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 ï>¿Student Bodies - In Spain by WillingWolf

   A dozen students have a really sexy holiday.

   Authored by Frankie and Friends and compiled by Frankie

   Chapter 13 The Beach Frankie

   Having persuaded everyone else to write a chapter relating one of their
favourite memories it was left down to me to fill in some of the gaps about
what we did with the rest of our time, when we were not bonking like
rabbits.  The answer of course as you will realise is bonking like rabbits.

   It appeared that we all, in our different ways, had succumbed to some
sort of magic spell or hypnosis, wherein any form of sexual activity was
more than okay, it was to be acted upon, sooner rather than later.  It
rather felt that we all were constantly seeking ways of bringing a little
variety into what I can only describe as sexual frenzy.  You often read
about the sexual freedom of the flower power days, or of various of the
'religious' cults, but believe me they were nothing compared to the
enthusiasm which we showed on this holiday.  There was, (as far as I know),
no belief that this would carry on after the holiday and therefore the
pressure to make the most of a good thing was immense.

   The various titillations, the stripteases, the fantasies, the
humiliations and the opportunities to be either dominant or submissive
brought about self-knowledge.  I really did like to be humiliated sexually.
Most of us girls, we knew as a result of long lazy afternoon chats while
the guys were playing football, were turned on by being ordered to do
something publicly humiliating.

   The times the conversation went along the lines of

   'I can't believe you did that.'

   'Well, I didn't want to, particularly in front of all those people, but
you know he made me.'

   We understood that we were all having a good time, and the fact that
everyone else was in the same boat, just made it somehow more acceptable.

   But I digress.  No holiday in Spain is complete without a beach,
particularly as our pool was fairly small.  It was great to cool down in
and there was a little room around it to lie on the grass, but the area was
fairly limited.  We were also put off a little, particularly in the earlier
days, by the pervy pool guy, who came silently and unannounced at various
times of the day and evening.  We suspected that he did it to catch us
girls in a state of undress.  Of course as we got more confident in our
group, it probably did not help matters that we teased him unmercifully
from time to time.

   Having seen some of us top-less, it seemed logical that when Simon had
seen the pool-man walking towards us down the road, to take up his
'suggestion' that some of us lie naked on the loungers.

   Lucy and I were quickly out there, reading, our books resting on our
tummies, or with our little bums sticking up under the warming sun.

   Some of the others were watching through the window and we were told
that he was not doing a lot of pool cleaning.  But did Simon have to call
out after a few minutes, 'Frankie, have you got a minute.'

   I tried to look very unconcerned as I sat up and walked into the house,
feeling his eyes on me.  I was however one of the first to laugh as Josh
went strolling out, with his bathers on I noticed, but sporting a hard--on,
with a bottle of sun lotion.  He sat down beside Lucy and started to
massage the oil into her back and particularly the cheeks of her bottom.  I
am surprised the pool guy did not fall in, especially as Josh laughed.  'I
might as well do the other side while I am here.' He insisted on massaging
her tits and shaven pudenda, gradually easing her legs apart in the guy's
direction, without apparently taking any notice of him.

   Well after that, provided one or more of the boys was around in case we
went too far and he tried something, someone regularly gave him a little
show.  We probably had the cleanest pool in the neighbourhood.

   We still used to use the beach a lot, the water appeared clean and there
was room to play ball.  It was only a few minutes stroll down the main road
towards town, past a couple of shops selling beach stuff and refreshments,
down an alleyway past a bar.  That was difficult, to pass a bar.  But there
was the golden sand and clean water, and even a salt-free shower.  I guess
we were about two to three kilometres out of town so it was rarely very
busy, despite the fact that there were quite a lot of villas and apartments
around.

   We girls really just lay in the sun, cooling off in the sea from time to
time, and if you were feeling energetic the boys were always playing
football, frisbee or volleyball, or 'accidentally' playing rough in the
water to try to remove your bikini top.

   Sarah Yasmin and Hannah originally would never take their tops off. 
Cindy Lucy and I would sunbathe without them but sensitively put them on to
play ball.

   After our first night or so of Trivial Pursuit however, they were so
obviously redundant that they were only worn on the road down to the beach
and the games, particularly in the water, got a lot friskier.

   Josh and Pete arrived back from the bar one lunchtime with a handful of
plastic bags.

   We girls can be relied upon for our curiosity so we crowded around him.

   'We have bought you girls a present,' they said.  'Team Bikinis.'

   Sure enough, they had bought six identical white bikinis.  Pretty cheap,
I would think to judge by the weight of the material.

   He got a couple of strange looks, but, always willing to play along, we
all slipped the bras on and then, under the protection of our towels
because the beach was reasonably busy, the bottoms.

   They fitted okay.  Hannah was having a bit of trouble squeezing into her
top and Yasmin had the reverse problem, but generally speaking they looked
all right.  If you like team colours that is.

   Josh and Pete were urging us all to go for a team swim and I began to
suspect the truth.  Being a bit of an exhibitionist anyway I went along
with them and helped gather the crowd up for a swim.

   Sure enough, as I suspected they could not have been more see-through if
they had been made from tissue paper.  Far worse than I had anticipated.

   The tops were bad enough.  We were used to showing our boobs and nipples
now, but somehow, covered and then exposed again, made it somehow feel a
lot worse.  Our nipples were standing out from the cold water and the
aureoles and even the little pimples on them were there for every Tom Dick
or Harry to see.  And believe me they were looking.

   I guess we were worried about the bottoms and we had every right to be.
I took a few steps into shallower water and turned around so the rest of
the girls could see.

   'Oh nooo,' came the anguished cry from the otthers as I looked down to
see how bad it really was.

   There we were, practically naked.  Those of us who still had pubic hair
were embarrassed to see how visible it was.  Those of us without just
wished we had some, because at least then you would not see the definition
of the lips so clearly.

   About this time I noticed Pete slip back up the beach and start
gathering in all our clothes and towels.  There was to be no covering up
until the sun dried us.

   The boys all cleared off back to the shore, to sit on the beach and wait
for us.  We took our time, but knew that we had been caught, if not a
little unfairly.  We could hardly wait for the other holiday-makers to
disappear, so out of the water we came.

