting you my dear."

   Celia could not see in the dark but knew he was undoing her top and
bringing out her big breasts and doing the same things he had done to her.

   "Do you know what the boys do when they are frightened girls?  No? 
It'll make you laugh, it will!  They hold their willies - yes really!  I
know, I know it is such a shame for girls not to have willies.  I know you
each wish you had one but, but if you like, you can hold mine.  See if it
makes you feel better.  I expect it will."

   Celia almost snorted; what a silly male idea that girls had some sort of
penis envy; who would want one of those flopping around day in, day out; a
girl's 'arrangement' so much neater.  But she was not surprised at all at
wanting, really wanting to hold the old man's penis; something had been
done to her mind; something which made his suggestion into her desire.  She
knew; knew she was being manipulated but could do nothing about it. 
Natasha, she was sure, would feel the same.

   "You can hold it first, Emily-Sue."

   Celia found her hand, almost of its own accord, making its way towards
the old man's pyjama bottoms, felt the bow of the pyjama cord but, rather
than undoing it, slipped her hand through the fly and all of once there it
was in her hand, soft, warm and, of course, pliable as she knew it would
be. It would be very different with the 'minders' but Mr Levinson seemingly
could not 'get it up.' Celia held it tightly.  It felt so good, so
comforting.

   "It'll feel even nicer if you move your hand and stroke it.  It's what
the boys do - a lot."

   Celia was quite sure that was true and her hand did what Mr Levinson
told it to.  He let out a sigh.

   "Tabitha, would you like to hold me too?  Take it in turn girls. 
Emily-Sue you hold my balls, you know what they are, it is almost as good
whilst Tabitha takes my willy in hand.  Gently though, you know how careful
you have to be with a boy's balls."

   The old man's hands were not still, one was slipping down Celia's
stomach and touching the waist band of her pyjamas.  A finger slipped under
the elastic.  Celia wondered how the old man was going to explain that. 
One finger, two fingers, a whole hand on her mons and a finger feeling for
her hairless slit.

   "Such a shame for you Tabitha, and you Emily-Sue; no willies.  Wouldn't
it be nice, in the thunderstorm to hold each other's willies?"

   Celia felt her legs being parted as the hand delved deeper within the
cotton pyjama bottom.

   "But this..."

   Celia felt her clit being held gently between a finger and thumb.  A
gentle touch.

   "These, are your little willies - yes really - boys' are just so much
bigger but, even so, it feels nice if they are held; doesn't it girls? 
Really nice!"

   And suddenly it did, her clit was on fire, the wetness pouring from her
body.  Celia gasped as she felt her clit being rolled between the old man's
finger and thumb.

   "Funny to think you really do have little willies after all!"

   Celia knew the old man was enjoying himself, lying there in his bed with
two young girls fondling his genitalia and being able to do the same with
them: but she had not expected to like the experience herself but now...

   "Is that nice girls?  Do you feel safer holding my willy?  Would you
feel safer right down inside my bed, right under the covers?  Would you
feel best of all if you had something to suck - perhaps, no...  perhaps
yes. Would you'd like to suck my willie, Tabitha?  I expect you would."

   There was movement in the bed.  Celia knew it was Tabitha doing as she
was told.  How had this man gained this power, this control over them?  She
could not understand it or how she was so loving the touch of his fingers
or how she had so quickly become 'wet' for him.  Much more of his gentle
fondling of her clit and she was going to come.

   "Emily-Sue, why don't you go down the bed and hide with Tabitha; hide
from the nasty thunder and lightning and suck my willie."

   It must have been lovely for the old man to just lie back in his bed and
feel the two girls down his bed taking it in turns to suck his flaccid
penis.

   Celia burrowed down the bed, just as she used to when little, but there
in the warm darkness was Natasha.  They kissed - with tongues - but not for
long.  Celia's desire to suck was too strong.  Such a relief, such a
comfort to feel the old man's soft cock in her mouth.  Leaving Natasha's
mouth she had searched and her lips had found it in the darkness all wet
from Natasha's own mouth.  Her tongue playing with the slack foreskin,
sliding on the smooth skin of the glans and tickling the little hole.  She
had felt Natasha's hot breath on her cheek, her tongue slipping wetly along
before sliding to her mouth to try and take the cock from her. 
Instinctively she had moved forward taking not just the limp penis but the
man's balls and scrotum into her mouth - the whole package - trying to stop
Natasha getting any.  Celia's desire was to keep it all to herself and just
suck until it...

   Celia realised this was not herself; not her natural generous nature,
nor how she should be with her friend.  She relented and released and the
girls took it in turns, alternately licking together and then sucking
singly.  They soon realised if they put their mouths together they could
both tongue-play in and out of each other's mouths whilst also enjoying the
feel of the lovely soft penis at the same time, their tongues slipping all
over it together.  It was so soft and pliable without any of the strength
and firmness of the two minders' penes or the other old men of the evening.
So soft, so seemingly without threat or potency but Celia knew the
appearance was deceiving.  The old man was enjoying all the sensation and
could most certainly 'come' - and would do so.

   She knew she was being used; had been used a lot that day but could do
nothing but obey the old man - but at least she was close to Natasha,
intimate with her.

   They kissed again, their tongues mingling.  But they could not leave the
old man alone for long.  Natasha broke the kiss and her lips moved to the
penis.  It was ever present with them in the warm dark of the bedclothes;
soft and wet with their saliva.  After a little suck, Natasha passed it to
Celia, pushing it with her tongue into her mouth.  Natasha had sucked the
protective foreskin over the soft knob but with her lips Celia pushed it
back, rolling it down the soft head, exposing the sensitive glans and
fraenum.  She held the knob in her mouth, holding it just below where the
floppy shaft began.  Celia's tongue tickled away, even trying to burrow
into the little slit.  There was no warning, no tap on her head or groan
that she could hear but, suddenly, it was producing, releasing the old
man's semen into Celia's mouth.  She sucked and the whole little thing
slipped into her mouth, spurting away - spasm after spasm.

   Celia turned her head, letting the penis leave her mouth, towards
Natasha.  Once again a kiss.  It seemed so the right thing to do - share
the semen with her friend.  Natasha's probing tongue found it, the thick,
salty reservoir in Celia's mouth.  Their tongues going in and out of each
other's mouths coated in the stuff, stirring it around and playing with it.
They returned to the penis.  Unlike other men it was no different pre or
post orgasm - just the same limp softness.  They both suckled on it again
but drew little further product from the little thing.

   The girls resurfaced, one either side of the old man.  He put his arms
around them and cuddled them both.

   "There, there, less frightened now?  A nice little suck on my willy has
made you feel better hasn't it?  I thought it would.  No, Tabitha, That
wasn't me having a little wee.  But you were not alarmed.  It is something
special - special for big girls and aren't you getting big girls!"

   "Big girls don't suck on thumbs but willies.  Sucking on a willy is
comforting, like a thumb but better, and if you are really frightened or
really need comforting boys - big boys - can make that special stuff just
like I did for you girls.  It was nice wasn't it - really nice.  It was
comforting wasn't it?  Who was the lucky girl?"

   What nonsense the old man was talking but there was nothing Celia could
do but listen and, yes, his semen had been nice - really nice in
retrospect. She found herself wishing for more - how odd.  She had to
answer,

   "Me, sir."

   "Lucky you Emily-Sue but I expect I can make some more for Tabitha
tomorrow if she likes - or needs."

   "I shared it, sir, with Nat...  Tabitha."

   "Did you now!  You are a kind, generous girl, Emily-Sue!"

   The wave of pleasure that swept over Celia was a surprise.  She was even
more than happy with the way he patted her bottom as if in approval.  His
control over her mind was so strong, so surprising, so effective.  She felt
really happy.  Was this what it was all leading to?  So in the end she and
Natasha would simply not want to leave; would voluntarily choose to be the
playthings of this old man and his friends.  Were the minders friends or
mere servants allowed to take their pleasure with their master's toys when
not interfering with his own plans?  The thought of the minders brought
their big penes to mind.  In the dark Celia licked her lips.  The old man's
suggestions had clearly had their effect - she would really like to suck
them both and make them come - mmm yum!

   But the old man seemed in no hurry to send them from his bed and of
course she knew the minders had only recently come - when they had forcibly
taken Natasha and herself down on the sand.  Perhaps they would not be able
to get their penes 'up' again.  Celia pouted in the darkness.  She had not
at all liked being forced on the beach but now she would not half like a
suck!  One big penis for her and one for her friend.

   "Now time for sleep girls.  You've a busy day tomorrow."

   'A busy day being fucked, no doubt,' thought Celia.

   "You don't want to be ashamed of your bodies or embarrassed or anything.
I know young girls get self conscious when their breasts start to grow and
they get hair 'down there.' Boys are the same, self conscious about their
willies especially when they stick up in the air.  But you shouldn't be and
the boys shouldn't be.  As a special treat I've a lady, a nice lady, coming
tomorrow to fit you for your very first brassieres.  Won't that be nice! 
We might also get the net out play volleyball on the beach and have ice
creams just like last year.  I do hope it's a sunny day but we must
remember the sun cream.  We don't want you getting burnt!  Now off to
sleep."