   I maybe flattering ourselves but we were all good-looking girls who
could turn a few heads fully clothed.  Practically naked we were a riot
waiting to happen.  I could see a few wives or girlfriends trying to stop
their partners from gawping, and one or two guys turning onto their
stomachs, I guess to hide the erections.

   We walked back up the beach together and stood in a little huddle,
negotiating, pleading actually, for our towels back.  I had truly given no
thought to the sight for sore eyes that bum lovers were getting as we stood
talking.  I did notice a few more guys walking up and down though.  The
whole beach had somehow got restless.

   The boys relented and agreed that we could have our towels back, but
only on the condition that we only lay on them, no covering up.

   We were forced to agree, at least so that we could sit down until they
dried, and not get covered in sand.

   That night in the Villa the guys were cock-a-hoop with the success of
their shopping trip, and, a few vodkas later, we had agreed to wear them
for a few days more at least if we were going to the beach.

   If we had thought that we could stay covered by staying out of the water
we were sadly mistaken.  They bought a little bucket and constantly soaked
us from the shower.

   The final indignity came on the third day we had worn them when as we
gathered up our towels to go back to the Villa the boys grabbed us and
soaked us.  They picked up our towels, books and suntan creams, leaving us
nothing to carry or hold in front of our exposed bodies as we walked along
the road.

   What a sight we made for the passer-byes and motorists.

   As we reached one of the shops Josh raced in shouting 'Miguel, come and
look at those bikinis you sold me.  You were right.  You can see straight
through them.'

   Miguel and his two pretty little shop assistants all crowded to the
doorway to watch us walk past, Miguel dribbling from the mouth, and
probably elsewhere, his two girls, wide-eyed with shock and their hands
over their mouths, stifling a grin.  For a week or so the boys would get
great amusement by 'insisting' that we wore them once or twice a week.

   This little amusement faded however when we were told about the beach
the other side of town.  A little bus went down our main road, past the
Villa, through the little town, out along the beach the other side, where,
like our side there were a few apartment blocks, villas and even the odd
hotel.  The road eventually meandered inland as the beach-front gave way to
sand dunes.

   We had got friendly with a couple of holiday reps from an Eighteenies
Holiday Company one night in a club.  They said that they held outrageous
weekly parties on the beach the other side of town, but that in the
daytime, if you walked far enough along there were nudists.  They invited
us to their next party in just under a week, but told us not to come if we
were prudish.  We promised to be there and told him that we did not shock
easily.

   In the meantime we took the bus right the way through town, and out the
other side.

   We got off at the last stop before the road turned inland where there
was a little bar and a shop.  You could see already that this was a little
raunchier, or is the word sophisticated, as there were a couple of German
girls walking around the shop wearing only bikini bottoms.  This had been a
no-no the other end of town.  The bar also was fairly busy, with both
topless, and even a few completely naked couples sitting drinking or eating
lunch.

   We had our lunch with us so the girls stripped off their tops and we
started strolling along the beach.  The first part of the beach we came to
seemed to be mainly families or couples, some clothed, mostly not though.
We began to feel a little overdressed, but still carrying bags, towels and
lunch it was easier to keep walking.  There was a natural division caused
by a breakwater running halfway to the sea, and, once past this it was
fairly obvious that it was a naked gay beach.  Naked couples dotted the
beach but always in same-sex pairs.  We pressed on, past another
breakwater, the last before the dunes at the back became rocks down to the
shore.  Here was ideal.  Not too busy because we had walked probably by now
a kilometre or so from the bar.  There were a few couples and a small crowd
of mixed youngsters about our own age, probably from the Eighteenies
holiday group.

   You can imagine that we were not slow to strip off.  It was a strange
feeling being naked in public, even for those of us who had stripped off on
stage this was somehow different.  I guess unlike true naturists who
believe in the wholesomeness of what they do, we were doing it because it
got us more sexually aroused than lying around with clothes on.

   We ran around, in and out of the water, and even had a game of
volleyball on the beach, being anything but discreet as we picked up the
ball or fell over trying to return a shot.  Hi-fives rapidly became low
fives, with a slap on the bum or the tits replacing the celebratory
greeting.

   Before leaving we showered under a convenient down-pipe on the beach,
walked back to the beach bar, and had a naked beer before dressing to catch
the bus home.

   You can imagine that this wholesome veneer did not last long.  The next
few days we went again to the same bar and, when boredom set in we had our
own version of Jeux sans Frontiere, in this case Jeux sans Vetements,
(games without clothes), or shame as it happens.

   The first conversation went along the lines of a general question to the
boys.

   'Which of you is fastest to wank off?' and then whether it would be any
quicker if a girl was doing the fellating.  It was a quiet day on the beach
so we got the guys to lie in a row, towels over their heads so they could
not see who was masturbating them, and we got our stop watches out.  I
guess another advantage that the towels gave was that the boys were
shielded from seeing anyone watching them.  Thinking about it, that was
unlikely to have put them off, and it also enable them to fantasise of
anyone they liked wanking them off.

   We only had one rule, hands only, but even so the first guy only lasted
a little under three minutes, which made it a much shorter game than we had
anticipated.  Pete was the last to come in at just over five minutes and he
admitted that he was enjoying it so much he had tried to make it last a
little longer.

   An almost unanimous decision was that the losers, Pete and Cindy, his
'handler' would have their bottoms slapped.  Pete in fact was the only
dissenter as Cindy was delighted for any excuse to have her bottom smacked.
We made them stand and hold their ankles, and, while we girls slapped Pete,
the guys made a meal of Cindy.  This was not quiet, and if the other beach
users had not noticed the wanking session, they could hardly miss this one.

   The next day of course, we pushed away at the barriers of good taste,
and this time told the boys to hold out as long as they could.  The losers
would be the first boy to come and the last girl to pull off her man.  Same
rules -- hands only.  We all agreed that Sarah, who was amazingly quick to
succeed with Luther had bent the rules by squatting in front of him playing
with her clitoris.  She argued that it had actually distracted her, so we
let the result stand.  So Luther, and, guess who -- Cindy, bent for the
beating.  We had to agree that Cindy would be beaten fairly regularly from
now on, or we knew she would always try to lose.

   Of course the next day had to be No Rules, which of course ended up as a
long line of 'sixty-nines'.  I was never going to admit it but I know Jon
beneath me was not trying too hard to come last or his fingers and tongue
would not have been deep within my pussy.  Still who cares.  It was one
hell of a nice afternoon and he came quickly enough that I did not get
beaten.

   It was strange that here on the beach was the only place that the girls
seemed to be in charge.  It was us who thought of the games and invariably
the boys who had to do something more and more stupid.

   We caused a huge laugh one day on the beach when we buried the boys
quite deeply in the sand.  We dug biggish trenches, leaving their faces
uncovered by sand, but covered with a towel.  All the rest of their bodies
except their cocks and balls were covered by sand.  They all had rampant
hard-ons even before we had played with them and they could soon hear us
hawking our wares down on the waters edge to the strollers-by.  We had
propped their cocks up with lollipop sticks so that they stood upright
rather than flat along the sand.

   The other regulars on our little bit of beach knew the sort of games we
were playing and had always turned a blind eye.  Today however with a lot
of encouragement from us they came to study the form, feeling with their
hands and giggling a lot.  This small crowd encouraged a few others
including a couple of gay and lesbian couples from the next beach along. 
Not unnaturally the gay couples were keen to go a little further but we
knew that the boys would be reluctant, so after a little teasing we
declined on their behalf.  The biggest success of the day came when a
German lady, in her sixties, I would guess, came strolling from the bar end
of the beach.  She was here on holiday with her husband who was rapidly
getting drunk again in the bar and she was delighted to try one after the
other.  I noticed that she had left Luther and Jon until last and almost as
soon as she had eased herself, sitting, onto Jon's thick cock, she orgasmed
violently, practically knocking all the wind from him.

   It had obviously been the high spot of her holiday and she was desperate
to repeat it next day before returning home on Saturday.  Who were we to
refuse.  We agreed on the boys behalf before letting her work her way along
the row, first masturbating and then eventually sitting on them to achieve
an orgasm.  She thought she was in heaven with all these faceless cocks. 
We did try to spread a little neighbourliness around.

   A couple of days later we were back at the beach in the evening.  It was
the Eighteenies weekly beach party.  We arrived about ten having had a few
drinks at home and en route and settled in at the beach bar, dressed for a
change, to have a few more.  They had set up a disco with some dancing
lights and a small stage about two foot high with some quite bright lights
to illuminate it.

   These lights also illuminated the dance floor area when turned on, I
guess bright for discoing, dimmed for smooches.  So far it was a good disco
but a pretty ordinary party.  I think there were probably about twenty
couples altogether.  About midnight the disco took a break and they called
everybody to grab a partner of the opposite sex and come to the middle of
the dance floor, lining up in two rings like for a barn dance.

   'You have ten seconds to kiss your partner' was the instruction.  No
problems there then.

   'Boys move two places right and girls two places left.  You have ten
seconds to kiss your partner.  Tongues are mandatory.'

   This was good.  I came up against a really good kisser.  Things were
looking up.

   'Boys two to the right, Girls two to the left.  You have ten seconds to
kiss your partner and men, you can play with her tits.'

   Just my luck, I had met up with Chris.  Now there is nothing wrong with
Chris but I was rather hoping for someone new.

   'Boys two to the right, Girls to the left.  Ten seconds to kiss and
fondle each others arses.'

   My guy was neat, a Scouser, and he soon got to work on my bum, as I did
for him.  The ten seconds were quickly over.

   'Reverse the order.  Boys one to the left, Girls one to the right, and
you have only got one area left to play with.'

   I guess this move stopped us getting anywhere near our original
partners.

   He soon had his hand up my short skirt and was easing his way into my
g-string.  I meantime was rubbing his cock wondering whether I had time to
get it out.  I decided not and just let myself enjoy being groped.  I
really was quite wet by now.  The helplessness of being told what to do
again as always caught up with me.  I just squirmed as his finger eased
between my lips.

   I was surprised to hear the usual cry, 'Boys two to the left, Girls two
to the right.'

   I was surprised.  I had thought we had stopped changing partners for a
while.  I was partnered now by a tall skinny blonde lad of about 18, but
young looking and a bit shy.  You can however only be a little shy after
the last three or four minutes.  We smiled at each other and he laughed, 'A
bit corny but have you been here before.'

   I had to laugh and say 'No, you.'

   He shook his head.  'I can't imagine what's next.'

   He was obviously hopeful.  We were soon to find out.

   'Right I want you to disappear to the darker areas of the beach in your
couples and change clothes.  Every stitch.  If you are wearing shoes you
can leave them in a pile here by the stage.  Stockings, underwear, the lot.
Be back here in five minutes.'

   There was a scramble.  Neither of us had been wearing shoes so we set
off into the shadows.

   Well, I was wearing a strappy top, bra, skirt and g-string, it looked
like he had only a t-shirt, shorts and presumably boxers.

   I thought we had plenty of time and saw no point in rushing.  I started
to undress him, peeling the shirt over his head and dropping to my knees to
loosen his waistband.  I hauled both his shorts, and as it turned out, his
y-fronts down to the floor and briefly caressed and sucked his cock.  He
was so grateful he nearly came over me.  I did not want to embarrass him by
letting him ejaculate, so stood and let him peel away my top and showed him
where my bra fastened at the front.  I undid the button at the side of the
skirt and watched as my skirt dropped to the floor.  I could see him take a
deep breath before he pulled down my g-string, angling me towards the light
so he could see me better.  He briefly placed his hand over my puss,
lapping his fingers into the wetness of my quim.

   'Quick get dressed.' I said and helped him put on the bra, while he was
struggling to pull up the g-string.  He was only skinny and managed to
squeeze quite easily into my top and the skirt fitted like it was made for
him.  He was however a good six inches taller than me and I could see it
was going to be very short.

   It took me moments to don his clothes despite a quick shudder as I
pulled on his y-fronts to find a wet patch at the front.  Not sopping mind.
Not a full come, but a full evenings wiped drips.  I then thought of the
wet rag between his legs and thought what the hell.

   The whistle blew and we wandered back, hand in hand.

   'Thank you,' he said and kissed me.  'I look forward to giving them
back.'

   Yes, I thought so do I.

   The stage now came into it's own.  They lined up all the girls and made
us walk over the stage one by one, to catcalls and laughter, as the boys
congregated in front.

   We then had our turn as the lads were made to stroll slowly over the
stage.  My clothes looked really good on him with the edge of my g-string
showing at the front, and a bit of bare arse showing up the back.  He
obviously had them pulled up tight.  I'll bet he was enjoying the wetness.
You could certainly see that, he, in fact all the boys, had stonking
hard-ons ballooning the front of their skirts.  Some had obviously not
managed to get their cocks into the g-strings and these were sticking out
hard under the skirts.  'Form two circles again,' was the cry, and we knew
what to do.

   'Ten seconds to kiss your partner, was not dissimilar to last time.  Nor
was the bum squeezing, but as we changed partners yet again, my new partner
found it wonderful fun playing with my bra-less tits under a loose shirt.
It was also so much easier for me to play with a cock under a skirt and
french knickers, than under trousers and y-fronts.

   As we changed I guessed that was for the last time and started looking
around for my clothes.

   'Right, your new partner opposite you.' Called the Rep.  'Hands up if it
is either your original partner or your clothes changing partner.'

   Two or three pairs put up their hands and were quickly shuffled.

   'Right, back you go to the shadows and change again.  Ten minutes this
time.'

   I realised that I was not yet going to get back my clothes and
determined if we came again to wear older clothes.

   The lad I was with gave me a big nervous grin and said 'I'm Grant, you
changed with my mate last time.  He said you were great.  He said
you...erhh.  Would you...  erhh.'

   I laughed, 'Well we have got an extra five minutes so I guess we have to
fill the time somehow.' I knew he wanted me to suck his cock.

   I let him undress me first and then I started to feel what I had to
wear. It felt very similar to my own clothes in the dark but very flimsy. A
little strappy top again, a very flimsy bra in either black or deep red, a
little skirt and knickers to match the bra.  Flimsy and high cut but bigger
than the g-string I had originally.

   As I pulled down his knickers I licked the underside of his cock a
couple or times.  I weighed his balls in my hand.  They were very heavy and
were obviously painful to touch.  I guess he needed relief.

   I took his cock in my mouth and felt his hands cover my cheeks then
ears, then move round to the back of my head to help me push onto his cock.
It was not the biggest cock I had ever seen, certainly not up to this
holiday's usual standard, but comfortably fitted in my mouth to the edge of
the throat.  I started to suck and slather my tongue under the head.  I
lifted off a couple of times, tightened my lips and eased down over his
shaft, right to the base and his pubic hairs.

   I was quickly rewarded with a tightening of his cock and balls and a
mouthful of come.  And come and come.  I swallowed as much as I could but
could feel some running from the side of my mouth.

   I had done my good turn for the day.

   'Come on, quickly, get dressed', I said, as I hurriedly pulled on my new
clothes to the sound of the whistle.

   We ran back holding hands and he said 'Can I see you tomorrow perhaps.
Perhaps dinner or just a few drinks.'

   'I am so sorry Grant.' I tried not to laugh.  'My boyfriend gets
jealous. See you around perhaps.' and kissed him on the cheek.

   Yet again the stage came into it's own.  We all stood in front, by then
I had managed to find Lucy and the crowd.  The rep called the name of a
girl he knew standing at the front.  She had obviously been to this party
before because she quickly climbed onto the stage.

   'Right this is what happens,' said the rep.  'Girls If you recognise
your clothes on Diane here, come up and stand at the side of the stage. 
The next person to recognise those clothes stands in the queue behind her
on the left of the stage here and so on.  Rod, come on up here and stand at
the side on the right.  If you recognise your clothes lads, form a queue on
the right.  Just a couple of you in the queues at any one time.

   You take your clothes off on the stage here, Sue here will put them in a
plastic bag and give them to the owner.  That way you can keep them dry and
clean till later.'

   Clothes were obviously not going to be a big part of the evening.

   This was great.  We were all treated to numerous stripteases to music.
The lights were on bright, there were no shadows to hide in.  Obviously
some bodies were better than others, and some dances were better than
others.  The strips, male and female, seemed to be getting raunchier as we
saw the others dancing.  At last it was my turn, I had seen my clothes
removed by a girl, who, cattily, must have struggled to get them on in the
first place.  I wondered idly whether they would have stretched.

   The bra I was wearing had not been that comfortable and I was going to
be glad to take it off.  It had itched around the nipples.  I wondered
whether some of the underwiring was loosening.  I soon found the problem as
I quickly slipped off the top.  I was wearing a peep-hole bra with my
nipples, all the aureole and half an inch of white flesh showing through a
hole in the black material.  I had raised a good cheer as the crowd saw it
and I knew at that stage that the girl who had worn these here had known
what was coming.

   I sneaked a look at her innocent little face standing beside me waiting
for her clothes.

   Good for her I thought and she gave me a little grin.  I would like to
see here in these, she had great tits.

   As I slipped off the skirt another cheer rent the air.  I looked down
and realised that the panties also had a hole.  In fact not so much a hole
but a great slit from waistband to waistband.  I was surprised that I had
not felt it while I was putting them on.  I was lucky to have got my feet
in the right holes.

   She stuck her tongue out at me and I knew I had to either die of
embarrassment, strip quickly off and leave, or put on a show.  I faced the
audience, pulled the knickers high up my legs, opened my legs and put my
hands behind my head.  My tits were forced out and the nipples erected of
their own accord.  The bald pudendum emphasised the open split as my outer
labia peeled back.  The crowd went wild so I turned around and touched my
toes before peeling off the underwear and throwing it to her with a grin.

   I left the stage, collected my plastic bag of clothes and joined my
cronies at the front of the stage as one of the boys was dropping his
boxers and stropping his dick.

   'Pretty good,' said Lucy.

   'Follow that' said Hannah, and we watched as the girl whose underwear I
had been wearing tried to beat the applause I received.  She was good and
in normal circumstances would have wowed them with a cartwheel off the
stage.  Not good enough.

   The strips quickly ended and we waited clothes-less to be told what to
do next.  I cannot think of any instructions that I would not have
followed. I was very strung up and in need of a good fuck.  I even looked
around.  Would one of our boys be close enough behind me to squeeze it in
while everyone was watching the stage.  No such luck.  They were engrossed
in one of the last strips as a girl with tits bigger than Hannah tried to
struggle out of an overflowing bra.

   The music ended and the spotlights onto the stage swivelled onto the
dance floor.

   'Form two lines for races.  Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl.'

   We formed into lines and the first boy was given a brown paper bag full
of beer to hold it between his teeth.

   'The rules are simple.  We will pass various objects down the line.  If
they burst, the person holding it at the time comes and gets another one
and starts where he or she was before.  If they drop it again it goes back
to the person last holding it.  The winners will be...  whoever we say are
the winners.'

   I was standing about half-way down the line flanked by two big guys who
obviously knew each other and had also been to this party before.  I later
found out as we chatted between passing items, that they both played for
the same welsh university rugby team.  They were both pretty well hung,
except of course that hanging they weren't.  I was looking forward to
whatever happened next.

   I thought it was going to be easy but the bags had a fairly short wet
life.  They broke on average every other person and invariably as they were
being passed from mouth to mouth.  I felt that Gareth in front of me
managed to squeeze the bag against my chin as we were practically kissing
to pass the bag.  Anyway I was doused with beer and had to run to the end
of the line to get a new bag to pass on to Owen.  Gareth of course manfully
offered and indeed, tried, to lick the beer from my tits.

   Well, he was obviously thirsty.

   We received a point for winning this competition and they then passed
down an inflated balloon also partly filled with beer.  This was passed
about chest height and involved my tits being rubbed against both Gareth's
and Owen's hairy chests.  This was not the quickest manoeuvre in the world
and the other team collected a point.

   The next two games involved a cucumber, initially passed via the front
of the boys thighs to the back of my thighs and then I had to turn around
to pass it on.  Gareth waddled towards me holding this cucumber between his
legs.

   'Turn around, bend over,' he called, and, as I did he thrust it between
my thighs.  I gripped it and turned back around to find Owen rubbing up
against me trying to get his thighs around it.  He was obviously finding it
difficult with his fully erect cock getting in the way.

   Eventually he collected it and shuffled off to the next girl in the row.

   At the end of that game the same cucumber arrived passed by the boys in
the same manner, but this time I was expected to face Gareth as I collected
it and turn and face Owen as I delivered it.  As you can realise this meant
standing open legged, leaning slightly backwards as Gareth probed with both
the cucumber and his erect dick.

   Still, we were all in the same boat, there was no time for prudery as I
quickly realised when the next item arrived for the line.

   A large ring donut was pushed over the end guy's cock and the girl next
to him was invited to collect it with her mouth and deposit it on the cock
of the next guy, and so on down the line.  You can imagine the jokes,
'Would you like cream on your donut?'

   Having finished the 'boat race' type games they then offered more
'points' for a variety of ingenious races of the sort never found at school
sports days.

   We were told to pair off in couples and change partners every race. 
Gareth and Owen knew when they were onto a good thing and exchanged myself
and a busty brunette called Sue every other race.

   The first was a wheel-barrow race where the boys held the girls legs
wrapped around their waist as the girls walked on their hands to the
winning post.  That left little to the imagination.  Gareth spent more time
looking at my puss than walking and we were well beaten.

   The next was a three legged race of sorts where Owen and I had our
ankles strapped facing each other, his left to my right and his right to my
left and our waists strapped together.  A pint of beer was held in our
hands above our heads and we walked either sideways or with one party
backwards to the finish.  Owen and I were the same sort of height unlike
Gareth who was a lot taller and Sue who was quite short.  Owen was the
right height to manage to bend his knees after we were tied and stick his
cock between my legs as we walked to the finish line.  He spilt a lot of
his beer over me and also nearly spilt his load as I grabbed his dick
between my nether lips.  The moistness down there was not only beer.

   This race was followed by a clever one where the girls sat on the
shoulders of the guy, but facing backwards, with our pusses on their chins,
directing them as they walked backwards along a zig-zag course.

   Lastly came another form of wheelbarrow race where I was strapped upside
down, waist to waist, with Owen.  I held onto his ankles so that most of my
weight was taken by his arms holding up my legs, and the waist strap.  He
was able to walk to the finish line opening and closing my legs like he was
using a multi-trainer at the gym.  Another pretty sight.

   We managed this okay but there were a couple of girls who were sick over
their partners feet.  It had been a long alcoholic night.

   The Reps called a halt to the proceedings and declared our group of
twenty the losers by a small margin.

   They ordered us to form one long line, with the losers at one end and
winners at the other.  We, the losers were instructed to bend over and
instead of shaking hands with our opponents as in a football match they
were encouraged to pass behind us and give each bum a slap as they passed.
Suffice to say it was a slow procession with almost as many gropes as
slaps, and sometimes both.

   The twelve of us were knackered and while a lot of the others were
either pairing off to have sex further up the beach or go skinny dipping,
we changed into our clothes and caught the bus home.  I guess we were not
that tired because we still had the strength to pair off for the rest of
the night.

   We continued to use the nude beach from time to time, but not every day.
The beach games we had played at the party were repeated from time to time
and a few more, even more outrageous ones tried.

   Fifty metre runs seated on a guys cock was fun, but when we tried it
with the cock up our arses it was too difficult.  We tried with the girls
facing the other way, and lying back a little more but it was all too
uncomfortable.

   We tried filling a bucket with water (unsalty, from the shower) in a
variety of ways.  In our hands, in our mouths and, inevitably, after a
suggestion from Pete, our vaginas and arseholes.  The boys filled us with
straws until we were bursting and then we ran.  We chose a very quiet
cloudy day on the beach to try that one.  We had the beach to ourselves.

   I guess we also had our first orgy.  We had not really gone strongly
into group sex, a few threesomes or even four from time to time.  The
lounge was not the most comfortable place for us all to lie.  The bedrooms
were too small for a dozen.

   Somehow it seemed natural one cloudy quiet afternoon when we were
suffering from a mass hangover.  We were not lying in lines soaking the
sun, we were just lying, perhaps with a leg thrown over the next person
along or with your head resting on someone's stomach.  It seemed normal to
be lying there having my breasts stroked by Jon as we just chatted about
one or two of our favourite meals or restaurants.  I had been lying with my
head on his stomach and as I got a little turned on I guess I through my
legs over Josh, who responded by idly stroking them, working his way up my
thighs to my puss.  My legs opened of their own accord and my hands
stretched out, finding his cock in my left hand and Hannahs breasts with my
right.  I just tickled away and continued to chat.  I gradually heard other
people moving a little closer getting involved.  I could not tell you how
long we just idly played with each other but I guess maybe thirty minutes
later I heard Jon saying, 'Shit, Yasmin, you can't keep doing that without
letting me fuck you here and now.'

   She laughed.  'Shush' she said, 'I am enjoying Chris licking me far too
much to make him stop.'

   'I am on my way,' said Lucy sitting on Jon's cock.  'Yeah, keep licking
Yasmin.  That's great.'

   I sat up to get a little more involved, to find Josh with the same idea.
He was moving his body enough to fuck me.  It seemed easy to roll over and
suck Pete's dick, at least before Hannah moved away to take my hand and try
to swallow it between her swollen, sticky labia.  I continued idly to lick
Pete's balls while on the receiving end of a gentle, slow, almost loving
fuck from behind.  I could not always tell you who was doing what to whom,
but I know that there was slow langorous feel about it.  Every so often
someone would come with a little groan or a squeal and drop out, and the
permutations would change.  Eventually Jon, who had started the whole
thing, groaned as he fell off Sarah, who had herself squealed loudly only
minutes earlier.

   'I love you guys,' he said.  'Can we drop out and go off to Thailand or
somewhere and just spend the next year doing this?'

   This provoked the long slow sort of conversation that we had been having
before we started the orgy, daydreams and fantasies, mixed occasionally
with a little realism.

   Yasmin quietly said, 'Hey team, you wouldn't go without me would you? 
Can you imagine me telling my parents that I am dropping out for a year
long orgy when they still think I am a shy retiring virgin going to Uni to
reap a harvest of honour and wealth.  What sort of husband will they find
me?'

   As we packed to wend our way back to the villa we promised not to go
without her, only, if she did not go back to her old shy reserved ways, at
least with us.

   We bought champagne (well Cava) that night and toasted each other with
undying love, support, friendship and a promise to provide never-ending
orgasms.



   Chapter 14 The Bus Yasmin

   After we had all completed our stories and told of our favourite nights,
there was something missing.  We have mentioned the Bus in passing a couple
of times, but nowhere has it achieved the right level of notoriety.

   You may say that a Bus is a Bus and that is true, but somehow this Bus
dragged me to a new level of sexuality.  I know through talking to the
other girls that this was generally true for them as well.

   My background had led me to not only a sheltered life but also a
discreet demeanour.  Apart from academically where I knew I could hold my
own, I was shy to the point of embarrassment.  I hated to be looked at,
possibly because my self-esteem was so low.  After the first few days of
this holiday the boys had sorted my low self-esteem.  I now knew I was
attractive and wanted.  I knew that guys looked at me in the street and
lusted after me.  They had tried to pull me in nightclubs and bars, and not
only because I was with the other girls.  I was no longer the 'other' girl
in the phrase....'I'll have the good-looking one, you can have the other
one.' I had a sparkle in my eye and a sassy comment on my lips.

   But back to the bus.

   I had almost died of shame the first time I exposed my breasts in public
on the beach.  They were not very big, but I know now that they can be
attractive.  I died again when the boys bought us the white see-through
swimming costumes and again when they made us walk along the street.

   I was comfortable with our boys and would show them anything, or, as has
been proved, do anything with them.  I even got a buzz rather than an
embarrassed thrill from exposing myself 'accidentally' to the pool cleaner.
I would lie there like the others with my legs apart pretending to be
asleep while I watched him beneath my sunglasses.

   But Joe Public, that was still different.

   At the start of the holiday we would walk everywhere, it was only a
couple of kilometres into the heart of the town and it was fun to walk and
stop off at a bar or two.  When we started going to the nudist beach on the
far side of town it got different.  It was too far, so we took the Bus.

   The bus was a small single-decker with a row of about seven or eight
single seats in a row on one side and the rest was standing space with
leather straps hanging from metal poles.  Fully laden it would take about
twenty-five people, but at school throwing out time I am sure they would
squeeze forty or fifty in.  It just ran through the town from a mile or two
past us, to a new building site a couple of miles the other side of the
nudist beach.

   We were travelling into town one evening, feeling a little lazy and the
bus was pretty full.  I was standing next to Lucy with our backs against
the large rear window, talking to Josh and Pete who were strap-hanging in
front of us.  The boys had waved to a couple of pretty girls on scooters
and in a show of bravado we had turned around and waved to a couple of
local boys in a car following close behind.  Josh must have felt a little
jealous because, he put his arms around Lucy in a show of ownership.  The
boys hooted their horn and laughed so Josh cupped his hands over her
breasts and played with them.  This caused much merriment to them and
amongst us.  Pete took it a little further and, turning me away from them,
slowly lifted the back of my skirt to show them my panties, or at least the
black g-string that I was wearing that night.

   I know I coloured up and tried to slap his hands away, but he squeezed
me tight and held me like that until our stop arrived a few moments later.
Later that night going home Hannah and Sarah got the same treatment,
showing off their bums to the following cars head lights.  Over the next
few days, as you can imagine, our breasts and bums were shown out of the
back and even out of the sides of the Bus.

   Their imagination knew no bounds.  One dreadful, wonderful?, early
evening we were made to take it in turns to stand facing backwards in front
of the rear window and pull the fronts of our skirts up ourselves, as if we
were enjoying flashing the two lads in the following car.  They certainly
got an eyeful of our underwear.  Half the thrill was not knowing what they
would make us do next.  Would they want us to take off our panties and wave
them?  They obviously never thought of it because it never actually
happened.  In the deep recesses of my mind though, I kept hoping that they
would tell me to do just that.  What an exhibitionist slut I am becoming.

   Things reached a new level when we started going to the nudist beach. 
On about the third or fourth occasion, the boys told us that as we never
used bathers on the beach there was no point in wearing them there.  They
would do the same.  A towel or a sarong would be sufficient.  Even they
knew we would get arrested if we started travelling naked.  Wouldn't we? 
They certainly would have because, now, most of the time the boys spent on
the bus they had erections, and that would certainly get them arrested.

   We took a long time to get ready that first morning.  I wore a towel
around my waist and hips and a sarong folded two or three times over my
bust.  This worked, maintained my modesty and looked attractive.

   Of course it was too good to last and they changed the rules the next
day.  'One item of clothing only.' I was told.

   The trouble was that the towels were too short and, if tied firmly
around my bust only came half way down my thigh.  The sarong on the other
hand was fairly see-through.

   I settled for the sarong which, because I was quite petite could be
folded twice before encircling me.  Not all the other girls could get away
with that however so Cindy, for example, ended up wearing a large white
towel, which looked wonderful on her particularly as it only came part of
the way down her thigh.  She knew that the driver had seen that she was
wearing no bikini bottoms when climbing the steps onto the Bus.

   The drivers of course never complained.  In fact, I think they slowed
down when they approached our home stop, hoping to find us waiting.

   Whenever anything unusual happened on the Bus the guys would capitalise
on it and find some way to embarrass us.  One day early afternoon, on our
way to the beach after a slightly boozy lunch, the Bus stopped to let on
what seemed to be the entire contents of a local Seminary.  We were
standing, strap-hanging, as usual.  We were normally too discreet to sit
down, the towels gaped or the sarongs showed more flesh.

   As the young men started pouring onto the bus, Josh and our boys moved
to stand behind us, so that we formed a sort of barrier between the two
groups.

   'Right girls,' he said.  'Both hands on the straps please and a
'smacking' tonight if you remove them from the straps before we alight.  My
sarong was tied at the side, covering my breasts with a double rolled
thickness, dropping to almost knee length in the double thickness.  There
were two problems that I could foresee however.  Firstly, it was very silky
and the moment my nipples started to harden, as they were now, they showed
right through.  Secondly it fell open from under my arm to the hem at my
knee.  Anyone looking at it from the side could see that I wore nothing
under it.

   At first the young men kept a respectful distance.  After all they were
trainee priests weren't they.  They tried not to touch us, but the bus
really was packed and slowly they were accidentally rubbing up against us.
I use the word accidentally and while that was undoubtedly true of most of
them, some of them were relishing the situation.  Frankie was standing next
to me with a towel wrapped around her.  Suddenly I saw Pete's hand appear
over her shoulder and deliberately loosen the roll of towel over her
breasts.  I knew that if it slipped, she would be left naked, or maybe she
would grab it and face a smacking.  What would she do?

   I hardly had time to think before I felt a hand, that I found out later
was Chris's, insinuating itself between my sarong and body at waist height.
I held my breath.  What was he going to do.  I felt the hand run up my
body, over my breast and then down again over my hip and briefly between my
legs before withdrawing.  Not only had that really turned me on, stroking
me in public, but it had obviously given this other young man ideas.  He
saw that all the time I had not moved my hands from the rail.

   His hand tentatively touched my waist over my sarong.  Was he steadying
himself against the movement of the Bus.  I held my breath.  His hand
stayed put as the bus swayed the other way.  As it swayed it gave him space
to look down the side and I knew that he could see it was open.  His hand
inched under my sarong to the back of my waist.  It slowly dropped and I
felt just the gentlest of touches on my right buttock.  He was looking into
my eyes.  I was biting my lip, incredibly turned on.

   His touch got firmer as he cupped my cheek and pressed against me.  The
next sway of the bus allowed him to move his hand back to my waist but
under the front of my sarong.  The back of his hand caressed my skin until
I felt it running up my breasts and over my nipple.  He squeezed it between
two of his fingers before dropping his hand back down my body.

   I was dripping with both perspiration and arousal.  I could feel myself
salivating along my lower lips.  Please, please make him stop.  I thought
about removing my hand but had been conditioned to stay holding on.  Was I
to be the subject of his next academic essay.  'A funny thing happened to
me on the way home.'

   His knuckles slipped down my pudenda and his hand opened out and
scrabbled.  He had been expecting hair.  His mouth fell open and I almost
laughed as he closed against me as the bus pulled to a halt.  As he was
slipping his fingers into my sticky love-pot I heard Josh behind me saying
'Our stop girls, don't stand there blocking the way.' I almost screamed
with frustration as this poor, lucky, guy raised his sticky fingers to his
nose and I rushed past him red-faced.  I will be surprised if he ever got
ordained.

   I had forgotten poor Frankie.  What had happened to her?

   She had spent, she said, a miserable five minutes.  Was that all it was?
She had puffed up her chest to tighten the rolled towel, only to find that
Pete was slowly tugging the base of the towel.  She had been saved in the
nick of time by our arrival at the stop and more to the point, by the fact
that the bus was so crowded, the towel had little space to drop.  The young
men were pushing too tightly against her.  She did have a bruise coming up
on her thigh though where one of the other guys pinched her leg on the way
out.

   I was all for travelling that time of day again.  I had almost orgasmed,
just standing there anticipating what might happen next.  I did not think
that we would get away as lightly another time, but who am I kidding, I
would have been happy to stand there for another ten minutes or so.

   Our boys recognised that there was fun to be had here and would
occasionally try to time our journey to coincide with the seminary closing
for the day.  Because the bus was fairly narrow not all the girls could be
on the 'front line', as it were.  Some days I was there at the front and
other days I would be frustrated by not getting felt up at all.

   They were always polite, never arrogant, but as time moved on there was
nothing surreptitious about their movements.

   There were only three or four of the guys who had the nerve to fondle
us. The rest just looked on in amazement.  Usually, one of them would be
standing in front of one of us girls, just one on one.  They would be
playing with our tits, arse or fannies, and always we had to stand holding
onto the straps.  We were not to let go.  Somehow it was easier when you
knew what was going to happen.  Nonetheless we would all get off the Bus
really horny and ready for fun and games when we arrived home.

   In the mornings, as we gradually got used to being naked around the
beach and even in the bar at the end of the beach, we worried less about
what we were wearing on the bus.

   Sarongs ended up the favourite.  They were attractive and at the same
time fairly see-through.  We would usually tie them with a good secure knot
under one arm.  The boys would often try to loosen them, not enough for
them to fall to the ground, but just enough for us to worry that they
might. Occasionally one did slip, was quickly caught and that girl got a
bare-arsed smacking in the lounge that evening before going out.

   Funnily enough Cindy's sarong seemed to slip more than the rest.  I
guess she liked the smacking more than the rest of us.  A couple of times
the lads would tug away at the knots and move them from under our arm,
perhaps around to the middle of our backs, or even on occasions over our
breasts.  This meant that the gap between the sides, closed when standing
still, but open when we were moving or the wind caught it, was directly
over our bum cracks or even pussies.

   They first did it when we were alone on the bus.  They had us stand in a
circle facing out towards the windows, where we appeared quite chaste,
covered from just below the shoulders to the knee.  When we were made to
turn around and the wind caught the sarongs we showed all of our bums.  The
Bus driver got a particularly big eyeful as we got off beside him.

   The boys, of course, were never satisfied, the next time when the bus
was busier they did it again.  The locals and the other male beach-goers
could not do anything but stare.  They never made us go 'too' far when
there were females, or youngsters, local or otherwise, on the Bus.

   They would never for example have pushed the knots around to the front
as they did when it turned out to be an all-male Bus.

   Their eyes were on stalks as we were almost all shaved, bare as a baby's
bottom in fact, and with our hands on the straps there was nothing to stop
the gaps widening.

   Quite often getting onto the bus it was fairly quiet, there were not
many pick-up points before the beach.  On these occasions for the drivers
benefit we were made to push the knots to the front and boarding the three
big steps up just pushed the sarongs wide on each side.  It was probably
sexier than being completely naked.  Our breasts were covered by a tight,
flimsy, silky covering and our nipples would always have been erect.

   I knew we were in trouble one evening at the end of the holiday.  The
bus pulled up and we were told to move the sarong knots forward.  I had
seen that al least the first couple of seats were occupied by men.  As we
climbed the stairs, sarongs billowing wide, we saw that all seven seats
were filled with workmen from the hotel building complex at the end of the
line.  They stared in amazement, little wicked grins beginning to appear.

   Naturally the boys made us line up beside the seats and hold on to the
straps above our heads.  We had all turned our back on the labourers but I
was still worried.

   I saw Josh feel in his pocket and produce a coin.  'Heads we turn 'em
round boys.  Tails we just grope them a little to show the men we can.'

   My heart stopped.  Both alternatives were equally as bad.  I knew that
if the boys groped us and then pulled back they would be leaving the door
open for the men, and...  as for turning around.  Well!

   Heads!  'Sorry girls, luck of the spin,' he laughed.

   I was in two minds to disobey, the punishment surely could not be worse
later.

   I sneaked a look at the men over my shoulder.  I noticed that all the
ones I could see were now sitting facing in, towards the bus, almost
waiting for us to turn.  Whether they had understood the English I do not
know.

   My mind was made up by the sight of Josh moving forward and turning
Frankie, who was last on and at the other end of the line, towards the men.
I was never going to be embarrassed like that, so turned of my own accord,
as did all the others.  It was almost as if it had been choreographed and
made it so obvious that it would probably have been better to have been
facing that way in the first place.  The men were practically licking their
lips and their hands were ready for action.

   As I mentioned, I had got onto the bus first and had moved up the line
of men.  There were seven seats, all of them full and I was standing
between the back two men.  Every other girl was standing in front of one
man.  I had two!

   They looked at each other and slowly each put a hand on my hips, to see
if I complained.  I didn't of course.  My heart was racing twenty to the
dozen, my nipples were standing out and rock hard and my vulva was
beginning to moisten.

   I could not have told you whether I was looking forward to the next five
or six minutes or not.  Surely they couldn't do this on a Bus!

   They could and did.  I was well and truly groped by both men with both
hands.  I was like putty practically hanging from the straps.  My legs had
opened, my feet were now wide apart, partly because they had pushed them
apart, partly I had done it myself so that I could enjoy it more.  They
were each playing with a titty and were taking it in turns to push their
coarse, dirty fingers up my vagina.  I felt one of them exploring my arse
hole and I found myself lowering myself from the straps to ease access.  I
had a little orgasm and was starting on a bigger one.  This was so
excruciatingly dirty.  I could have killed Josh and the boys.  The bus was
stopping I noticed, now in the middle of town.  There were people about to
board and Josh, quite rightly I am afraid, told us to move over to the far
windows to let the people board in comfort.  Comfort.  I desperately needed
to come, but obediently dragged my wobbly legs to the other side of the bus
to be surrounded, and protected by the boys.  When we reached our stop it
was all I could do not to invite the men to get off the bus with us and
come in for a fuck.  I knew the boys would not have liked it, so just made
do with grabbing the nearest lad, which happened to be Pete, and dragging
him off to my bedroom.  I could hear similar fucking noises coming from all
over the house.  That was just one night we were a little late going out.

   You can understand from my tale that I cannot now go on a Bus without
thinking back to the holiday.  I sit there, usually upstairs if I can,
close to the back, and rub myself to a small orgasm if there is no-one
watching.  I can remember the incidents as if they were yesterday, which
unfortunately they weren't.  I am not that stupid that I do not know how
dangerous it would be to try to copy any of the antics we got up to on the
bus, let alone the last one.  But I can still dream.